She hugged me and sniffed my neck. “You smell different,” she said. She stepped back, still holding my arms. “What is it with you today?” she asked again.
“I’m just getting older, Mom,” I said, chills running up my spine as she studied me. “Your baby boy is almost a man.”
“That’s not it, son, but trust me, mom’s know stuff and we both know that I have that something extra, so you best be watching yourself.”
I believed her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: Cooper
My father’s voice carried up the stairs and through my open bedroom door. “He’s up there,” I heard him tell Mikey. “You must’ve really angered him this time, Mike,” he added. “He didn’t join us for dinner, so I know he’s in a mood.”
Mikey either didn’t respond or he was quiet, but I heard steps on the staircase and figured either him or Dad were on their way up. I rolled over and faced the wall before the door opened.
“Still mad at me?” Mikey asked softly, walking across the room and nudging my shoulder. “Can I lay down with you?”
“You never asked before,” I muttered.
Mikey lay on his back beside me and scooted as close to my back as he could, his hand between my butt and his hip. I was angry with him but I couldn’t escape my longing for his touch whenever we were near one another. For as long as I could remember things had been this way. I just had to touch him, feel his presence, be in his space at all times. I figured he tolerated me because of our closeness, but as we aged I worried we were close to moving past that sort of boyhood friendship.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tapping my butt with his hand. “I shouldn’t discount your feelings or relationship with Hastings by saying off handed shit like that.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it isn’t, Coop. Truthfully, I don’t know why you put up with me.”
He knew why. He was just being nice and not saying it out loud.
“I’m just being a baby about stuff,” I said. “Sometimes jokes hurt morewhen they come from you.”
“Why don’t you tell me shit like this then?” He rolled over and spooned with me, draping his arm over my hip and resting his hand on my stomach.
I wasn’t exactly sure why I hadn’t, but figured it was because I was afraid to lose him. If I nagged him too much I worried he’d get tired of me. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, enjoying his closeness and his fingers gently caressing my stomach through my T-shirt. “It’s just . . . well, sometimes I think you forget about my feelings about being gay.”
Mikey propped himself up on his elbow and looked over me, his chin digging into my shoulder. “I do?” he asked. “I sure as shit don’t mean to, Coop.”
“You told Hastings you’d trade Jennifer for me. I know you’re joking but it makes me feel less than, Mikey,” I began, trying hard to keep a level voice and to not start bawling. “I don’t wanna seem like a consolation prize.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You forget that most people don’t treat me the way you do,” I reminded him. “I’m sure I only escape the name calling because you’re popular. If we weren’t friends they’d be calling me fag and pansy like they do to Rusty Whitman.”
“I’d kick their fucking asses,” he stated. “So let ‘em try.”
“See?” I pointed out. “Just like that.”
Mikey tugged on my shoulder and rolled me over when he readjusted onto his back again then lifted his arm for me to slide under. I scooted closer and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m just saying I’d stick up for you, is all, Coop.”
“Who sticks up for Rusty?”
Mikey instantly sat up and turned to face me. “Who’s calling you a fag?”
“Nobody. That’s my point,” I said. “If we weren’t friends and I didn’t have your whole group of cool friends, I’d be toast.”
“Bullshit!” he hissed. “Everyone loves you, Coop.”
“Maybe, but if they do it’s only because of you,” I argued. “And don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that we’re friends, but if I’m supposed to accept that you really care and respect me, it sucks when you make a joke about beingwith me instead of Jen when we both know that’ll never happen.”
Mikey let out a breath, tapping my shoulder. “Not true, Coop.”
