Boys Will Be Boys

Chapter Eight

When I was four years old, my parents bought me the Monsters Inc. DVD for Christmas. I was way beyond excited and practically broke the case as I ripped the plastic off of it.

My mom, dad, the toddler version of Gabe, and I all sat down in the family room and watched it together. I sat there, eagerly, leaning towards the television as far as my mother would allow and thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

I had not expected the end to go as it did, and I sniffled excessively, refusing to let my mother wipe my nose for me. I cried and I cried and the story is so embarrassing that to this day, my mother always threatens to tell it to my friends if I’m not behaving.

My mom thought it was adorable how I got so emotionally attached to the movie, but my dad didn’t agree. To the rolling of my mother’s eyes, my dad knelt down, held me firmly by the shoulders, and told me sternly that men don’t cry.

And that was the last time I cried.

Swear on my life, in the thirteen years that followed, I haven’t shed a tear once. Not when I get injured on the field, not when my grandmother died, never.

Then can someone explain to me why I feel like I’m about to cry?

To clarify a little bit, I just woke up. Looking around, I realize that I’m not in my own house. I pause and feel the bed moving ever so slightly. Horrified, I turn my head slowly to my left.

Shit.

Vanessa is fast asleep, the blanket tucked firmly in her armpit. Suddenly, all of last night’s events come rushing back to me.

After basketball practice, I texted my mother to tell her I was sleeping over at Nate’s place, and instead drove here, to Vanessa’s.

I cringe when I remember.

I knocked on her door, three times loudly. My heart was racing nervously and I wanted it desperately to stop. When Vanessa opened the door, I pulled her into a kiss and she immediately kissed back.

But it was rushed and it was forced and I didn’t enjoy it at all. It was just a big, bland nothing, which is what scared me the most.

The more scared I got, the more into it I forced myself to get, and before you know it, bam, Luke has slept with Vanessa. Someone call Josie Guthrie, because she’s going to have a heart attack.

When we finished, Vanessa smiled and gave me a kiss, before rolling over and falling asleep. My heart was racing. That was the complete opposite of what I was expecting and that in itself scared me.

I dropped my head on the pillow and forced my eyes to close. I commanded my brain to shut down and made myself go to sleep.

This is normal.

This is how regular guys, like Tyler Kent or Mike O’Reilly or Rowan Smith, spend their Friday nights. They sleep with some beautiful girl like Vanessa and then laugh about it with their buddies on Monday. They laugh about it with me on Monday.

I just slept with one of the most gorgeous, sought-after girls in my high school. Vanessa is, without a doubt, one of the prettiest girls in school.

She’s got long, tan legs and straight, pale blond hair. She’s skinny and perfect, each of her nails manicured flawlessly. She’s got the cutest little heart shaped face, the smallest pink lips, and cat-like green eyes.

So tell me why I dreamt about silver eyes last night.

Fucking hell, I dreamt about Emery Scott again.