Aiden wasn’t the praying sort, but that evening, when he took a seat at the dining room table between his parents and the boy he’d had a crush on for years, he begged anyone who was listening for mercy. If he could pull off a decent poker face this once, he swore he’d be charitable, altruistic, and that he’d stop stealing a handful of cashews out of the plastic bins at the grocery store.
He stared down at his pizza—which he’d loaded with pineapple while Max looked on with horror—and willed himself to eat. His mouth was so dry, however, he doubted he could swallow. He peeked across the table at Oliver for what had to be the hundredth time that night.
Oliver’s attention was on Dad, who was telling some corny joke he’d heard from a patient. From this angle, Oliver’s profile was in sharp relief: his smooth brow, full lips, and strong bone structure. His body language—from his easy smile to the relaxed set of his shoulders—said confident and comfortable.
It made Aiden ache.
He’d never been a demonstratively sexual person, but looking at Oliver now, he wanted to chew on some ice. What he wouldn’t give to have Oliver’s arms wrapped around him. Or maybe pinning him down, or—
Aiden took a deep breath and did long division in his head until the rising tide of his libido abated. What was wrong with him? Over the years, he’d had his fair share of crushes, but they didn’t compare to what he was feeling now. It was like Oliver had his own gravitational field, and everything from Aiden’s gaze to his thoughts kept getting sucked into it.
Admittedly, Aiden had thought about him less and less as time passed. But now, Oliver had waltzed back into their lives, bringing the heat of a New York summer with him. It seemed Aiden’s puppy love had been waiting by the door for his return.
What would Oliver think if he knew Aiden was fantasizing about him? Would he be flattered, or would he find it wildly inappropriate? They didn’t know each other anymore. He might think of Aiden as a total stranger, or worse, the scrawny little boy who used to talk his ear off about poison dart frogs and dung beetles.
Although, Oliver seemed to slot right back into their lives, like he’d never left. Finding out he was gay too made it hard not to hope.
Plus, the way Oliver had looked at him after he’d come out . . . Maybe it’d been Aiden’s imagination, or some serious wishful thinking, but he swore something had crackled between them, like an electric charge. After years of pining, he might actually have a shot with the proverbial boy next door.
Stop it, Aiden. Your oldest friend is back in your life. Try being happy instead of hormonal.
He poured all of his energy into pretending to listen to Mom lecture Max on his lackluster study habits. If he kept staring at Oliver, someone was bound to notice. He couldn’t decide who would be worse: Oliver or Max.
Oliver might be creeped out, but Max had an annoying ability to guess his thoughts as if they were plastered on his face. “Twin telepathy,” Max called it. Aiden didn’t believe in that, but he did believe Max was both perceptive and had known him every minute of his life. That was a dangerous combination.
Keep calm. We’re all friends here. There’s no reason for anyone to suspect your intentions aren’t pure.
Aiden took another peek across the table. He sucked in a breath. Oliver was staring right at him. As if they’d choreographed it, they both looked away.
Aiden’s heart pounded like he’d run the New York City marathon. Is it just me, or did I see a spark of something in his eyes?
His cheeks flamed up again. So much for his poker face. At this rate, he was going to set the house on fire.
“Aiden, you’ve been awfully quiet.” Mom nudged him with her elbow. “You feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m great,” Aiden squeaked. He took a bite of his pizza as if to prove it. Dad made phenomenal sauce, but right now it tasted like glue.
“It’s because he put that disgusting fruit all over his pizza,” Max joked. “It’s inedible.”
“Says the guy who’d eat a tire if someone deep-fried it.”
“Boys,” Mom said in the same warning tone Aiden had heard her use with uppity prosecutors. “Not in front of our guest.”
“Oh, please,” Max scoffed. “Ollie’s seen us fight worse than this. Hey, Aiden, remember the time we went hunting for tadpoles, and I pushed you into the creek?”
“I think I remember that.” Oliver shot Aiden a grin. “A fish swam up to you, and you cried.”
Aiden gripped his pizza so hard, the crust snapped. Please, God, no embarrassing childhood stories in front of my dream guy. I know Oliver was there, but he doesn’t need reminding.
It seemed no one heard his prayers, because Max continued. “Or what about that time I convinced you that five comes before four, and you got into an argument with your kindergarten teacher because of it?”
