his shoulders looked a little broader, and he had a scattering of chest hair that hadn’t been there a few months before. Even his legs looked more muscular.
Then Theo remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he slammed the door. He stared at the door for a minute, not quite believing what had just happened. Then he stumbled over to the sofa and wriggled into the washed-out Lambert’s Cafe t-shirt. He turned toward the door. No. He turned toward the bathroom. His knee had stiffened up, but he hobbled as fast as he could. He pushed his hair behind his ears. He patted down his beard. Why the hell did it have to be so poofy? Then he hobbled back to the door.
When he pulled it open, he said, “I’m going to try that again.”
“Try what again?” Auggie said, his eyes wide and innocent.
“Hi, Auggie. I didn’t expect—I didn’t know—Jesus Christ, is that Orlando?”
“Yeah, he’s hiding over there because he thinks you’re still mad at him. I told him you weren’t. You aren’t, are you?”
Orlando peered around the corner of the house and gave a tiny wave.
Theo decided not to answer that. “Auggie, it’s nice to see you, but this isn’t a good time.”
“Because you’re having sex?”
Theo choked on something—he wasn’t sure what, maybe just spit. “No, I’m not—”
“Because you’re all sweaty, and your nipples look kind of bruised.”
“Just a second,” Theo said and shut the door again. He leaned his head against it. And then he pounded his head against the wood several times. Cart and his fucking needle-nose-plier fingers.
“Theo?” Auggie called from the other side of the door. “Are you all right?”
“Yep. Just give me two more seconds to cut my throat and you can come in.”
The handle turned, and then the door popped open an inch.
“Theo?”
“Let’s do this another day. I want to see you, Auggie, but maybe now isn’t—”
Auggie pushed, and Theo allowed himself to be forced back, and then Auggie was standing inside his house, young and beautiful and smiling.
“Can I give you a hug?” Auggie asked.
“Yes. Yeah.”
“Cart won’t be mad?”
Dragging Auggie into a hug, Theo said, “Who the fuck cares if he gets mad?”
He’d forgotten this, how Auggie felt in his arms, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breathing. Not forgotten. Blocked away.
Tightening his arms, he said, “Why the fuck did you stop answering my texts?”
“Ow, ow, ow, ok, God, you’re going to puncture a lung.” Auggie stumbled free, grinning, a blush darkening his light brown skin. “Because I’m a stupid kid and I got mad at you. Because I was super jealous of Cart. And because I’m petty as fuck.”
Theo crossed his arms.
“I, uh, I know I laid a lot on you at the end of last semester.” Auggie copied Theo’s pose, folding his arms. “I just want you to know, I realize that was really immature, and I’ve done some growing up, a lot actually, over the summer. If you could, you know, forget that stuff?”
Forget it, Theo thought. Forget being told that Auggie loved him, that Auggie wanted to be with him. He nodded mechanically.
“Forgiven?” Auggie said.
Theo managed, “I’ll think about it.”
“You got a new couch.”
“Semi-new. A widow died in it.”
“She died on it?”
“No, Auggie, she died in it. Don’t ask me what it means, but they were very specific when I bought it.”
Auggie’s grin got bigger. “Do you have any Doritos?”
“I don’t keep them stocked just on the off chance you might decide to start talking to me—don’t go back there!”
Auggie ignored him and headed for the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he said, “See if you can convince Orlando that you’re not going to skin him alive and eat him.”
Theo limped out onto the porch again and stood at the rail, stretching his knee. “Orlando, get your ass over here.”
Orlando emerged from around the side of the house. He gave another wave. The dumb fuck had packed on more muscle, but he still looked thin from the injury he’d taken earlier that year.
“Why are you hanging around Auggie?”
“I’m not. I swear! I just—he’ll tell you. And we’re neighbors.”
“Neighbors?”
“I didn’t know. I swear! It was just chance.”
Theo stared at him.
“Oh my God,” Orlando muttered. Then, louder, “I swear to God!”
“Orlando, you don’t strike me as the smartest guy in the room, so I want something to be really clear. I need you to understand that I will literally—this is not exaggeration, this is not hyperbole—I will literally murder you if you hurt him again. Do you understand me?”
Orlando