AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The bog of eternal guilt.”
I nodded. “That’s the one.” I paused. “Kind of wish it was the stench one though.”
“Fucking David Bowie as the Goblin King was the stuff of queer boys’ fantasies.” He sighed dreamily, then brushed the thoughts of classic fantasy Jim Henson flicks away with a swipe of his hand.
“You knowLabyrinth?” I asked.
He smiled wide. “Oh yeah, my mom makes sure I watch that movie yearly when she has her rewatch.”
“Mine too!” We both shared a laugh. “Right, so anyway, I get what you’re saying. I’ll back off and let you get things worked out with Tyler. Miles, though, he’s still an issue.”
“He’s probably going to get suspended, if not expelled. This isn’t his first offense.” I motioned to my face. “Hopefully, he’ll be gone from our lives for good. I really want to get my shit straightened out; you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He held up his fist. I rapped it lightly. Soren and Tyler miraculously appeared then, both beaming, as we lowered our hands to the table.
“Look at you two playing nice,” Soren teased, bending down to kiss Felix on the cheek, then pulling him to the booster table to talk booster stuff.
Tyler sat down beside me, his eyes round, the neon light from a giant bowl of ramen making his pink hair glow red. It looked good. I was thinking any color of hair would be amazing on the guy.
“You two okay?” he asked, picking up my chopsticks, then fishing out some chicken to feed to me. I sat there stunned at the display of what I would say was something more than platonic.
“Uhm, we’re okay. Not best friends or anything, but it’s getting sorted.” I opened my mouth, uncertain of how this was playing out, but kind of loving it. He fed me the chicken, nodded merrily, then fished out some noodles.
“Good, you two need to sort your shit. Here, eat. I’ve never seen anyone who forgets to take in calories like you do. Is that an artist thing? Forgetting to chow down when you’re busy making art?”
“Maybe,” I confessed, leaning over the table as he dribbled wet noodles to my mouth. I sucked them off the chopsticks. One long one flew up to smack me in the nose.
“Oh sorry!” He laughed, gathered more noodles, then lifted them high to try to catch the end of one mile-long strand. I watched in amusement as he captured the wayward noodle, then rolled his eyes from the cold noodles to me. “Get the other end,” he whispered around his noodle, his lips puckered slightly as he began to gently pull it into his mouth. Heart hammering, I pushed up to kneel on my seat, one knee on the chair, one foot on the ground, and captured the whole clump at once. The broth ran down my chin as we both sucked on that one long noodle, the raucous patrons, servers, and glowing neon fading away as his pink lips touched mine. I’d seen this scene before, but it had been two dogs and spaghetti. Two guys and ramen worked, too. It workedreallysuper well. His lips were soft, and warm, and tasted of spicy chicken ramen. Which was now, and would forever be, my favorite soup in the world, bar none.
We drew back, cheeks flaming red, chins wet with broth, and smiled stupidly at each other.
“That was really nice,” Tyler said, his emerald eyes glowing.
I was about to reply with something similar, as well as a request to do it again, when the tiny bells over the front door rang, and a voice I had hoped to never hear again filled the happy noodle shop.
“Guess this is the last time I eat here. I’d hate to get faggot germs all over me,” Miles called so loudly his hateful words were probably heard back in the boisterous kitchen.
ChapterTwelve
Tyler
I grabbeda napkin and wiped my face, all my happy thoughts vanishing in an instant as soon as Miles’s toxic hate filled the restaurant. Opposite me, Jonah stiffened, his smile dropping just as fast.
“It’s okay,” he quickly reassured me. “Ignore him.”
Easier said than done when Miles and his small group took the table next to us, and all four of them lounged back in their chairs, sprawling as if they owned the place. Miles was in his usual post-school outfit of jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair freshly buzzed, his sneer so familiar it made my stomach knot. Where was the bravery I’d used to face up to him at school, because right now, I felt vulnerable and exposed and pissed that he’d interrupted my happy time with Jonah.
Plus, the guilt was real, from seeing Jonah get hit, knowing it was me who’d caused it, understanding that if I’d only walked away that time, then Jonah wouldn’t still be sporting bruises. Guilt was the worst thing ever, and I glanced at Jonah to see that he was tense and ready to fight.
Please. No more fighting.
Miles clapped his hands together as if he was calling for attention. “Hey, Jonah, my man, does he know you called him a fag behind his back?”
“I’m not your man,” Jonah snapped back, but he seemed to shrink in on himself.
Still Miles went on with his vitriol. “Hey, you remember the time we trapped the pink-haired twink in the bathroom and the little pussy cried?”
Jonah sent me a stricken glance, his eyes bright with emotion, his skin pale. I remembered the day of being locked in the bathroom well, but I don’t recall crying or Jonah being part of it. Was I recalling that scenario through rose-tinted glasses and forgetting Jonah was there?
