Curtis Salazar

I don't need to watch Timmy drive or keep my eyes on the road to see and notice how slow he is freaking driving. It is comical and insane. I pull myself up from my lying position and my arms on both front seat, leaning my head really close to Timmy's ear. The scent of his hair hits me then his smell and I wonder if it's because of how my eyes hurt from all the crying that I've been doing today that my nostrils are super active. It's calming, Timmy scent. It's what calmed me at the ice rink, it's what I want to keep smelling now.

Timmy's too absorbed in driving like a dead brained cripple to notice me close to him. I can just maintain this position and keep smelling him until I fall asleep or he notices but then that's so creepy and what the fuck Curt? Your head might be mushed up but get your shit together.

"You know," I start saying and Timmy gasps, clicking the button for the windshield wipers while at it. I hold in my chuckle and continue, "you can get a ticket for crawling on the road like this."

"The fuck Curt?" Timmy asks, not even having the courage and confidence to glance back at me in annoyance. "If we crash, it's going to be your fault." He blindly taps the area under the steering wheel, "how do I stop this... movement?!"

I sigh, leaning in so part my body is in front, I feel Timmy stop breathing and for some reason, I smirk and linger a bit before turning the wipers off. "There. Can you please drive faster now?"

"Nope and since you're feeling better, you can come take the wheel now, no questions asked."

I pout and relax my head on his shoulder, well barely, "I'm not better."

"Curt!"

I break into a chuckle, unable to help myself. "I'm helping you out here, sooner or later, you'd have to get comfortable with driving."

"I go with later," Timmy says without missing a beat. "Like, later later."

I groan, "do you know grandma Milton?"

"Um, yeah."

"You know how she's kinda blind now and forgetful and almost always scared?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I've seen her drive and she drives a thousand times faster than you and she's blind," Timmy rolls his eyes and I laugh. "A blind grandma Timmy, a blind person drives faster than you. Don't do me like this."

"Ha ha, very funny. You're not getting to me though. Want speed? Take the fucking wheel."

I sigh, giving up. "Is this an Asian thing?"

"Are you about to be racist with me right now?"

I raise both hands up in surrender, "no, I'm just asking. If it is, I could flourish so well as driver if I move back there."

"I'm not even going to answer you Curt," he says, then answers. "It's a Timmy thing— I think."

I don't say anything and just watch Timmy drive until he drives into a filling station not with the aim of buying gas though as he packs at the far end of the lot. Timmy gets out the car and opens the door for me even if I don't look like I want to come out. "Get out and make yourself comfortable while I go get us something to eat."

Timmy walks off before I can say anything else and I roll my eyes doing as he said and getting comfortable at the trunk of the car with the cover above us blocking the sun out. Timmy returns about ten minutes later with two slushies and one pack of cheese Doritos (as Flipz is to Timmy, Cheesy Doritos are to me) and a Reeses for himself. He silently sits next to me, handing me my goodies and holding out his slushie. I hit his with mine, muttering "cheers" and then we drink at the same time. Way back before Timmy and I became old enough to drink, as kids we would treat slushies as our alcohol. Treating it the way we saw people do in the movies, sometimes we'd even stagger after drinking it all, pretending we were drunk and then laugh at our stupidity.

Then we had thought that when we get old enough, we'd never stop drinking beers and whiskeys and whatnot. But then when the time actually reached, we got a rude awakening; Timmy didn't even like the taste of beer and detested a hangover, as his face got swollen when drunk, it's comical. And I won't say I love it but I get to drink it as parties but it's not something I'd drink to relax and be happy— a hangover, the price to pay for that brief alcohol bliss, is a bitch thorn in the ass.

Timmy and I take huge sips from our drinks, stop at the same time and exhale in relief at the same time— the coolness and little taste of Coke mixed in doing wonders to our throat. We exchange a smile but Timmy catches himself quickly and looks away with a frown. I groan and nudge him with my shoulder, "what now?"

"I'm mad at you," he simply says, poking his tongue into his cheek.

"Why? Because I made you drive?"

"Yes and because you're holding out on me," at that he turns back the me. "I thought we tell each other everything? Or is this the exception where you kill yourself on the ice instead?"

I look away with guilt, "we do tell each other everything and no, I wasn't planning on killing myself on the ice, I just slipped."

"You don't slip, Curt. Especially not when executing such a simple move, I know you."

True, I don't slip. And true, Timmy knows me.

"Okay, fine. But in all honesty I was going to tell you this morning but then you seemed to have a lot on your mind already, I didn't want to add my troubles to that."

Now Timmy looks away, "oh."

"Yeah," I take my drink and tear open the pack of Doritos. "So, Dad gave me a schedule calendar this morning."

"Again?"

I nod, "this one's choked up even. Hockey trainings up and down and more library time. A clear remembrance and threat that I have to get drafted this year."

