Chapter 78

Any other time and it wouldn’t be hard to patch this rift between us. It’s not like we haven’t had arguments before—boys fight, and Stephen and I were no exception growing up. Stupid shit, though, like who got the last Mr. Goodbar at Grosso’s and who called dibs on the prize in the Cracker Jacks box. We fought over who ran the fastest and whose dad was the strongest and where we wanted to live when we were older—I’d say New York and Stephen would say no, hewas living there, not me, and that would start a shouting match that made my mom yell at us to keep it down. And our angry words would dissolve into giggles, he’d hide his face in my shoulder and whisper, “You can live there with me, Mike. I was just teasing.”

Then came the kiss, which led to more kisses, and touching, and soft lips, grasping hands, probing tongues on smooth flesh…why couldn’t I see how he felt for me? Why couldn’t I feel it in his hands, his lips? And why the hell couldn’t I have felt the same?