In the middle of Des Plaines Illinois three boys find themselves in a tangled knot of angsty lust and amateur love.
Evan Webster has an average American life. When he isn't at swim practice or the movie theater, he's trying to make time to study bi...
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Danny's brown eyes flickered open. He was balmy and sore, and his toes were cold. He surveyed his surroundings, and noted that they were still in the backseat of his car – him and Jackson. One door was open, allowing their feet to hang out of the vehicle. He could barely move, though, because there was a tangled head of red hair resting on his chest. The pale boy shifted underneath the concealment of Danny's leather jacket, cuddling closer to the warm chest where he had fallen asleep. His freckled neck was splotched with plum-hued bruises, making Danny feel somewhat prideful. He stared at Jackson, brushed a hand over his bright hair, and then smiled to himself – surprised at his own happiness.
The auto shop was still empty...and a disorderly. Danny didn't get a chance to clean before things escalated. He'd have to organize some things before his dad arrived.
He stretched his arms above his head, waking Jackson in the process. His body twisted and he rubbed his sleepy eyes. Danny kept their legs tangled together, not wanting him to get up yet.
"Morning," Jackson said, groggy.
"Morning," Danny echoed, swinging an arm around him. "How're you feeling?"
Jackson eyebrow raised. "You mean, how's my ass?"
"No," Danny blurted. "No. I mean, yeah. But no. Not just your ass. I meant – "
Jackson started crackling with laughter so hard that he almost snorted. Danny crushed him into a tighter hold.
"Asshole," Danny mumbled – not trying to create a pun. He welded his smile into a faux-frown.
Jackson was still chuckling, but stopped to thumb Danny's chin. It was the first time they had looked into each other's eyes since the night prior, and it was painfully obvious that neither of them wanted to look away.
Jackson traced his jaw to show Danny that he was only half-joking when he said, "I didn't think one-night-stands did welfare checks."
One-night-stands. Danny hadn't promised anything else, and he knew that's what Jackson accepted. But...
What are we? Jackson was asking – without actually asking.
Danny toyed with Jackson's hair, looking only at his face. "I'll talk to him," he vowed.
Talk to Evan.
Jackson wasn't convinced. "And say what?"
"I don't know yet," Danny replied honestly.
The redhead exhaled, moving to sit up.
"Jackson," Danny tried. "What am I supposed to say?"
Jackson shook his head, dropping the leather jacket and exiting the car.
"Jackson," Danny said, half-lounging. "Please."
The irony was cruel – being left alone in the same car he had used to drive away from Evan.
Jackson grabbed his jeans.
"What do you want me to say?" Danny asked, standing. "What am I supposed to do? I can't just end it. I have to figure out how I'm going to tell him – "
"I fucked Jackson," Jackson said. "That's how you say it." He wanted Evan to know. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to watch him lose something for once.
Danny imagined Evan's face if he ever told him the truth. There was an actual wrench of pain that formed in the bottom of his heart, emitting the sensation to the surrounding chambers. He saw the unsympathetic look in Jackson's eyes and knew he was close to walking away and never coming back. He couldn't let him leave with hostile thoughts about Evan. Danny couldn't bear the idea of someone hurting his first love. It didn't make any sense, and it wasn't fair, but he wanted to keep Jackson close...Because he wasn't ready to completely let go of Evan.
He stepped forward. "Let me take you home."
"I'll pass," Jackson said, bitter.
"Jackson," Danny tried.
He was buckling his pants, searching the garage for his shirt.
"Jackson...," he tried again.
Jackson bent down to pick up the wrinkled fabric, ignoring Danny's efforts.
"JACKSON," he shouted.
The redhead halted, meeting Danny's gaze. The dark-haired boy was wearing nothing but his underwear, mirroring his verbal vulnerability.
"Last night was...," Danny swallowed. "I've never...I...That meant a lot to me."
"Jesus," Jackson muttered. "I'm not a third-grade art project."
"No. No, you're not," Danny scrambled. "You're...terrifying. And beautiful. And you touch me like...Like you're in my damn head. And all I want to do is kiss you right now. Because I never want you to think that this was meaningless. Or that I'm using you. Because that's how Evan made me feel. And it hurt – a lot... I wouldn't do that to you."
Jackson folded his arms.
"I don't want to lose you. Lose this," Danny gestured between them. "But you have to be patient with me."
Jackson wasn't convinced that spending any time with Danny was a good idea, no matter what they had done together. He was looking for some sort of commitment, and Danny seemed to comprehend that unspoken ultimatum. His head spun around the room, looking for something with wild fret. He stepped passed Jackson, picking up his jacket.
He held up the heavy, black leather – offering it as a promise.
