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JIMMY

“Sunshine?” He took a couple of steps into the room and time defied all laws by moving too slowly and too fast all at once. My pulse sped up—I could feel the flutter of it in my throat—and my breath stuttered. Oh god, I hadn’t had a panic attack in months. Now was not the time.

“Do you know each other?” the other guy asked, but he —the stranger from the woods five years ago—didn’t respond. Those deep-blue eyes locked on mine. I studied him, cataloging all the little changes in his appearance from then to now, mostly noting all the ways he’d evolved from boy to man. He was still lean with the physique of a dancer, but the muscle tone was more defined. He’d lost some of the roundness in his face, his jaw becoming more angular, and his hair was a little longer on top, though still buzzed close on the sides. But his eyes, those blue eyes the color of an exotic orchid, were the same as the ones that had haunted me in my dreams. How many times had I woken up hard and aching with the memory of those eyes boring into my soul?

He took another step forward, but when I instinctively backed away from him, scooting to the far corner of my bed, he stopped, brows shooting up in concern. I wasn’t sure why I’d done it, what it was about him that terrified me, but I had a need to keep space between us. Maybe I’d built him up in my mind, made him out to be more than he actually was, but his presence here in my room was just… too much .

He stepped back, his hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace, never taking his eyes off me. “What do you need? Do you need us to leave? This is the room I was assigned, but I can see if I can get it switched. I’m obviously making you uncomfortable.”

My eyes darted between him and the other guy as I struggled to get my breathing under control while simultaneously trying to find my words. At my lack of response, he visibly deflated, saying, “I’ll go see if I can find the RA,” before turning to leave.

“Stay,” I forced out. Having this man in my space was terrifying, but the thought I might not see him again was even more so. What if I never learned his name?

He turned back toward me slowly. “Are you sure?”

I managed a nod and he glanced at the guy with him, still standing in the doorway. “This is my brother Tyler. Can he come in?”

I lifted one shoulder noncommittally. I honestly wasn’t sure I cared one way or another. It was him , the boy-turned-man I’d almost convinced myself I’d made up, causing my palms to sweat and my heart to beat erratically.

They shared a quiet conversation and then quickly unloaded the cart. After agreeing to meet up the next day, Tyler gave me one more curious glance, then left, taking the empty cart with him.

We eyed each other, my new roommate moving farther into the room and cautiously sitting on the bed across from mine. He’d left the door open, and I could hear the faint sound of laughter floating down the hall, though it did nothing to drown out the rush of blood roaring in my ears.

“What can I do to help you feel more comfortable?”

His question startled me. No one ever asked me that. People had this weird way of making panic attacks about them. Like my inability to regulate my emotions was somehow their fault. It usually made people uncomfortable, and they either told me to get over it or avoided me altogether. Rarely had anyone offered to help, and never had they asked me what I needed.

I held up one finger, indicating that he should give me a moment while I focused on my breathing. I was already feeling a little better as I adjusted to his presence, reminding myself he was just a guy, a person like any other, not the larger-than-life fantasy I’d built him up to be in my mind over the last five years.

“Tell me…a s-s-story,” I stuttered out.

His brows shot up. He was clearly confused by my seemingly random request.

“Dis…traction.”

Understanding dawned, and he thought for a moment before beginning to speak. “You remember I’m a dancer?”

I nodded, the memory of him leaping gracefully to the bank of the creek flashing through my mind.

“Tyler was always more into sports—both of my brothers were, actually—but when Tyler was in fourth grade, he decided he wanted to try dance like me. I think it was his way of supporting me, or maybe it was because he was younger and looked up to me, but whatever the reason was, our ma agreed to let him take a hip-hop class. Turned out, he was pretty good, and I think it became kind of an outlet for him.

“Anyway, by the spring recital, he’d earned himself a little solo in the boys’ hip-hop routine. It was just a couple of eight-counts, I think, but he was so proud of himself. Frankly, we all were. So, the big day finally came. I think I had six dances that year, but I made sure I was backstage for his number so I could see his performance. His routine came up, and he was absolutely killing his solo…until the very end.”

I leaned forward, breathing exercises forgotten as he wove his story. “What happened?”

“Tyler was so committed to the routine that he dropped into a split a little too enthusiastically, and he…well, not only did he nail his split, but he split his pants. Right down the back. He’d worn his lucky underwear that day, which happened to be Spider-Man, and everyone got an eyeful.”

I gasped, covering my open mouth with my hand. “What did he do?”

“The little shit winked at the audience and finished the dance, Spider-Man undies and all.”

A snort escaped me and he smiled wide in response, those blue eyes sparkling with good humor. He stood, coming over to stand in front of me. “Better?” he asked, voice soft and warm, like melted caramel.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

“Can I sit?” He flicked his chin toward the other end of my bed. I nodded once more, and he sat, one leg crossed in front of him, with the other foot resting on the floor.

