Chapter 1

One

Josh

“ H oly hell!” Jenna’s stomping her feet on the cement bleachers beside me. My hand’s pressed over my mouth. Then Ezra runs into the end zone, and the whole damn stadium jumps up screaming.

“Oh my God!” Jenna’s tugging on my elbow, jumping up and down.

“I’m going home,” somebody laughs in front of us.

My eyes are locked on Ezra as he runs back toward the sideline. Coach Nix claps his back. Someone—Brennan—hugs him.

I watch as he talks to two others who have their backs facing away from us and then sits on the bleachers. Coach Nix puts a towel on his neck and something weird twists in my stomach.

“I have never seen a high school game with numbers like this,” Jenna says.

Scoreboard’s 72 v. 27 — Fairplay. Ezra ran the ball and scored three touchdowns all on his own. I don’t know how many yards he passed for, but it had to be a ton. Three or four times, he threw almost the length of the field.

Now he’s standing again, swiping a hand back through his damp hair. I can see his shoulders rising and falling. Marcel comes to stand beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. He sits back down. Someone passes him a water bottle.

“Josh...” Jenna grabs my elbow. “You can sit back down now.”

I blink at her, and she sings the first two lines of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.”

“Hello...is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me...”

I laugh—it sounds fake—and she gives me a deep frown. “I said, I bet they’re gonna run the clock down.” She claps her hands. “That’s the game. Your stepbrother is a superstar!”Her eyes narrow. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone kicked your puppy. Is this gonna make his ego too big?” Her mouth rounds into a little “o,” and she nods. She mouths, “Your dad.”

I roll my eyes. My dad’s sitting on the first row, right behind the home team’s setup. He’s been cheering like a maniac the whole time.

“I don’t give a fuck about him. He should be happy. We won.”

She gives me a look that says she’s not sure she believes me, but she lets it drop. “The party after this...” She laughs. “It’s going to be crazy.”

“Where are people going?”

“You’re living in a bubble, Joshua. We’re all going to Sunny’s land.”

Ahh. Sunny Gardner.

“Josh.” Jenna laughs, and I rip my eyes away from Ezra.“What are you doing?” Again with the searching look.

“Fuck off,” I laugh.

She leans in and whisper-hisses, “You’re watching someone. Who is it?”

“I’m watching my dad, dude.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a shitty liar.”

Then the game is over, and I’m saved by all the chaos. Getting off the bleachers, saying “hey” to everyone we know, from Sunday school teachers to the manager at Winn-Dixie. I bump into my mom and Carl at ground-level, and Carl looks like he just watched a rocket launch. Honestly, so does my mom.

“Josh!” My mom hugs me. “Wasn’t that amazing?”

I nod, and then start walking with them so everyone bottle-necking behind us doesn’t get pissed off.

“We’re going to see him. Do you want to come?” My mom says. “Hello, Jenna.”

It’s decided that we’ll all go to greet Ezra as he walks out of the locker room.

“I hope it won’t embarrass him,” my mom says.“I didn’t even think to do this after the first few games.”

I snort. “Never worried about that with me.”

She gives me a mock outraged look, and I shoot her a grin.

It takes about five minutes to get to the locker room exit. My stomach twists into a pretzel, wondering if he’ll look at me first, and if he’ll guard his face around them. I don’t know how he used to give me poker faces, but it turns out he’s not that smooth. Today when we passed each other in the hall, his whole damn gorgeous Ezra face went soft and focused on me, which made me feel so weird. Good weird.

I blink as he comes through the big, metal door. As soon as my gaze sweeps him, I get a gut-punched feeling and rip my eyes away. A millisecond later, I’m drinking him in—the sleeveless white T-shirt and purple gym shorts. His face—he looks tired—and then his eyes are on mine but I look down, and everybody’s talking at once.

Carl’s really sweet with him. I don’t know what he says, but when I look up, he’s hugging Ezra really hard, and Ezra’s eyes flicker to mine, and I can see him looking happy even though he’s not smiling. I can feel it.

Mom says stuff to him, and he seems embarrassed. I bet his ears are red, but it’s too dark here in the dim light to be sure. And then it’s my turn.

“Dude, that was amazing,” I manage. “How’d you run it so much?” I try to sound like it’s shop talk.

He gives me this little sideways smile. “I’m a runner,” he says.

