night. I could stay holding him for as long as he’ll dare to hold me back. I hardly notice how warm it’s already gotten in this shed, just from our body heat. “Let’s … drop the whole act.”
“Act? Which act? Act one?”
“You know what act I’m talking about. Let’s … acknowledge … what’s really happening here.”
“I don’t follow.”
“We’re kissing, Toby. You and me.”
“Yeah. I know. We’re practicing.”
“You and me,” I emphasize. “Not Kingsley and Danny.”
Those are the words that do it. Something clicks in his eyes, like a tiny, unexpected epiphany. And at last, when he looks at me, I feel like he truly sees me. Past all of the gossip that’s been shoved in his ears. Past his own fears and second-guessing. Past his denial. And he sees a guy standing in front of him who isn’t here just to work on some pretentious, poorly-written script.
He sees me. He feels my thumping heart. He sees my yearning stare, my uncharacteristic elation, my prickling anticipation for his touch. He sees me.
“Kiss me,” I tell him.
And without a note of hesitation this time, Toby looks right into my eyes, a knowing glint of desire burning in them, and he goes right for my lips. I embrace him completely, wrapping him in my arms. His force pushes me to the bed where I drop, causing the bed springs to creak, and then he’s atop me, ravenous, kissing, his arms locked around my back. I kiss him until every last wounded part of me is unraveled on this bed, and I’m so loose, I could feel my soul fly straight out of my chest. I kiss him until it hurts.
Somewhere deep inside me, I know that after this moment, after finally giving in, after crossing the line with my only friend here in this crummy town, everything is going to change.
And I have never welcomed it more.
Half an hour later, our shirts are off, and we’re lying back on his bed, side by side, sharing the pillow and staring up at the small metal and wooden ridges of his ceiling, from which hangs a fan, its blades spinning lazily round and round on the slow setting. A fine sheen of sweat covers both our chests.
“I didn’t know kissing could feel so good,” Toby sighs.
“I think that was more making out than it was kissing.”
“Yeah. True.” A moment passes. “By the way, I … don’t think you bring out the worst in people.”
“Huh?”
“Earlier, back in rehearsal. You said you bring out the worst in people, but I don’t think you do.”
I nearly forgot about that exercise. “You don’t know me well enough yet. And you said you think you’re an accident.”
“Well, that’s likely more true.” He chuckles breathily. “I mean, I remember the way my parents fought, even if I don’t remember much about my dad at all.”
“When did he leave?”
“I was six or so. Elementary school. I barely remember him. When my mom and Carl married, there was a court hearing from what I was told, my dad didn’t show, and I became a Michaels.”
I tilt my head towards his. The sides of our foreheads touch, near the temples. “What were you before?”
“Price.” He starts picking at his fingers. “Toby Price.”
“Hmm. You don’t look like a Price.”
“I don’t look like a Michaels, either.”
“You miss him? Your dad?”
“I don’t even know him. He clearly didn’t give a crap about me to stick around or even write a single letter. Do people even still do that?” he asks suddenly. “Write letters? Like, with their actual hands and a pen and a piece of damned paper? My life could be so different. The only things I do remember about him were … good. He let me paint all over his garage with finger paints as a child.” He lets out a derisive snort. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have told me I needed to join a sport to become a real man.”
I wrinkle up my face. “Your stepdad said that to you?”
“More than once. Is he right?” Toby turns his face towards mine even more. For a second, we’re in danger of kissing again. “Should I join a sport?”
“You do what you want.” I consider him for a moment. “You’d look cute in a little soccer uniform.”
“Would I?” A smile breaks over his face. “Cute. ‘Cute’. That’s a word I sure never expected to hear come outta your mouth.”
I shrug, then imitate his accent: “Well, shoot, maybe you’re rubbin’ off on me, gosh dang it.”
Toby scoffs