Aiden was going to have to remember this when Max’s wedding day rolled around. He had his own arsenal of embarrassing stories, ready and waiting.
For now, however, he groped for another topic. “Speaking of fond memories, do you guys remember when we used to all go to the beach together? That was fun.”
“Maybe for you.” Max sniffed. “I never did learn to swim.”
Oliver dropped the slice of pizza he’d been about to shove into his mouth, looking horrified. “What? How can you not know how to swim?”
“It’s not like it’s a necessary skill. When would I ever need to?”
“Oh my God.” Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know if we can be friends anymore. Half of my favorite recreational activities involve swimming.”
Aiden barely kept the smirk off his face. Revenge is sweet.
Dad cut in before Max could say something acerbic. “I remember those cute fake weddings you boys used to host in the backyard.”
Aiden’s breath lodged in his throat like a rock. He remembered when they’d play “marriage” too, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up in case no one else did. Those memories had meant a lot to him when he’d gotten older and realized he was gay. They’d helped convince him his parents would support him.
He sneaked another look across the table. Max was pinching the bridge of his nose, but Oliver was grinning.
“Oh yeah, I definitely remember that.” He elbowed Max in the side. “According to the laws of the playground, you and I have been married for fourteen years.”
Max groaned. “Figures someone would bring this up just as I’d managed to repress it.”
Aiden snorted. “Don’t act all traumatized. You were always the first one to suggest we play marriage.”
“Yeah, because I got to wear a suit. Proof that I’ve always had good taste.”
“Especially in men.” Oliver batted his eyelashes. “It’s so wonderful to be reunited with my long-lost husband after all these years. How about a kiss, darling?”
Suddenly, Aiden didn’t find this so funny anymore.
Oliver made kissy faces while Max groaned like a dying animal, and Aiden’s lungs spasmed in his chest. It was ridiculous to feel jealous—Max was straight, and Oliver was obviously joking—but he did.
When they were kids, they’d all played together equally, but things were different now. No adults could force them to share. Aiden was quiet and awkward, and Max was extroverted and funny. What if Oliver ended up liking him better?
Stop it, Aiden. Oliver can like whoever he likes, and you shouldn’t resent your own brother for it.
“If I’m going to be forced to relive my childhood, I need a drink.” Max looked at their parents with big, dewy eyes. “Can we have some beer? I noticed a six-pack of that fancy craft stuff Mom likes in the fridge. We’ll pay you back for it.”
Aiden glanced at their parents, curious as to how they were going to react. Max and he didn’t really drink, so they’d made it to adulthood without having the alcohol talk. But they were in college now, and libations were ubiquitous. It was bound to come up.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look.
“It is against the law,” Mom said. “As a lawyer, I feel duty bound to mention that.”
“They’ll be twenty-one in November.” Dad shrugged. “That’s close enough for me. Besides, are we the sort of parents who pretend their adult children have never touched alcohol before?”
Mom sighed. “All right. But no one leaves this house. Oliver has to stay the night. I’m not sending him home to his parents smelling like a kegger.”
Aiden’s heart lurched as it tried to sink and soar at the same time. Oliver might sleep under the same roof as him. They might be drinking together. Surely that could only end well.
“And you have to remember your pre-bed routine,” Dad added.
Oliver leaned toward Aiden, inadvertently setting his whole body on fire, and whispered, “‘Pre-bed routine’?”
Aiden managed to mumble back an answer. “He means we have to remember to floss and brush our teeth. Getting a cavity in this house is like bringing home a failing grade.”
“Ah.” Oliver spoke to the whole table this time. “Well, my dad seemed like he wanted me to come home earlier, but by now, he’ll be knee-deep in a poker game with my uncles. I bet he’d rather I stayed away so I won’t see him lose his shirt. I’ll call him and ask if I can spend the night.”
Max pumped a fist in the air. “All right! Reunion sleepover. It’s like old times.”
Oliver excused himself from the table. Aiden watched him go, eyes lingering on his broad shoulders. He made a mental note to find out if he could somehow sponsor the NYU men’s crew team.
When he turned back to the table, Max was watching him with narrowed eyes. Heat crept into Aiden’s cheeks again. He needed to keep a tighter lid on his reactions. If he kept drooling, Max was bound to realize what was up.
