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YOU CAN'T BLAME a person for who they are, Chase thought, leaning against his best friend's car—a new silver Beemer convertible, but who keeps track of things like that? The spring breeze licked its way through the hallway of trees lining the long driveway up to the residential halls of the university. The place was a zoo this morning as parents returned to pick up their sons and daughters for the summer. Chase inwardly winced, just a little. Being the only son of a single mom hardly made him a charity case in this day and age—more run of the mill, actually. What upset him was the look on his peers' faces when they greeted their parents: a look of excitement, a look of anticipation of happy times, laughter, and memories to be made this summer. He'd seen the same look on his classmates every year through grade school, and it was no different now. He wanted to feel that, wanted to manufacture it somehow, but he wasn't even sure where to start. The only part worse than the end of the school year was the beginning of another, when those same faces returned, nearly busting at the seams from their ear-to-ear smiles, competing to outdo each other with stories of their magical summers.
He desperately wanted to feel something, anything, for his own mother, but he just... couldn't. There was nothing there. The closest thing to an emotional response he could identify might be sympathy, but it wasn't that strong. Apathy would be much closer to the mark. Too many years spent watching her drink herself into a stupor. He couldn't blame her. Or could he? No, he was past that. What do you do when the love of your life dies and you're left with a runty kid to raise by yourself? Raise the kid, not another glass.... Enough!
Chase took a deep breath and rechecked the clock on the tall bell tower above the residence hall's front door. Tyler was only slightly later than usual. While waiting, he could easily get lost for hours in the labyrinth of his mind and all the dark corners of his past. But not today. The sun was shining, college was out for the summer, and he and Tyler were going to spend it together. A smile played on his face. At last something to look forward to.
Tyler Davidson was... well, perfect, mostly, except for his habitual lateness, but even that minor fault Chase could readily forgive. His best friend was everything he wasn't, or at least that was the way Chase saw it. Tall, blond, blue-eyed, hunky Tyler. Always ready with a one-liner to make people laugh and seemingly able to glide through life without a care. Girls wanted to be with him and guys wanted to be him. Somehow he'd decided to lay down the unjust title of Best Buddy on Chase—a term that in Chase's mind only served to contrast them further.
It wasn't that Chase wasn't handsome; he was just more of an acquired taste, with short dark hair and big almond eyes. And next to the roaring blaze that lit up a room when Tyler entered it, Chase felt like he was a single burning match, good to light a cigarette occasionally but hardly something to gather around.
He was obsessing again. It was a habit—not a particularly useful one either, just something he'd gotten in, well, the habit of. Chase closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his face.
A summer to look forward to, he considered. He had no idea what to expect. When Tyler had asked if he'd like to spend the summer with his family at their lake house, he hadn't even stopped to think before saying yes. Since then, of course, he'd obsessed about it, imagining every detail. It sounded so... exotic: summer at the lake house. Definitely far from his existence in his mother's city apartment.
He'd actually been a little surprised by the ask; they'd only met this year. Chase had transferred to the university on scholarship after working his ass off for the past two years at a subpar community college. He wouldn't have been able to afford the tuition, but fate had smiled on him when he submitted his art portfolio and was invited to attend gratis. Fate had smiled on him again when he and Tyler were assigned to share a dorm room. They had hit it off immediately, but Chase was still at a loss as to what exactly it was that Tyler saw in him. Tyler could have chosen to spend his time with anyone he liked—there was all but a line outside the dorm room every day. But Tyler chose him. He didn't need to understand why; he could just enjoy it.
A summer to look forward to. There it was, a feeling growing inside him. Not manufactured. Real. He couldn't name it yet, but it was there. He smiled, and when he opened his eyes he saw it reflected on his best friend's face as he ran down the front stairs of the dorm, a duffel bag swung over his shoulder.
"You ready?" Tyler asked, beaming his megawatt smile at Chase and tossing the bag atop a pile of others in the backseat of the convertible. "I'm sorry, that took longer than I expected. I'm ready now, for real."
