by F. T. Lukens
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
Bridger stumbled backward into the house, caught his heel on the lip of the door frame, and accidentally slammed the door, because, honestly, that was his life. He watched through the blinds as Leo crossed the street and was glad he hadn’t noticed Bridger’s awkward retreat.
“He’s cute,” his mom said from behind him.
“Ack! Mom! Crap!” He spun around, and she stood behind him, an amused expression on her face.
“Is that the neighbor kid? Something Rivera?”
“Leo,” Bridger said. “And yes. Were you spying on me?”
She shrugged and brushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “For a few minutes,” she said unapologetically. “His dad is nice. I met him the other day getting the mail.” She walked to the kitchen, and Bridger followed. His heart beat faster than normal. He blamed it on his mom startling him and not on talking with Leo.
Okay, that was a lie. Apparently crushes didn’t automatically disappear when the person you were crushing on was obviously interested in someone else.
“Carlos said they moved here from Puerto Rico for his job and so his son could play football. Did I hear that he asked you and Astrid to a beach party?”
Bridger chose not to comment. He wasn’t sure in what direction this conversation might turn and he didn’t know if he could hide the fact that he was interested in Leo, interested in a way his mother didn’t need to know about. He didn’t need to delve into that with her, especially since he hadn’t fully figured it out himself. Instead he activated the deflectors. “Carlos, huh? First name basis with the new neighbor. Do I need to have a talk with him?”
“Cute, kid. He’s married to a stunning woman and has a significant wedding band.” She opened the refrigerator and peered in; her mouth pulled into a frown. “What do you want for dinner? We have mustard, pickles, and something green I think was a block of cheese in another life.”
Bridger didn’t miss the forced humor in his mom’s voice, as he hadn’t missed the wistful tone when she mentioned the wedding band. Sexual identity crises and crushes on cute guys who like your best friend were insignificant and minuscule problems. His mom tended to have periods of low esteem regarding parental ability. This was one of those moments.
“Tacos,” Bridger said. He was far from the perfect kid, and his mom had been let down enough by mediocre people. He could at least offer happiness in the form of tacos. He pulled the leftover cash from his pocket. “I’m buying.”
She eyed the lump of bills, obviously wanting to ask questions, but she pressed her lips together. “You know what, I’m not even going to ask how or why you have extra money. I’m going with it because… tacos. Let me get my jacket.”
Bridger laughed. “I have a job, remember?”
“Yes. I remember. I am not a total failboat,” she said, pulling her jacket on.
“Failboat? Mom, seriously? Don’t say that. It sounds wrong coming from you.”
“What? Did I use it wrong?”
“Don’t use it ever. Or I might revoke taco privileges.” He slipped on his shoes. “Let’s go.”
“Okay, fine. But I still reserve the right to ‘mom’ you during dinner, especially in regards to school and the job and this beach thing tomorrow.”
Bridger groaned theatrically, but inwardly he was pleased. He could use a little mom-ing now and then and he was sure he’d miss it once he moved away at the end of the year.
“Fine, but I reserve the right to question you about the giggly phone call I heard between you and someone from work the other morning.”
His mom blushed and she reached out and ruffled his hair. “Not on your life, kid.”
“I swear to God, Bridger, if you don’t stop fidgeting I’m going to pull over and throw you out of the car.”
Bridger stopped bouncing his knee and stared at Astrid with wide, wounded eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
She slowed the car and stopped at a cross street. “No, I wouldn’t, but damn, dude, chill out. You’re shaking the whole car.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” she snapped back.
“Hey, don’t get bitchy with me. You didn’t have to come.”
“No, I didn’t, but my best friend needs support in the face of interactions with the popular kids. He might do something embarrassing and ruin my brand.”
Bridger hid his face in his hands. “This was a bad idea. I should’ve said no, but I wasn’t thinking.”
“With your brain, anyway.”
Bridger scowled but knew better than to elbow her. Astrid could snap him like the twig he was. She was almost as tall as he was, brushing six foot, and muscular and athletic. She had endured a few horrible years of being teased because of her weight and height, but she had channeled that into a sports career that a lot of students envied. She also had spent years perfecting her aesthetic, which currently included bright red hair pulled into a high ponytail, piercings in various locations, and wicked eyeliner. She was perfect and beautiful and probably as nervous as he was.
“We’re going to be so out of our depth. But we’ll be fine. We have each other,” Bridger said, swallowing. “And if not, we will Cap and Bucky it right out of there.”
“I am not falling off a train for you.”
Bridger placed a hand over his heart and gave her his best affronted expression. “I thought we were friends, nay best friends.”
She cut her gaze over to him and laughed. “Loser. I love you, but no. I have plans. While you are living it up on the warm coast, I’m going to dominate the world.”
“Nice. Do I get any special privileges when you’re Queen of the Planet?”
“You can have Australia. Be careful, though. There is a ton of shit down there that can kill you.”
“Noted.”
