5. The Little Red Ferrari, Beau

As far as miles went, I'd put far too many on my new-to-me bike today. I'd been everywhere, all over the older part of Sea Springs, having the best day reconnecting with the area.

I liked it here. Sea Springs was full of hard-working people, largely middle class. They cared for one another and the community they lived in. No one had much money these days which was the reason for my good day. Just about everyone had a mini junkyard in their backyard. Whether I knew them or not, once I introduced myself, they let me dig through their piles and take whatever I needed to help make my bike run a little smoother.

Now I had different goals for the day. I peddled harder down the main strip, determined to make it to The Pizza Box before my mom arrived. If I was able to get the extra time, I wanted to call Scott and tell him about my new cell phone then hit the small arcade inside the restaurant. Ninja Assault was my jam. I held the top score in our main burger place in Alabama. I needed to leave my mark here as well.

Honestly, I missed Scott, and the way we pushed each other. The competitive side of my personality came from my father, but his came with a mean edge.

Why was I thinking about him right now? Ruining my perfect day.

I reaffirmed my commitment to never be like him. A goal I intended to keep.

What kind of father doesn't call their kid on their birthday? The same one who refused to pay child support, regardless of the judge's order.

Stop thinking about him.

Before my thoughts dropped my mood any lower, I scoped out the intersection across from The Pizza Box. I quickly popped the curb on the yellow light that turned red before I ever got the back wheel on the street. I pedaled faster when one of the cars gave a loud, long honk. My fingers lifted from the handlebars in apology when I spotted the red Ferrari in the next lane. They'd begun to drive forward before coming to a sudden halt a few feet from the crosswalk.

There was no way to explain what happened next. The world slowed to an almost standstill, sending my senses into a frenzy. The neurons in my brain suddenly hyper-focused. The beat of my heart thumped slowly yet thunderously inside my head.

My body turned to a mass of tingles as if a million butterflies prepared for flight from inside me. I felt everything. The warm breeze, the faint squawk of seagulls in the distance, the smell of fresh dough baking in the pizzeria. My whole being fixated on one of the two people sitting inside the car.

In my peripherals, I caught the passenger flipping me off, but the driver held my attention. I felt his concentration as strongly as my own.

The darkness and fear in my life faded.

My entire body cinched tight, my muscles tensed and strained. A warm heat spread through me like lava from an erupting volcano.

The few seconds felt like an hour as I stared at him. Whoever he was, he was stunningly beautiful, like a sculpture crafted by Michelangelo. Maybe the best-looking guy I'd ever seen. Male model material. I'd never experienced anything like my reaction to him before.

I rolled past the Ferrari, lost to his world.

The sports car took off. Not with the peel out that I might've tried to execute if driving that car, instead at a normal speed. All I could do was turn my head to watch the car drive away.

The sudden stop of my bicycle shocked me. I lurched forward, catapulting me over the handlebars. Unfortunately, the back wheel followed me when my legs tangled in the bike's frame.

The world sling-shotted back in place as my years of being tackled had me instinctively preparing for the fall. I ducked and rolled, landing in a skid on the concrete sidewalk. My stop came by way of the small bushes lining the path in front of The Pizza Box.

With that strange standstill-in-time moment extinguished, I opened my eyes and assessed my body for injury. When it appeared I might not have broken any bones, the pain of the road rash lit the left side of my body on fire.

I shouldn't be embarrassed, but I was. In a hopefully fluid motion, I rolled to my feet. From the way I fell, my bike had landed on a grassy patch on the other side of the bushes.

"You good?" I glanced over my shoulder to see Josh Bigly in a parking spot in front of the restaurant with his truck window rolled down.

I gave a thumbs-up and bent to pick up my ball cap that had fallen off. "I think so," I yelled.

In a practiced move, I scooped my hair off my forehead and pulled the cap down backward over my head. Then I swiped at the dirt and debris on my shirt and shorts. The crunch of the grass made me look in the direction of my bike to see Josh walking toward me.

"You got scraped up pretty good there," Josh said, nodding toward my arm then reaching for my bike. He brought it up. Remarkably, it appeared okay. The front tire was flat, but I could fix that.

"Yeah." A drop of blood landed on the concrete.

