Page 8 of Lost Boy
“Okay. Sure.” I won’t push him. I can try again later. I accept his answer and sit with him instead. Silently. Eating my own pizza and meatloaf while the cafeteria buzzes around us.
He scoops up a bite of tapioca, and I can’t help but watch him slip the sweet treat into his mouth and pull the spoon out clean, dragging it against that fucking piercing and tugging on it. He notices me too. Staring at him. But he thinks I’m eyeing the pudding, not his edible-looking lips.
Fallon pushes the bowl across the table, nodding toward the unused spoon on my lunch tray. Okay, well, I do love pudding. I pick up the spoon and enjoy a big bite of my favorite school dessert.
I close my eyes and moan a little, forgetting where I am for a moment. When I open them, Fallon’s blue-gray gaze has widened and twinkles under the fluorescent light. I know he’s practically smiling at me.
I’ll fucking take it.
We finish our lunch and pudding in silence until the bell rings, and I get a quiet “See ya” before he slips out of his seat and heads to Advanced Music Studies. I remembered. Because I memorized his entire schedule just now. I know two spots I can ambush him on the way to his morning classes. I can’t wait until lunch to see him every day; it has to be sooner.
* * *
Fallon seemed more awake in English, actively following the lesson as we reviewed the last three chapters in Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein. He was the first one to hand in his pop quiz. Guess he’s read it already, then.
Unfortunately, class is too fast-paced to talk much, so I didn’t get to do much more than stretch my legs out and brace my feet against the back of his chair. Just reminding him I was there.
But now, in gym, we have plenty of time to hang out and talk.
Cole shoves my shoulder. “Enjoy your lunch with emo boy, Ry?” He laughs, but it kinda pisses me off because I know that Fallon has been through some shit. Not what, exactly. But nothing good or he wouldn’t be coming to live with his uncle, who’s only thirty-one.
“Cole, don’t say that, bro.” My tone is serious, and my friends aren’t assholes, so he instantly drops the grin and agrees, no problem.
“Of course, my bad, Ry. Didn’t mean anything by it. I actually think the hair and nails and the whole vibe are pretty sick. I’m surprised the headmaster is allowing it, though. And no uniform on top of it?”
He’s being nosey, and although he’s not an asshole, he likes totalk. Too much sometimes. I give him a look because heknows. He holds his hands up and mouthssorrybefore walking away to talk to some of our other teammates just as I spot Fallon emerging from the locker rooms. He must have gone to Joel’s office to find a uniform that fits and, I guess, change there.
“Yo, Fal, over here!” I shout across the gym and watch his cheeks turn slightly pink before he ducks his head.
Right. Oops. Not the smartest move.
My other best friend, Jamison, chuckles next to me.
“Shut it,” I say playfully, nudging him with my elbow.
“You’re into him.” It’s not even a question. He just knows. He always knows everything. If I need to talk, it’s with Jamie. He’s the only one I’ve come out to. Not even my dad knows, as fucked up as that may seem.
Basketball is too important to me, and I can’t risk it. My dad wouldn’t want me to hide, no matter what, but as good as his intentions are, I don’t need that added stress. Especially after the way my mom treated him when he came out. Jamie silently supports and listens. That’s what I needed.
I stare straight ahead at Fallon crossing the gym but answer Jamie.
“I just met him.”
He chuckles again. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Fallon has his head down, blue and black hair obscuring those steely eyes. His gray T-shirt fits him snuggly, which means it’s probably a small, and his short-as-fuck maroon shorts show off pale, slim legs. Tall athletic socks are pulled up to his calves, and the same black Chucks he’s worn all day complete the look.
He joins Jamie and me, not saying a word. But at least he came over here. I make eye contact with Joel from across the court and give him a slight nod, letting him know I got Fallon.
He’s Coach Rivers when I’m at school. We don’t blur the lines. I fall into step when he blows his whistle, and we jog over to start our warm-up.
Class passes quickly, and Fallon is surprisingly nimble and athletic. He doesn’t try that hard or put in too much effort, but he does enough to look like he’s participating. Can’t say that I’m too into volleyball either. Besides, I have basketball practice after this; I need to save energy.
As we walk back to the locker rooms, Fallon veers off to Joel’s office before I can even think of a reason to see him again this afternoon. He’ll catch the bus and leave for the day after this. If I didn’t have basketball, I’d drive him home.
Joel said Fallon doesn’t mind taking the bus. He’s used to public transportation. But the problem is. . . I didn’t get to tell him my dad and his uncle are partners. I’m coming over for dinner. And I’m spending the night too.
CHAPTERFOUR