Astrid swung the car into a lot at the park. She cut the engine and the pair of them stared out of the windshield, across the small grassy area, to the beach. What seemed to be the entire football team had already staked claim to a stretch of the sand. The cheerleading squad was intermingled with them, as well as other kids who were cool-adjacent. All the guys were shirtless. All the girls were in tiny swimsuits or short skirts. Towels were laid out next to coolers and beach balls. One large beach umbrella cast a small plot of shade.
“It’s a horror movie set,” Bridger said in awe.
Astrid nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re right. We are way out of our depth.”
“I say we back out and drive away. We can go get milkshakes and play video games and pretend this never happened.”
Astrid hadn’t dropped her hand from the keys and she tapped her fingers on the steering column, considering Bridger’s proposal.
She waited too long.
Leo noticed them and waved, his long arms flailing; his chest was bare to the sun.
“Well, shit,” Bridger said. “We’ve been spotted.”
“You know, Bridge, you sure know how to pick them.”
Bridger raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“First Sally Goforth for junior prom.”
“She threw up.”
“I’m aware. And now this kid. Look at him.” She gestured at Leo, with his smile a mile wide, striding across the park, sticking to the asphalt path. He had flip-flops on his sandy feet and wore bright red swim trunks, and in the afternoon sun his hair was drying into a fluffy mess. A silver medallion hung from a necklace and bounced against his sternum. “He’s entirely too sweet to be popular, but I guess the hotness and the fact that he’s a football star balances that out.”
Bridger sighed. “Yeah.”
“As your best friend, do I get to stare?”
“I would not want to deny anyone the privilege.”
“Well, if you’re going to go
gay over someone, not a bad choice.”
“Astrid!” he whispered hotly. “For one, I still like girls. And two, keep your voice down!”
“Fine. If you are going to go bi, not a bad choice.”
Bridger dropped his head into his hands. “Astrid,” he whined. “Could you—” He couldn’t complete his next thought, which was a good thing since he didn’t know what he was going to say, because Leo peered into the rolled-down window.
“Hey, guys. Glad you could make it.”
Oh, holy hell. So much skin. So many muscles. Bridger ducked his head and kept his gaze averted lest he do or say something completely embarrassing. Smitten. He was smitten in every sense of the word.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Astrid said, getting out of the car.
“Yeah.” Bridger’s voice came out squeaky. “Thanks.”
“Do you need help carrying anything?”
“I think we got it,” Astrid said. “Right, Bridge?”
Bridger took the cue to leave the vehicle and opened the door. Since he wasn’t looking at Leo, he swung the door too hard, and Leo had to jump back to keep from getting nailed in the knee.
Astrid gaped. Bridger smacked his forehead. Leo had the grace not to point out that Bridger had nearly maimed him.
Bridger got out and grabbed his bag, and together he and Astrid hefted a small cooler. They followed Leo to the beach and sat near the small spot of shade. Astrid spread out her beach towel and plopped down with a book. She reached into her bag and threw the bottle of sunscreen at Bridger.
It hit him in the chest and fell to the sand.
“Thanks.”
He sat next to Astrid and was surprised when Leo sat with them, despite the calls from the others for Leo to join them in the water.
“I bet this is nothing like the beaches in Puerto Rico.”
Leo laughed. “No. Not at all. But it’s not bad.”
“Don’t lie,” Bridger said. He uncapped the sunscreen and globbed it on his arms. He didn’t dare take his shirt off, yet. Too many athletes were running around and, while Bridger wasn’t self-conscious most of the time, they would make a lot of people think twice about shedding their shirt. Bridger was skinny and weak, and the only exercise he did other than running during soccer season was lifting food to his mouth.
“I’m not lying. It’s different, but you know, I like different.”
“So you’ve said.” Sunscreen sucked. It didn’t rub in all the way and it made pale people even paler. Damn it. “So why did your family choose to move here? In the middle of nowhere Midwest?”
Leo accepted the bottle of pop Astrid offered him. Damn it, she was a much better host and human being than he was.
“Because my dad was offered a job here when he retired from the Navy. I didn’t want to leave because we’d only been in Puerto Rico a few months, but you know how parents are, they convinced me. And my mom liked the school system. When I checked out the high school, I saw your sports teams sucked and I thought I could help. You could say I was called.” He winked.
How cute was that? He wanted to help the crappy sports teams. He was too good, too pure, for the world.
“And it helped that Coach and I talked a few times on the phone before we moved. He was really great.”
“Yeah, he is.” He wasn’t. At least, not to Bridger. He had bad memories of freshman year gym and a dodgeball tournament. Leo didn’t need to know that. A subject change was in order. “Is Puerto Rico where you grew up?”
“No. Navy brat. I was born in Washington State and I’ve lived in California, Virginia, and Rhode Island. My mom is from Virginia and met my dad while he was stationed there. And then they got married and then they had me, and once my dad left the military we moved back to his hometown in Puerto Rico for a little while until we came here.” Leo dug his feet in the sand. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m boring. Lived here all my life.” Bridger nodded toward Zeke who had dumped a bucket of water on a girl named Lacey. “I’ve known those two since preschool.” They were acquaintances, people Bridger had known his whole life but who didn’t know him. “Astrid and I met in middle school. My mom works at the hospital I was born in.”
“That’s cool.”