Motherfucker lets his eyes do this little smolder thing, like he’s sex-camming and he’s being coy with me. It gets my dick up, and my fucking heartrate. And when I look at Jenna, I can tell she saw it, too.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Mom and Carl did. They ask what we’re doing and Jenna says some people are going to hang out at Sunny’s house.

“You mean Sunny’s barn ?” My mom shoots me a look, and I make a funny you-caught-me face. “I know what the kids do out there,” she says. She looks at Ezra. “You two keep each other in line. You’ll be twenty-one soon enough, and if you really want to drink that badly, we’ll buy you a six-pack to share on the back porch.”

Cara and James walk by at that moment, and Cara beckons Jenna over.

“I’ll call you,” Jenna tells me as she goes.

“Josh, you don’t have a car,” my mom points out, on schedule.

“Ride back with us,” Carl suggests. “We’re not so bad.”

“He can ride with me,” Ezra offers. “Are you going to Sunny’s?”

I frown like I’m thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess so. For a little while. You going right now?”

“Yeah. I’m not staying long, though.” He rolls his shoulders, making a face. “Need another ice bath.”

My mom asks Ezra if they really do take ice baths in the locker room, and my dick gets up again as I think about him naked. Then Mom and Carl are walking away. It’s just Ezra and me—and the two dozen or so other people around. His eyes hold mine, and he’s got this little smile on. Almost dreamy.

“Dude, you were incredible,” I whisper. “Like, I’m shocked. I’m in awe. Every week, just like. Damn.”

Ezra looks down, and I knock his shoulder with mine. “We gotta walk fast to the car now,” he says. “Or I’m gonna grab you here in front of everybody.”

We start walking, and I tell him, “In the second quarter? That sideways sack from their monster linebacker—made me feel sick. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, looking tired and happy.

“What about the scouts? Where were they? Did you talk to them?” I almost forgot about the scouts that have been coming here every week—such was my awe at seeing Ezra play.

“Yeah. They were near your dad. I talked to them right after.”

“What did they say?”

He shrugs. “They were cool and stuff. Gave their names and cards. Said they’ll be back.”

“That’s amazing. Which ones showed up this week?”

“Bama again, Auburn again. Clemson,” he says, like he’s surprised. “Also UT, Stanford.”

“Stanford. Holy shit! What were your stats like from before you came here? I feel like a slacker that I haven’t studied up.”

We walk through a shadow at the corner of the brick school building, and his hand grabs mine, squeezing for a second. He lets it go with a soft laugh. “Can’t stay away,” he rasps.

“Two more minutes,” I whisper.

“I’m gonna tackle you into the backseat. Honestly I’m not.” He laughs. “Sorta need the ice bath.”

“Did you get one in the locker room tonight?”

“Yeah. But only for a minute or two. Those shared metal tubs are pretty gross.”

I laugh. “I can imagine. We don’t get that rough in soccer.”

He looks at me with his head cocked sideways, a look on his face that says he’s tired but wanting me the same way I want him. “It’s good to see you. Miller.” His voice is low and husky. His damp hair is hanging in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad, I feel almost dizzy.

“Let’s run to the car,” he murmurs. “Like it’s a race.”

“So I can lose?” I laugh.

“I’ll be slow. I’m already getting sore.”

“Let’s jog. But laugh like it’s a race?”I suggest.

“I can laugh.” He gives me another one of those smiles. It’s this small, sweet smile—like it’s only for me.

“Go now?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

We’re supposed to jog, but I pull ahead, and then he jets off in front of me a little. “Fucking liar,” I gasp.

He laughs, turning around to give me a teasing grin. He manages to turn around and still reach the Jeep before me.

“You’re a cheater,” I pant as he pulls the driver’s side door open.

“Get in.” He gives me an intense, almost-dazed look. Then we’re in the car and he’s just looking at me.

“Hey,” I whisper, smiling.

He leans down, putting his head in my lap, and locks his arms around my waist, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts.

“My Miller,” he whispers.

I stroke a hand through his hair, looking around as I do to be sure no one notices he’s leaning into my lap.

“Ezzie.” I hug him as well as I can without leaning over. Then he’s up. He’s looking at me—smiling at me—looking rueful as he cranks the car.

“I kept looking at you,” he whispers.

“I kept looking at you,” I say. “Couldn’t take my eyes off for a second. It was honestly...an art. Every week, I feel surprised again. And nervous again. But mostly surprised. You’re like a machine.”

He backs out of the parking spot. Then he takes my hand and squeezes. Then he brings it to his dick.

