They reach me, and one, Zach Lunsford, makes a show of not moving for me.
I duck out of the way at the last second.
“Watch it,” he says, growling.
“Sorry.”
I reach my locker, spin in my combination, and realize something.
He’s the first student I’ve talked to all day.
* * *
Another hour of searching, and I still haven’t found Jason.
I do this a lot. I have this weirdly obsessive brain. Whenever something catches my fancy, I latch on to it. I do it with movies and gaming, too. When I like something, I like it hard. I dive deep into theory threads on Reddit and watch analysis videos on YouTube, just generally obsess, until I find something else that draws my focus.
This is the first time I’ve felt this way about another person.
I’m aware I’m being ridiculous. I’m lying on my bed, staring at my phone, thinking about a boy.
I search my room for a distraction. Like, a game I can play, or a movie I can watch to get my mind off this. Beside my desk, which holds my space-gray MacBook Pro, is my bookshelf. It’s mostly epic fantasy and YA books, but front and center is my record of Sam’s Town. I don’t own a record player, but Luke got it for me because he knows how much I love that album.
On the dark gray wall above it are a few Polaroids from my real-photography-is-better phase, ugh, and custom art of Spider-Man, Harley Quinn, and Captain Marvel I bought on Etsy.
See, I love superhero movies.
Why’d I tell Jason I don’t like them that much?
I’m so weird.
The rest of the space is covered in movie posters. They’re all acceptable favorites, like Mulholland Drive, Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Jaws. For obvious reasons I haven’t put up a Love, Simon poster, even though I love that movie so damn hard. I’ve watched it maybe ten times.
Nothing distracts me, so I lift my phone and open Grindr.
Grindr always terrifies me, seeing as I’m so not ready to be out, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, too. I’ve never met anyone on there, but talking to guys is still so exciting. I had to lie about my age to make my account, but that’s never really bothered me. The out gay guys at school constantly talk about their app conquests, so, like, I know everyone does it.
I use a shirtless mirror selfie, with my head cropped out. So I don’t think anyone would be able to figure out it’s me. I scroll the wall of guys, and see there’s another shirtless and headless profile five miles away.
His profile name is just “J.”
I sit up in bed.
He has only one photo, the shirtless one. He has pale skin, a six-pack, and nice biceps and a smooth chest. I picture him wearing Jason’s clothes.
Could it be him?
I open his profile, and message him.
Hey man, what’s up?
There’s a knock on my door. I jump so much I nearly drop my phone. I close Grindr, and then cover my crotch with my blanket. Just the thought of Jason being on Grindr was enough to make me hard.
Or maybe it was just the shirtless guy.
Yeah, I’ll go with that.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
The door opens. It’s Dad.
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He crosses my room, and opens my window. Okay, Dad, message received. He then grabs a few dishes I have festering on my desk. It’s maybe passive-aggressive, sure, but he’s cleaning up after me. I’m not going to complain.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“I had a pizza pocket.”
“And?”
I glance at the half-empty bottle of Coke Zero Sugar I have on my bedside table. A pizza pocket and no-calorie Coke. Dinner of champions.
“How about you have something not made of chemicals?”
“Everything is made of chemicals.”
He sighs. “Just have a piece of fruit, that’s all I ask. Something that’s seen sunlight at least once.”
“Okay, fine.”
I get out of bed and grab the remaining dishes from my desk. Dad and I walk through our house. Our place is massive, admittedly too big for the three of us. Or, four, if you count Eddie, our dog. Which I totally do.
He’s dozing on his spot in the living room right now. He’s a German shepherd, and Luke’s his favorite. He likes me well enough, but even though he’s technically the family dog, he’s always sort of felt like Luke’s more than he has mine or Dad’s.