Page 27 of Something Good
“Hey,” I said lamely. I knew I should say something more, but I was lost in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes and the way one side of his mouth curved a little higher than the other. He had a slit razored into one eyebrow and a cluster of freckles just below his left eye. It didn’t matter that we’d been apart for seven years and that we’d grown and matured from boys to men in that time. His face was still just as familiar to me as it had been all those years ago. I knew it almost better than my own.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, breaking the silence that had spread between us as we stared at each other. Nearly every interaction we’d had since I’d been back in Astaire had felt like some sort of confrontation, yet somehow, his innocuous question sent a flutter of nerves through me in a way none of those other interactions had.
“Good, I guess. Mostly, I’ve just been working or hanging with Jason and his friends. Doing chores around the house. That kind of stuff.” He made a move to sit down, so I followed suit, sitting side by side with our legs outstretched, looking out into the trees. I played with a pebble in front of me, absentmindedly turning it over and over, wanting something to do with my hands.
“Mom and I flew out to Purdue for a couple of days for orientation. Got back late last night.” I felt him stiffen beside me, and I kicked myself for bringing it up. He’d said last week that he wasn’t college-bound, and I didn’t know if that was something he wanted for himself but was resigned to never having or if hethought I’d judge him for not going. Or maybe it was just the reminder that I was leaving again. My stomach dropped and my heart ached at the idea of leaving him again so soon. The threads of our rekindled friendship felt so tenuous. I didn’t know if they could withstand the distance.
The silence stretched between us again, thick and heavy like the humid air. A lump started to develop in my throat and a weight settled in my chest at the thought that I’d ruined things so soon after he’d just begun to let me back into his life.
“How’d it go?”
My attention snapped to him, but he was playing with the tattered shoelaces of his Vans, so I couldn’t get a read on his expression. “My orientation? It was alright, I guess. We don’t have to talk about it. We can talk about something else.”
He did look at me then, a wrinkle forming on his brow. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk about it?”
“You just seemed like maybe you didn’t want to?” God, he had me tied in knots. Once upon a time, we’d been so in tune with each other, but now I was second-guessing everything, scared I’d say or do something that would push him away again.
“You can talk about school, golden boy. Just because I’m not going doesn’t mean we have to avoid the subject. You belong there. I don’t. It’s not a big deal.”
I hated that he saw it that way, saw himself that way, but I didn’t push. “Okay. Um, it was fine. We did an awkward get-to-know-you activity, then we broke into groups and went on a campus tour and signed up for classes. Mom and I grabbed lunch a couple of blocks from campus and then had to get back to the airport to board our flight home.”
“What’s your major?”
“Construction Management.”
“That’s cool. You always did like to boss people around.”
I spit out a laugh, the weight of anxiety easing with his teasing. “Fuck off.” I bumped him with my shoulder. “You bossed me around way more than I ever did you.”
“Someone had to be the decision-maker.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Though he wasn’t. Ihadmostly let him make the decisions when we were kids. He’d always seemed so sad, and I’d just wanted to do whatever made him happy.
He stood and reached his hand out to me. “Come on. Let’s walk.”
I placed my hand in his, savoring the feel of his rough palm against mine as he helped me to my feet. Too soon, he let go, scrambling down the back of the boulder, leaving me to follow.
We walked the trail for a while, following the winding path for about a quarter mile. When Sammy veered off on a less-traversed path, I followed, kicking through the overgrowth that tickled my calves. “Are we even on an actual trail?” I called out after stepping over a fallen branch for the third time and narrowly avoiding having my eye gouged by a low-hanging branch. I was brushing off a stray cobweb when I collided with him. I flung my hand out to steady us both, catching his arm in one hand and his hip in my other. I’d removed my shirt not long after we’d started walking, so there was nothing between my chest and his back. No barrier between our torsos other than the slick film of sweat we’d both worked up in the humid heat. Idly, as if my brain was floating outside my body, I wondered if he could feel the furious pace of my heart as I held him against me.
“Careful there, golden boy, or I’ll think you’re making a move on me.”
“I’m not.” But I didn’t let him go, and he didn’t pull out of my grasp.
Slowly, he turned his head, looking up at me over his shoulder. Something like regret played across his features. His voice low, he said, “We can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“We can’t be more.”
I swallowed hard, scared to breathe. “Why not?”
“Because good things like you don’t happen to people like me.”
Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled away, stripped down to his briefs, and waded into the creek I hadn’t even noticed we were standing next to. Unwilling to give up, I followed his lead, stripping and wading to where he was standing. Droplets of water dripped from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders and ran down his back, disappearing into the creek once they’d reached their destination.
“You deserve good things, Sammy.”
He pressed his lips together, the only sign he’d heard me, and just when I thought he wasn’t going to respond at all, he said, “Mom moved out.”
