Boys Boys Boys Box Set

Caught-2

Robby had half-turned, intent on asking Mike what he thought of Geometry this year, but the sight of the slim ball player took his breath away. There was something so sexy about the way Mike’s white pants hugged his butt and the blue away jersey pulled around his slim shoulders, how his close-cropped blond hair curled at the tops of his ears and over his brow… Robby felt the words dry up in the back of his throat. What had he been planning to say again?

He couldn’t remember. When Mike glanced at him, Robby quickly looked away. Without thinking, he stuck his hand in his pocket and dropped in the tube of ChapStick. If Mike saw it, he’d confront Robby about it. At least then they’d be talking, right?

Only the disappointment in Mike’s pale eyes was too much to see, and Robby couldn’t admit the ChapStick wasn’t his. He couldn’t back down, either, not when he saw how nervous Mike was about the filch. Robby planned on putting the damn thing back once Mike turned away, but by then it was too late and they were already leaving the store. Robby didn’t have a chance to stop, not with Mike right behind him and their teammates up ahead.

If it had been just the two of them in the store, maybe he could’ve played it off—pulled the ChapStick out of his pocket and pretended he didn’t realize he had it in his hand. Maybe Mike would’ve laughed at that, told him it was cool.

But that didn’t happen. Now Robby has a tube of ChapStick he doesn’t need clutched tight in his fist like a shameful mistake. As much as it burns his palm, he doesn’t want to throw it away because it isn’t really his, is it? He didn’t pay for it, and he sure as hell didn’t want to use it, and now Mike knows he stole it.

What can Mike possibly think of that?

I don’t know, and I don’t care. Robby almost believes that. He peels the cellophane wrapper off the tube, not just the protective part covering the cap but the whole thing, peels it off until the ChapStick is nothing but a naked white tube in his hands. In disgust, he throws the tube against the far wall of the bus. It hits the window, then clatters to the floor, rolling away beneath the seats until it’s out of sight. Robby wants to take it back to the store. He wants to apologize to someone, tell them he’s sorry, he took it because he wanted Mike to talk to him and that hadn’t really worked, had it? It only made Mike angry with him and he didn’t want that, so please just take it back, take it all back.

* * * *

Mike follows his teammates onto the bus. From the head of the aisle, he leans to the left, then to the right, looking for Robby even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When he sees the third baseman hunkered down in the last seat, he breathes a sigh of relief. So no one caught him, good. Even if stealing’s wrong, Mike doesn’t want Robby to get into trouble over it.

As much as he’d like to take a seat beside Robby, he knows he doesn’t have that kind of courage. Instead, he falls into the first empty seat he finds on the opposite side of the bus, turning as if to chat with the guy behind him. What he really wants is to be able to glance over at Robby from time to time, just to look at the guy. With his cap pulled down low, his shoulders slouched, Robby looks sad. Mike wishes he could think of something to say to make him smile again. He wants to tell Robby it’s okay, he won’t tell anyone about the ChapStick, but he can’t say anything here, where everyone else can hear.

When he scoots back against the wall, his foot nudges something on the floor. He glances down and sees a tube of ChapStick, wrapper-less. Bending over, he plucks it off the floor and just knows this is the same tube he saw in Robby’s hand earlier. It’s his, then, he thinks, because there’s no wrapper on it. His heart soars and he’s already mentally apologizing as he uncaps the tube. I knew he didn’t steal anything. It’s—

Brand new.

He can tell because the lip balm inside the tube is still rolled down even with the top, and there’s a little concave dip in the balm where it settled after production. A used tube would be rounded out, smoothed from applying it to the lips and, if it were old enough, might have a little dimple in the middle where the stick inside was. This ChapStick didn’t have that. It was crisp and fresh, and when Mike screws up the tube a little, he knows it’s never been used.

Even though he’s on a bus full of kids, he feels someone looking at him. He glances up and, sure enough, Robby’s staring back. He has half a mind to chuck the ChapStick across the aisle, aiming for Robby’s cap, and holler out, “You dropped something.”

But he doesn’t want to answer any questions the others might ask. So he just holds up the tube where Robby can see it, then he palms it like a magician doing a trick and tucks it into his own pocket.

His anger is back.

* * * *

Robby glares at a spot on the back of his seat and keeps to himself for the rest of the ride. When they reach Hermitage High, he stands for a quick moment, then lets the bus’s forward momentum drop him back into his seat. The aisle fills with his noisy teammates, each excited about their upcoming games and ready to hit the field.

Robby isn’t quite so gung-ho.

He sits with his arms draped over the seat in front of him, his head hanging between them. His forehead rests against the seat’s pleather backing, his cap pushed up now as he stares at the floor. Over the raucous sounds of the exiting team, he’s overly aware of the sound of his own steady breath.

