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“Why?”
“Because I got to feel it, I guess. Even the hurt,” I admitted. “Even the hurt,” I repeated.
Chad slipped a finger in the waistband of my briefs and stepped closer. “Can I ask you a favor?” he whispered. I nodded, my heartbeat pausing along with my breathing. “Will you wait for me just a little bit longer until I can be sure about my feelings?”
Not the words I wanted to hear, but I had a promise to myself to keep. “I can do that,” I agreed, disappointed that he didn’t feel exactly the same way as I had just professed.
“I appreciate that because I do feel love for you,” he stated. “I know I do, but I’m also unsure about whether I can be good for you, Cole. My track record has not been the best and I’m worried about the mistakes I’ve made.”
“I understand,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere, so take all the time you need.”
We embraced and held each other silently for a minute or so. The moment I felt my heart break a tiny bit, I remembered the sunrise.
“One day at a time, Cole. He’s worth it, you’ll see.”
“I miss you, Jack. I could use a friend right now.”
“I’m here.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: Chad
“Welcome back,” Rat said, splashing water toward me.
He dipped both of his hands back into the water and then brought them to his head, where he slicked his long hair back out of his face. He looked happy that we finally had a day off from the food truck.
“I know, right,” I replied. “I’m glad to be back on the waves too, buddy.”
“That’s true too, but not what I meant, bro,” he corrected. I cupped my hands over my eyes and looked at him. “I meant welcome back to the land of the living, you numbnut.”
I grinned at him and slapped the water to splash him back. “You missed me, didn’t you?” I teased. “What was it you said earlier this summer? That I had my dick in the dirt? Wasn’t that your colorful expression?”
“Well, obviously, your dick is somewhere else now. Or is it that someone else has their dick in your dirt?” he joked.
“Grow up. Cole and I are just hanging out,” I replied. “But, you know, things are going well.”
“Is that what you queer-bags call it? Hanging out?”
I rolled my eyes toward him. “Queer-bags? Is that what all the cool people are calling us these days?” I asked.
“Fuck off, dude. You and Cole are totally a thing, right?”
“Yes, we are some-thing,” I corrected. “We’re just hanging out and seeing where it goes.”
“Whatever you’re calling it, I like it, dude. I like this Chad a whole bunch more than moody-blues Chad.”
I glanced behind us to check for incoming waves. “I don’t do moody,” I protested, turning back and sticking my tongue out. “I was feeling a tad… shall we say… slumpy; is that a word?”
“Moody, slumpy, bitchy, whatever you call it. I like this version better.”
“Who said bitchy?” I snarked.
We laughed out loud at the banter. He was right, though; it did feel great to be on the water with a friend and feeling excited about my life again. I’d admit to anyone who asked that the past seven to nine months had been tough, even if I hated to admit that sometimes my spirit was down like everyone else’s.
“Thanks for hanging out on your only day off, bro,” he said, changing subjects. “I like that about you, by the way,” he added. “You know, making time and shit.”
“I love you too, Rat.”
“Don’t make it gay, dude,” he quipped. “I mean it, though. Sure, I miss the amount of time we used to have, but I’ll take less time if this is the Chad I get.”
