NINE

I spent the next week or so just trying to get answers out of Jameson.

He would meet me after work and we'd drive around or get some food. I would communicate with him through my brain in the middle of class to get some kind of reaction from him, which was usually just a sly smile. I thought I was getting good at limiting what he could and couldn't hear, but sometimes he'd snort at one of my personal thoughts and I'd feign absolute offense.

Mac and Dylan were none the wiser. I'd told them that I ended up thinking Jameson was a cool guy, which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the real reason I kept seeing him.

Dylan and I were sitting on my bed on Friday afternoon, waiting for my mom to get home from work so we could go skate. I really wanted to know if my telepathy could work on him so I stared at his forehead when he wasn't looking and tried to tell him he was a loser.

However, I got a, 'That's rude' from Jameson out of nowhere, never ceasing to freak me out.

Dylan turned his head to me and caught me about to pop a blood vessel from how hard I was trying to get the thought across. He made a face and smacked me upside the head. "What the hell are you doing?" he almost shouted.

"Um," I panicked, "nothing."

He kept looking at me weird for the rest of the night. So I couldn't communicate with other people, only Jameson? How boring was that? We went to the skatepark and didn't really do anything exciting, just rolled around and talked about whatever. He ranted about Mac and Marcus while I listened sympathetically, though I had half a mind to tell him he should probably just get over her.

If I'd learned anything since the school year began, it was that you had absolutely no say in who you were attracted to.

When we got too hot, we sat on the top of the quarter pipe with our legs dangling. I decided that if I was going to be questioning my sexuality, I didn't want to go through it alone.

I was about to bring it up but Dylan's phone started to ring. It was his dad telling him to get home. He groaned and threw his phone across the park, which made my eyes widen. "Why did you do that?" I exclaimed, sliding down the ramp on my ass. I chased after his phone and got it. "Are you crazy?"

"My mom can just buy me a new one," he mumbled, standing up on the top and riding his board down effortlessly.

I couldn't imagine having a safety net like that. I had to save for an entire summer to have the cell phone that I had, which I paid for myself. As much as my mom would have loved to give me the finer things, I knew her income could only stretch so far.

Dylan sighed, picking up his skateboard and cradling it at his side. "My dad's been such a dick to me lately. I forgot my English binder at home today so I asked him to bring it for me and he fuckin' cussed me out, saying my mom should have raised me to be more responsible, or some bullshit," he muttered, taking his shattered device from me and shoving it in his pocket. "And I can't go to my mom's this weekend because it's his weekend and it'll start a whole fight between them."

I frowned. "Why don't they just get over it?"

"Because the hate they have for each other is far more important than the love they have for me," he spat like it had a bitter taste in his mouth. "I don't even care if they like me at this point. I just want to be able to fuck up without it being each other's fault."

"Will he kill you if you stay at my house tonight?"

He nodded. "Probably."

I dropped him off at his dad's, though I wished he would just come back to mine. Maybe I didn't know what I was talking about since I only had one parent, and a damn good one at that, but I felt like one's upbringing had so much to do with their character. I hoped Dylan wouldn't take the dysfunctional home life and run with it. He was better than dropping out of school like he'd been saying he would.

By the time I was on my way home, it was only around seven. I bit my lip, pulling my phone out to call Jameson. Before I could even click on his contact, he was calling me.

"Do you just sit around all day and read my mind?"

"What? No."

"I was literally about to call you."

"That was just a coincidence, Petals."

He was still calling me that. It still made my stomach churn. "What are you doing?" I asked, stopping at a stop sign and seeing if anyone was behind me.

"I was just about to start a movie. You can come watch it with me, if you'd like."

And then I was driving in the direction of his apartment building with absolutely no hesitation. I agreed and hung up, wondering if this meant I'd meet his brother finally. I wasn't sure why the idea of meeting the parents (or next of kin) was such a big deal in my mind, but it was. I was nervous.

Outside of his apartment, I had to hype myself up. Be cool, be chill. This wasn't a big deal.

I texted that I was there and got out of my car. As I was walking into the narrow hallway that smelled of mothballs and weed, I saw Jameson all the way at the end waving at me. I quickened my pace, kind of worried that if I moved too slow, I'd get snatched and pulled into one of the many threatening doors on either side of me.

Jameson waited until I was right in front of him. "Hey," he said with a small smile. "Sorry it's not the Hilton."

Trying to ease my nerves, I laughed. "Like I care where you live," I said, but I kind of did. This place gave me the heebie jeebies.

We walked up a flight of stairs to the next floor up and then down another narrow hallway, identical to the one underneath us. He stopped at apartment 2F and turned to me with an unreadable expression.