I lifted my arm and knocked the small rocks and dirt from the skin. The distinct sound of my mom's high heel shoes clicking quickly across the parking lot had me groaning inwardly. If she lay witness to my accident, I might not ever be allowed to ride again.

"I'm Josh. Don't know if you remember me. My father owns this restaurant," Josh explained, pressing his thumb in the front tire, confirming it was flat.

"I remember you." The blood picked up speed and dripped again, another drop followed. I didn't know what to do so I placed my hand tightly over the scrapes, trying to stop the bleeding. I hiked a leg over the bushes to be on the same side as Josh and my bike.

Josh and I had spent quite a bit of time fishing, but the same thing happened with him that happened to Chae. He was older than me, doing what older kids do. Last time I remembered seeing him, he was a shortish, overweight, and stocky kid. He'd changed. Tall and broad with a face that looked made to smile as he did right now.

"You've grown."

"That's everybody's reaction. I heard you were back in town. For good this time," Josh said and started toward the front door of the pizzeria, my bike in hand. "We have a first-aid kit inside."

"Honey, what happened?" my mother asked, her arms crossing over her chest, her signature sign of worry. I could tell she wanted to reach out to me and take care of my injuries, but I'd broken her of that habit years ago. The embarrassment of the fall didn't need my mom's overprotective brand of care mixed in. That needed to be done in private where I'd gladly let her cuddle me.

"The curb came out of nowhere and tripped him up," Josh said good-naturedly. "Probably that shiny red Ferrari's fault. That thing was badass." My mom gave Josh a hard stare at the use of profanity. Josh grinned bigger. He looked like a big ole teddy bear. "Sorry, Mrs. Brooks."

"Mom, remember Josh Bigly? That's him."

Maybe the only thing that could have taken her worry off my fall was her astonishment when she took a closer look at Josh. Her expressions ranged from uncertainty to shock in a matter of a few seconds.

Josh laughed again and gripped my handlebars tighter, starting toward the restaurant. "Come inside. We'll get you cleaned up."

When I followed, my mom did too. Her palm came to the center of my back, lightly caressing. I loved that move. She was such a good mom.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly. "Did you get hurt?"

"Probably only scratches and a bruised ego," Josh teased from over his shoulder. "The bike seems good. The tire's shot. Not sure I've seen such a perfectly executed tuck and roll before, except maybe in the movies."

My mom kept the worry on her face as she gave me a critical up and down assessment. Since everything had gone wrong with my family, she poured herself into mothering me. And I let it happen, sometimes.

"I'm fine. I promise. Just hungry."

Speaking of food had her tense features softening.

"You're always hungry," she said and gave me a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"My parents can barely keep me fed and they own a restaurant," Josh said, leaving my bike in the small foyer between the parking lot and the dining room. "I'll get the first-aid kit and meet you in the restroom. I'll also tell my dad to go heavy on the buffet to feed us both in a timely manner."

Great. I was into both ideas and started for the arrow sign pointing me to the bathroom.

"I'll get a table," my mom said. "Call me if you need me."

We were on the same page. If my injuries took a bad turn, she was the first person to know.

My birthday dinner had gone from two people to three with Josh choosing to stick with me and Mom, instead of doing his own thing. I was having a pretty decent time, especially since I was on a winning streak in Ninja Assault , jumping up the leaderboard to third place.

"The town hall crowd's gonna release soon. They always come here after a meetin'. It's never good anymore," Josh said quietly at the vintage pinball machine beside me.

"Yeah," I said, distracted. "Sounds like it's goin' bad for them. All they have left is the picket—"

"No, dude," Josh, making it hard to hear over all the death and destruction I was executing. "You're not pickin' up what I'm layin' down."

Those words bounced around my head as my fingers moved deftly over the game's buttons.

Josh's big hand clamped down hard on my shoulder, causing my hand to slip. My fiery death exploded on the screen. I reared back, looking at my score as the end game graphic flashed my fate. What the hell? Josh broke a top guy code rule. Don't mess with each other while playing a video game. My disappointment barely stayed behind my lips as my stare slid to Josh.

"What?" I bit out, not able to keep all my frustration hidden. If Scott had done something like that to me, I might've actually tackled him to the ground. He'd never hear the end of it.

"There's a party at the acres. You in?"

