Page 33 of See You in Your Dreams

“Death and taxes,” Robbie offers.

Cat snorts. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t sound like he’s that certain.” Her chuckle fades as she fixes me with a stern look. “If you want to move past the pining phase, then come out to Ash and see how he reacts. Maybe he’ll turn out to be some huge homophobic jerk like your brother, in which case, goodriddance.” She cups her hands together and makes goo-goo eyes at me. “Or maybe he’ll think you’reincredible, too.”

“And if he doesn’t, we definitely do.” Alexis glances at the others. “Right?”

Robbie and Cat both nod, and I’m embarrassed to feel wetness at the corners of my eyes as my gratitude swells. Alexis, Robbie, even Cat—in their own way, I know each one of them would have my back no matter what.

We spend the rest of lunch discussing the latest Marvel release, which we’d all gone to the theater to see last weekend. Debating the film’s merits quickly turns into bickering about our favorite Marvel movies (Infinity War,obviously), which in turn devolves into ranking the hottest Marvel characters. Chris Evans’ Captain America wins by a landslide despite Robbie’s surprisingly compelling—and somewhat disturbing—case for the Hulk.

As lunch draws to a close and we gather up our things, tossing our trash in the bin, my thoughts return once more to Ash. Just the thought of him mocking my sexuality the way Tommy does curdles my gut. But Cat’s right—if that’s how he’d react, better to find out sooner rather than later so I can move on. And if not, well…

I take a deep breath as I shrug on my backpack and head toward the door.If not, then we’ll see where things go from there.

thirteen

Ash

I’m not sure whatto expect as I follow Dylan toward his home after school. Nerves grip my belly, though I can’t really say why. Being around Dylan always leaves me a bit on edge, but we’ve spent enough time together by now for some of the novelty of having a friend to wear off.

A good chunk of my anxiety is probably a reflection of Dylan himself. Ever since we’d left the school parking lot, he’s been increasingly tense and withdrawn despite his best efforts to hide it behind his usual smile.

I don’t want to pry, but it finally becomes too much for me. “What’s wrong?”

Dylan fixes me with a strained grin. “Nothing. Just thinking about my essay for Mrs. King.” I raise an eyebrow, and he sighs, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair. “This is the first time since middle school I’ve had a friend over.”

I’m not exactly an expert on normal social relations, but that seems odd even to me. “Why?”

He stares at the sidewalk as though seeking to memorize its arrangement of cracks. “My family can be a bit…much.”

I think of the Ellingtons and their strict rules and smug judgment, then Aunt Claudette and her work communing with the deceased. My memories begin to stray even further backward, but I yank them up short.

“What family isn’t?”

He chuckles weakly. “Fair.” A grin breaks out on his face in a poor attempt to cover up his melancholy. “It shouldn’t matter today anyway. Mom and Tommy both work late and Patrick has soccer practice, so we’ve got the place to ourselves for a couple hours.”

“Cool.” We continue in silence for a few beats while I consider whether to press the issue. I can tell there’s more he’s not telling me. In the end though, I decide to leave it be. Whatever the cause of his strange tension, it’s none of my business. We’re school friends—nothing more.

As if to prove that everything’s fine, Dylan soon has me drawn into a heated debate over the coolest mythical beast.

“Anything other than dragons is a clearly inferior choice,” I argue. “The variety of depictions in media and their continued popularity prove—”

“Aaand, we’re here,” Dylan interjects.

I shoot him a mock glare before turning to regard his home. This part of Banton’s a bit more run down than where my aunt lives, but it’s clear despite the peeling paint and worn bricks that someone does their best to maintain it. A couple soccer balls and a beat-up net lay scattered in the patches of trimmed grass, and fresh flowers bloom in pots beside the door.

It feels like Dylan’s waiting for me to speak, so I clear my throat. “It’s, um, nice.”

“Probably doesn’t seem like much after living with your grandparents,” Dylan says quietly. “I bet none of Banton does.”

Yet another reason I should have kept my big mouth shut about my past. “Do I seem like the kind of guy who gives a shit about that?” I don’t give him a chance to answer, striding impatiently across the lawn to the front door. “Now hurry up so we can get our game on.”

The grin he fixes me with is stunning. He unlocks the door and together we step inside. The place is cozy, only a little bigger than my aunt’s. Like the outside, it feels like someone tried to add a homey touch to everything. I can only imagine, however, how cramped it must feel with four people living there.

Dylan guides me to the kitchen first so we can grab some snacks before moving to the living room, most of which is taken up by an enormous couch set before the TV. I take a seat on the sagging cushions while Dylan powers up his GameCube and grabs two controllers, unwinding their power cords. Hard to believe such clunky things used to be commonplace.

Despite all the room on the couch, Dylan settles right in beside me, our knees almost touching. I consider scooting over to put some space between us. I probably should.

Instead, I settle back, gripping my controller. “So, what am I crushing you in first?”