The Best Friend (Red's Tavern 1)

He got up and wrapped his arms around Zach, holding him close. We all drove home together in comfortable silence. I had thought Zach had fallen asleep in the back seat and I was surprised when he piped up near the end of the drive.

“I’m sorry I did it, Dad,” he said softly. “I know it was stupid.”

“It’s okay, hon,” Mitch said, glancing at Zach in the rearview mirror.

“Andy called me and Sophia ‘fucking nerds’ as he walked out of class today. I don’t care if he calls me that—he already has a lot—but Sophia was hurt. And I can’t see her hurt like that.”

I was filled with warmth for Zach at the same time I was disgusted by what he’d told me about Andy.

“You were going to climb up to Andy’s window… for Sophia?”

“I was just going to throw an egg at his window,” Zach said.

“You can’t do that, though, honey,” Mitch said. “Eggs will ruin a paint job.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and then Zach started in laughing, as well.

“Oh no,” Zach said. “I think those painkillers are kicking in.”

“We’re almost home. You can go right to bed.”

Zach was laughing again, clearly a little loopy. “How do you know if you’re in love?” Zach asked a moment later.

“That’s… a great question,” Mitch said.

“In my opinion, it’s usually painfully obvious,” I said.

“Sophia is… kind of perfect,” Zach said. “She’s the only good thing about being in this place.”

I saw Mitch’s hands tighten a little on the steering wheel, but his voice remained neutral. “You like her a lot, huh?”

“Maybe I love her. I don’t know. I can’t tell,” Zach said.

“You want to be around her all the time?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Zach said. “I always feel like I’m going to freak her out with how much I… want to talk to her.”

I was glad Zach was in the back seat, because I was grinning like an idiot, now. “You’re not going to freak her out,” I said. “She’s probably going to love it.”

“I don’t even have the courage to hold her hand,” Zach said. “I want to, though. Kind of like you were holding Dad’s hand earlier, Mr. Bailey.”

“Please, call him Evan,” Mitch said.

“Why were you guys holding hands, anyway?” Zach asked.

“Mitch is my best friend, and he needed to be… comforted,” I said.

“You guys are like… really good friends though,” Zach said. “You’re basically boyfriends, it seems like.”

“We are not boyfriends, Zach,” Mitch said sternly.

It may as well have been an ice pick to my heart.

Of course it was the truth. We weren’t boyfriends, never had been, never would be. But the way that Mitch said it, so quickly and forcefully, filled me with a murky sludge of anxiety that I couldn’t shake.

“Maybe Sophia and I will be friends. Then maybe she’ll like me back.”

“Maybe so,” Mitch agreed.

“God, I really like tomatoes. Would tomato ice cream be weird? Yeah, probably…”

Zach was getting sillier and sillier by the moment, and I was glad for it, because I couldn’t really handle any more conversation about Mitch or me. Back at the clinic I wasn’t sure if Zach had noticed the two of us holding hands, but there was my confirmation. Mitch was just as stunned, as far as I could tell by the way he was gripping the steering wheel for dear life.

By the time we got back, Zach was so slumped that Mitch walked him into the house with an arm around his waist. He went right to bed, and Mitch met me out in the living room again.

He crashed next to me on the couch, closing his eyes and running his palms over his face. My whole body felt like it was on pins and needles. The night had been one disappointment after another, and now I was left with a low-level dread about what Mitch had said in the car.

“I’m sorry you had to go this alone,” I said softly.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I wasn’t alone.”

“I meant… it was your first crisis without Jess,” I said.

He looked over at me, quirking his head to one side. “I only wanted you there, not Jess,” he said. “I was so glad when you came.”

“Of course I would come,” I said. “Anytime you need me, Mitch.”

“Christ, lately I feel like I need you all the damn time.” He looked down, casting his eyes away. “Shit. I’m not supposed to say stuff like that.”

“Not supposed to say what?”

He swallowed hard, his eyes dancing across my face. “The things I feel about you.”

Every cell in my body was standing at attention. “What do you feel about me?”

He shrugged. “That I would do anything for you, and I’m so happy you would do the same for me,” he said. “But when my son says we’re acting like boyfriends… for fuck’s sake, Evan, he’s right. Sometimes we do act like boyfriends.”