He shook his head once, silently, but I was almost sure he leaned back into my touch. “Not really, I don’t— I mean, I guess you need to define bad? It was civil. I was eighteen and my dad suggested Homer wasn’t the best place for me to choose to live my homosexual lifestyle. I agreed. Wasn’t like I’d been dying to live in a junkyard anyway, right? Or in a town with a bunch of assholes? The really bad shit didn’t come until later, when he spewed homophobic slurs at my mom’s funeral.” He said this flatly, with the total emotionlessness of a guy whose grief was not fully healed. He looked over his shoulder. “Not everyone has parents like yours, Brooks.”
I had a vision of myself driving to the other end of the state just to punch his dad, not that this would help Mal in any way.
“Yeah, well,” I said, taking a step back and trying to lighten the mood. “If you’d had my mom, she wouldn’t’ve believed you were gay for a solid ten years, until you brought a fake boyfriend home, and even then, she might’ve warned you about breaking his heart.” I chuckled. “Can’t win whichever way I go.”
Mal snorted and moved on to the next exhaust pipe. “Yes, it’s very hard when you can’t be perfect, isn’t it?”
I scowled and stepped away from him. “Stop saying shit like that. I’m not perfect. I know I’m not.”
“Yeah, but you still want to be.” Mal turned to face me. “Ava told me once that you change your personality depending on who you’re with. A jock with the athletes, a mathlete with the nerds.”
“I get along with a variety of people,” I said defensively. “All of those are part of my personality.”
“Sure. But there has to be a core of you that doesn’t change and doesn’t feel bad about it either, no matter what anyone thinks. You don’t have to be perfect. Just be… Brooks.”
I snorted. The guy had no idea what he was talking about. “Be Brooks. Who the hell else would I be?”
Mal shook his head and turned back to his work, but I’d swear there was a smile hidden in the curve of his cheek.
“So, why a fake boyfriend, anyway?” Mal demanded.
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He flicked a glance back at me. “I meant why not a real one, but that’s a solid answer. I’d like it noted that I’m letting that stand, because I recognize when shit is none of my business, unlike some peop—”
“I dunno. Jesus.” I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t found the right guy yet. I haven’t been looking, because I’m definitely not where I wanna be in my career before I get serious with someone, so casual things work well for me.” I shrugged, then challenged, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Uh, because I’m deeply in love with Ava? Duh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Relationships are hard in LA,” he said, stacking a second pipe on the ground next to the first. “Anyway, we were talking about you.”
“I don’t think—”
“Licking Thicket is…” Mal hesitated, eyes roaming the junkyard. “I don’t know what it was like ten years ago, but right now it’s cool, Brooks.”
“Small-town good?” I teased.
“No, just… good. Full stop. Look around you. There’s a pho restaurant in this town right next to the burger place, which is, like, symbolism or whatever. And they have amazing taste in metal sculpture. And your local junkyard owner wore a shirt with a pride flag.”
Wait… “Did he?”
Mal snickered. “Oh, didn’t notice that, but you noticed him flirting?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, maybe you can make your peace now. Maybe you don’t have to stay away for ten years next time. Be glad you have a home to come back to.”
I frowned. I’d been thinking that exact thing, which made it even odder that Mal said it. Once again, I felt seen, and the feeling went to my head like my mom’s peach moonshine. It made me reckless.
I took a step forward, backing Mal against the giant tire of a bright green cultivator. He hadn’t been expecting it, clearly, because his eyes were wide as a startled calf’s.
“You’re getting a sunburn,” I said softly, running a finger down the center of his nose.
What the fuck? I kicked myself mentally for being the same smooth bastard I’d been earlier in the week and the shit that flew out of my mouth around this guy.
But Mal swallowed hard, and his eyes glazed like I’d said something filthy or flirty. “W-what are you doing?”
“I was thinking I might kiss you,” I said conversationally. “Since we’ve identified that you’re not actually with Ava and I’m not actually with Paul, maybe if we kept things very, very private we could—”
“Hey, guys?” Diesel called from somewhere down the row, his voice getting closer. “How’s it going?