Aiden had never told Max about his crush—they’d been kids, after all, and Oliver had moved away before it could amount to anything—and now was not the time for Max to find out. He’d think it was funny, and Aiden was embarrassed enough without having to endure his brother’s heavy-handed humor.
Mom provided a ready distraction. “Isn’t Oliver the sweetest?”
Max rolled his eyes. “You and Dad always did fawn over him, like he was the third son you never had.”
“How could we not? He’s so polite, and he obviously adores you boys.” She tousled Max’s curls. “Anyone who’s good to my babies is all right in my book.”
“Mom.” Max swiped at his hair. “You’re so embarrassing.”
“Good,” Dad joked. “That means she’s doing it right.”
At least Aiden knew his parents would approve if Oliver and he . . . He couldn’t think it. He might jinx it or, worse, convince himself it could happen.
Oliver came back into the room and retook his seat at the table. “Dad said it’s okay for me to stay over, so long as I get home in time for breakfast.”
Max whooped. “Yeah! Party time. Bring on the beer.”
Their mother bristled. Aiden shot Max a warning look. “Uh, Max? Try not to seem too excited about the underage drinking.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He pecked Mom on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Three grown men splitting a six-pack? How much trouble can we get into with two beers each?”
That seemed to mollify her. “Promise me you’ll keep the wild partying to the game room. There’s a reason we had it soundproofed. You can make up the couch down there for Oliver. Unless one of you boys wants him to sleep with you.”
Aiden choked on the sip of water he’d just taken and set his glass down hard. “No, I think the couch will be fine.”
Max got up from the table, politely collected their parents’ plates, and took them into the kitchen. When he reappeared, however, he had a six-pack of IPAs in his hand. “I’ll be in the game room. See you guys down there.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the rest of the plates, then.”
“I’ll help.” Oliver stood and grabbed one in each hand, leaving Aiden with his own to take care of.
He struggled to keep his expression neutral as they scraped off the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Oliver was silent for his part. His furrowed brow suggested there was something on his mind, but Aiden didn’t dare ask. When they were finished, they headed down to the basement, all without saying a word.
Well, this is off to a great start. Nothing like awkward silence to get a romance going.
Aiden had no idea how to flirt. He’d never had a boyfriend before, and Oliver wasn’t some random guy Aiden found attractive. They’d known each other since the days of Spider-Man sheets and playing tag. There was a lot at stake here, and it would behoove Aiden to keep that in mind.
When they got downstairs, they found Max reclined on the sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a beer already in hand.
“Gentlemen.” He popped the tab, and the carbonation fizzled. “Come on in. The water’s fine.”
“Nice.” Oliver took a beer and inspected the label. “This is an IPA, right? I hear those are strong.”
“If you’re going to consume illegal libations, you might as well do it properly.” Max grinned. “That was my Aiden impression. Whatcha think?”
Oliver sent a smile Aiden’s way as he took a seat next to Max. “Dead on.”
Aiden frowned and snatched up a beer. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You kinda do, bro.” Max leaned toward Oliver. “You should hear the things he says sometimes. He used the word ‘anathema’ the other day. In a regular conversation.”
Aiden took a swig of his beer to hide his embarrassment and then moved over to a chair, careful to keep some distance between Oliver and him. “It’s not my fault you’re illiterate.”
Max gasped. “You know very well our parents were married when they had us.”
“That’s ‘illegitimate,’ buddy,” Oliver said.
“Oh.” Max’s brow knit together. “Yeah, sorry. I knew that.”
Oliver shot Aiden a conspiratorial look, like they’d shared a private joke, and goose bumps popped up all over Aiden’s arms.
Say something. Anything. Ask him about himself.
Oliver beat him to it. “So, Aiden, how do you like college?”
He cleared his throat. “I love it. It’s so much more engaging than high school. My classes are hard, of course, but I love having control over my schedule.”
“Which is hilarious, considering he picks nothing but hard classes, and they’re always first thing in the morning.” Max waved his beer. “Calculus. Physics. Organic something or other.”
“Organic chemistry,” Aiden said. “I have to take those classes to get my engineering degree, though Pace doesn’t offer everything I need. I’ll have to finish at Manhattan College.”
Oliver perked up. “You’re going to move to the city?”
“Yeah. The Bronx, to be specific. It’s a Roman Catholic college, which is kind of rough for obvious reasons, but it’s not like I’ll have to go back into the closet. And it’s only until I finish my degree.”