“I’m TJ. Well, Thomas, actually, but my mom calls me Tommy, and everyone else calls me TJ.”

“Hi,” was all I managed, as those two letters—T and J—imprinted themselves onto my heart.

Five years.

For five years, I’d wondered about the name of the guy who gave me my first kiss. To this day, my only kiss. TJ.

“Do I get the pleasure of your name?”

“Oh. Um. It’s Jimmy. Jimmy Clark.”

His smile grew until it stretched completely across his face. “I’ve been calling you sunshine in my head for five years. But I like Jimmy too. It suits you.”

I didn’t know which part of that statement to address first. The fact that he’d been thinking about me all this time or that he had a nickname for me. The first seemed too huge to contemplate, so I addressed the latter. “Sunshine?”

His eyes darted up a couple of inches, then back down to meet my eyes. “That’s what your hair reminded me of that day. All those blond curls framing your face. It reminded me of the sun.”

I looked down, cheeks heating, resisting the impulse to run my fingers through my messy curls. You’re going to be okay, sunshine. You’re stronger than you think.

I hadn’t understood the nickname then, but I’d folded those words away, nonetheless. I kept them close to my heart, pulling them out to examine in private moments when I needed the reminder that someone out there had seen something in me, had thought I was strong. Had wanted to be my first kiss. I’d never told anyone about him, hadn’t wanted to share him with anyone. Who would have believed me anyway?

“I can’t believe you even remember me,” I managed, my voice quiet, eyes still averted. I hated feeling this way. Small and insignificant. I’d come a long way in the last five years. I’d gotten help for my anxiety, had gone on meds, and had learned to manage it better. I still didn’t like the spotlight, but I’d found a quiet confidence in who I was and what I had to offer the world. But now, next to TJ, I felt like I was fifteen again, just an abandoned boy, small for his age, who’d do anything to avoid notice.

“You remember me, right? Then why shouldn’t I remember you?”

I felt him scoot closer, and while part of me wanted to back away again, I forced myself to look up. Because I wasn’t that boy anymore. He’d been right back then. I’d been stronger than I realized, and I’d busted my ass to get to where I was today.

“I suppose you’re right,” I finally answered.

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes searching mine, but a noise in the hall pulled his attention and he turned toward the sound. I let out a breath, thankful for a moment of reprieve from the intensity of his gaze.

When he turned back, his smile had returned. “I should probably unpack. Do you mind if I close the door?”

I shrugged. “Why did you leave it open in the first place?”

“I wasn’t sure why you were upset, but I thought you might feel safer with it open.”

He’d thought… Jesus. He was turning me inside out. “Oh. I, uh…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.” He stood, stretching his arms to the sky. I couldn’t help but notice the sliver of skin the movement revealed just above his waistband. “I’ll just start unloading my stuff.”

TJ crossed over, shut the door, and began sorting through his belongings. I watched him for a moment, still trying to wrap my head around the turn of events that led to him walking through my door. He couldn’t possibly be my roommate, could he? It didn’t seem possible.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up off my desk.

Sammy

Just got home

Sorry I had to leave so soon

It’s ok. How’s Rafi?

Banged up, but he’ll be alright

I swear that guy’s got nine lives

I chuckled. More than a friend but not quite a brother, our relationship with Rafi Salgado was hard to define. Shortly after our mom left, Rafi’s dad Julio gave Sammy a job at his auto shop despite my brother knowing almost nothing about cars. That job literally saved us and ultimately led to Sammy learning the ropes of welding, which, in turn, became his passion and the medium for creating his art. We’d become close with the Salgados over the years, including Rafi, though I’d describe him as more of a golden retriever than a cat with nine lives.

What exactly did he do?

I promised him I wouldn’t say, but rest assured he’ll be using his left hand to jack off for the next four to six weeks

I shook my head.

I did not need that image

You’re welcome

How’s the roommate?

I looked over at TJ, where he was currently bent over the bed, smoothing out the sheets he’d just put on. Jesus, he had a nice ass. He was a dancer, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but damn.

Cheeks heating, even though no one was looking at me, I returned my attention to my phone.

He’s good

Not a douche?

Doesn’t seem to be

Good

Let me know if I need to come down there and kick his ass

I rolled my eyes. He was such an overprotective dick sometimes.

You know I’m not going to do that

Humor me

I shook my head, waiting as three dots popped up and disappeared several times. Finally, two more messages came through one after the next.

I don’t say it enough, but I love you and I’m proud of you

I wouldn’t be where I am now without you

Tears pricked my eyes and a lump formed in my throat as I processed what he’d said. I started to type out a response, to deny that last message, when another one came through.

Don’t argue for once

I swallowed, then typed out my reply.

Alright. But then I get to say I’m proud of you too

Fine. We’re even

Enough mushy stuff

Text me next week. I want to know how your classes go

Will do