Timmy doesn't say anything after. I know someone else would probably say things like 'you know you don't have to listen to him Curt, you're more grown now and and know what you want' or something like 'don't let him get to you Curt, we'd get through this no matter what'. Yes, maybe some friends would say that but Timmy isn't just a friend here, he is like family. Timmy has been with me through every step and whatever he can say, I'm sure at some point he or I have said it before. Timmy knows my father almost as well as I do and it's almost as if it's both of us going through the problems. He can't tell me false truths and things that's most likely going to get me a beating more than a solution.

Timmy moves closer to me and I take that as a sign that he heard and he's here for me anytime and anyhow I need him to be. It comforted me more than I'd ever admit and I leaned down so my head is resting on his shoulder. I'm bigger than Timmy but it fits and is so comforting and then he's scent; is my nose still super active? How come I've never noticed it is this strong and lovely until today? I closed my eyes and I realized that the first time I took clear note of Timmy's scent wasn't at the car, it was during the kiss.

"Did you change your shampoo?" I find myself asking Timmy as if in a trance.

Timmy shakes his head, reaching his fingers into his hair and smelling it. "No. It's the same one from forever, the one my mom mixes and forces us both to use because she's too paranoid to buy new things from the 'Every day Changing American Market'." Timmy chuckles to himself and I smile. Then he imitates his mom in saying, "who knows what they have put inside it now? Everyday, something new pops up. Ugh."

I laugh and Timmy does too. "She's right though and her paranoia is well placed. There's a new ingredient everyday that we don't know the meaning of."

"Yeah yeah, you always agree with her."

"Of course I do," I nuzzle closer. "She's your mom."

"Yeah, well, she's the reason why I was the way I was this morning, looking like I had the world on my mind because I did," he confesses.

I raise my head and look at him, "it wasn't about the kiss?"

"What?" Timmy turns to me. "Why would it be about the kiss?"

I shrug, "I don't know. I thought maybe you were freaking out about it and having second thoughts."

Timmy purses his lips, "I was freaking out about it but not then and I definitely wasn't having second thoughts." He looks away, "if I was, I probably wouldn't have k-kissed you like I did."

"Probably?" I nudge him again with a playful smirk.

"Fuck off," he blushes. "I don't flake on my word."

"Of course you don't."

"I don't," he repeats, looking at me like I said any different the first time.

"That's what I said," I say, taking a large sip of my drink.

"No, you were being sarcastic."

I laugh, "I think that's just your guilty mind speaking. I wasn't being sarcastic, I know you do."

"Mm-hm."

I pause from biting on a cheesy potato chip, "wait, how did you kiss me?"

"What?" Timmy turns to me, mid attack on a pack of Reeses.

"You said if you were having second thoughts you wouldn't have kissed me like you did. So, how did you kiss me?" I turn to see Timmy's entire face red like ketchup. I am enjoying this too much to pity him so I just cock my head to the side, raise my brows and blink at him.

"L-like a- normal kiss— what the fuck?" He rushes out and I swear, I have to clench my stomach tight biting on the insides of my cheek to keep me from laughing. "Why are you asking me that? That was already weird enough as it was."

I couldn't help myself anymore, I burst out laughing. "Because, why on Earth would I miss out on seeing your priceless expression?"

Timmy smacks me, turning back to his Reeses with a pout, "stop messing with me."

"Hm," I nod. "But the kiss was fire though. You sure that it's just that bonfire guy you've kissed?" Timmy doesn't humor me with a reply and from my angle I could see him still blushing and now fighting a smile. "Damn, this was just your second kiss. And that tongue move (insert whistle), chicks have died from lesser things." This time the muffled sound of a giggle escape. I grin like an idiot but I wasn't done yet. "Like, I can't imagine how you'd be with sex. It's gonna—"

"Curtis Salazar!" He screams out, cutting me off. I burst out laughing so hard, I have to drop down from the truck before I involuntarily fall off. Timmy watches me and before I know it, he's laughing his ass off too. Red face and snorts. "You're such an idiot, I don't know how we're friends."

I move until I'm directly in front of him and then I cup his warm face, making him look directly at me. "You laughed. Mission accomplished."

Timmy keeps his eyes on me and I find myself looking at him too like his clear brown eyes were magnets pulling me and holding me in place. I might be joking and laughing with it all but deep down I knew I meant it when I said the kiss with Timmy was Fire. There are probably better ways to describe it but that's all my heavy head can conjure up at the moment. I've kissed a lot of girls sure but now I find myself comparing the kiss with my best friend to all those other kisses and from all I could remember, I don't find any like it or close to it in perfection. Throughout today, if I wasn't thinking of my dad and his burdening calendar, I was thinking of my kiss with Timmy. It made me feel lighter everywhere, like I had no worry in the world.

I want to kiss Timmy again, deep down I knew that but sane me would never admit it to myself. For what reason would straight me want to kiss my best friend for a second time with a goal for our plan? It is crazy and insane and apparently so am I.

Timmy looks away first, blinking and turning his head in my hands so I let go. I don't say anything and I still keep my lips in a smiling position as I silently sit back on the truck. Timmy is silent and for a moment I wonder if he thought about the kiss like I did. Probably not.

