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Not even when it made him less cool with Hugh and the boys.
It didn’t matter to Gerard.
He always made me feel like I was his first priority.
His number one friend.
From Gerard Gibson, I had been given the friendship of a lifetime that consisted of humor, loyalty, comfort, and affection.
It was for those and many other countless reasons that I found myself relentlessly clinging to the hope that we would someday take the next step.
That our friendship would progress to more.
Like last night for example. We had spent half of the night up talking, and the entire time I had spent mentally willing him to kiss me, and not because the bottle landed on me in a stupid game when we were kids. Because our first kiss might have been an innocent peck coerced by a spinning bottle, and I wanted more now.
I wanted him to want me, dammit.
The way I wanted him…
“Get back,” Johnny warned, using an arm to guard the food from his boisterous buddy. “And put some pants on, will you?”
“I’m only trying to smell it,” Gerard argued, leaning over his shoulder.
“Well, don’t… Hey, back up. I’m serious, Gibs. Don’t stand over an open flame like that. You’re going to get your dick splattered with grease, you eejit.”
“Aw,” I cooed, grinning at the pair of them. “Look at you being all chivalrous protecting your best friend’s willy.”
“Oh, he’s a true blue, alright,” Gerard agreed, while he managed to swipe a rasher off the grill. “Always the hero.”
“Thief,” Johnny grumbled.
Snickering to himself, Gerard stuffed the crispy string of bacon into his mouth before joining me on a nearby log. “How’s my little diesel generator?” He slung one big arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side. “No need to ask if you slept well.”
“Me?” I laughed, digging his ribs. “Gerard, you snore so loud it’s like a cement mixer going off in bed.”
“Nah, babe, that’s yourself you’re hearing.”
“You’re both as bad as each other,” Johnny chimed in. “Our tent is next to yours. I could hear ye all bleeding night. Like an old married couple. Communicating through snores in your sleep, the pair of ye.”
“Hey, don’t judge our love language,” Gerard shot back with a wolfish grin. “At least we don’t keep everyone up fucking each other’s brains out.”
“Gerard!”
“With feelings,” he deftly added, holding a finger up. “Fucking with feelings.”
“No,” Johnny agreed, not missing a beat as he turned the meat once more. “Because you’re too busy cracking jokes like a pair of babies.”
“At least we’re not making babies, lad.”
“Sure, Gibs, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Johnny let Gerard’s teasing go clear over his head like he was immune to his banter. “Call the others, will you? Grub’s up.”
_______________
Twenty minutes later, the entire gang was sitting around the camp, stuffed as baby piglets after devouring Johnny Kavanagh’s glorious offerings.
“Hey, guys? If we were in the dark ages, do you think we’d still be friends?”
“Huh?” Patrick mused with a chuckle. “Care to evaluate on that, Baby Biggs?”
