I hummed in response.
She had. My mom had latched onto Noah like a second son the moment she met him shortly after Noah's twelfth birthday party. They'd only grown closer when Noah's mom started dating a few years ago, and he spent more time at my house than his own. Now that his mom was engaged and her fiancé had moved in, Noah rarely left my house at all. The guy seemed decent enough, but Noah was still wary of him. He worried things wouldn’t work out and, like his dad had done, this guy would bail without warning.
The noise on the boat grew louder as the group readied to leave.
Reluctantly, I sat up with another yawn and stretched my arms over my head. I blinked away the dark spots left by the blinding light and rose to my feet, crossing the deck and knocked Noah's legs from the bench.
"The hell?" he grumbled and slowly shifted upright.
"Scoot over. We're leaving." I waited for him to move before taking the vacated spot beside him.
We were quickly surrounded by too many people trying to squeeze into crowded seats. The engine roared to life, gurgling beneath the surface and slowly picked up speed, skipping over the glinting waves toward the dock.
My rusty car needed to be cleaned worse than usual. The sand and gravel that littered the floorboards would probably fill a small bucket. But I had no intention of doing anything about it today.
We left the old beater, and with sluggish steps, headed for the garage door of my weathered house that led into the kitchen.
"I'm fucking hungry," I said as we kicked off our frayed flip flops just inside the door. On cue, my stomach rumbled.
“Starving,” Noah agreed. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a full plastic tub like he owned the place. Cracking open the lid, he groaned. "Your mom should open her own restaurant, I swear."
"Never going to happen. She loves the whole homemaker thing.” I opened a cabinet and drawer, retrieving spoons and two mismatched bowls. I carried them over to where Noah had set out the food on the counter. “Pop it in the microwave."
While he heated the food, I grabbed a pair of tumblers.
Noah cursed when he opened the refrigerator and pulled out the tea pitcher with approximately half of a centimeter of sugary goodness left. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You drank all of the tea, didn't you?"
Leaning against the peeling powder blue counter, I smirked. "You'll never prove it was me."
"No one else leaves just enough left in there that he doesn't have to make more." His accusing stare drilled into mine.
"If you're waiting for me to admit it, you'll grow old and gray standing in that spot."
Noah growled. The amusing sound of frustration made my lips twitch, holding back a laugh.
Pouring what was left into the glass, he dropped the pitcher into the sink. "I'll make some more later."
I was tempted to steal his glass, but since he was right and I had been guilty of the accusation, I settled for snatching a bottle of water.
After the soup was heated and the scent of spices filled the air, we filled our bowls. Since my parents weren't home to give me shit for it, I took mine and headed down the hall with Noah following me.
My room was small, like Noah's, but smelled worse with my gym shit lying around in random piles. There was barely enough space for a full-size bed, nightstand and a dresser that doubled as a TV stand. The black furniture was old and scratched, but my mattress was comfortable as hell. I settled onto the gray bedspread, sitting with my legs crossed. I flipped on the TV, scrolling through the channels until I settled on sports news.
Noah matched my position as we dug in. Once the gnawing hunger eased, I turned down the volume. "So how did last night go with Abby? Late night?"
Noah almost never showed interest in girls, so when he told me he had a date, I hadn't bothered to mask my surprise. Much to his aggravation.
Abby Middleton was a nice girl. Petite and with fairy-like features, she and Noah looked good together. Though I really didn't have a reason not to, I didn't like her.
Noah paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth, avoiding my eyes. "I took her home early."
I frowned. “Something go wrong?”
Noah set his half-finished soup on the nightstand beside him and scrubbed a hand over his face. He looked tired, and not just from the heat of the day. How had I missed it before?
“No. I just wasn’t feeling it." He cleared his throat. "New topic."
His appeared to focus on the screen as if he was truly interested in the highlights from last season's NBA playoffs. My brows scrunched together because I knew better. He put up with my hobbies like I did with his stupid silent film obsession.
I didn't like the fact that he was clearly holding something back. We'd always told each other everything. Whatever it was, it was obvious he wasn't ready to talk about it. I stewed as I resumed eating and watching the news.
A still photo of one of the NBA's elite hugged the upper corner with a tagline.
SOMERTON OUT AS A GAY ATHLETE AFTER YEARS OF FEAR OVER RUINING HIS CAREER.
It was a story I'd already seen last week because I'd been a fan of his from the time the Pirates signed him five years ago. His stats were legendary. With my competitive nature I was determined, not to match, but to beat them.
As Noah requested, I changed the topic. "Did you hear Mason Somerton came out last week?" I asked absently and tacked on, "He's gay."
When Noah didn’t respond, I glanced at him and frowned at the stiff way he held himself, shoulders squared and tense. He bit his lip before finally replying. "I might have heard something about it. Why?"
"They’re airing the interview he gave again." I tipped my chin toward the screen, as if he hadn’t been watching the same show. "Just wondering."
Instead of replying, he scooted off the bed, reached out and grabbed my empty bowl. After gathering his too, he headed toward the door.
"Wait, Noah. I'll take them. Just—"
He waved me off. "I need to get ready for bed anyway."
Something was off. Whatever it was hung in the air like an ominous black cloud.
I stared at his back until he turned down the hall, and tried to figure out what was going on. Minutes later, when the water from the bathroom sink turned on, I scooted off my bed and followed the sound. The door was open. Noah was leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth, and didn’t acknowledge me standing in the doorway.
Studying him for a moment, I was now convinced I'd said something wrong. I stepped next to him and snagged the toothpaste and my own toothbrush.
Once he finished, he left without so much as looking at me. Was he mad at me?
I rinsed my mouth and stared at my reflection, searching my eyes that were clouded with confusion. What had I said?
Returning to my room, I shut the door behind me.
He had half his clothes at my house since he spent so much time there, so I wasn’t surprised Noah's board shorts already lay in a rumpled heap beside the bed where he lay on his side, facing the wall.
I switched the light off, darkening my room thanks to my blackout curtains. The only light came from the TV, casting shadows against the walls.
After shucking my shorts too, I slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and peeled back my side of the wrinkled covers, sliding between the sheets.