The Maple Effect

by Madeleine Cull

  “You...you remember how I told you I had a girlfriend?” Aaron’s voice was surprisingly steady. Rehearsed.

  Here it comes. June couldn’t look at him. He slumped farther into his chair and nodded. Prepared for the irrational sting of rejection. He’d never asked Aaron out. He’d never even had a chance.

  “You kiss a lot better than she ever did.”

  What?

  June’s head popped up in shock, all his emotions scattering as if ejected from a jack-in-the-box. He blinked. Blinked again. Looked around the room and even behind him as if he couldn’t believe Aaron was still talking to him.

  Then Aaron laughed. A small, embarrassing sound. His face and neck and ears all turned red.

  Oh.

  This was a dangerous game they were playing now.

  June thought back to when they had just met. When he was certain Aaron was gay but had been too afraid to ask blatantly. He wished he’d just done it and saved himself all this back and forth bullshit. Maybe then he wouldn’t be second guessing himself now.

  “It’s uh…” Aaron leaned against the wall and rubbed one foot anxiously against the side of his other ankle. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not like…mad or anything.”

  “Oh.” June folded his hands in his lap, and God dammit neither one of them were very good at this! “Well…umm. I’m not…I mean I know I seemed like I was but I—”

  “No. No, I know. I get it.”

  “Cool,” June mumbled halfheartedly.

  “Cool.”

  He had no idea what Aaron knew that he knew. Had no idea if they were even talking about the same thing right now. They were teenage boys, after all. Inept at stupid feelings and stupid conversations. His mind raced for something to say—preferably an apology—but also didn't want to keep them here all day.

  June was much better with actions than words (if last night was anything to go off of). He pushed himself out of the chair, loud scrape on the linoleum bouncing off the walls.

  “How do you want your eggs?” He turned his back to Aaron and flung open the refrigerator. This was easier. Aaron had liked his cooking before, and with a mouthful of food, he wouldn’t be able to talk. Not talking was exactly what June needed.

  “Scrambled or fried,” Aaron declared without missing a beat; the grin in his voice louder than it had been for days. “I can go both ways.”

  June wanted to slam his head in the door.

  June spent two days watching the bruises on his body fade from purple to a pale, putrid yellow. He slept on and off, cooked to keep distracted, and made an actual effort to strike up normal conversations with Aaron. Occasionally, they watched T.V. together, each sprawled across separate couches with mute interest.

  Their friendship wasn’t back to normal, but it was mended. Possibly with craft glue and rubber bands, but still mended. Day by day, it was less like walking on a tightrope and more like getting back to their old selves.

  It was good. But it was also bad.

  All the pleasant, quirky things about Aaron had resurfaced, making June hyper-sensitive to the way he felt about the guy. Instead of wandering around pouting, Aaron sang in the shower, flashed his best smiles, and laughed when June did something carelessly (like burning his fingers on the stove). He was awfully chipper, and June couldn’t help but find the mood contagious. So much so he’d eventually have to get up and leave the house to give his heart a break.

  He had met up with Angie the other day and gave her the condensed version of what happened between them. He didn't explain why they’d fought, or Aaron’s fear of the dark, but focused instead on the strange reaction that had resulted. He’d sat on her bed pinching the ears of a creepy green Furby, blushing like hell and describing that kiss as if writing in a diary. Slow, careful choosing of words most people didn't hear from him.

  Angie had squealed like the teenage girl she was, clasped their hands together and vibrated with excitement. She’d looked him dead in the eyes and told him this was going to be the best summer he’d ever have, and she’d give anything to be in a house alone with a smokin’ hot guy like Aaron who obviously has a big fat crush on you.

  June had been too weak to tell her falling for Aaron was the worst thing that could happen to him right now, and he was in a pretty bad place over it. This was his last summer. And the idea he would have to say goodbye to more than just the house, and the lake opened a sinkhole inside of him. He wasn’t ready to let anything go. There was no room for summer romance.

  It was safer if Aaron and he didn't tread further into each other’s waters. They were going to drown.

  Angie also took the time to catch June up on the drama that had happened after the bonfire. Apparently, the other teens around the lake were telling a story of his heroics. How it had taken six police officers and two canines to pry him off Charlie’s brother when in reality he’d gotten his ass handed to him. The sheriff showed up only because some snitch had called their mom. Angie also had to convince them not to call an ambulance on his behalf.

  Ultimately, June was rather pleased the story painted him in a good light; but that didn't mean he wasn’t still pissed over losing.

  After the night was said and done, it was Charlie’s father who had caused the biggest issue. He’d wanted to send Charlie back to Bakersfield and was only convinced otherwise after the kid broke down in tears and threatened to call social services for child abuse. Now, June didn’t know much about abusive households, but his parents would have laughed in his face and handed him the phone if he tried to pull some shit like that. So Charlie must have been serious, and his father at least somewhat guilty. Nothing ever came of it.

  Angie was still torn up over the events, but June knew the more they hung out together, the more she would get over it. Bad summer memories become fond memories given enough time. They always did.

