The Break Up Plan (BoyxBoy)

A Tussle in the Dirt

Colby might have exaggerated when he first announced the barbecue. I'd barely been at work for an hour that day when Tyler flooded the group chat (meaning he texted more than 3 words) letting us know that it would be a potluck instead. He'd handle the burgers and buns but we'd have to bring everything else if we wanted any party to happen.

I liked to imagine that when he told his mother about his plans to host a barbecue, she reminded him that she would not be paying for it. Then, he quickly realized that food for 12 people was more than his jobless high schooler income could handle.

James was a sweetheart and offered to drive me to Tyler's. So, like a suburban gay stereotype, we knocked on the front door holding a casserole and drinks. To be clear, the casserole was James, not me.

"Hellooo," Tyler's older sister drawled, swinging open the door both lazily and dramatically. "Welcome to Tyler's party. It's good to see you again, Elliot."

She insisted on calling me Elliot because, in her words, we weren't close enough to use nicknames.

"It's good to see you too. You're sticking around for the party?"

"No!" she laughed, flicking long straight hair over her shoulder. "I'm just chaperoning so my parents don't stick around to breathe down Tyler's neck."

Her laughter quieted quickly when her eyes fell on James. Then, she smoothly stretched out her hand.

"Hey, I'm Tori . . . "

She trailed off, staring at James pointedly. Technically her face didn't make her look any older than us. Her skin was a cool dark brown and her sharp brows and ombre lip were worn by half the black girls at school. But her energy alone screamed maturity. I'd bet a thousand bucks James could feel that she was Tyler's older sister. So, the subconscious urge to gain the cool older sibling's acceptance would have been hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"Sorry, I'm James," he shot out his hand, almost dropping the casserole. "Nice to meet you."

After pointing out his British accent in the coolest, most casual way possible, Tori turned around, announcing for the house that she'd be 'in her room.'

The front door led directly into the kitchen where Tyler intently fussed over the placement of the paper plate stack and container of plastic utensils. Instead of saying hi to either of us, he looked down at James's glass dish with a smile.

"Cool, casserole," he sighed, plucking the tray out of James's hands. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I can't. My mum helped me make this stew last night when I realized I didn't have anything to bring."

It was a miracle I didn't comment on how insanely British that whole sentence was. We were the first to arrive though so when Tyler shooed us away to get comfortable, we plopped onto his couch and started talking about other things. Non-British things actually. Like the sun that was barely peeking past the clouds today for the first time in weeks. And the pointed lack of cohesive decor in Tyler's living room which somehow made it that much cozier.

Colby showed up next, carrying parmesan crusted chicken and raising the volume in the house by 30%. Then came Rin and Stephanie and finally her friends (those girls either carpooled together or timed their entry into the house and both possibilities seem entirely possible). Several conversations were going on at once and oftentimes that meant James and I were talking about completely different things. But I stayed glued to his side.

A part of it was the fact that we were surrounded by my friends. Leaving James to fend for himself would have been an act of cruelty. The cardinal sin of partying. But also, as the food got served and people's spots around the house shifted, it became more and more obvious that attention was on us.