"Just ignore anything he says because he's a dirty liar," he said. I opened my mouth to ask him to elaborate but I clamped it back shut when he opened the door.

That all too familiar chill on the back of my neck sent goosebumps down my neck and back, making me physically shiver.

I followed him into the apartment. It was kind of exactly what I expected, if that made sense. It was dimly lit by only a TV on the wall with sparse furniture. I saw no decorations, just a sofa and a table that the TV was sitting on.

However, seated on the sofa was a man. When Jameson mentioned his brother, I pictured an old balding man with a beer belly and a creepy smile. I did not picture someone only a few years older than us who was a mirror image of Jameson. In fact, for some reason I didn't even think it was the same guy that was with him at the diner.

He was muscular, from what I could tell in the dark, and had the same dark hair as Jameson. He stood up when we entered the apartment, which quickly taught me he had a few inches on Jameson, who was already a giant.

"You must be Cade," the man said, walking towards me with his hand extended. I shook it politely. "I'm Matt. It's nice to finally meet you."

I glanced at Jameson, who was shooting daggers at Matt with his eyes. "Finally?"

"Of course, finally. Jimmy here hasn't stopped talking about you," Matt smiled, mostly at Jameson. I raised my eyebrows, though that didn't come as much of a surprise to me. It wasn't like he had all that many people to talk about so far. "He says you've lived here your whole life?"

"Unfortunately," I replied. It was kind of bugging me out how much they looked alike. Genetics were strong in my family, but not that strong.

Of course, they had their differences. Jameson had more of a baby face while Matt had years on him. He had much more facial hair as well, not quite a beard but enough to be more than a five o'clock shadow. I also could see that Matt's nose was crooked, perhaps from a break long ago.

"Did you show Jimmy where the police station is? He should probably know since he's got a record–"

"Okay, Matt," Jameson sighed, grabbing my wrist to tug me in the direction of the three closed doors to the left. When we walked past Matt, I heard Jameson whisper, "Fuck you."

I was washed over with overstimulation because one, his brother just told me that Jameson's a criminal and two, he was touching me. I didn't have time to process either of those things because I had to keep from stumbling as I was pulled into a room, the door shutting behind us.

It felt like I was buzzing. There was static electricity where his fingers grasped my wrist, lingering even after he removed them. My eyes roamed the room, disappointed that there was absolutely no sign of life. It was a liminal space in a liminal apartment. His room looked just like the living room, just a bed and a TV.

The only thing that caught my eye was the faded Pikachu pillowcase on one of the two pillows, making me crack a smile. So he wasn't lying about that.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he said bitterly, plopping down on his bed. "I told you he's a dirty liar."

"Was he lying, though?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest.

"I mean . . ." Jameson trailed off, looking at his feet. "I have a record, yes. But it's not like that."

"Huh." It didn't really matter if he had been to jail. Dylan had gotten arrested more than once, but I knew it was over insignificant petty crimes. It didn't change what I thought of my best friend.

I was still standing in the middle of the room when Jameson patted the bed beside him. When I hesitated, I tried not to think so hard about it. He was looking at me like he already knew what was going on in my head, which he did, so I just kept my distance and sat on the edge.

He grabbed the remote and scooted all the way back to the pillows. "I was gonna watch this scary movie," he said and I mentally freaked out. I hated scary movies. I had such a weak stomach for gore and jump scares made me want to cry. "Never mind, no scary movie."

"Wait," I said, making him stop and look at me. "We can watch it. I won't be scared."

Jameson hid his smile. "Sure you won't, Petals," he laughed, pressing play. The opening credits started and he scooted closer to me. "It's okay. If you get scared, I'll cover your eyes."

I grumbled to myself and tried to get comfortable on the edge of the bed. When he invited me over, I thought we'd be on the couch. Not in his bed. Alone. I didn't have enough time to prepare for this, so I just hugged myself in the corner of the bed.

The beginning of the movie was great. No ominous music, easy going character development, and not a single killer clown with razor sharp teeth. I was starting to think that it was boring, even. For babies.

And then the kid goes and loses his paper boat down the sewer and I froze, anticipating the jump scare. I jumped so hard I almost slid off the bed, having to scoot towards Jameson as a precaution.

"You can come closer," he mumbled, snaking an arm around my shoulders and drawing me towards his warm body. My heart pounded in my chest, half because of the movie and half because of the boy. I obliged and adjusted so I was sitting flush next to him, our legs touching. He didn't move his arm. I was going to have a heart attack.

As the movie went on, I progressively shrunk into his side. I think it was subconscious. I think.