  June sat at the picnic table on the porch, watching the sun fall below the mountain with his sketchbook in his hands and various pencils scattered around him. He thought about all the different things that had happened so far this year, feeling sleepy and oddly sentimental. It was hot again, but not unbearable. The sound of cicadas and crickets a timeless hum through the trees. On his paper, there was a lazy sketch of a blue jay, and a few carefully drawn maple leaves from the tree directly in front of him.

  It felt good to draw. Soothing and easy with nothing else to interrupt the deeper thoughts filtering through his brain. He thought about his family a little. Wondered if they were still mad at him or missed him or worried over his wellbeing. He thought about his sisters spending their summer down at the ice-skating rink with friends. Laughing and telling jokes and easing themselves into adulthood without him.

  Before he’d run away, July had talked about getting a job and saving for her own car, and August had wanted to enroll in the community college two larger towns away from them. He wondered if either of those plans were in motion yet. Wondered if they even thought about the life they’d lived here, with him, every summer since they were born.

  June saw nothing but the loss of his childhood in their ideals, but he couldn’t blame them for having bigger dreams beyond their quiet, North Carolina town.

  Sometime between the sky casting brilliant red and turning deep purple, the sliding glass door opened, and Aaron stepped out holding two glasses of lemonade. He set one next to June and eased into the bench across from him.

  “Thanks.” June took a tentative sip and swallowed. It was sweeter than he was used to. But then again, so was Aaron.

  “Whatcha drawing?” the other boy asked; folded his arms and leaned forward to peek at his book. The breeze carried with it the new smell of body spray; something crisp and musky and very much opposite of what June liked to wear on himself. It was heady. Intoxicating. Almost too masculine for a guy like Aaron.

  June flattened the book out on the table and pushed it toward him. “Nothing important.”

  Aaron stared at the drawn maple leaves the same way he usually stared at the
tree behind him. Absorbed and gracious. “That’s really good. I like it.” He smiled.

  Like most artists June knew, he didn't know how to accept a compliment and proceeded to tear the page from the rings. “You can have it.” It was just a few doodles anyway.

  Aaron took and held it thoughtfully. Eyes lit up like a kid who’d just received a piece of candy. There was something innocent and playful there. Something altogether carefree that June envied. He watched Aaron set it safely aside and move a few of June’s pencils on top of it so the wind couldn’t carry it away.

  “I have an idea,” he said swiftly, grabbing the book with both hands and pulling it into his lap. “Let’s play hangman.”

  June smirked, a little surprised and mildly curious. Aaron had never asked to play silly games with him before, so why should he now? Not that it mattered. They didn't have anything better to do. He took another sip of lemonade.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” Aaron’s attention focused on what he was drawing. “It’s going to be a question.” He mouthed the phrase to himself, counting the dashes twice and nodding. He set the book back down between them.

  June looked it over. Seven small words and one neat little question mark. He gave Aaron a skeptical look. “You can make this more of a challenge, you know.” All those vowels would make for a rather easy game.

  Aaron shook his head and tapped the eraser side of the pencil down at the puzzle. “When it’s your turn you can make it as challenging as you want.”

  “Alright, alright.” June straightened his back and cracked his knuckles, feigning preparation. He rolled his neck and smiled wide. “Letter A.”

  Aaron nodded, leaned down, and wrote the letter A, four different times. All in different words. He licked his lips, tilted his head this way and that as if trying to solve the puzzle for himself. Or maybe just to make sure his handwriting was legible. When he finished, he turned the notebook back toward him.

  “So, are you going to draw the head because I picked a vowel?” June teased. “Or do I have to guess a consonant now?”

  “What kind of Hangman did you play growing up?” Aaron scoffed. “Just pick another letter.”

  June looked at the phrase, knowing he wasn’t going to get it based on those letters alone. He felt cheeky anyway. “X.”

  “Seriously?” waving the end of the pencil around at him. “That’s a horrible guess.”

  “What?” June rested his chin in his palm and fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “I’m really bad at spelling,” he lied.

  Aaron pouted at him, face turning red like the sky. He made a careful, lopsided circle on their paper that was supposed to be a head hanging from a rope. “You’re not taking this very seriously.”

  “It’s like you want me to win,” June argued, gesturing with both hands. “I’m just trying to give you a chance.”

  “I don’t need help,” he grumped. “It’s my puzzle.”

  June narrowed his eyes. Maybe Aaron did want him to win? He was awfully laid back for the most part, but why play a game without feeling at least a little competitive? June looked down at the puzzle again, contemplating. Maybe it was harder than he thought. He ran his tongue along his teeth.

  “O.”

  Aaron filled in two more letters, and June was fairly sure one of the words was you. A quiet breeze rolled between them, fluttering the page of his sketchbook.

  “J?” He was trying harder now.

  Aaron shook his head and drew a line down from the circle. “Nope.” He tapped the back of the pencil against the picnic table rapidly. Impatiently.

  June looked long and hard at the puzzle, thinking of all the three-letter words he knew off the top of his head. There were too many in this puzzle, and he didn't have enough of the pieces to string them together. More vowels were the safest way to go.