"The acres?" I asked. Josh said it like I should know the place. And parties? I really wasn't that guy.

Did I have a curfew? Did my mom allow me to go to parties like that?

The excuses began to tumble from my lips. "I have to get my bike home then fix the tire."

Josh laughed in my face and brought his hand back to my shoulder. This time with a little less force. "I got you covered. Come on."

"Not tonight. I gotta change my clothes, clean some of this dirt off me. Maybe another time..."

Josh was already at least ten steps in front of me, heading to my mom sitting in one of the booths.

"Hey, Mrs. Brooks. We're havin' an end-of-year party tonight. Can Beau go with me?" Josh asked. If there was any way for me to catch my mother's eye and shake my head no or even mouth the word, I would, but Josh's booming voice and large frame blocked my mom from me. Josh's mom sat across from her, the deep conversation they shared consumed her. She looked startled at the interruption.

"Ask me again," my mom said. "I don't think I heard that right. Beau going to a party?"

"Yeah, it's supervised," Josh added. Where my mom looked happy for me, Josh's mom appeared more skeptical.

"It's supervised, huh?" his mom asked.

"Yeah," Josh answered as if a party could happen any other way. "I'll have him home by eleven forty-five. I'll be home by my midnight curfew." He then dropped the bomb that took me by complete surprise. "You know, I gotta show our guy a good time so we can recruit him onto the team next season."

Oh no. Not that. My shoulders dropped at the suggestion.

"Well, that sounds wonderful," my mom said happily, sitting back in the booth seat, clearly relieved.

Josh's mom frowned, having the exact opposite reaction. "You were supposed to build up to that, young man." She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a critical stare, as she leaned back in the booth.

"Ah…Mom, you know I'm not very good at followin' directions." By then I was beside Josh with both our parents waiting for my response. Josh gave me no time to think of a better excuse as his arm draped around my shoulders, landing on the aching one. I tried to move out from underneath him at the same time Josh reached out, patting—no, hitting—at my chest. "Everybody's gonna help him make the right decision. Trust me."

"Keep your phone on," my mom said as if it was perfectly normal for me to go do anything without Scott by my side. "He's just gone through so much." Oh God. I felt the walls closing in on me. "He's such a good boy, but he's withdrawn, and I don't know why…"

All the customers in the restaurant had to have heard too. I pivoted around, and started for the door, needing to get the heck out of there since everyone was going to think I was a charity case. I pushed through the entry door with Josh on my heels.

"My dad said you could bus tables. He heard you've been all around lookin' for a job today. My advice is to find somethin' else. He's shorthanded and we all gotta do way more than the jobs we're assigned with no extra money." I grabbed my bike, and Josh opened the exterior door, letting me through first.

"I can meet you there." As far as I was concerned, I'd rather walk home pushing my bike. "I need to change. Probably shower. I've been digging through junkyards today. Let's call it done."

"Put your bike in the back of my truck," Josh said. "It's not a problem. I gotta pick up Chae anyway. We've been goin' out for about a year. She's never ready on time. You'll probably have to wait for her."

If Josh had to go to my house anyway, I'd be saved from a four-mile walk. Then greatness popped into my head and I spurted the idea before thinking it over. "I don't wanna play football anymore. I'm not goin' to. It's a hard no for me. My dad wasn't acceptin' of my decision. That's why we moved here."

"I'm not gonna say I'm not sorry to hear that," Josh said, stopping at the other side of the truck's bed. "The team could use the help. You're nationally ranked as a freshman. You're badass. I've watched some of your footage. And I get Sea Springs isn't even on the map. I also heard your dad's a massive douche bag, and he's been real hard on you, so I get why you don't wanna play. But I'm not the only one assigned to talk to you. Stick with me and I'll steer 'em clear."

Emotion welled, clogging my throat for finally having someone understand even if it was only a small portion of my reasons why.

"Come on, Brooks. Whatever's got that look on your face ain't worth the effort. You'll meet lots of people at the party. You can just chill then I'll take you home."

Maybe he was right. The imaginary neon sign flashing above my head, telling people I'm gay wasn't a real thing. Nobody had figured it out yet. With more time under my belt, would it even matter?

I didn't know the answers. Chilling seemed cool. It'd be fine. I guessed.

Maybe.