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But until then, I’ll cherish what I can, when I can, knowing that no matter what, this guy with the ocean blue eyes and insufferable grin will be here. Waiting for me. Loving me.
Reminding me who I am and that I’m fucking worthy.
Not just of a place in this community.
But of a place at his side, holding his hand, proudly.
One, two, three,I count silently.
And this time, I don’t let go.
4
JEREMY MONTGOMERY
Mason Wyatt is goingto be the death of me.
I knew it when I was six, the first time he stood up for me when some boys at school were giving me shit. It was the first time he said my name. Not JJ, but Jeremy. No one called me Jeremy back then. Not even teachers.
And I know it now, as certainly as I did back then, watching him stride down 12th Street, head held high, a pink, blue, and purple boa draped loosely around his neck, the ends fluttering in the soft breeze. A clear blue sky and sparkling chrome cityscape stretched out around him.
He has to know the statement he’s making…
Right?
I mean, he’s clueless sometimes, but he can’t bethatclueless.
“You’re staring again,” he says, not taking his eyes off what’s going on around us. Flags of varying colors wave proudly in the air. Upbeat music blasts from speakers. People cheer. There’s so much noise and life and happiness, and yet all that exists for me in this moment is the oblivious guy walking proudly at my side, mere inches away.
It would take nothing at all to reach out and tangle our fingers together.
And I think that’s what hurts most of all, the fact that it’s such a simple thing,and yet it weighs down on me as heavy as if it were the entire universe pressing down on my shoulders.
“People are going to assume things,” I say tightly under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
He slants me a sideways look. “So?”
I widen my eyes and wave a hand at him. “They’re going to think you’re bi.”
His brows flit up.“So?”He shrugs and looks away. “Let ’em think what they want. What does it matter?”
Gritting my teeth, I clench my hands together and face forward once more. I don’t see the others. We’re farther behind than I thought.
Last I saw them, Will and Waylon were tailing the others, walking so close together, closer than Mason and I are now, and yet even they weren’t touching. Waylon’s shoulders were hunched, telling me he was being extra careful not to bridge the gap.
It makes me sad, but I get it too, even if this is one of the safest places to be.
Hell, I feel so safe that I’m practically naked with the boy I’ve been crushing on hopelessly and pathetically for basically my entire life. Something I’d never have the balls to do anywhere else or at any other time.
Okay, so the Molly might’ve had a little to do with it. Unfortunately, it’s taking forever to kick in fully, so I’m not feeling as confident as I was hoping I’d feel once we joined the march. It doesn’t help that Mason’s skin is so close to mine that even out here in the faint breeze, I can feel his body heat radiating against mine as if hewastouching me.
I’ve tried to get away from him, but every time I do, he somehow finds a way to catch up with me… or slow down to join me at the rear, like now. He’s apparently made it his mission to be attached to my hip today, and it’s annoying to say the least.
“You’re in a mood today,” he says easily, like we’re talking about something as innocuous as the weather or my preference for cinnamon gum over peppermint. “I figured you’d be happier to be here.”
“I am happy,” I growl.
He cuts me an amused look. “Yeah, you sound it.”
