Heteroflexible

Then—a full fifteen seconds after I ask the question—he says, “Nah, not really.”

Nah? Not really? “That doesn’t sound like a definitive ‘no’.”

He peers over his shoulder at me, his dark, blunt eyebrows pulled together. “Why aren’t you datin’ any dudes lately?”

The abrupt shift of the spotlight throws me. “Huh?”

“It’s been a whole year since I’ve seen you with any guy. And that last boyfriend of yours lasted all of a week before you said—what was it?—‘He reminds me too much of your brother. Creepy.’ Oh, man, I died laughing.”

My eyes turn into two bitter slits. “So glad I could amuse you, Master Pussy Hunter. It’s a wonder our dorm wasn’t equipped with a revolving door.”

“There are plenty of dudes in Spruce now, ever since Billy and my brother. And Trey and Cody. They’re popping up everywhere.”

“Oh, now look who’s playing matchmaker.”

“I heard guys are even coming out like popcorn in Fairview. That isn’t that far to travel, y’know.”

“I don’t got a car.”

“I’ll drive you. I’ll be your summer chauffeur and bodyguard.”

“Jimmy, why’d you go changing the subject on me? We were talkin’ about you and your girl problems.”

“I don’t got any girl problems.”

“Sure, you do. You’ve got too many to choose from. That’s a problem. You’ve got so many, you dumped ‘that girl’ you were with for over a month back at South Wood.”

“I didn’t dump her.”

He turns and glares at the TV with a grunt.

I blink. “Wait. What?”

“She dumped me.” Jimmy’s voice is cold, his whole body gone rigid. “Had stronger feelings for some idiot in her chem class.”

Something goofy happens on TV. Jimmy doesn’t laugh at it this time, his eyes full of dejection and bitterness.

The Strongs are all hard on each other, I noticed. When one of them is down, they poke each other’s buttons until their mood changes—ideally for the better. There aren’t apologies exchanged; just sassy eye-rolls, offhanded remarks, and a peace offering of fresh-squeezed lemonade. I’ve been over there enough.

My family, however, is sensitive, compassionate to a fault, and meek. I get it from my ma. My pa is not too different, being a soft-spoken sort of man despite his rough career in construction and gritty-handed, around-the-town honey-dos he pulls off.

Over the years, Jimmy’s really rubbed off on me. I’ve become rougher, tougher, and harder. My ma notices, and only every now and then says something about it. I never listen.

But I’d like to think I rub off on Jimmy, too. I believe a part of him is tired of all the “hard love” he gets at the Strong ranch.

My voice lowers to something soft and sweet when I pat him on his leg and say, “I’m sorry about that, buddy. I didn’t know.”

Jimmy just shrugs. “Guess I’ve dumped enough girls in my life, was only bound to get a taste of my own medicine at some point.”

My hand is still on his leg, a perfect handful of his tight and shapely calf I didn’t intend to enjoy. “It’s still gotta sting, though. I really wish I knew that that had happened.”

“Why?”

He keeps staring at the TV while he talks to me, but doesn’t seem to be watching it. I shrug. “I might not have been as nice to her when I ran into her at the UC food court our last day.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“You don’t got a mean bone in you, Bobby Parker.”

I smile at the back of his head, touched.

“I’m done with girls for the summer,” Jimmy decides. “I’m not playin’ this sad-single-dude-datin’-every-chick-in-sight song and dance. Why put myself through that?”

“Yeah!” I cheer him on. “There’s the Jimmy I know!”

He sits up at once and puts himself next to me, leaning back against the foot of the bed. Our sides press together as he claims the other half of the pillow I’m leaning against—or rather, steals that half from me. “It’s just gonna be us this summer, buddy.”

Jimmy raises a hand toward me, coming in for one of those half high-five, half handshake bro things he does.

I grin, clasp his hand, and give it a firm shake. “Just us.”

The TV takes our attention when another dumb-as-fuck thing happens, and suddenly even I’m laughing at it along with Jimmy. His arm stays pressed firmly against mine, our shoulders dance with each laugh as we share unequal halves of that pillow, and our night stretches into the wee hours of morning before we crash.

4

JIMMY

I pull up against the curb, then turn off the engine.

“You sure you don’t wanna—?” I start to ask.

Bobby is already out of the truck with the door slammed shut halfway through my sentence.

—just head back to your place and play some soccer? was the rest of my question, but I guess either he didn’t hear me, or his mind is made up already.