Gabe immediately moves back from me. I turn toward the voice, seeing a short woman standing in the hallway with her arms crossed. "Oh, uh," Gabe starts. He's clearly nervous, as am I. "Mom, this is Jake, Jake, this is my mom." I raise my hand in an awkward wave. She only squints at me.
"Is this who I always hear you talking to?" I look down at my pancake, feeling unwelcome to the conversation at hand. I open the bottle of syrup and drizzle it over my plate.
"I don't think we talk all that much, but yeah. We call sometimes. Homework and whatnot." I can feel his mom's eyes on me, burning the back of my head like lasers. I concentrate on my pancake as though it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen.
"I haven't seen Mark in a while. Why's that?" I press my fork down, taking a hunk of syrup-soaked pancake.
"Well... we just haven't been hanging out as much."
"Is this about a girl, Gabriel?" I almost choke on my pancake. Quite the opposite, really, I'm tempted to say. "I miss Grace. She was a good girl — a good, Christian girl." I watch Gabe grip onto the counter, his knuckles turning white.
"No, it's not about a girl. We've grown apart, I guess. It's normal."
"Grown apart? After 17 years?" She questions. 17 years, I think. That really is a long time, especially considering that I've only known him for a solid two months. "I still think this is about a girl. You boys were always competitive."
"It's not about a girl, Mom," Gabe repeats. He tightens his grip on the counter, transferring his anger there instead of into his voice. "I think we both need to see who we are when we're not conjoined at the hip. We've always had the same friend group, been in the same sports, even had the same shoes! I don't want to go into college feeling lost because I've only ever had one really good friend in my life." Put this boy in the speech and debate club! Actually, scratch that; that'd feed his ego too much.
"You shouldn't let your friendships go because you're afraid of college. You can't replace Mark with someone else; he's your best friend." Gabe's knuckles get even whiter. I'm afraid that if he grips any harder, he'll burst a blood vessel.
"I'm not replacing Mark. I just made a new friend. Is that ok with you?" Gabe's mom sighs.
"I'm just looking out for you, Gabriel. It's my job." That's a line straight out of my mom's playbook. My prying is justified because I gave birth to you, is what it really means.
"I appreciate that, Mom, but I can handle this myself."
"Ok, ok," his mom says. "I'll leave you be." She walks around the island, not looking at me, and goes to the coffee pot. She presses the "Start" button, and the machine responds with an affirmative beep! She comes over and sits at the island, leaving a seat between us.
"Well, Jacob, what sports do you play?" Gabe's mom asks, turning to me. It feels odd to be directly acknowledged after being ignored for the past few minutes. Gabe returns to the oven, resuming the pancakes.
"Oh, I don't play any." She furrows her eyebrows at me, looking confused. She actually resembles Gabe quite a bit, with the same wavy black hair, though hers is shoulder-length, and similar tan skin. He must have gotten the amber eyes from her.
"No sports? Then what do you do for fun?" Sleep. Eat. Masturbate. Kiss your son. What am I supposed to say?
"I like to... run." Run away from my problems, more like.
"Hmm, that must be why you're so skinny." I do my best to keep a straight face. Bitch! Gabe turns toward the island.
"Mom! You're being rude. You can't just say that to people." She turns to him.
"I'm only stating the obvious, Gabriel." He sighs, and she returns her gaze to me. "You should do track and field. You're probably a bit short for running, but maybe you could pole vault. Are short people good at pole vaulting, Gabriel?" He turns around, lips pressed together, clearly exasperated.
"Please stop insulting my friend. You never talk to Mark like this."
"He's not offended!" She justifies. "I'm not hurting your feelings, am I, Jacob?" I shake my head.
"Not at all," I tell her. I feel like she's challenging me. Is she trying to duel me for her own son's approval?
"He goes by Jake, Mom," Gabe tells her.
"Gabriel, why don't you just focus on your pancakes and let me get to know Jacob?" He doesn't reply. "Anyways," she says. "What church do you go to, Jacob?"
"Umm..." I honestly don't remember the last time I went to church. It's probably been more than 10 years. "I don't really go."
"Oh. Well, you are a Christian, at least, right?" Gabe turns around, eyes wide, and gives me a slow, clear nod.
"Yes, yes, of course. My family just never really found the right church."
"You should come to our church tomorrow," she offers. "I go three times a week. Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, though I can never get Gabriel up in time for the Saturday service."
"That sounds great," I tell her. What am I getting myself into? Gabe mouths Sorry to me. It's fine, I mouth back. The coffee pot chirps and Gabe's mom goes over to pour herself a cup.
"Alright, Gabriel, I am going to go get ready for service. I will see you later." She turns to me. "It was nice meeting you, Jacob."
