I Might Be (Boyxboy)

Chapter 13: Bowtie of Strength

CHAPTER 13: BOWTIE OF STRENGTH

Tyler's POV

"And this was when he got his head stuck between the bars of his crib." My mother smiled, pointing to the picture in the family album. "I told him seven year olds weren't meant for baby cribs."

No matter how many different places I hid it, she always seemed to find it, ready to whip it out. I think I might have to burn it.

"You look so adorable." Greg laughed.

I was a man, I wasn't supposed to be seen as adorable and now Greg had that picture of me in his mind. Puppies were adorable and I was not a puppy!

"Don't you have work to do?" I said to my mom. She had to have better things to do than to embarrass me.

"Speaking of work, do you have a job, Greg?" My mother slyly slipped in. Was this some kind of undercover interview?

"Yeah. I work at a guitar store and I'm trying to get into another instrument shop." He answered.

"Tyler thinks he's such a good kid-and he is-but he has never picked up a classified to look for a job."

Was this her night to bash me? And who looked for jobs in the newspaper anymore? Did they still make hardcopies of them?

"I don't even have a car to go to work with if I had a job." I added, giving her a look that meant 'It's your fault'.

My mother hated to look bad in front of people. She wanted others to think she was the perfect woman and greatest mother. I knew that if I put her out, she'll try to make up for it.

"How about this?" she falsely smiled. "You get a job; I'll get you a license."

It always worked.

"Done." I smirked. Getting a job shouldn't be too hard. I saw smart and a hundred percent sure that I could get a teacher to whip up a reference letter for me. I already had a resume ready from an old English assignment so I was ready as ever.

"I guess it was bound to happen, your birthday is coming up."

Crap, I hated my birthdays. Yeah, I was thankful that I made it through life for another year but I didn't like being the center of attention. I hated how my mother tried to make it a big deal like it was a national holiday. Wasn't the fact that I was alive enough?

"What's the day?" Greg asked. I didn't like telling people the date. If they didn't know, they wouldn't try to go all out.

"The tenth of December." My mom answered.

"But it's nothing. I usually do nothing for it." I shook my head. "You don't have to worry about remembering it."

"No, I want to." He grinned.

Goodness he was beautiful. His grey eyes shined in the living room's lights and his smooth skin was flawless, just like his smile. I could stare at him forever and never get bored.

"Well, it's getting late. I'm going to hit the sac," she chuckled louder than she needed to, taking the photo album from the coffee table. "Goodnight boys."

Finally, she left, taking with her any chances of embarrassing me even more. I let out a breath of relief. I really needed to burn that album.

"Your mom is pretty cool." Greg said, taking his leather jacket from the corner of the couch. He couldn't be leaving, could he? It wasn't even eight yet.

For some reason, I wanted him to stay; I needed him near me because it felt so much better with him here. I would even endure my mother's demeaning childhood stories about me if that meant he would stay longer. I wasn't going to let him get away this early. There was no harm in hanging out, right?