“Feel that machine?”he murmurs, pressing me against him.

“Oh shit.”

He lifts his hips—even as he’s driving us out of the lot.

“You’re so hard,” I laugh.

“I want you.”

“I want you too,” I tell him. “Pull over at the baseball field.”

I play with his dick till we get there, snickering at how hard he is.

“You’re already halfway there,” I tell him. “And so am I now.”

Ez leans over, rubbing me, so we’re rubbing each other as he parks behind a tall shrub.

I consider jerking him, but I want to taste him, to feel his soft cockhead in my mouth. I suck him in, and I’m rewarded by him tasting all salty and slick at the tip.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pulling off him. “You taste so good.”

I know I should make this fast, reduce the risk of getting seen, but I can’t help giving him some slow licks all around the rim of his head and that little soft spot on the underside. I know it’ll drive him crazy, and it does. He’s holding my head, groaning. When I start to pump his shaft, I reach my middle finger down to rub over his balls, and I can feel them drawn-up, tight and ready.

I lower my free hand to hold them, squeezing just a little, and he groans, “Mills,” and comes in a hot burst down my throat. His body shudders, and he groans again and wraps an arm around my back.

“Oh fuck.”

I lift my head and tuck him back into his boxers and his shorts, and Ezra wraps his arm around me again. He pulls me closer, kisses my throat, where I like it most. When my stomach feels all topsy-turvy and my dick is aching in my shorts, he reaches inside and starts pumping me.

“Get in your seat,” he rasps, and I do, and he leans down and pulls my dick out, wraps his mouth around it.

I have the idea that he might be too tired to blow me, but he does an all-star job, and I come in about forty seconds. When he’s finished swallowing, he hugs me long and hard before he sits back up and wipes his mouth.

“Best post-game meal I ever had.”

That makes me laugh.

“You embarrassed?” He looks charmed.

“Uh, I think maybe.”

He kisses my cheek and cranks the Jeep up again. “Where you wanna go, Millsy?”

“What about you? Are you tired?”

He laughs. “Maybe a little.”

“What about home? We could watch a movie?”

“Won’t your mom think that’s weird?” he asks.

“Hmm. You could say you’re tired. I could say I’m gonna turn in early. Would that be weird?” I ask him.

“Let’s go for a little while? Just so we don’t raise suspicions?”

“Good point. Or...we could not go. And they just think we did. You want to go somewhere completely different?”

He takes my hand. “Anywhere. That it can just be us.”

We go to one of the boat marinas on the south side of town. It’s got a parking lot shaded by trees that are all grown up with kudzu. There’s a tranquil lake view, and if somebody sees a lone Jeep parked here, it won’t ring alarm bells. The place is basically a parking lot for cars and boat trailers.

At this hour, it’s deserted, just like I figured it would be. There’s only two working streetlights in the parking lot, casting the place in soft, gold light. We get out and walk quietly down to the water.

There’s a tree with big roots I think we can sit on, but Ezra sinks down first, ass-planting in the sand. He looks up at me, and I sit by him. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him. I sit cross-legged and he takes my hand into his lap.

He squeezes it a few times, almost giving it a massage.

“I should do that to you,” I tell him. I take his right hand, rubbing everywhere I think might feel good, and he slumps against me, making soft, moan sounds that—not surprisingly—get my dick up again.

He wraps his left arm around my waist, and I try to snap-shot the moment in my memory: the sound of water lapping at the shore and boat docks. The smear of moonlight on the water and the feel of Ezra wrapped around me, hugging me tight, leaning on me like he’s mine to hold. Like we’re a couple.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks softly.

I smile. “Feeling like we’re a couple,” I confess.

“We are. You’re my Miller.” He hugs me tighter. “I can’t let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

His cheek presses against my shoulder. “You’ve gotta tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“If what does?”

I can feel him exhale slowly. “Me.”

I lace my fingers through the hand I’ve been massaging. “You could never be too much. Could never be anything but just right. Everything that I was wanting but I didn’t even know it. Never let myself think of it. I figured I wouldn’t find someone till I left Fairplay. If then. Last time I saw Arnie, he told me he’s hooking up with lots of people up at Bama. One-after-the-other style. I didn’t want that. Never have. Does that sound stupid?” I ask in a burst of insecurity.

“Of course not.” He hugs me closer. Inhales...lets the breath out. “I don’t want that either.” He looks behind us. “You think anybody’s around?”

“Nah.”

