Page 51 of Sweat

“Whatever, weird-o.” I roll my eyes, but I’m all smiles, just glad for the simple pleasure of Rowan not running away from me. “Can I take you somewhere first?”

The black FitBit on my wrist tracks my steps as I take Rowan on a meandering trail through campus. He asks multiple times where we’re going, but I let him be the follower this time.

I take him past the science building to the seldom noticed horticulture building. Around the back is a fence covered in ivy and morning glories, and I push open the unlocked gate. A placard on the gate reads CLOSE AFTER ENTRY, so I keep a hand on it while Rowan comes through, and I make sure it’s latched when I shut it behind us.

“What is this place?” he asks with a tone of wonderment and an amused smile.

It never ceases to amaze me how few people know this place exists, especially students who’ve been full-time here for years. Then again, the only reason I know about it is because Erica used to bring me here on weekends back when she was a Sac State student and I was in middle school.

“It’s the school’s garden for the horticulture program.”

“So, like, plants and shit?”

I chuckle and pat Rowan’s back. “Yeah, c’mon.”

It’s nearly an acre of winding pathways lined with native plants and small informational placards. We’re not the only ones here. It’s open to the public, and people like to bring their kids. There’s a chicken hatchery in the West corner, and a few of the hens run free across the paths. The first timeone bumbles from the brush in front of us, Rowan gasps and curses under his breath.

“Fuck me in the ass,” he mutters. “There’s chickens here?”

Wide eyed, he follows the chicken now, who leads us to the hatchery.

“The hell?” he mutters.

I laugh and put my hand on the hatchery gate. “You wanna go in?”

He looks awestruck and slightly anxious. “Like, to pet them?”

There are already a couple kids in the hatchery, timidly patting the more sociable hens. I open the gate to let Rowan in first.

It’s adorable, watching him be as timid and tentatively giddy as a child the way he scopes out the friendliest chicken and goes in for a gentle swipe of his palm down its back. The way he grins and breathes, “Holy shit,” makes me think he’s never been to a petting zoo before, like this is all a brand new experience. Makes me glad I brought him here.

“I can’t believe I never knew this place existed,” Rowan says as we leave the hatchery to continue exploring the garden.

“I would come here a lot when I was depressed. Always kinda cheered me up.”

Rowan looks sideways at me. “You get depressed, baby boy?”

I shrug one shoulder, trying not to blush under Rowan’s uncharacteristically soft stare. “Sometimes. Everyone does, right? Sometimes?”

Maybe not Rowan, but if the night Rowan cried to me in his car is any indication, he at least knows what it’s like to feel confused, overwhelmed, and maybe a little lost.

He doesn’t nod or say anything in agreement, but he walks close enough that his arm brushes mine, and he says, “Don’t be depressed,” like it’s that simple.

I crack a small smile. “Don’t be depressed. Another Rowan Hughes rule for success?”

“Nah. Just, a favor? As a friend?”

Friend.A term that sits so oddly in my stomach that I’m not sure if it’s a step in the right direction or the wrong one. I’m not even sure what the right direction is with Rowan, but so long as we’re friends, we can be together without scaring Rowan off and without making promises and commitments neither of us are ready for.

“I’ll try, but it’s not really something I can control.”

“Well, you can talk to me if you want,” he says, eyes on the path ahead of us. “I got you.”

14

Rowan

The next “family time” is dinner at Dominico’s Pizzeria. I don’t really want to go, but it’s important to Matt and Xiamara. Not sure why. I’ll never sneer at a free plate of Dominico’s spaghetti with meat sauce, but it’s hard not to feel like an interloper. Too old to be Matt’s son but too young to be his brother, and I’m the only one named Hughes. I don’t know what people think when they see me tagging along with him, his wife, and their three little ones. Chances are good that no one is thinking anything at all about me and them, but it’s something that lingers in my mind no matter what.

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