“Are you really drinking beer?”
“No. I was . . . I was, you know. I was joking about that.”
“It’d kill your mom if you were,” I reminded him. “You know, the drunk driver and everything.”
“What drunk driver?”
Something was way off with Mike and I knew I should tell his mom but I also understood that we always had each other’s backs. We didn’t squeal on one another. I quickly dressed because I was running late without a ride from Mikey. “I’ll text you in a coupla hours, Mikey,” I said. “I need to ask my mom to give me a ride. I’m meeting Michael at the McDonalds at the mall.”
He followed me out of the bathroom and climbed onto his bed, ignoring me as I left the room even though I’d waited for a goodbye from him. I kept my promise in regards to having his back and did not mention a thing to Mrs. H..
Something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER THIRTY: Mike
Not all was as I’d remembered. This particular universe that my lovely mother had apparently sent me to had some differences. I had better continue cautiously because I could believe events have happened when they in fact did not.
Cooper must be thinking I’d lost my frikkin mind with the way I reacted to unexpected news. Here’s what I knew thus far: Hastings was gay in this realm, I was still Jennifer James’ boyfriend, and it sounded like a drunk driver had killed my father, not a person who’d fallen asleep at the wheel of a car and ran a red light. And that I didn’t drink beer when I was seventeen.
How was I supposed to navigate this life when my brain was full of memories from a life I’d already lived? I suddenly realized that my mother probably hadn’t thought that alternate universes offered alternate outcomes, alternate choices and decisions. What if Cooper didn’t want me in this one?Jesus! What if he hadn’t been here?
The calendar on the wall was turned to June just like I’d done when I’d been standing in this room a few hours ago, but somewhere else. Wrapping my head around the entirety was impossible. I pinched my skin for the tenth time that day. Either the pinching was part of the dream or I was actually here, looking like a young adult once again.
I stood and closed my bedroom door all the way, wanting to look at myself in the full-length mirror that hung on the backside of the door. My hands ran over my stomach to where a scar should have been after having my appendix removed at age twenty-two. The scar wasn’t there; the skin was smooth and perfect.
My abs were a clearly outlined six pack with jutting obliques that pointed to a full and thick cock. A cock that in this world had yet to experience sex, but it wanted to. I could feel the desire warming in my crotch as I thought about being inside Cooper. Burying my length in his ass or his throat, whichever he’d prefer. I knew I’d prefer both. The crazy thing was that I didn’t have those nasty thoughts the first time around. Would I be able to communicate how I felt now that I knew what I wanted from Cooper?
I liked my shaggy blond hair and smooth young face. I’d forgotten how I’d looked as a youthful, non-stressed, athletic boy. I was powerful, muscular, and naturally fit thanks to my good genetics. I felt weird staring at myself and admiring who I was, but I’d forgotten I had been a good looking young man.
In my twenties, I, like many my age, began to notice flaws. Of course there was the aging, and the aches that hadn’t been there before. It was natural to dread the passing of time. I’d been getting closer to thirty in another universe. What a trick for the beauty business this would be.Fuck Father Timecould be the headline. You can swap realities, baby, and restart life from any age. Just drink the marigold juice.
“Fuckin’ stupid,” I huffed, twisting and checking out my bubble butt from another angle. “Damn,” I whispered. “Not bad, Mikey. Not bad at all.”
“Michael?” A knock on my bedroom door nearly caused me to scream like a girl. “Honey? Are you going out today?” Mom asked through the closed door. “Are you decent?”
“Just a sec, Mom,” I answered, rushing for my gym shorts on the bathroom floor. “Come in,” I yelled, casually strolling out of the bathroom.
“Oh there you are, sweety. Why’d Cooper leave? He mentioned needing a ride to the mall at breakfast.”
“He changed his mind,” I lied, attempting to be wiser about what I said and how I said it. “I can check again if you think I should.”
Mom walked around my room picking up our towels and placing them in the hamper she wished I’d use on occasion. “I thought I’d drive out and visit Dad today. It’s been a minute,” she announced. “You got me thinking about him.”
“Would you like some company?” I asked. “Maybe grab Dad’s favorite Frosty from Wendy’s and then eat them in front of him. You know he’d hate that.”
Mom looked surprised.
“He liked Frosty, right?”
“Yes . . . your father liked Frosty, Michael,” she said, slowly enunciating her words.
You screwed something up, idiot.
“Butyoudislike going to visit your father,” she pointed out. “And after this morning with your mention of incense and the biscuits and gravy, what is all this about, son?”
I sat on the edge of my bed and smiled. “I want to do better, Mom. I miss Dad and I want to talk with him like you do,” I admitted.
“Are you sure, honey? I appreciate you putting in more effort, but you don’t have to try to fool your mom about the stuff I talk about. Even your father thought it was a bit much at times.”