Oliver seemed to hesitate and then looked down at his lap. “You’re not going to leave behind a boyfriend or anything, are you?”
Before Aiden could get his heart started again, Max snorted. “Aiden? Boyfriend? Yeah right. He can’t look at a guy without blushing, let alone talk to one.”
Aiden glowered. “Thanks, brother dear.”
“I’m teasing.” He reached over and punched Aiden’s arm. “It’s gonna be rough being separated from you. Who’s going to force you to go to parties and take you out for your first beer when we turn twenty-one?”
Aiden rolled his eyes. Trust his brother to make him sound like a friendless recluse in front of his crush. “Oh, I dunno. My friends. I’m sure I’ll make plenty when you’re not around to embarrass me.”
“I don’t have a ton of friends at NYU, I admit.” Oliver rolled his beer between his palms. “Instead of a bunch of acquaintances, I have five or so close friends.”
“Really?” Aiden asked. “I would think you’d know tons of people.”
Oliver eyed him. “Why’s that?”
Because you’re handsome and smart and athletic and charming. “Well, it’s such a big school, and the city is bigger. You must meet people everywhere you go.”
“You would think, but campus is so spread out, and it’s sure as hell not a college town. Plus, I can be kinda quiet.”
“Oh, I remember that about you,” Max said. “You never liked to talk in class. When we were in third grade, you had this whole formula worked out for how to be invisible. You’d sit in the third row, slightly off center, and you’d look at the teacher’s nose instead of their eyes. It took Mrs. Dinehart a whole quarter to learn your name.”
“Oh wow, I’d forgotten that,” Oliver said. Aiden thought there might be some color in his cheeks. “That hasn’t changed a bit. I still have palpitations every time my professors want to call on someone who ‘hasn’t spoken yet.’”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Max asked. “I mean, you’re a smart guy and you have a lot going for you. Plus, you don’t seem to have any trouble talking to us.”
Oliver shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I know you guys. I’m not like this with everyone. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child. I didn’t have someone my own age to talk to before I was old enough for school. Or maybe it’s because my parents were always fighting. If I didn’t make myself scarce, they’d drag me into it. Staying quiet was the easiest way to not get noticed.”
The energy in the room shifted as surely as if the lights had dimmed. Aiden felt like something cold and wet had touched the back of his neck. He sat there, fiddling with his empty beer can, and struggled to think of something to say.
For once, he was grateful when Max and his big mouth stepped in. “Well, as fun as this loaded silence is, I was thinking we could watch a movie.”
Oliver looked relieved. “I’m down for that. What have you guys got?”
“It’d be easier for you to name some titles, and we’ll tell you if we have them.”
Max got up and opened the double cabinet full of DVDs, wafting a hand around them like a TV hostess showcasing a prize. Oliver called out titles while Max plucked them from the shelves.
Aiden observed, content to let them pick the movie. He didn’t care what they watched, so long as he got to spend more time with Oliver. There was something calming about his presence, in spite of Aiden’s nerves, and Oliver took the onus off of him to keep Max entertained.
Not that he normally minded. He was fortunate to have a brother who was also his best friend. He wasn’t looking forward to leaving him next year to attend college by himself. They’d never been separated before. Although, ever since Oliver walked back into the picture, Aiden had found himself wishing that Max would leave so they could have some alone time.
I’m a bad brother.
Oliver and Max settled on some cheesy action movie. Max raved about it as he popped it into the DVD player. “Then the guy takes out like twelve cop cars with nothing but a handgun, and then this helicopter comes, and he—”
“Max,” Aiden interrupted, “are we going to watch the movie, or are you going to do a dramatic reenactment for us?”
“Right, sorry. I’ll get the lights.”
He hit a switch by the stairs and then took his favorite spot on one side of the sofa. That forced Oliver to scooch over, and Aiden to sit beside him in order to see the screen. As the opening credits rolled, Aiden cracked open his second beer and took a sip. He was a shameless lightweight, and the IPAs were strong. He was already on the edge of being tipsy.
Without thinking, he glanced at Oliver out of the corner of his eye.
Oliver was watching him. When their eyes met, they both looked away, like they had at dinner.
Aiden’s heart fluttered. Perhaps it’s not my imagination after all.