It was just that his body heat was so comfortable and the bend where his elbow was just made for the perfect pillow. I liked the parts where the kids were plotting and not investigating the scary house. He tried to make jokes to ease my fear, but it wasn't really working.

Near the end, at the climax, I was about to actually shit my pants. I had to keep burying my face in Jameson's shoulder to shield my eyes. When the scariest part was about to come on, I was surprised when he stayed true to his word and placed a large, warm hand over my eyes.

I was blushing. I knew I was. He had to feel the heat of my cheeks under his palm.

When I thought it was over, I turned my head towards him, his hand still over my eyes. He slowly removed it and his face was right in front of mine. I couldn't move, just speechless and rooted to my spot from how close his face was.

"Are you still scared?" he asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. He was looking all over my face, his eyes tracing the outline of my eyes and nose and lips. But I was doing the same, kind of obsessing over the shape of his mouth. He couldn't possibly read my thoughts because I simply had none.

We were broken out of the trance when the movie hit us with that signature deafening thud sound effect when something terrifying happens. I jumped away and removed myself from under his arm completely.

He brought his arm back to his side and I made sure there was a foot of space between us. Why the fuck was I cuddling him in the first place?

Fear is a strong emotion, but not a gay one. Not today.

I couldn't even focus on the movie after that. I was just hyper aware of how his leg seemed to be inching towards mine, or how I could feel his eyes on the side of my face every few minutes.

It finally ended and I sat up, looking around dumbly. "I should probably go home," I said awkwardly. He didn't move to get up, which made me feel more awkward.

"Sorry," he mumbled. I turned to face him. "I shouldn't have made you watch that movie, Petals. Are you gonna be okay to drive home?"

Naturally, most of me didn't want to go. I wanted to stay and spend more time with him and lay with his arm around me again. He was so considerate of my feelings and smelled so good, and fuck. I had to be gay. Or maybe just gay for him.

And I was getting the vibes from him. The gay vibes those girls were talking about in science.

You didn't look at your friend the way we were just looking at each other. You didn't give nicknames like Petals to a good buddy. I had never cuddled with Dylan while watching a movie like that, even if it was the most innocent form of cuddling.

"Actually," I cleared my throat. "Maybe we could watch something less scary so I . . . won't be scared that Pennywise will follow me home, ya know?"

My mind had a funny way of just not working when my mouth started moving. Jameson smiled knowingly, putting his arm back on the back of the pillows nonchalantly.

I threw caution to the wind and laid back down, leaning my head against his shoulder while his arm pulled me closer. I felt like I wanted to get closer, face his body with mine and put my hand on his chest. Those thoughts were what was going to get me in trouble.

He put on an adult cartoon and we just laid like that. There was some comfort in being close to Jameson. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt so safe around him. Maybe it was because he was the size of somebody's body guard. Or maybe because it seemed like having someone in my head all the time made them easy to trust.

I felt like I was starting to doze off. It had been a long day and just laying here in the dark with just the TV flashing was making my eyes droop.

"You can sleep here. Even if it's just for a few hours, I don't mind," he mumbled. "But I'm starting to lose feeling in my arm."

Blushing, I sat up so he could retract his arm. I turned on my side and watched him sit up to drape the blanket on top of our bodies. I was still in my jeans, which wasn't how I liked to sleep, but I wasn't ready to go pantless around him yet.

He laid down so he was facing me, face pressed into the pillow. "You look a lot less scary when you're tired," I yawned, putting one arm under my head. "Like a little kid."

"You think I look scary?" he asked, amused.

"Very," I said, smiling now. Jameson reached out a hand, locking our pinkies together between us. I looked at him quizzically. "What are you doing?"

With a shrug, Jameson just squeezed my pinky. "You look cute when you're tired," he mused, reaching his other hand up to push my hair back. I felt my heart beating in my chest.

This felt wrong. It felt so wrong to have these feelings about a boy, and even worse to have them reciprocated. Thinking about how my mom looked when I brought up being gay made my heart sink. I knew she wouldn't resent me if I was . . . But I also knew that that wasn't in her plan. She would blame herself for it, whether it made sense or not.

I couldn't ignore how he made me feel, though.

Never in my life had I had this strong of feelings for somebody, girl or boy. He made me feel anxious and bubbly and like a kid. That had to mean something.

"When are you gonna tell me?" I asked, glancing down at our interlocked pinkies.

Jameson just looked over my face. "Just give me a little more time and I'll tell you everything," he said. I nodded, but I was kind of tired of hearing that. What secret could be so critical that he couldn't tell me still? "I promise."

I offered him a small smile, which he returned. I closed my eyes and soon drifted off into a comfortable sleep.