When Everything Is Blue(67)

“Dude,” Chris keeps saying over and over as he embraces me in a big, sweaty bro-hug. Ryanne bounces and claps and doesn’t know our skater lingo, so she just keeps saying, “Wow, Theo, that was amazing.” My mom and sister sandwich me in a hug, and Tabs asks me if I’m famous now.

I end up coming in second, just shy of first in points behind Austin Schriller because of his wicked 720 flip I’ve never seen anyone land in real life. Kudos to him. He comes up to me afterward and asks if I’m with anyone, and it takes me a minute to realize he means if I’ve signed with someone. “No,” I tell him.

“You should talk to Vincent,” he says. “We could use someone like you on our team.”

As if being summoned, Vincent materializes a moment later. “I’m going to call you in a couple weeks about being our guide, Theo.” He says it almost like it’s a warning. “You do well in that, we might have room for one more on our team.”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great.” I’m still reeling from the fact that I got through the competition while keeping my rep intact. The chance at a sponsorship is a total bonus and not anything I was expecting.

The second-place prize is $1000, which couldn’t come at a better time, because I owe my mom for putting me on her car insurance. As we pack up to leave, I scan the crowds one more time, thinking it would have been cool if my dad had showed up.

Well, there you have it.





Sebastian


WE GO out for pizza afterward—it’s my go-to cuisine after grilled cheese. Then we say goodbye to Tabs and my mom and drop Ryanne off at her house. When it’s just Chris and me back in my car again, he says with a little grumble in his voice, “Guys are always giving you their number.”

“Who’s that?”

“That Plan Z guy. He was totally hitting on you.”

Vincent? I just saw it as him being friendly—maybe even a little charming—in order to get what he wanted. “You think he’s gay?”

“He was totally checking you out, and not in the sponsorship-potential way. I liked it better when I only had to worry about girls liking you. Guys are dogs.”

I agree with him on that, but Vincent seemed pretty business-oriented. “He was pretty old, Chris. Pushing thirty.”

“Gay life doesn’t have the same age-difference rules.”

“Gay life? Is that like Salt Life?” I tease. All of a sudden Chris is the expert on being queer? I swear it’s the same as when I taught him how to ollie back in seventh grade, and then suddenly he was the authority on skating. “I’m pretty sure the law doesn’t give a shit if you’re gay or not. And besides, he should know my boyfriend is the jealous type who will kick his ass if he tries anything.”

Chris is quiet for a moment then goes, “Am I that guy?”

I glance over to see him experiencing a rare moment of self-doubt. “I don’t know. Are you?”

Chris shakes his head as though ridding himself of the persona. “Sorry about that, T. I’ve just waited so long for this. I’m a little worried someone’s going to swoop in and steal you away.”

It’s funny to me that Chris would stress about that. If only he’d been in my head the past year or so, he’d know he has nothing to fear. “Consider my ass bolted to the floor like the furniture in Juvie.”

He smiles. “Cool.”

Chris opens his legs so his knees are spread wide and adjusts his balls. I wonder if it’s for my benefit. I have the urge to swerve off the road and park in the nearest secluded spot and demonstrate the skills I learned from Dave, but I’ve heard too many stories about kids getting caught by the police with their pants down and being brought into the station for their parents to come claim them. I’m not getting charged with indecent exposure at the tender age of sixteen or worse, having to make that call to my mother.

“You have to work tomorrow?” Chris asks.

“No, I took off. Why?”

“I want to go to Sebastian.”

“When? Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says in a deep, throaty voice.

“To surf?”

Chris hums, giving himself away.

“You bringing your tent?”

He chuckles, deep and sexy. “Yeah. So… you want to come?

“Yes, again and again.”

Chris laughs. “Don’t psyche me out, T.”

I smile, loving that slow burn in the bottom of my groin, knowing whatever happens in Sebastian, it’s sure to be memorable.

“Go easy on me, Boss.”

He leans his head back against the seat rest and glances over at me with that cocky grin I adore. “No promises.”




WE NEVER make it to the beach. The sun set long ago by the time we arrive at the campground in Sebastian. Chris builds the fire. I set up the tent. It’s like it’s always been, except I’m too keyed up. I can’t calm my thoughts long enough to concentrate on any one thing, which makes setting up camp kind of scattered, with me forgetting basic things like making sure to anchor in the stakes. Then I have to force myself to be still and sit down next to Chris, so my anxiety doesn’t spread like a brushfire to him.

Chris reviews the day, somewhat methodically, going over all the good rides the skaters had and all the biffs, each of their strengths and weaknesses. My strength, according to him, is making my tricks look easy. My weakness is not taking more risks because I haven’t practiced a trick enough times. I actually have a target ratio of attempts vs. completions for any given trick before I’ll go public with it. While Chris doesn’t know the exact details, I think he suspects it.