“Shit. You just went all dark.”
Ryan shrugs. “My parents didn’t always get along.”
That seems like news to me. I always thought Ryan came from the perfect, model family. “Well, I guess all families sort of have their dark underbellies no one sees.”
“Sure. I’m not going to claim that I had it hard or anything. I didn’t. My sister and I turned out fine. Partly because I always told myself that I was like everyone else. ‘Everyone’s family is like this,’ I’d say. ‘Everyone’s parents fight and have really loud arguments. Everyone’s home is hostile.’ It’s the same reasoning I’d give myself for why I never thought I was gay. ‘All guys feel this way.’ On and on. I just kept feeding my denial and … in the end, I was blind by my own desperation to be just like everyone else.”
“Dude, I could’ve put you out of your misery and told you that you’re nothing like everyone else.” I throw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “And that’s the reason I wanted you as my friend.”
His face tightens. Then, with a twitch of his jaw, he asks, “So what are we now, then?”
I’ve had tons of time to think things over, yet still I feel myself dancing around inside at this subject. It’s one thing to think it; it’s another entirely to say it. “Does it really need a name?” I posit.
“Kinda.”
“You sure?” I keep my arm over his shoulder, but now I’m starting to feel trickles of sweat all over. Maybe I should’ve worn a shirt. “I mean, can’t it just be whatever it is?”
“Yeah,” mutters Ryan. “And it’s gay.”
The word alone hits me in the jaw. “I didn’t say that. And it doesn’t have to be that.”
“You like me. You get excited around me. You wanted my hands all over you a couple nights ago.”
“Ryan.” I’m suddenly very conscious of whether there could be anyone in the park near us, where I didn’t care a second ago.
“And when I had my tongue halfway up your ass,” he goes on, uncaring, “you were squirming and moaning like my little bitch.”
I squeeze him against me. I don’t know if I’m trying to shut him up or cuddle him. Everything is very confusing suddenly. “Fuck you,” I mumble with half a smile on my reddening face.
“You wish.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Yeah, you are.”
My squeeze on him tightens more. “I have no problem with you being gay. I never did. And I like you because you’re my bro. You get me better than anyone else. And—”
“I do get you better,” Ryan agrees. “And you’re fuckin’ gay.”
“You want me to tackle you to the ground right now?” I warn him, my voice low.
“You are literally just proving my point,” he sasses me right back, a superior look on his face. “Your next threat is going to be something like, ‘Bro, I’m not gay. And I’m gonna suck your dick to prove it.’”
Just when I’m about to put my money where my mouth is to tackle him to the ground, the rickety railing does it for us. At once, the sad old thing snaps, giving to our weight and falling over.
And it takes us with it.
The fall is so fast that I can’t even manage to keep any footing on the bridge whatsoever. Ryan and I seem to cling to each other, each thinking the other one still had their balance, and then we splash into the shallow, mucky creek below—which turns out not to be nearly as shallow as I’d previously thought.
Completely submerged, I kick and shove until my head breaks the surface. When I open my eyes, Ryan has just come up, too. I’m clinging to his shirt, and he’s gripping my arms so tight, I feel his fingers digging into my muscles.
Water drips down his face, his eyes glimmering and his hair black as ink. I can’t seem to do anything except stare at his sexy face, drenched and panting.
Sexy face. I just said that.
I break eye contact with him, overwhelmed suddenly by the way my heart’s racing, and catch sight of the broken railing as it floats along the creek, disappearing in the small shadow beneath the bridge.
And then I see something else.
“Ryan, run.”
“What?”
“Get out. Go. GO!”
I scramble onto the bank, grasping and yanking Ryan behind me like a wet sack of shoes. He looks totally confused, throwing quick glances of worry over his shoulder as we clamber out of the water and race from the creek.
“What the fuck?” cries Ryan. “What’s going on?”
We both turn and see it.
Ryan makes one quick, unintelligible yelp before leaping for the nearest tree. That wasn’t my first plan of escape, but I’m right behind him, climbing up the tree limb-for-limb in a hurry. The tree has thick branches, perfect for climbing, but with our current panic, I’m pretty sure we could scale curtains like cats if we tried.