"You as well," I tell her, smiling. Finally, she turns around and returns to her bedroom. Once we hear the door shut, Gabe lets out a long-repressed groan. He turns off the stovetop and makes a plate of pancakes for himself before coming to sit beside me.
"I'm sorry about that. She's... she doesn't always think before she says." He holds my hand under the countertop.
"Not your fault." I give his hand a squeeze. "Would I be a good pole vaulter?" I ask sarcastically.
"I could see it," he answers, "but I think I can give you all the cardio you need." I let go of his hand to give him a light punch on the arm.
"Do you ever stop?" I laugh.
"Never." He tousles my hair. "Don't act like you don't love it, pretty boy."
"I bet your ass is so big because that's where your ego lives," I jab. Gabe drops his jaw like a cartoon character.
"You little cocksucker!" He retorts before stabbing his fork into my pancake and adding it to his pile.
"Thief! Fuck you, Gabriel West."
"Mmm, I bet you'd like that, Jacob Wright, wouldn't you?" I grab Gabe's plate and slide it in front of me.
"You know nothing about what I like," I challenge. He scrunches his face up.
"I think that's where you're wrong." Gabe looks around, scoping the surroundings, before leaning in to kiss me. "You taste like syrup," he observes, pronouncing it as surh-up instead of seer-up.
"Is that a good thing?" I question. Gabe nods.
"Amazing. In fact," he says, peering around again, "I think we should take this to my room."
"I wouldn't be opposed to that." He smiles, and I follow him, taking our pancakes and a fork. Gabe opens his bedroom door, holding it for me.
"M'lady," he says.
"Why thank you, sir!" I reply in my best (worst) posh British accent. I plop down on his bed, making sure not to drip any syrup onto the sheets. Gabe sets his phone on his nightstand and lays down next to me, scooting close so the sides of our bodies meet. He brushes his hand through my hair, looking into my eyes.
"You're really pretty, you know that?" I feel a huge smile come across my face.
"Don't say that if you don't mean it," I tell him. He shakes his head.
"Oh, I mean it." Gabe wraps his hand around my head and pulls me into him, kissing me on the forehead. "I wouldn't lie to you, Jake."
"Wouldn't you say that if you were lying, too?" He reaches over for the fork and takes a piece from the top pancake.
"I think you're just gonna have to trust me on this one." He pops the pancake in his mouth, covering his mouth as he chews. "Do you really think you aren't pretty?"
"Uhhh... yeah, kind of." I break eye contact with Gabe, feeling embarrassed. I don't want him to think I'm fishing for compliments, but I also want to be honest. I can't imagine he understands.
Instead of saying anything else, Gabe wraps his arms around me and holds me. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his skin against mine. His hot breath tickles the hair on the back of my neck. I let myself melt into him, fully relaxing my body. I didn't realize how rigid I was.
"I wish you could see yourself like I see you," he whispers. "Because I think you're beautiful." He kisses the crown of my head.
"Oh, Gabe," I whisper back. "You're so sweet. I can't believe you're real."
"Real and here to stay. Except right now, because I've gotta piss." He lets go of me so he can stand up.
"Way to ruin the moment!" I laugh. Gabe shrugs at me.
"Would you prefer that I pee in the bed?"
"God, no. Go piss."
"Can do." He salutes me and turns toward the bathroom door, closing it behind him. I glance at Gabe's wall of Polaroids, and curiosity consumes me. I walk over and examine the photos. Lots of him and Marcus together at various ages. One of them catches my eye — the two boys sitting together at a park, looking to be 12 or 13. Gabe smiles wide, just like he does now, but with a mouth full of braces. He's paler with a rounded, childlike face dotted with acne.
It's odd seeing him so young. I wish he could have been in my life earlier. I feel a bit jealous, thinking about how much more time Marcus — who doesn't even appreciate Gabe — has had with him. All in the past, I remind myself.
My eyes move a few photos down to a picture of Gabe and Ryan. It's the two of them at a waterpark, probably from this past summer. I can't help but notice how attractive the other boy is. They both look so perfect. Does Gabe compare me to Ryan in his head? To this boy with clear skin, amazing hair, the sharpest jawline I've ever seen, and abs? Is this what he likes? Because he looks nothing like me. In the past, I think again, believing it even less this time.
I look over to the bathroom door, not wanting Gabe to come out and see me snooping. I hear the sink come on, so I quickly return to the bed. Gabe's phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I glance at it. There are a few notifications from Instagram — new messages... from ryanlovesfrogs. I mean, what's the harm in looking at it?
hey
it's been a while
i miss u
My mind immediately starts to spin. What if Gabe decides to replace me? I couldn't even blame him if he wanted to. What do I bring to the table that this guy couldn't? I can't make up for all the history they have. Maybe it's not a big deal. Maybe Ryan's just being friendly. But maybe he still wants Gabe, and maybe Gabe still wants him.
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