16. Kess

16

KESS

“Morning, Rowdy,” I said, holding up the snack box I’d made for the ride over.

Rowdy scratched his temple. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re going into town today for the youth group, right?”

“Yeah...”

He probably wondered how I knew about his schedule. Skylar had been surprisingly helpful on that front, and Rowdy’s confusion amused me. He’d been good at masking the truth, but I was going to dismantle every single one of his prevarications, brick by brick if I had to.

“Perfect. Thought I’d join you.”

“Well, uh...I’ve also got a few errands to run after.”

“Cool. I’ll ride along,” I said, rounding his little truck and letting myself in on the passenger side before he could protest.

Rowdy slowly got into the truck and put his hands on the wheel, then looked over at me. He opened his mouth as to say something, then closed it.

“So, is Jaxon going to be at this youth group thing?”

He bit at his lower lip, uncertainty in his eyes. “I hope so.”

“Has he been skipping it?”

“No, Jaxon’s almost always there. But he’s been changing a lot over the last few weeks, and I’m not sure what to think quite yet.”

If I had to guess, giving over this information—the mere act of letting me in on these details—was more uncomfortable for Rowdy than landing in a patch of stinging nettle.

Unrelated, I’d discovered stinging nettle in the back of my property, and I couldn’t give a good goddamn about its medicinal properties. That shit sucked .

“Do you think he’s a trustworthy guy?” I asked, not telling him I knew about the shoplifting.

“He is,” Rowdy said, nodding to himself. “But I worry their situation is making him consider illegal things. And I want to see if I can get to him before he goes down that path.”

“That’s a really lofty goal.”

“I dunno. It might be a stupid one.”

“No, it’s not.” I squeezed his shoulder. “We just haven’t figured out a solution yet.”

We went quiet after that, and I thought through the various possibilities. By the time we pulled up to the youth center, I still didn’t have any solutions, but I was determined to help Rowdy figure it out.

We walked inside, and the place was more crowded than I’d thought it’d be.

“This is basically an after-school option for kids who need extra support,” Rowdy said, leading me to a small classroom. “So, like, don’t be judgy, or whatever.”

It stung that he felt he had to warn me, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that his warning was actually a tell. This was important to him. Really important.

Several kids were already in the classroom when we arrived, and before Rowdy even pointed him out, I knew exactly who Jaxon was. He was the massive kid in the back, his arms crossed over his chest, looking far older than his tender years.

“I’m guessing that’s him,” I said, discreetly pointing to the guy.

“Yep.”

“He always sit apart like that?”

“No.” A line appeared between Rowdy’s brows. “He’s usually cutting up with the other kids.”

“I’m going to go sit next to him, unless you think that’s a bad idea.”

Rowdy’s hand went to his chest, clearly worried.

“I think...it’s not the worst idea,” he finally said. “I have to grab the counselor who’s speaking today and manage the class, but I don’t want to leave him off to himself like that.”

“I got it.” I rubbed his shoulder. “And I promise I won’t judge him.”

He looked up at me, his endless brown eyes so clearly worried. “Thanks, Kess. This means a lot to me.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss his forehead and promise that everything would be all right. Not only would that have been inappropriate for the classroom, I had no idea if I could actually help with any of this.

The rest of the kids filed in, and I squeezed into the ridiculously small desk next to Jaxon, who looked equally uncomfortable.

“Who the hell designed these things?” I asked.

“Probably the same assholes who came up with enhanced interrogation techniques,” he responded, cracking me up.

It was so easy to forget his age because of his massive size and the low tenor of his voice. I reminded myself that he was still a baby.

He scanned me from head to toe, clearly skeptical. “You one of Rowdy’s friends?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

He nodded to himself, as if he’d just decided that I was a good person—or at least he was willing to give me a pass—because I’d come with Rowdy. It was strange to think of Rowdy as someone who a kid would hold in high regard.

Strange, but not as surprising as I may have once believed.

Rowdy returned to the classroom with the person I assumed was the counselor, and Rowdy sent me a furtive look. I smiled in return. His brow was still quizzical as he got things started, going around the room and having everyone say how their day went.

When Rowdy got to us, Jaxon grunted, “ Pass .”

I wondered how Rowdy would handle that—it’d be easy to get into a power struggle with a teenager—but Rowdy took it in stride, skipping over him, and me, to move on to the next person. Message received: This was Rowdy’s domain, and I was a silent observer.

The one thing I noted as the class progressed was that Jaxon seemed to grow more and more agitated. While there was a clear schedule that they followed, Rowdy and the counselor—a cool older lady named Mrs. Ceballos—did a great job of going with the flow, letting the conversation go where the kids needed it to. Today’s subject, Dating In Your Teens , felt a little on the nose.

When Mrs. Ceballos emphasized it was okay to take your time and get to know the person better, I exchanged a quick glance with Rowdy, who went beet red. Huh. Another tell.

I smiled to myself, imagining the ways in which I’d woo him.

When I checked on Jaxon, though, he was cringing, almost as if he wanted to hide under his desk. He was drumming on the desktop, clenching and unclenching his massive hands, obviously uncomfortable.

I bet everyone assumed he was a good ten years older than he was. While this conversation seemed age appropriate, I remembered Rowdy saying something about adults hitting on him. As I considered the implications of that, I noticed Jaxon wore what appeared to be a woven bracelet made with various shades of blue and orange around his large wrist.

That reminded me that this group was LGBTQ+ friendly. Checking out the other students, I saw a variety of queer flag colors represented in their clothing, jewelry, and nail polish. I didn’t recognize the colors that Jaxon was wearing, so I wasn’t sure if they meant anything or if those were just his favorite colors.

Surreptitiously, I pulled out my phone and did a quick image search for “LGBTQ+ flag blue and orange.” The first picture that came up was the aromantic-asexual flag.

I’d been familiar with the purple, black, and gray colors of the asexual flag, but I hadn’t realized there was a specific aro-ace flag. I hadn’t wanted to assume, but if I was reading the situation correctly, his discomfort with the discussion of the day actually made a lot of sense.

After a few more minutes, Rowdy and Mrs. Ceballos called a break, encouraging the kids to grab snacks and talk to the person next to them. Neither I nor Jaxon got up, so I took the opportunity and pointed to his bracelet.

“That’s really nice. Do those colors mean anything?” I asked, not wanting to assume—and, maybe, giving him an out if he didn’t want to share.

“Uh.” He glanced over at me, then down at his wrist. “They mean aro-ace.”

“Oh, cool.” I chewed at my bottom lip, then went in. “I kind of know what that means, but do you mind telling me what it means for you?”

Rowdy walked up to us at that exact moment. “Hey, looky here. Two of my favorite guys. What’re y’all talking about?”

Jaxon looked between the two of us, then froze. I smiled and gave him the go-ahead gesture.

“I was just telling Kess about my bracelet.”