"What did your mom do to get you frowning?" I ask, remembering where we left off before the jokes got in.

"Oh that," he takes a long drink. "She talked about getting a haircut and talked about how girls would like me more if they could see my eyes without the glasses."

"But that would mean you getting contacts," I state the obvious and he nods. I quickly shake my head in disapproval. "No, I love your glasses. They complete your look."

"What look?" He turns to me, said glasses crooked to a corner.

I reach out, adjusting the frame. "The Timmy Liu McKenzie look. You're perfect like this."

Timmy smiles, "thanks. Maybe my mum needs to hear that. But then, she doesn't even know how and who I am."

"Do you want to tell her?"

He sighs, "of course I do. More than anything in the world. I want her to know me completely and know that I'd never be bringing girls home. I want her to advice me about guys and look at me knowing I'm her gay son."

I close the little space between us so now I shoulders touched.

Timmy sighs again, dropping his head down as if in defeat. "But I'm scared. I'm so scared Curt, it's comical. I mean, the whole school already knows. Maybe some parents even know and maybe the neighbors do too but my own mom doesn't. And that's all on me, she should have known before anybody else. But she's so cultural and stuck in believes. I can't imagine her looking at me the way she looked at those gays in the movie. I can't imagine her looking at me any different than she does now. She all I have and our relationship means so much to me. I can't-- I can't—" his voice cracks, getting choked up and I quickly put my hand around his shoulders, pulling him to me so his head is resting on my shoulder.

I remember clearly when Timmy had told me he was gay. I was the first person he came out to and I'd never forget it. We have always been inseparable right from time and we told each other everything— one point at twelve years old, almost thirteen, Timmy started behaving strange. He'd spend so much of his time on his phone or computer browsing shit that he didn't let me see, I didn't think much of it and I let it pass. Then I had a hunch he was checking out porn and too shy to share his fetishes with me. But then it graduated from that to him refusing to come into my room, then to him avoiding me like I was a plague. That was when the worry seeped in and I became concerned and started pestering him for the truth, following him around and trying to get an explanation. Timmy downright screamed at me one time telling me to go away because he didn't want to see my face anymore.

I felt like complete shit and I was dying of curiosity because I didn't know what I did to deserve him cutting me off from his life without an explanation. Three days passed like that and I had already stopped eating because nothing was making sense without Timmy by my side. I was breaking up my savings, preparing to buy him all the peanut butter I could afford and beg him until he told me what I did wrong and took me back when all of a sudden he burst into my room, no knock or anything.

I startled, turning around and hiding my broken piggy bank with my duvet. My eyes widen in surprise when I saw it was Timmy by the door, I had missed him so much, my lips widen into a smile immediately. God did exist. "Timmy?"

Then he burst out crying and the smile fell off immediately, replaced by immediate worry. "Timmy?"

"Curt, I'm gay!" He screamed, entering into the room and shutting the door and falling on his knees. "I'm gay and I don't know how it happened. I'm just—" he choked, covering his face with his palms. "I'm gay!"

"Timmy," I wasn't expecting that but I wasn't all that shocked. Timmy didn't like girls and I was already finding it strange. I ran to him and knelt down too. "Timmy it's okay."

"I'm sorry I said I don't want to see you, I swear I didn't mean it. I was confused and angry and I- I didn't know what to do but I can't live without you Curt. I'm sorry please!" He was crying so hard his words were breaking and he wasn't breathing normal.

I pull his hands off his face, "I can't live without you too. It's okay, I'm not angry at all." Timmy hiccuped looking at me and threw his hands around me in a hug almost sending us both completely to the floor. I laughed, hugging him just as tightly, too happy to get my best friend back to care about anything.

"Even with the fact that I'm gay?" He stupidly asked.

"No," I rubbed his back to reduce the hiccuping and maybe the tears. "It's Curt and Timmy forever, no matter what you are."

"I'm gay," he repeated and I think it's more to himself than me. "And—"

"Yeah," I said, then pull him off and jokingly asked looking at his teary face and bleary small eyes. "Wait, does that mean I can't change in front of you anymore and we can't have sleepovers?"

Timmy's eyes widen a bit, "what?"

"I mean," I wiggled my brows. "Hot guy over here." It was all an attempt to make him laugh but none was coming forth.

He swallowed, "no, y-you're not my type."

Oh.

I didn't need that information, wasn't expecting it but it sure hit somewhere. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"Oh," I shrugged, keeping my smile on. "Who's your type then?"

"Um," he shrugged too. "Fat guys?"

"Oh my gosh, really?"

"Mm, fleshy meat and all."

We burst out laughing and at least he was laughing even with his tear stained face.

"Parents, right?" I ask, rubbing my palm up and down the length of Timmy's arm. An attempt to calm him down that I totally didn't mind.

"They suck!" He said, muffled voice against the crook of my neck.

"Mm-hm."

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