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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JUNE
Evan was still wearing his work uniform. His Drexel Cinema polo was the farthest thing from couture, stained and starched in all the wrong places. He was surprised Heather hadn't made him change his clothes yet. A customer had spilled a large orange soda down the front of his shirt. Evan recognized him as one of the chaperones from the school dance, who had presumably saw the kiss. Evan assumed he had spilled the drink on purpose. He was probably one of twenty parents who had called the principal too. Evan was glad he and Jackson were seniors, otherwise they'd probably be expelled by now.
Jackson, however, was prone to reckless behavior. Kissing a boy in public was not outside his zone of predictable. He often liked to test the limits of social approval. Or maybe he just liked having a target on his back at all times—it gave him an excuse to run. That's what he did best. From the cops, from his feelings, and now from the judgement of strangers. A few funny looks and a promise of some physical threats wasn't any scarier than living in trailer park.
"Here," Jackson spoke, holding up a deviled egg. "Taste this."
Evan was sitting on the countertop, letting Jackson helm his kitchen. It was nice to see someone using the oven again. The redhead had made the Webster's whole house smell like pot roast. No one had utilized any of the main appliances since Mrs. Webster had died – expect for when Nadine occasionally boiled noodles.
He opened his mouth and Jackson lobbed an egg onto his tongue.
"It's good," Evan said, still chewing. "It's sweet?"
Jackson nodded. "That's the hollandaise sauce," he explained. "If you mix it with the filling, it makes it kind of tangy."
Evan swallowed, impressed. "That's different."
"But still good?"
"Very good," Evan assured the redhead.
Jackson smiled before Evan kissed him. He dropped a wooden spoon into the sink so he could anchor Evan's waist. From where he sat on the counter, Evan brought his hands to Jackson's face and pulled him forward, playful. They were like two kittens, pouncing, pecking, and dodging. Jackson couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy. He had settled into the feeling, welcoming the unfamiliar sensation.
