In the middle of Des Plaines Illinois three boys find themselves in a tangled knot of angsty lust and amateur love.
Evan Webster has an average American life. When he isn't at swim practice or the movie theater, he's trying to make time to study bi...
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The post office was congested with elders and suburban mothers, but the connected sidewalk was bustling with summer-savoring teenagers. It was the last week of August, which meant school would soon be back in session. It seemed like everyone wanted their last gulp of sunshine.
Danny had parked by a meter, waiting for Evan as he mailed a letter to Jackson—a routine in the making. Evan walked out of the American-blue building with a two-dollar bill, some quarters, and a pack of new stamps. Danny promptly got out of his car to open the door for him, but as he stepped onto the curb, there was a gaggle of sophomores muttering insults.
"Say it again and I'll break your fucking nose, puta," Danny warned. He was extra protective because Evan's arm was in a sling.
A boy with braces sneered something with disgust. Evan ignored him and place his items in the car, but Danny faltered with rage.
"I don't think you'd say that if Ronald Reagan asked you to suck his—"
"Danny," Evan interjected, clamping his chin between two fingers and steering him toward his lips. The high schoolers mocked vomit sounds as they walked away.
"I can't go back to high school," Danny breathed against Evan's mouth. "I won't even make it to first period without kicking someone's ass."
"You're going back to school," Evan stated. "And you're going to graduate."
He'd graduate eventually. Actually, he had already reenrolled even before Evan began pestering him about it. Evan always had a checklist. He had all these goals—study engineering at Loyola, get a fancy job downtown one day, have a house in the suburbs and an office with a view. Conversely, Danny had one goal and it was pretty simple in comparison: be the only picture on Evan's desk. Well, maybe Clem too. Danny would allow that because she was quickly becoming his favorite person. She had redefined family for Danny.
Danny closed his eyes before Evan kissed him. They couldn't even settle into the conciliating sensation before a cola-and-Mentos bomb crashed onto the hood of Danny's car, spraying his windshield with fizz.
He snapped. "Alright...Who the FUCK—?"
"Whoever did that," a deep voice blared. "Is chicken shit. If you disagree, throw another one and see what happens." It was Tony, exiting the adjacent liquor store with his arm around Colleen. Her femininity was Tony's armor, but his brash tone was his mask. It was the only way he was brave enough to offer his verbal threat. He thought his words were some kind of penance.
The couple approached Danny and Evan, lazily holding onto each other. Evan locked Tony's stare as he came closer, preparing himself for humiliation.
"Hey, Herrera," Tony addressed Danny but kept his gaze fixed on Evan—pompous as hell. "I heard you fixed my girl's car."
"Didn't do much," Danny replied, too distracted by his own anger to see the tension between the two other boys.
Tony scuttled a laugh, his grin still aimed at Evan. "Handy and modest," he tutted. His eyes roamed over the tall boy and asked, "What happened to you? Did one of those jagoffs catch you walking alone?"
"Shoulder surgery," Evan answered, clipped. A miniscule amount of concern flashed through Tony's features, so Evan added, "My rotator cuff is fucked up from swimming."
"Swimming, huh?" Memories floated in his eyes, as if Evan had started a rip current.
Evan nodded. Everyone was dealing with their own shit, even if it was invisible, like Evan's injured body. Or Danny's mental torment. Or Jackson's loneliness. Tony was well aware of unseeable struggles, but his kindness and compassion were never more than scraps.
"I guess Aquaman isn't invincible," Tony's smirk jerked like a wink. Colleen linked their fingers together, pulling him away.
Evan had no spite as he watched them walk down the sidewalk. Tony would forever be a locked-away beast, with teeth sharpened for defense and skin prickled by jealousy. He only came out to play when baited, but even then, he played the game with strict rules. Like his verbal threat—cunning, yet cocky. Tony maintained his reputation, but every so often, his real persona leeched to the surface of his irksome eyes.
Tony could survive on those small doses of authenticity, but Evan needed more. He needed to be heard, not hidden. Because there were so many other people who were trapped in a tower like Tony. Evan—the pretty boy, the nobleman, the golden heart—wanted everyone to be freed from their own personal stronghold, but not everyone could. Therefore, as long as his days lasted, so would his fearlessness. Not for himself, but for everyone after.
