When Everything Is Blue(56)

“Who?”

“Uncle Theo.”

“Cocksucker Uncle Theo?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

“I know. He totally has a crush on one of the nurses at the home.”

“Really? Is that how you found out he was gay?”

“Yeah, and he more or less told me after I came out to him. It’s this whole secret society, Chris.”

“Apparently.”

“The cool club.”

“That might be overselling it.”

I chuckle. “Maybe so.”

The lady behind the counter calls me up then, and Chris tosses me his keys. “Good luck, Killer.”

I pull Chris’s car around back, and an older guy gets in and introduces himself. We go through the three-point turn and parking between the orange cones. Then we go out to the road, and he tells me to stop, and I do so without making it too abrupt. I make a few turns with signals and handle some traffic lights. I merge and adhere to right-of-way and do everything I think I’m supposed to. When the car is safely parked back at the DMV, I ask the guy how I did.

“You did great,” he says with more enthusiasm than anyone working inside has shown me. “Remember, no drinking, no drugs, and no texting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Driver’s test: slayed.

The smile on my face is huge when they take my picture. I come back out to Chris, show him my new license with the plastic still warm from the machine, and ask him if he thinks my smile is too eager.

“What?” he says like I’m crazy.

“Does it look like I’m trying too hard?”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know. Do I look stupid?”

“No, Theo, you look happy.” Then, in front of everyone in the DMV, he hooks his arm around my neck and plants a big fat kiss on my cheek.

No one at the DMV is impressed. Except, of course, for me.

And I get to drive us home.




WE TAKE the long way home, along the intercoastal with the windows down and the wind in our hair. I’m driving legally at last. The moment I’ve been dreaming about for so long is finally realized and even better because Chris is here with me. My boyfriend. I say it in my head a few times. It sounds so strange, but I love it.

Chris is smiling and humming to himself. I ask him what he’s thinking about, and he glances over like I caught him up to no good.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head like he’s embarrassed.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve been thinking about all these little things between us, times when I thought maybe you were into me, but I was actually too afraid to go for it.”

I smile. Sounds familiar. “Like, when?”

“When I first got back from Cali and I was showing you my board. I was totally going to kiss you in the shed, but I wussed out.”

A lustful heat rises up in me at the memory of it. Boy, that would have cleared up some things.

“Sebastian, obviously,” he continues, “and then, that night you slept over when we were cuddling. All I wanted was to make out with you, but it felt wrong because you were all sad and depressed about your dad. I promised myself the next day I’d make a move.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. “I was warming up to it during our basketball game when Dave pulled up.”

“That’s when I told him I was done.”

“I figured.”

“The only reason I ever started hooking up with him was to get over you.”

Chris frowns. “I wish you hadn’t told me that. I really hate that guy.”

“He’s not all bad.”

“He’s a fucking asshole, Theo. Look what he did to you. And I hate that he got to you first.”

I shake my head. Chris is an only child who’s never had to share his toys unless he wanted to. Same with his parents’ affection. His jealous streak comes out in moments like these where he practically says mine, mine, mine.

“I hated watching Kelli Keyhoe slobber all over you my entire freshman year.”

He sighs. “Yeah, my bad.” He runs his hand over the dashboard and inspects his fingers. Chris’s car is filthy. Maybe because his mom’s kind of a neat freak, he totally lets his car go. Talk about roaches. I’m never falling asleep in here.

“So, what’d you guys do when you were together?” Chris asks, going out of his way to sound casual about it, like he’s asking for the morning surf report.

“Me and Dave?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Yeah, who else?”

“I got pretty good at FIFA.”

I expect him to laugh at that, smile at least, but instead his frown deepens. “Fine, don’t tell me,” Chris says with a pout. I give him a look.

“Don’t make that face.” His mouth shouldn’t hold so much sway over me.

“What? I tell you everything.”

That’s true; even when I’d rather him not tell me, he does.

“Hand jobs. Blowjobs. That’s about it.”

“Was it good?”

I clear my throat. This is what they call a trick question. “It wasn’t… bad.”

“Did you want to have sex with him?”