Brendan Dude

Luke and I sat with our legs dangling out the back end of Joey’s van, the double doors wide open, letting the warm summer air take out the rancid smell of pot inside the vehicle and replace it with the sweet smell of the outdoors. I can’t believe he left his van open this late at night.

“To summer,” Luke smiled, popping the top off his soda. A fizzy burst and cracking metal sounded as he tilted his head at me.

“Hells yeah,” I smirked, doing the same to my Fountain Dew. We tipped our drinks up in a toast, then took the first sip of two and a half months of freedom.

He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the ten o’ clock night sky. I copied him for a second, then remembered something I was dying to know.

“Hey Luke,” I said to him.

He looked at me. “Yeah.”

I bit my lip and tried to phrase my question. “…Did David ever hug you?”

Luke went quiet for a second, sighing, unable to make eye contact. He stared up at the moon, then looked at the ground, then finally, at me. “Once, yeah.”