After the bus stops shaking under dozens of trampling sneakers, Robby gathers himself together and stands again. He stares straight ahead, not noticing anyone else on the bus. Now that he’s gotten away with the ChapStick—no one but Mike found out—he’s more nervous than ever. What if Mike says something? Or the store has cameras, and footage of him pocketing the crap shows up on the news? What will his mother say?

With a heavy conscience, he moves into the aisle and is surprised when Mike stands up from his own seat a few rows ahead of Robby. “Hey,” Mike says, stepping out in front of him to block the aisle.

Robby glances around Mike—they’re alone on the bus. “Hey yourself.”

Mike digs the ChapStick from the pocket of his pants and holds it up for Robby to see. “Lose this?”

Dull anger burns Robby’s face. “Just drop it, will you?” He shoves past Mike, heading for the open door of the bus.

But Mike catches his arm, spinning him around. His hand rests on Robby’s elbow, sending shivers down Robby’s spine.

Robby hates the way his body responds—this is Mike, damn it. They were friends once. I wish still were, Robby thinks, shrugging Mike’s hand away. Before he can stifle it, another thought follows immediately on the heels of that. I wish we were more.

“Look,” Robby says, taking a deep breath to calm the hormones racing through him at Mike’s nearness. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s not mine—“

“You took it, didn’t you?” Mike wants to know.

Robby shakes his head in disgust, then realizes he can’t lie any longer. He doesn’t want to. Plucking the ChapStick from Mike’s fingers, he growls, “I took it, yes. There, you happy now? I took it. Call the police.”

He turns away, sure Mike hates him. He expects to hear his teammate crow at any moment, raise the alarm, tell everyone within earshot Robby Brown’s a goddamn thief.

The last thing he’s ready for is the soft question. “Why’d you do it?”

Robby stops in mid-step and leans heavily on the seats on either side of the aisle. His reply is just as soft. “I don’t know.”

Mike must have heard him, because he comes up behind Robby, standing so close, there’s barely any space between one boy and the next. Robby stares at the floor and tries to ignore the sudden excitement coursing through his body. Taking the ChapStick had been a thrill, but it hadn’t felt anything near like what Mike did to him just by standing so close.

God, what can he say? A million things race through Robby’s mind, a million answers and none of them the right one. None of them sound true. He knows he can’t lie to Mike again. He admitted he stole the ChapStick…but does he have the courage to tell his friend why?

“Because,” he starts, then he swallows hard against the tightening in his throat. “I wanted you to see me.”

“What the hell’s that mean?” Mike’s voice is laced with confusion. Robby swears he can feel the shape Mike’s words make on the nape of his neck.

“I wanted you to talk to me,” Robby says. It sounds stupid but it’s the truth. “I don’t know. I wanted you to say something to me, okay? And I wasn’t even thinking when I took it. I don’t know what I thought would happen. I saw you there in the aisle and I couldn’t think of anything to say to get you to notice me, so I thought maybe if I did something, you’d have to come over. And you did.”

So see? he adds silently. It worked. Just not quite the way I had hoped.

When Mike doesn’t speak, Robby sighs. “You never talk to me anymore. We used to be friends. What happened to that?”

Still no answer.

Robby turns and finds Mike impossibly close. “You know what happened,” Mike murmurs. He can’t quite meet Robby’s eyes. “You hear what the other guys say about me.”

Robby knows. He’s heard the words fag and queer coughed into fists in the locker room whenever Mike heads for the shower. The only reason Robby’s never said anything about it is because he doesn’t want those same labels applied to him, either.

No matter how true they are.

Here, in the quiet bus, alone with Mike, Robby can admit to more than taking that ChapStick from the store. In a voice barely audible over distant shouts from the baseball diamond, he whispers, “You’re not the only one.”

Now Mike looks at him. His eyes widen, his mouth open, his breath hitched. In shock, perhaps, or maybe something else. Hope. “You mean…you too?”

Robby barely shrugs, but it’s enough of an answer to bring the color rushing back into Mike’s face. His lips curve into a knowing grin. “So you’re saying you stole ChapStick just to get my attention? What a way to pick up a guy. You could’ve just said hi.”

Robby laughs. “It sort of worked, though, didn’t it?”

For a long heartbeat, neither says anything. Then Robby leans closer, his nose brushing alongside Mike’s. “Don’t move,” he whispers. “I want to get this right.”

He hears Mike catch his breath, then his lips cover Mike’s in a gentle kiss. He reaches up with one hand, touching over Mike’s close curls as his tongue slips into Mike’s mouth.

When they pull away, breathless, Robby cups the back of Mike’s head to keep him close. Robby rests his forehead against Mike’s. This close, his friend’s eyes are mesmerizing. “Can I steal another kiss?”

Pressing his mouth to Mike’s, Robby doesn’t care if he gets caught.