Page 34 of The Way We Swing

“His hearing is next month,” Easton said.

“Do you think your dad gets a long sentence?”

“I hope so,” Easton said. He had started to talk more and more about his parents, and his words were flowing smoother than normal now that Friday night had turned into Saturday morning.

“Will you come with me?” he asked.

“You know I’ll be there,” I said.

“I’m scared, Tan,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to face my dad. Sometimes I miss Mom so much it hurts, and seeing him will bring it all back. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“I don’t think you realize how strong you are, Easton. Everything life throws at you, you keep battling. I never see anything get you down.”

“It’s not always real.”

“Is it real when you’re here?”

“Most of the time. I love you guys.”

“Let me know when it’s fake. Maybe I can help.”

“You help by being here,” he said. He reached his hand up onto the couch, locking his fingers with mine. We failedto say what we needed to, but we were approaching that gray area.

I felt a twinge of self-loathing when I allowed myself to feel a jolt of excitement at his touch. Easton broke the silence five minutes later.

He moved his hand, sliding it onto my chest. His movement stopped, possibly because he was trying to force himself to say something, or possibly because he wanted to retreat.

“You want to…do more?” he asked, voice barely audible. “If you do…we could.”

I froze. My body was already answering for me, but my mind couldn’t quite catch up. I was supposed to move on. He had said I was a mistake.

“Really?” I asked.

He didn’t reply. He stood, eyes locked on mine, then moved toward me—closer than he ever had before. My heart beat like it was trying to break free.

“You’re sure?” I whispered again.

He nodded. And then he was on his knees, and my shorts were on the ground. His hands found my thighs.

The details blurred. There were no jokes, no teasing. Just touch and warmth and this trembling fear that it wouldn’t mean the same to him as it did to me.

We switched places, and I did what he had, my only goal was to bring him the same pleasure that he had given to me. His hands found my Dumbo ears as I moved.

When it ended, he pulled up his shorts and collapsed on the couch, staring at the ceiling like none of it had happened.

“You enjoy that?” I asked, grinning through my nerves.

“Wasn’t bad,” he said, eyes never meeting mine.

Maybe I could be good enough for him.

“So…would we ever…I mean, keep going?”

He paused. He still wouldn’t look at me. “Let’s not talk about it, alright?”