have done any of those things by now.
Of course Vann would pick a time like this to actually keep his word and be respectful and rule-abiding.
It’s Saturday evening before I know it, and we’re once again in Hoyt’s truck on a short ride to G-Man’s house on Wicker, which is just a little bit down from Mr. and Mrs. Tucker’s. Upon entering, I am met with a lingering odor of something foul I can’t put a finger on. The level of disarray in this house is far worse than Hoyt’s, yet he leads me in like it’s second nature to turn a blind eye to all the junk along the walls and on the floor, and the laundry piled in every room we pass. G-Man, or George, is a twig of a fellow who always looks like he’s waking up from a nap, and we find him on the couch with Benji and some girl I don’t know well. Two other guys from the football team are in the kitchen with some girl I might’ve had a class with once. Through the back patio door, I spot a few other people from school, but it’s clear after just a few seconds that I’m not among friends or familiar faces. Everyone is so occupied talking or eating snacks or making moves on girls, my presence is all but ignored as Hoyt goes straight for the couch, jumping between G-Man and Benji and causing them to laugh. After a moment of awkward glancing around, I take a seat in a chair already occupied by some junk, which I gently shove aside to make room, then wonder why the heck I agreed to come here.
Then the door bursts open, and in comes Julio with a giggly girl who I recognize as Stacey, a curly redhead with a husky voice and sharp green eyes. She was cast as a lead in a play my freshman year, then dropped theatre immediately after to do cheerleading. I always thought she was gay for some reason, until I heard rumors that she worked her way through the whole football team. She always struck me as someone with ambition, though I could never quite pinpoint what it was she wanted—other than what hid in the jocks of every football player at Spruce High, that is.
The latest of which seems to be Julio, whose arm she’s hooked on as they stumble into the living room. When Julio notices me, he narrows his eyes in suspicion, but the moment is short-lived as his attention is at once pulled to the kitchen by his other buddies. And as the evening slowly gives way to night, the small crowd of bored, horny heterosexuals gets louder and more obnoxious. Some of the guys start an impromptu wrestling match in the living room. One particularly animated brawl nearly knocks into the chair I’m in, so I relocate to the couch. But then Julio and Stacey plop down next to me and start (aggressively) making out, so I head over to the kitchen. After opening the fridge looking for (and failing to find) something to drink, I notice G-Man and another guy through the back window with a suspicious cloud of smoke around them. And after one quick walk through the house, I’ve lost sight of Hoyt, the only guy I really know in this place. Add that to the growing list of things I never thought I’d hear myself say.
I slip out of the house and take a seat on the front step, which overlooks Wicker Street. I wince against a cool night breeze that introduces itself to me, and at once, I’m thinking of a set of arms that could shield me from it. Is there anything lately that doesn’t just immediately remind me of you? I pull out my phone yet again, flip to that same selfie, and stare. Vann smiles back at me in his lopsided way frozen in a piece of time—now just a collection of compressed pixels and digital info chunks on my phone. This was the night I gave myself to him … the night we made love.
The night my heart changed forever.
The door behind me swings open, and a person who is not Hoyt stumbles out, then nearly trips over me, not having seen me. When he rights himself, he squints my way. “Hey.”
I pocket my phone and look up. “Hi, Julio.”
Julio wears a suspicious scowl on his face I’m not sure how to interpret. After a