Three Days 4

Unsurprisingly Brad is an excellent bowler. I am passable. Bowling with someone who excels at it makes every mistake I make appear a hundred times worse. But Brad doesn't jeer and he doesn't make fun of me for having a lower score. In fact he gives me pointers; telling me how to hold the ball, to angle my body, to bend at the knees. I have a brief fantasy about Brad coming up behind and putting one hand on the small jut of my hip, and with a gentle hand over mine demonstrate the proper technique. But he keeps his distance, offering only verbal instruction, which I am thankful for. I know I won't be able to focus if he did.

Even with to Brad's encouragement I can't stop him from winning every game, but I am able to hold my own, my score getting higher and higher with each game.

After the third game Brad excuses himself and goes to the rest room, telling me to play for him until he returns. I do, and hope he doesn't mind the dip in his score as turkeys turn into spares. He is not alone when he returns. He holds a tray piled high with chili fries and a plastic pitcher of root beer. He laughs when he sees the scores and wraps his arm over my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it. I like a challenge. Now, let's finish this game so we can eat."

We consume the food like starving animals and play two more games before calling it a night. I can't remember ever having a better time in my life.

00000

Crawling down the tree is way easier than trying to climb up it after hurling a weighted ball for hours. "Brad, stop." I beg after a few failing attempts to scramble up the tree. "There's a much easier way to do this." I place my hand on his chest and concentrate on where I want us to go. Moments later we are back in my bedroom.

"Much easier." Brad huffs holding onto me as he regains his balance.

"You get used to it." I promise, reinforcing his hold. "Just breathe and you'll be fine."

"Yep," he wheezes. Brad clears his throat, our hands falling to our sides as he straightens.

"Thanks for coming out tonight" Brad said, suddenly going shy.

I beam at him. "Sure, it was fun. Let's do it again some time."

"Yeah," Brad agrees, but he doesn't match my smile.

"Hey Tommy?"

I turn and swallow as dumb, mind-numbing hope flutters in my chest. "Yeah?"

Brad is studying the windowsill's cracking paint, and it occurs to me that he is just as nervous as I am. My dumb hope makes me think it's because he also doesn't want to leave. I try not to appear too eager as I wait for his response. "Um, I know this sounds really wrong of me, but I was kinda hoping that what I said to you, about the Paradise is something we can keep just between the two of us."

"Oh," I say, trying to sound surprised and not disappointed. The disappointment that leaves as I realize the reason for his odd request stems from concern. He is worried, or maybe he is embarrassed that he needs a sanctuary? He didn't have to show me this place, or even mention how much it means to him. A soft ripple of warmth passes over me as the reason hits me; I have something so precious I am afraid to think about it in case it breaks it is so fragile. I have Brad's trust. "Yes, of course. I get it. Don't worry I know how to kept a secret."

The relief that washes over his face is priceless. He steps forward and hesitates, waiting for something but I don't know what it is. Before I can figure it out, he reaches out and pulls me in to a tight hug.

"Thanks man," he whispers. I feel the heat of his breath on my hair and resist the urge to hold him close in reassurance.

"You're welcome." I say, lightly patting his back.

All too soon he releases me. "See you tomorrow," he promises and at my agreeing nod he makes his way through the window. I am seconds away from offering to give him a faster way home he has shimmed out and I hear the drop of his shoes on the ground. He turns and spots me in the window. I blush as he grins and waves good-bye before jogging out of view. I stare after him and chuckle at the night I've had.

"I hope the night out was worth it," a voice says behind me. I spin around and see my mom sitting cross-legged at the foot of my bed.

"Mom!"

"Hello, Tommy. Did you forget something?" she asks holding up a cell phone. I pat down my pockets in a panic to find me phone, but of course it's not there because it's in her hand. "It's nice to see you making friends, but what you did tonight that's not happening again. It can't," She warns.

I nod knowing full well how much trouble I am in. I have been pushing the limits of her patience this week and it would be well within her right to put her foot down. If she wanted to she could make it even more difficult to see Brad. "I know."

Her face softens at me. "He's cute. And I think he likes you."

"Mom, it's not like that."

"Uh-huh," mom returns wholly unconvinced. She gets up and pads over to me engulfing me in her own hug. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, mom." I reply, accepting her kiss.

He and I have a secret. It doesn't matter that it is the one I want we share something that he doesn't have with Emily. And while I know that makes me a shitty friend, knowing I have a new connection with Brad that is purely between us leaves me grinning as I fall asleep.