Summer Nights (Solangelo AU)

will viii • teenagers

   After looping my arm with Piper's, we walk slowly outside. She keeps her eyes on me quizzically.

   "Why are you staring?"

   "I think you know why I'm staring."

   "We were having an argument."

   Piper pretends to nod. "Right. Sure."

   "We were."

   Piper clears her throat. "Is Nico gay?"

   "I don't know. Ask him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she says. "Will, you know—"

"Really, Piper? Not tonight," I sigh.

"Fine," she says. "Can I come back to your place?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "Would your dad allow that?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind now," Piper looks away. "It's a long story."

We're both silent on the way to my car. She gets in, and immediately looks out the window. When she does that, it reminds me of Nico.

Nico. Who I just touched completely sober. And he...let me? If he's reacting anything like he did last time, he probably regrets it.

A sense of guilt and anxiety washes over me. It's weirdly new. I mean, I've had sex with guys before. A lot. I don't know why I felt like I was going to throw up now.

It's always been kind of the same for me. Sleep or do whatever with a guy. Leave. And that was all. And...no kissing.

There's other closeted guys, who will threaten to kill you if you tell anyone. There's guys who pretend it never even happened. There's guys who threaten to tell everyone. There's guys who will act completely in love you, but marry a girl.

You get used to it.

And afterwords, I wouldn't care. Everybody has their reactions. And if people treat you like shit, that's life. And maybe that's comforting, because I feel like I'm the same.

There was a weird agreement. No kissing. No eye contact. No romance. No talking, if it weren't sex related.

Travis was one of the different ones. More of a friend. And I genuinely cared about him, but we felt the same thing for each other.

And you know, if the shitty guys called back, I'd go to them. Because sex is sex. It doesn't have meaning.

What me and Nico did just now? It didn't have meaning.

But that was the problem.

We did what we did, and then I left.

But we've kissed. I've stared at him so long, at times, that I've memorized his face. The soft shadow that falls from his cheekbones and into his sunken cheeks, his pink lips that tremor when he thinks about kissing you, and the way golden flecks appear in his brown eyes when he's happy. And we've sat on the trunks of our cars, watching the sun set, which I used to do alone. We called for a few nights, talking endlessly. About things that matter. About things that don't.

And maybe I liked it in the moment when we hooked up. But I think...

Maybe it should have been something. God, I sound so fucking dumb. I shouldn't care. But I do.

   But he loves me, right? And he wants those things to have meaning, even if I don't particularly need it...I just hope he isn't freaking out. Or overthinking this like I am.