Boys & Things

The next day, I get up early and go into my bathroom. My sunburn has started to become less angry and more like a soft, baby pink. I hope that it’s one of those burns that fades back into pale skin and doesn’t tan. I wash my face and brush my teeth and take my vitamins. Outside, the sun is already heating up the air. I stick my arm out my window to test the temperature and then grab a pair of shorts from my drawer and a loose top that’s made even looser by my lack of boobs. My feet have an unattractive flipflop tan so I put on my sneakers. It’ll just give me a foot tan but it’s better than having lines across the tops of my feet.

I can hear Henry whining in the backyard; he knows I’m awake and he knows my window is open. It’s a little pathetic, his pitiful little yowl, more like a dying cat than a dog. But it’s even more pathetic that I’m so completely whipped by my dog. I go out into the living room and he’s jumping at the sliding glass door, waggling his butt so much I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen over. And even though I’ve told him no more walks, I grab his leash off the kitchen counter.

“Henry, do you want to go for a walk?” I say in my baby voice when I open the door. He rushes inside and runs straight into the back of the couch in all his excitement. “Stop that. It’ll just make you stupider.” I hook him to his leash. Dad isn’t up. There’s a few bottles of beer on the coffee table. One is rimmed with pink lipstick. Kelly wears pink lipstick. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. They probably got drunk last night and she’s probably in his room, cuddled up to him. “Ugh.” I look down at Henry. “Daddy’s a big nasty pervert, isn’t he? Oh yes he is. Yes he is.”

I take Henry to the park. It’s surprisingly full for so early. There’s a dozen joggers and a few kids playing on the toys. Their parents look bedraggled. Two moms exchange a plastic baggie. They look around before passing it on. Mother drug deals. It’s not uncommon in my suburban homeland.

Henry happily trots along beside me as we walk. We near the basketball court and I see Tate and two other guys. A few girls are perched on a bench with clothes that make their ample breasts spill out of them. I peer down at my own chest, where the only spillage is some orange juice from the last time I wore this shirt. I recognize the girls from the ice cream parlor. I admire Tate from afar. I may not like the guy but he’s unfairly attractive. Why are the evil always so hot? I look away as we pass them and hope he doesn’t notice me. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

We stop at a water fountain. I take a long drink and then pick Henry up so he can drink, too. We’re just finishing up when Tate approaches us, a pained look on his face.

“EJ, I need your help,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” I reply. I put Henry down and turn.

“EJ!” I glance over my shoulder. “Please. I’ll—I’ll help you.”

I turn to face him and cross my arms over my chest. Tate glances nervously over his shoulder. The girls are shooting him flirtatious glances but they glare whenever they see me.

“You’ve helped enough, thanks,” I say coolly.

The girls get up off the bench and start over here. Tate sees this and he reaches forward quickly and grabs my arm. I start to yank it away but his grip is firm. “I’ll help you find Colin.” I freeze. My gaze holds his and I can see the sincerity in his eyes; hear the desperation in his voice. And as luck would have it, he’d spoken the magic words. So I nod. Then, without another moment to spare, Tate pulls me towards him, wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me.

Ben and I kissed a lot. We had a sex a lot. Our physical relationship was great. Which was why it was so shocking that he was gay. How can a guy touch a girl so many times and then think, “Well, I don’t like this” and go gay? I don’t understand. Ben was a good kisser. But then again, he was the first person I’d kissed. It wasn’t like I had a lot to compare it to.

Tate is a whole different story.

His mouth is hot. My body flushes. I wrap my arms around his neck instinctively. It causes my shirt to come up a bit. I can feel Tate’s arms against my lower back. It burns like sweet fire. My mind empties out and I press myself against his hard body. I want more. With Ben, there was desire but this is total need. I want to melt into Tate. I want to lay down right there in the park and rip our clothes off and feel that heat all over my body. My fingers knot in his dark hair. I would be fine with suffocating if it meant our kiss wouldn’t ever stop but of course, the need to breathe is drilled by instincts and we both pull away.

Tate’s green eyes are clouded with desire and he pants slightly. I lick my lips and taste Gatorade. Henry barks at my feet, startling me. I step back.

The two girls glare daggers at me. “What’s this?” one of them asks, her voice laced with poison.

Tate looks at them and smiles sheepishly. He steps beside me and grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. “I ran into EJ at the fountain and we talked,” he says. His voice is steady but lilted with happiness, like he really is an ex-boyfriend who has just gotten his ex-girlfriend back. “We just had a misunderstanding earlier and so…” He holds up our hands. “We decided to get back together.” He looks at me and for a moment, I stand there blankly. But then Tate squeezes my hand and I smile.

“I love Tate,” I say, hoping they don’t catch the sarcasm in my voice. Tate smiles at me and turns back to the girls.

“So, I think I’m going to walk EJ home,” he says. “I’ll catch you guys later.” He waves over their heads at his buddies and they all shoot him thumbs-up signs. They probably think that he’s going to go get laid. I think of how I felt when we kissed and my face heats up.

We turn away from the girls. I can feel their stares on my back. “Don’t look over your shoulder,” Tate whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “If you do, they’ll only talk more.” So I resist the urge.

We walk in silence for a while until we exit the park. Tate drops my hand. “Thanks, EJ,” he says, flashing me a grin. He starts to walk towards his street and I stop. Henry tugs at the leash.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

He turns around. “Home?”

“You said you’d help me find my brother,” I say.

Tate frowns. “Come on, EJ,” he says, “He always runs off. He’ll be back.”

I stare at Tate. My mouth sort of drops open and I feel anger burning inside me. My hands clench into fists. I drop Henry’s leash and stomp up to Tate. “You lying son of a bitch,” I hiss.

Tate takes a step back and holds up his hands in a truce. “Hey, I don’t know where your brother goes,” he says. “How do you expect me to help you? But hey, I’ll ask Ricky and let you know if he knows anything.” I want to rip Tate apart. The trees and houses around us go fuzzy. My fingers dig into my palms, the nails slicing into the skin. Then I punch him. He staggers back, more from surprise than actual damage. My knuckles throb. “What the hell was that for?” He glares at me.

“That was for being a dick! I can’t believe I even tried to help you,” I say. “I can’t believe I even liked—” I cut myself off and look at him. Tate raises an eyebrow. I throw my hands up. “Whatever. I shouldn’t be surprised. People like you are all the same.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. People like me?”

I look him dead in the eyes. “Yeah, people like you. You act like you’re all tough and like everyone wants you but really, you’re selfish and fucked up. I saw your room, remember? All that OCD shit. Are you depressed, Tate? Is wittle Tate Armstrong sad? Did your mommy cut down on your allowance?” Each word is dripping with malice. I want to make Tate hurt. I want to make him hurt more than I’ve ever wanted to hurt anyone before. Even Ben. I watch Tate’s hands curl. I watch his breathing get heavier, his face get flushed. “Did you actually have to wipe your own ass this morn—”

Tate’s in my face now. “You shut up.” His voice is low and eerily calm. He’s fighting for control. Just like before. “You shut the hell up about things you don’t understand.”

I stand on my tiptoes to get even closer to his face. I’m surprised the world hasn’t exploded with all the anger that’s radiating off of us. “I never want to see your face again,” I hiss. “And if I do, I’ll be sure to really mess it up.” I spin on my heel and then stop dead.

Henry’s gone.