  “I.”

  Aaron leaned down and filled in a single line. Okay so he had the words I and you, and it was a question. The first word of the sentence had an A in it so that word was probably can.

  Can I something you something A something. The last word gave him the most trouble. Aaron waited while he tossed ideas back and forth.

  “E,” June said, feeling kind of lousy for choosing all the vowels, but there weren’t many options when it came to smaller words. If Aaron was going to pick a shitty phrase, then he didn't have much choice.

  Aaron filled in the last letter of the last word with an E, and June ran through all the words that might make sense. Cake. Late. Fate... Date?

  Can I something you something A Date?

  June leaned away from the book with a triumphant grin. “Can I ask you on a date,” he stated each syllable carefully, picking up his glass and drinking from it. When he set it down again, he couldn’t help himself. “Told you, you should think of things that are harder.”

  Aaron looked at him with wide, shiny expectant eyes, leaning into the table as if there was more. He looked like he’d just won, not June. June looked back at the puzzle just in case he’d gotten it wrong and no. No, he hadn’t. There was no way it could be something other than Can I Ask You On A Date?

  OH.

  “Oh,” he choked. Eyes flashing from the paper to Aaron and back down again in disbelief. All the crickets chirping between the trees found their way into his stomach. A sudden, leaping frenzy. His voice reached a new level of shrill.

  “What?!”

  Aaron ran a nervous hand through his messy hair and accidentally let the pencil roll off the table after he dropped it. “Yeah.” He shrugged, shifting his weight from side to side while clutching his glass with both hands. “Can I?”

  Just when June thought everything was normal again! He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could Aaron want to take him on a date? WHY did Aaron want to take him on a date? After everything that had happened between them? This was ridiculous!

  “N-No!” He shook his head, swinging his leg out of the bench so he could run away. This time he would lock Aaron outside. That would show him. “No way! You’re out of your—”

  “Wait!” Aaron’s firm hand caught him by the wrist and June’s whole body came to a stop. He grunted, refusing to lock eyes with the idiot sitting there. This was absurd! This was completely moronic, and he had to know it. The two of them? The emo and the prep? The emotionally stunted and the far-too-emotional? Sure, they’d shared one brilliant, passionate kiss, but it should never have happened in the first place. None of this should be happening.

  “Why?” Aaron insisted, and June made the mistake of accidentally meeting his determined gaze. “Give me one good reason why I can’t ask you out.”

  He could think of a hundred different reasons why this was a bad idea, but Aaron would disagree with every one of them. He would never understand the tangle of confusion that was June caught between a crush and a really, really big mistake. No matter how attracted June was to him, they shouldn’t be together.

  The way he held his wrist though… The way his green eyes looked lighter in the sun and the way his mouth was set firmly. June tore open the drawer in his mental filing cabinet, searched for anything that would make him understand without having to be rude. He really didn't want to hurt Aaron’s feelings again.

  “Because.” June’s brow pinched together. “Y-You…you just got out of a relationship!”

  There. That was good. June could act like he was above being someone's rebound. As long as Aaron believed it, that was fine.

  “I’m not upset we broke up.” Aaron glowered. “Not even a little.” The truth hung in his words steady and confident. Not pleading, but very obvious. He’d never once brought up missing his ex; June should have known better.

  “Look.” June sighed, wriggling his arm from Aaron’s death grip and folding them in front of him. His heart thumped in his chest. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but up until we…kissed, you thought you were straight. Right?”

  “Yeah but—”

  “So, you’re experimenting,” June di
sclosed. “The kiss felt good, sure, but don’t you think it’s a bad idea to get all hung up in dating? We have to live together here. What if this ends up being really weird?”

  “Oh, right, like it hasn’t already?” Aaron frowned. He had a point, but it was still a bad idea.

  June sighed, looked at the unfinished game of hangman staring back at him. It sure was a lot of effort to go through to ask someone on a stupid date. He wondered if Aaron had planned that from the beginning or if he’d thought of it on a whim. No one had ever asked June out like this. Not with such…charisma and sincerity.

  “You’re not wrong.” Aaron tapped his fingernails against the edges of his glass; eyes turned down. “I’ve never liked a guy before, so this is all new to me...but I don’t think I would feel this way about just anyone. I-I think it’s you.”

  June had never met someone so honest and comfortable with himself before. It was intimidating and made his face hot with embarrassment. “Of course, it’s me. I’m the one that kissed you.” He groaned.

  “You’re also the one who chased me through the house, threatening to kill me.”

  “Touché,” June muttered, refusing to relive that night anywhere else besides the comfort of his own privacy; where he could blame himself without anyone else there to witness it.

  “So really,” Aaron went on, voice tilting toward begging. “One date? No pressure or anything. We can just go do something fun.”

  June had been on a few painfully awkward dates in the last couple of years, and each one had taught him something new about why he hated dating. He could go on and on, but what it boiled down to was the fact that teenage emotions were messy. And even though June had allowed himself to crush hard on Aaron, he hadn’t allowed himself to bask in the possibility of it being real.