His eyes find mine, and they look wide, maybe uncertain. “You care if I use your lap as my pillow?”

“Go for it.”

He does. He lies down so he’s looking up at me, and I start playing with his hair the way I know he likes. Just these light tugs, and then massaging his head with my fingertips.

He takes my other arm and wraps it around him.

“Noticed no nightmares again last night,” I whisper.

He smiles up at me—a gentle little smile. “You’re good for me.”

“I don’t think I do much.”

“You do so much,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my leg. He likes to hold onto me.

“My mom’s religious,” he says softly, after some time. “She can’t find out.”

“About us?” I ask. “Or about you?”

“Either,” he says.

“You mean ever—or like, near future?”

“Ever.” It sounds so definitive,I’m surprised.

“You still talk to her and stuff?”I ask him.

“No.” His eyes shut as he says it.

“Not at all?”

“She calls sometimes,” he whispers. “I try to answer one of every four. Just tell her basics. So she thinks I’m okay.”

“And are you okay, angel?”

“Yeah.” He curls against me more. “Don’t be scared about that, Mills.”

“I am scared. I’m really scared of something happening to you.”

“Nothing will happen.”

“Those pills scare me,” I manage.

“You want me to toss them?”

“I don’t know. What if you need them?”

“I won’t need them.”

“You might need the Xanax.”

“Not the other ones. I never needed them to start with.”

“Why do you have them?” I’ve waited weeks and weeks to broach this subject again. I don’t want to make him feel pushed. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say quickly.

I feel him drag a breath in. He sits up. “It’s okay.” He looks at me and then down at the sand, as he crosses his legs.He looks at me again, holding my eyes. I can tell he’s gonna spill some deets, so I put my hand on his knee.

“My mom sent me somewhere. Last year,” he says softly. “She thought I was gay. She didn’t want that. So, she sent me to…this boarding school.” He blows a breath out. “It…wasn’t a good experience.”

Now his gaze breaks from mine, dipping down to his lap. “I ended up in the hospital.”

I frown, not understanding.

He looks at me like he’s trying to tell me the whole story—just with his face.He says, “I don’t want to take that stuff.”

My heart is racing as I urge him back down into my lap. It’s all I can do to keep my voice steady as I ask, “Do you feel good without it? It’s okay to take meds if you need to.”

He nods. “Better without.” He sits up again. “You lie down,” he whispers. I do—I lie on my back—and he lies on his side, so that he’s facing me, his cheek propped in his palm. He runs his hand under my shirt and then around my side, holding my hip. His hand comes back over my belly.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not as cut as yours.”My lips twitch.

“You’re perfect.” He gets between my legs and kisses my throat, holds my face in his hands. “Every fucking freckle...” He gives my cheeks little, soft kisses. He kisses my temple. “Your soft hair. Wavy hair.” He kisses my forehead. “That’s why I hated you, you know,” he whispers, looking down into my eyes. “Too perfect. Tempting. Something that I couldn’t have. And shouldn’t want.” He kisses my mouth lightly. “But I wanted you. So fucking bad. It was fucking me up. So I started messing with you.”

He moves down me, kissing my shoulder. “I still regret it.” He moves lower, lifting up my shirt to kiss around my navel.“You deserve the best.” He looks up at me, and there’s something in his eyes—or on his face. I don’t know what it is, but he looks sad.

I reach down, ruffling his hair. “I forgive you, angel. You are the best.”

“When we get to college, if you want another—”

“What the fuck?” I pull him to me. “Angel.” I urge him to lie over me, so we’re face to face. “I don’t want another guy. In college, it’ll be like right now. But we’ll be in college.” I grin. “More time alone. Someone needs to get an apartment and we can live there all the time.”

His eyes look wide. “You want that?”

“Yes. Do you?” My stomach pitches.

“Yeah. Of course. You’re all I want.” He kisses my jaw. “Only my Miller.” His lips find mine.

We get hot and heavy, forcing us to the Jeep, where we jerk each other off.

After that, he looks zonked. I laugh. “Let’s go home, superstar. Make hot chocolate. Tuck you in.”

“Are you disappointed that we missed the party?”he asks.

“Fuck no. I don’t care.” He starts driving, and I take his hand. “I want to say...I’m really sorry for what happened to you. At both of those places. I’m sorry you were alone. I know it’s stupid, but I really wish I could’ve been with you.”

“It’s not stupid,” he rasps. “That’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever told me.”