Riding With Brighton(6)

He narrows his eyes. “We do get along, right? I mean, when we talk in class it seems like we get along. And you’re about the only guy who wants to talk to me about something other than sports and partying and…. you know… whatever.” He looks away and shakes his head before speaking again. “I keep thinking when I get to college, I’ll just start over… choose my friends more wisely. But I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Okay. I’m confused as fuck now. I think when he hesitated the word girls should have been inserted, which would mean it’s one of the things—along with sports and partying—that he’s sick of talking about. Or maybe he just thinks the word would offend my sensitive gay ears. I mean, yeah, sometimes in class it seems like we’re flirting, but I generally tell myself it’s my active and stupidly optimistic brain making shit up. I’m not really getting any gay vibes from him, and I get what he’s saying—the guys he hangs out with all seem like they came out of a copy machine, and I can’t imagine their conversations are breaking any virgin ground. “So you want me to be your new friend?”

He laughs again. “It’s stupid, right? You already got a ton of friends… interesting friends. People that are nothing like me. Jesus, I seriously feel like I’m in second grade. And also like a charity case. I shouldn’t have… I mean, you probably got better things to do than sit around a park with me. Sorry….” He leans forward like he’s about to stand and walk and, even though I don’t know what the hell he wants from me, I know I’m not ready to see him go yet.

“It’s cool, man. There’s always room for more friends, right? And I do have other shit I need to be doing today, but it’s nothing you can’t do with me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, that damn cute grin back on his face.

I shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

“Cool,” he says, relaxing back into the bench.

We’re silent for a few moments, staring at the archaic park in front of us. “So why’d you pick this place?” My right eye twitches as I try to avoid looking at the brick building in the corner.

“You live around here, right?”

“Down the street.”

“Just being courteous I guess. Plus, I always liked it here. I used to play Little League on that field.” He nods toward a patch of grass where a chain-link fence suggests the diamond it used to be. “I thought that rocket was the coolest thing in the world. In my memories it’s way bigger than that.” His eyes shift to the metal rocket in the center of the playground that really should be torn down. If a kid were to go up that rusted piece of shit, I’m sure he’d come down minus a quart of blood. “It looks so damn small now,” he says like he’s fascinated. He stands suddenly and heads toward it. I watch as he walks across the playground. He’s wearing his white baseball pants and a black-and-white jersey. I’m thinking I’m gonna be damn disappointed if all the kid really wants is a new buddy.

He gets to the base of it, holding on to the railing that leads inside and looking up like he’s thinking about climbing in.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why not?” Before I can answer, he ducks and takes a step inside.

Shit. I stand and cross the playground. “Because it’s either gonna collapse under you or you’re gonna slice yourself open. You up to date on your tetanus shot?” I call up the damn rocket he’s ascending.

“You scared?” he asks, looking down at me. He looks like a giant in the small space.

“Of course I’m not scared.”

“Get your ass up here, then.” He maneuvers his long body so he’s sitting on top of the slide.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t fit in there.”

“Bullshit. If I did it, you can too.”

“I got a couple inches on you, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy? Really?”

“Yeah, pretty boy.”

“I think you’re the one who’s afraid of tearing your clothes… or cutting your flawless skin.”

Flawless skin? He’s obviously taking a jab at me, but that definitely sounded gay.

I climb into the rocket.

With my first step, the whole thing shakes. “Oh shit,” I mumble, taking the next steps three at a time, praying to God the whole thing doesn’t topple over. When my head pops out the top, I’m practically on top of Jay.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say snidely.

“Are you sure? Sounded like maybe you shit your pants on the way up.”

“Yeah, I totally shit my pants…. Shut the hell up and get your ass down the damn slide so I can get out of here.”

“I don’t know if I want to do that. I kind of like the view.” He crosses his arms over his chest like he’s getting comfortable.

I push him, but he’s quick, and he grabs a hold of the slide, stopping his descent. “There are park rules, Brighton. No pushing. You gotta wait your turn.”

“I was never any good at following rules,” I tell him, hoisting my body up into the small opening and throwing my legs out in front of me so they’re hanging off the sides of the slide. I’m practically straddling Jay now and this is just too gay, even for me. “Oh shit,” I mutter when I realize how narrow the slide is and how much higher it feels now that I’m on it. And how damn hot it is. “Jesus, will you go already? I think I just got third-degree burns on my hands.”