Rebel at Spruce High

I knew he would. “That’s how I want you to feel with me. Safe.”

“And I heard you, by the way.”

“Heard what?”

“What you said. Before the show. In the dressing room.” Toby sucks in his lips. I can literally see his heart racing in his eyes, the way they overflow with emotion. “In that pep talk you gave me, I heard you say … that you love me, too.”

I just gaze at him for a while. I’ve never felt this content in my life. I’ve never felt this needed. Or loved.

“One more time?” murmurs Toby, his soft fingertips leaving my face and trailing down my chest, over my sensitive naval, and to below my waist, where it takes hold of something.

That something wakes right back up. I grin. “As many times as you want, boyfriend.”

He kisses me deeply, pulling me close. Our firm bodies press together once more. This boy owns my heart, every last atom of it.

15 | TOBY

For the remainder of the weekend, I don’t think my feet ever touch the ground.

Figuratively. Maybe literally. Who knows. I could be floating, I don’t know. I’m too busy exploring the landscape of Vann’s soul, split wide open for me, and his body, every square inch of which I feel I now intimately know as well as my own.

It’s true, what they say, when you finally go that last step in opening yourself up to someone sexually. The way it’s like taking down that last section of wall around your heart. Or unlocking every door in your proverbial house. Or opening the windows and letting all the light inside.

I am completely open to Vann. I am his now, in every way.

How much closer can two guys get? I can’t even fathom. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before that I can’t tell where I end and he begins. All of the rope that kept me bound to whoever I used to be is untied, setting me free. It’s scary. It’s exciting. It’s something I know is natural, yet freaks me out.

But every time I look at Vann, I feel at home. No matter where we are. No matter what we’re doing. No matter what we have to face, we face it together.

Even a Sunday matinée, when we have to say goodbye to our show forever.

The cast party is held at Frankie’s, who held all the parties last year. A lot of people who weren’t in the cast or crew of the show come too, filling Frankie’s parents’ little house to the point of its walls nearly bursting apart, much to Mrs. Lopez’s apparent shock. Vann and I quietly claim a corner of a couch where we hang out with Kelsey, a strangely giggly post-show Tamika, and Frankie, who keeps whining about his croaky voice, which is only now starting to return in full. We spend all afternoon at the party with our castmates, and looming thoughts of Monday are kept at bay, when everything will snap back to normal and the big show will become just a memory in our phones, hearts, and dreams.

Later when we’re back at Vann’s house, lying on his bed, I ask him if he plans to audition for the winter show. “Nah, I don’t think so.” Our clothes are in a pile on the floor. We might’ve done a little bit of our own celebrating. “One was enough.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll go back to painting sets.” My head is on his chest, fingers playing on his tummy. “One’s enough for me, too.”

“Why not start up your own Art Club or something?”

“It’s a headache. You need a teacher’s permission, who has to also be the supervisor, and there’s all this other paperwork and stuff. Not to mention affording supplies. I looked it up,” I add in explanation, taking his silence for confusion. “The mayor and the school board made all these budget cuts to pay for an upgrade to the football stadium—you know, town priorities and all—and a bunch of other things. Those ‘budget cuts’ were to the Arts.”

“That’s crap.”

A flicker of humor tickles me. “Well, yeah, and that begs the question why your parents are supporting reelecting that mayor—”

“I have nothing to do with that or my parents’ decisions.”

I drop the subject at once. It’s a little bit of a sore spot. “What’s Monday gonna be like at school? Everyone must know by now.”

“You mean about us?” He snorts. “If they didn’t know already, then they’re oblivious and probably can’t tell their own feet from their heads. I’m crazy about you.”

My heart flutters. “I love when you say things like that.”

“Yeah?” His arm around me tightens, pulling me against his chest. “You like hearing how messed up you make me? How badly my heart races when I’m around you? How I melt into nothing when you kiss me the way you just did? Damn, Toby, sounds like you enjoy hearing how much pain and misery you cause me.”