Page 29 of The Way We Swing

“We will!” Gavin said as he rejoined the group. After he dried off, he jumped on Easton’s back and put him in a headlock as Easton walked the two of them to the basement.

We hooked up the Nintendo 64 and played Mario Kart until midnight, when Gavin fell asleep during one of the races.

Smiling, Easton whispered, “I’ve got him.” He lifted my youngest brother as gently as he could and carried him upstairs.

“Did he stay asleep?” I asked when Easton returned from putting Gavin to bed.

“Woke up to say good night,” he said, sprawling out across the couch, “but I don’t think he was really awake.”

I turned back to the TV, though I wasn’t really watching. It was the first time we’d been alone in two weeks, and that bomb in my stomach was running out of fuse.

Easton lay completely still, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers resting on his stomach, like he was holding something inside as well. Was he finally going to talk about it? Did I want him to?

“Not yet,” he said, without looking at me.

I hadn’t said anything, but he knew what I was thinking. He always knew.

The silence stretched. My stomach twisted itself into a knot. I sat up and lay down on the couch, then cycled through those positions again, neither giving me the comfort I hoped it would.

He flexed his fingers. The pops of his cracking knuckles echoed throughout our basement, the music from the idle video game the only other sound.

Finally, he sat up and looked at me. There was something raw in his eyes, like the storm was just beneath their surface but hadn’t broken yet.

“Tanner,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want to do?”

My mouth opened. Closed. I tried to find something safe. “We could…play more Mario Kart?”

He smiled. Barely. “Not what I meant.”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Come here.”

I stood and walked over. He reached out and placed his hands gently on my arms. I felt the warmth of his fingers through the damp fabric of my T-shirt. His citrus-scented shampoo filled my nostrils, barely detectable beneath the smell of chlorine and pine cones.

“Do you want to do it again?”

My chest tightened. Our first kiss still hung in the air between us.

I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve asked what he meant. But he was so close, and I couldn’t breathe, and—

Then his eyes met mine, and everything else left my mind.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Then do it.”

I leaned in slowly. He met me halfway. Our lips pressed together—not hungry, not rushed. His hands moved up to my face, brushing my jaw. Mine went to his shoulders, holding him like I was afraid he might disappear. Like I’d never get to feel him again.

I pulled up on his shirt, breaking the kiss only to get it off. I ripped mine off as well and tossed them both on the floor before locking our lips back together.

Easton pushed me on the couch and got on top of me. His hairless chest laid on the fine chest hairs I had just started to grow. My hands moved to his biceps. Had he always been this strong? Or had those mid-afternoon lifts started to pay off?

Our excitement was obvious, pressing between our bodies. I wanted to reach down and feel what was poking into me, but I didn’t want to push too hard, too fast.