“Your definition of cool is suspect.”
Leo smiled and nudged his bare shoulder into Bridger’s arm. “Maybe.” Bridger needed a fainting couch, especially if there was going to be touching. Leo cocked his head. “But I like it here. Coach is really cool and he’s excited I’m here to play. And I’ve met interesting people.”
“Hey,” Astrid said, breaking in. “Do you speak Spanish? Because I know a few of us who are struggling in class and could use a tutor.” She gave Bridger a significant look.
Bridger wasn’t even in Spanish class. He took German. And spoke it… badly.
“My dad is fluent. I’m pretty good with it. My mom… well, she tries. She knows the words but her grammar is iffy. I would love to help in any way I can.”
“That’s great.”
“Hey, Leo, are you going sit and talk all day or are you going to come swim with us?” a girl yelled from atop a football player’s shoulders. “You’re missing out on all the fun!”
Bridger’s stomach swooped. Of course, a pretty girl in a small swimsuit wanted Leo’s attention, and that made Bridger’s insides ache. Stupid crush. He gave Leo a tight smile. “Your adoring public calls.”
Leo screwed the cap back on his drink and shoved it in the sand. He stood and held out his hand. “Well, come on.”
“What?” Bridger eyed him.
“Come swimming. That’s why you are here, right?”
Bridger shot a look to Astrid, and she motioned for Bridger to scurry along as she opened her book. He turned back to Leo and gulped before grasping Leo’s hand in his own. Leo pulled him to his feet.
“Lose the shirt, Bridge.” Astrid said as Leo took off toward the lake.
Grumbling, Bridger slid his arms through and shucked his shirt. He tossed it to Astrid and tried to hide the fact that he was conscious of his pale and undefined body. But Leo was calling for him and after a glance around, Bridger realized that no one was looking at him at all.
Huh.
“Any day now, Bridger!”
“Go have fun,” Astrid said softly. “He likes you. You can do it.”
“He likes me?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s even more obvious than you are, which, believe me, is difficult to beat.”
Bridger squared his shoulders. Astrid was rarely wrong. She was scarily good at reading people. As unlikely as it seemed, maybe Leo did like him? At least as a friend? “That’s good to know.”
“Don’t keep him waiting. You look fine. Honestly. Just go, dude.”
“You really are my best friend,” Bridger said. “I owe you.”
“That you do, Cap.”
Bridger laughed and took off, kicking up sand as he went.
The lake water was cold. He shivered as he followed Leo in. The small waves lapped up to his knees and then to his waist; his bare feet sank in the sand. He cast a glance back to Astrid to make sure she was okay on the beach. She had set her book aside and now held court with her hair shining in the bright sun and a gaggle of girls and a few guys surrounding her and talking. One of the awestruck handed her a bottle of water, and she accepted it graciously, like a queen. Oh, yeah, totally going to rule the world.
Bridger turned to find Leo had moved farther off, but Bridger stopped where the water slapped against his stomach. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest; goose bumps bloomed up and down his arms.
“Oh, my God, this is cold.”
Leo laughed. He had trudged out to where a few of the braver football players and cheerleaders bobbed in the water. Leo turned and spread out his arms and fell backward, disappearing under the water befor
e emerging, sputtering, with his dark hair plastered to his head.
“It’s not that bad!”
“Are you kidding? I’m turning blue.”
Leo circled back and splashed Bridger. Then he swam away, laughing as he kicked enthusiastically and doused Bridger with lake water.
Bridger wiped the droplets from his face. “Oh, I see how it is. Splashing then running. Very brave there, Leo.”
Leo stood in the water to his shoulders and beckoned to Bridger with a sly smile. “I’m right here. Why don’t you come get me?”
That was flirting. Wasn’t it? That had to be flirting. Right?
“Oh,” Bridger said flushing, warming internally at the thought of Leo flirting with him. “It is on. It is so on.”
He waded in until the water was at his chest and pushed off from the bottom. He swam after Leo and splashed and laughed. The rest of the group in the water were dunking each other, and the football players were throwing a few of the lighter girls and guys around, creating froth and waves.
Bridger and Leo circled each other, splashing and diving. A beach ball landed nearby and Leo grabbed it and flung it in Bridger’s direction. It plopped near Bridger’s outstretched arm.
“What kind of pass was that?” Bridger said, gliding toward the ball. “I thought you played football?”
Leo laughed. “I’m not the quarterback. I just catch and run.”
Bridger hit the ball back. “Good to know. I’ll lower my expectations.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”
“Yes,” Bridger said. “Usually accompanied by crossed arms and a frown, though. Not many people appreciate my kind of humor.”
“I do. It suits you.”
Bridger blushed to his hairline, and it wasn’t from the sun beating down on them. They hit the ball back and forth before Bridger sent it sailing into a group of the others. A girl squealed.
“Sorry!” Bridger called.
Then there was a panicked shriek. Leo looked over his shoulder and called to his friends.
Bridger felt something brush his leg. He flinched and kicked away, startled. He looked down in the water and realized he was surrounded by lake weed, dark and light green blending together in a swirl. Long tendrils of it undulated around his legs.
