Underage

[6] You're Beautiful

Underage

[6] You're Beautiful

The fire is dancing on the logs, reaching into the skies, then falling back down towards the heat. There's a boy—I can't make out his face through the dark night—poking the fire with a stick and melting whatever he can find. First, it was the plastic pack of marshmallows, then it was a spoon—now, it's soda cans and oranges found lying on the ground. As the boy moves towards the fire the flames outline his face. I'm almost surprised to see Trevor Green smiling down at the melting soda cans. I never would have taken him as someone who likes to play with fire. Maybe Ethan had him wrong all along.

I'm only a foot from the fire with my knees tucked into my chest. It's the darkest hours of night but the party is still going. The phones playing music have changed seven times, and it has been through the same playlist three times now but no one has the energy to change it.

The happy couple have long since retired to our tent, but Ethan and I were too afraid to follow them to sleep. Now, we're sitting next to each other. Ethan's slowly falling asleep in his chair with his head propped up on his hand. Every so often, his hand will fall, his head along with it, and he'll jerk awake. His eyes will find mine, too tired to be embarrassed, but only for a minute before he's in the same position and falling asleep again. I quietly stand from my chair, moving it as close as I can get to Ethan's. I remove his head from his hand and replace it with my shoulder. He curls up into my side, as close as he can get with two armchairs in his way. I rest my cheek on his head while staring into the flames.

There are still a few people stumbling through the groves with their arms around their companions and giggles escaping their mouths. The alcohol is spilling out of their cups, but they're too far gone to even care.

I slip an arm around Ethan's shoulders, my fingers finding the bottom of his hair. I let my fingers tangle in his brown locks, my other hand slipping into his. Ethan moves slightly to get comfortable and squeezes my hand. It brings a smile to my lips. I lightly kiss his head. I know I can never let myself feel anything more than what I do now, a simple affection for the boy in my arms. A little more than friends but nothing near exclusive. It's the way it's always been, and the way it's always going to be.

"Would you like a marshmallow?" I look towards Trevor across the fire. He's stuck a few marshmallows onto the end of a long branch he must have taken from the bushes. The first one has caught on fire and he immediately blows it out. What happened to the shy boy from Taco Bell?

"I would." I manage not to talk too loud as to wake Ethan.

"Burnt, semi-burnt, toasted, or just warm?" he asks me.

"Toasted, please." I give a smile to the boy, who adds yet another marshmallow to his collection.

"Toasted it is, then." The boy across the fire from me takes a rather long gulping drink from an open beer can in the holder of his seat. So, that's why he's not shy. "I don't see how you can like a guy like that." He motions with his head towards the boy asleep on my shoulder. I remove my head from his and sit up a little straighter. Ethan moves, getting more comfortable.

"What do you mean?"

"He's an asshole." Trevor says. "The biggest asshole I've ever met."

"You're lucky he's asleep."

"See, you think he's an asshole as well."

"I'm not denying it," I say. "He may be an arrogant asshole, but he has his moments."