- Clay -
"You don't have a boyfriend, right?" I asked. I pushed an entire tortilla chip loaded with salsa into my mouth. Jackson told me Emmett had a date to bowling the other night, but the guy flaked at the last minute. My heart actually broke a little for Emmett hearing that. It was no wonder he didn't put up with my shitty attitude.
Emmett shook his head. He was still wearing my hat. It looked great on him. Better than it ever did on me. I didn't have the heart to ask for it back yet. If it hadn't belonged to my dad, I would let him keep it.
"So what's that like?" I asked.
"Not having a boyfriend?"
"Being with a guy. Is it different than with a girl?" I couldn't believe I just asked that. Out loud. To his face. Was that too intrusive? Would he get offended? Maybe he didn't talk about that kind of thing.
"I wouldn't really know. The only girl I ever kissed was Carrie."
My mouth dropped open from shock. "You and Carrie dated?"
"God, no!" Emmett let out a harsh laugh. "We were like eleven, trying to practice kissing so we didn't suck when the real thing happened. The whole thing was a disaster. We were both awkward and fumbly. A wire broke on her braces and sliced my lip." He pulled his bottom lip down to show a dark line. "Three stitches."
I laughed. I could just imagine little Emmett, the same green eyes and black hair clumsily trying to kiss Carrie under her mass of dirty blonde curls.
"I won't judge the whole female population on that experience," Emmett said, dunking a chip into the queso dip, "but I never was attracted to girls."
"When did you know you were—" I paused and looked around. I didn't know how open Emmett was about being gay; I didn't want anyone to overhear, just in case.
I turned back to meet Emmett's green eyes. He had his brows raised.
"I've known for a long time." Emmett said. "But, officially, I accepted it at Bobby Thomas's twelfth birthday party. He was very cute. It was a pool party, and I kept finding myself staring at him. He caused my very first boner. Thank God I was in the pool so nobody could tell."
I choked on the chip I'd just tried to swallow. I held a napkin to my face as I coughed, then gulped down half of my water before the fit subsided.
Emmett just smiled at me from across the table, amused. He had a fantastic smile, even if he didn't show it often. It kind of made them more precious.
"You okay?" Emmett asked. "Do you need me to Heimlich you?"
I patted my chest and gave a thumbs up, not quite fully recovered.
Emmett folded his arms on the table. His face shifted, becoming slightly more serious than before. "How about you?"
I glanced around the room again and back to Emmett. "My first boner?"
Emmett chuckled. "Not what I meant. But sure."
I wondered what he meant. What could he possibly be asking?
Pushing past my confusion, I shrugged. "I don't even remember the first one. Just that it started happening a lot in sixth grade. And at the most inconvenient and random times. Like right in the middle of a math test, like I was horny for fractions or something."
Emmett nodded. "Well, sure. All that looong division. And all those numbers... going into other numbers." He paused and shrugged. "Okay. I'm out of math innuendos."
"I was very embarrassed about it. Until—"
"Until what?"
I leaned forward, feeling heat rise in my chest. "Until I learned what to do with it."
"A glorious day for every young man. It's like the only bright side of going through puberty."
Emmett was so easy to talk to. I could never discuss this kind of stuff with anyone else. My friends would brazenly talk about sex, and porn, and jerking off right at the lunch table in the middle of the cafeteria where anyone could hear. I was always too embarrassed. I might nod along with something someone said, but I never spoke up or added my input.
But Emmett made me feel comfortable, relaxed. I don't know how he did that.
"Getting taller was pretty cool, too." I said.
"Unless you stopped growing at 5'8."
"Please, I'm only three inches taller than you. That's not a big deal."
"Three inches can make a big difference." Emmett flashed a devilish grin.
My face went red again when I realized what he was implying.
Emmett laughed. "You should see your face right now."
The waiter brought out our food. Thank God. Emmett's fajitas sizzled and popped, smoke wafting off the top. They smelled amazing. I wished I got that instead of boring tacos. I loved these tacos, but I got them every time I came here.
Emmett noticed me staring. "Do you want one?" He held out the foil package of tortillas.
"You don't mind?"
Emmett shook his head. "I can never eat the whole thing. I always fill up on chips, and usually end up taking half of it for a midnight snack."
I grabbed a tortilla. "Can you just scoop some on for me?"
"Tell me when," Emmett said. He shoveled a pile of grilled chicken and vegetables onto the tortilla.
"Whoa!" I held up my free hand. "That's probably too much."
"Amateur." Emmett scoffed. "I load mine down until they're practically falling apart."
I swiped a butter knife through the tiny container of guacamole that Emmett offered and spread it down one side of the tortilla before rolling it up and taking a bite. I leaned forward as the filling spilled out onto the table, grunting in distress.
This caused Emmett to laugh. Which made it worth the trouble.
"Is it good?" he asked.
I nodded, still chewing.