Max’s voice almost made Aiden jump out of his skin. “The beginning of this movie is so boring! I don’t care about the couple and their broken-down car. One of them is gonna be dead soon anyway.”
“Spoilers, dude,” Oliver said without venom.
Aiden settled back in his seat and tried to focus on the screen, but it was impossible. He was hyperaware of Oliver sitting next to him, mere inches away. His presence was like the pull of a magnet, drawing Aiden’s eyes back. This time, when he peeked, Oliver wasn’t looking at him, but his gaze was trained so solidly ahead, it didn’t seem natural.
Aiden looked away again, and the second he did, he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Was it the light from the TV playing tricks? Or were Oliver and he playing eye tag?
He’s probably looking at you because you keep making moony eyes at him like a weirdo.
Between the beer and his self-flagellating inner commentary, Aiden found it impossible to concentrate. Minutes crawled by. Max was right: the movie started slow. Aiden couldn’t use it to distract himself. He drained his beer in record time and plunged headlong into tipsiness.
By the light of the TV, he checked the ABV on the side of the can. Eight percent. That was twice as strong as the cheap, water-like swill they drank for free at parties. No wonder he was feeling it.
Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes forward.
He had to be imagining the tension in the air. He whiled away another twenty minutes pretending to watch the film—which had gone from being a thriller to a gorefest in true genre-hopping fashion—but his attention never strayed from Oliver for long.
Scenes that had nothing to do with the movie floated into his head—memories that played as readily as if they were running on the big screen. He met Oliver in kindergarten. Some kids had been referring to Aiden as Max, and he was too embarrassed to correct them. Then, all of a sudden, the quiet kid who never spoke piped up. “That’s Aiden.”
Oliver had hidden under his desk for ten minutes afterward, but Aiden had never forgotten it. Max had been impressed too. Enough to force Oliver to talk to them no matter how much he resisted. After that, it was one memory after another. Sleepovers. Playing in the backyard. Calling themselves the Three Musketeers, though none of them had known what a Musketeer was.
Oliver had actually been present for some things that Max had missed, like that time in the fourth grade when Aiden had skipped a stone across a lake only to hit a duckling, killing it. He’d cried for hours, and Oliver had comforted him with a warm hand and whispered assurances that it was an accident. Aiden could picture the exact moment that Oliver had brushed the curls away from his eyes, and . . .
A noise to the left broke Aiden from his reverie. It sounded like a mix between a grunt and a growl. A second later, he heard it again. Aiden sighed. He’d know that sound anywhere.
Max was snoring.
His head had fallen against the back of the sofa, and his second beer lolled in his fingers. His lips were parted enough for dinosaur-esque noises to pour out.
For all the things Max and he didn’t have in common, they had a mutual inability to hold their liquor.
Aiden debated with himself. He didn’t want to wake Max up, but if neither of them were watching the movie anymore, they could pack it in for the night, if Oliver didn’t mind. Aiden certainly wasn’t interested in finishing it, and he’d love to wrap things up before he had a chance to make an alcohol-induced blunder. Then again, if Oliver wanted to hang out after, this was their chance to have that alone time Aiden had been praying for . . .
Aiden resolved to ask him. Oliver was the guest after all. They’d do whatever he wanted to do.
He turned to him, mouth already open to form the question, but he never got a chance. The breath was stolen from his lungs a moment later.
Oliver was staring at him with magnetic intensity. Even in the dim light, there was no question. The look in Oliver’s eyes stopped Aiden’s words in his throat. It was powerful, and almost . . . curious? As if Aiden was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
Aiden didn’t know what to make of it, but he didn’t have long to think. Oliver’s eyes swept down his face, lingering on his lips and throat, before dipping down his body. When they met Aiden’s gaze once more, they were as dark as the shadows around them.
Aiden’s heart was pounding so loudly, he could hear it in his ears. The movie might as well have stopped playing. Everything around him dissolved away until there was only Oliver and the raw electricity that had sprung up between them.
While Aiden was still struggling to process, Oliver hesitated, then moved one of his legs until his knee was pressing against Aiden’s.
That single, warm touch sent a frisson up Aiden’s spine. He swallowed hard, head spinning from more than the beer, and managed to say a single word. “Oliver?”
“So,” Oliver said, breathy and low, “what should we do now?”