"No worries. I didn't even notice the time," Chase answered as he hopped in the passenger seat. "To summer!"
"To us!"
"To the lake house!"
Tyler revved the engine and pulled into the steady stream of cars exiting the campus. Sunlight danced through the trees lining the driveway. "So I talked to Marty, the owner of the golf course, and we're all set up. We're green gophers for the summer. It's super easy. I did it the past couple years. Anyway, it'll be pocket money for us at school next year, right?"
"Can always use that," Chase answered, feeling the ache of the empty pockets in his jeans.
"Don't worry. I got you covered until payday if you need anything," Tyler said absentmindedly as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music on the radio.
That was part of the problem. Tyler was always paying for Chase. Even with his tuition covered, Chase hadn't quite expected or planned for the additional expenses that could sneak up at university: beer, late-night pizza, weekend trips, concert tickets, and the list went on. And it was never a question—Tyler opened his wallet and magically everything was always paid for. "Don't worry, you're going to be a famous artist one day, and then I'll be asking for free paintings for my house. I got you," Tyler would always say. Don't worry, don't worry, don't worry. Chase wished there was some way he could pay him back now, or return the favor somehow. It was more than a gesture; Tyler looked out for him like a stray animal. No, better than that: he looked out for him like he really loved him. Was that the right word to describe it? Chase had never heard the word before—well, not from another person to him—and he'd certainly never felt the words leave his lips spoken to another. I love football, I love painting, I love rocky road ice cream, but never I love you.
He was going down a rabbit hole again. Not quite obsessing but certainly stewing, and he was supposed to be enjoying the drive with Tyler, who he realized then was glancing at him, his face twisted into a question mark.
"You off in space again, Chastity?" Tyler elbowed him. "I said Albuquerque."
Chastity. The nickname Tyler had laid on him since his side of the dorm room got less action than... well, it had gotten none. Tyler's, on the other hand, was a regular gigolo's lovefest, with regular cuddling, whispered baby talk, and creaking mattress springs.
"Ends with an e.... Ethiopia," Chase finally answered, smirking at Tyler. If there was one area where Chase could run circles around his friend, it was with words.
"You and your As. Come on, give me a break."
"I love As," Chase responded nonchalantly.
"I'll give you an A. Asshole." Tyler shot him a playful look over his sunglasses.
"Come on, at least try. I can think of like three places that start with A right now."
"Hold on.... America!" Tyler exclaimed and shot one fist into the air as if he had just won the lottery.
"Which one?" Chase asked flatly.
"America, America."
"North or South. You have to be specific, which means naming either North or South. Neither of which begins with an A," Chase explained.
Tyler stared out at the highway for a while, the yellow lines stretching in an endless ribbon over the horizon. "Alamo."
"What?"
"The Alamo," Tyler said again.
Chase shook his head. "Historical monuments and museums don't count."
"You just made that up, Chastity!"
"Did not. Cities, states, countries—those are okay. No man-made structures, though. Like, you couldn't say Hoover Dam."
"Cities are man-made," Tyler complained.
"Cities count. They're on maps," Chase explained.
"So if it's on a map it counts?"
"Usually."
"Usually?"
"Fine. You know what? Use the Alamo. Whatever," Chase conceded.
"Fine. I will."
"Fine."
"You have an O," Tyler said, pleased with himself for winning the battle.
"Omaha."
"Does that end with an A?"
"Yeah." Chase punched Tyler in the arm for emphasis.
"Owwww!" Tyler whined.
"Nope, that doesn't start with an A either." He punched Tyler again.
"Charlie horse!" Tyler cried out.
"Nope, that's a C." Chase shot him another fist in the bicep.
"Do you want me to pull over right now and kick your ass?" Tyler threatened. "I'll do it!"
As the silver Beemer traced the double yellow lines over the horizon, one thing was certain: Chase wasn't obsessing. He wasn't lost in memories of the past, plans for the future, or questioning who he was. He was simply there, with his best friend, playing a childish game, and there was nowhere he'd rather be.