Page 19 of It’s Only Love

Mike

I know Dennis told me he’s fine and he’s just tired, but my gut instinct tells me he’s not.

Maybe he just needs some space to settle back in.

I can give him that. He also looks different.

He’s growing a beard, and it makes him look older.

I’ve never seen him with so much facial hair. It looks good on him, though.

For the next couple of hours, we hang out, eat his mom’s delicious food, and play ball with Willow.

Sometimes Wesley comes out to check on Dennis and hang out with us before he’s back inside, talking to Carley Ford.

Dennis dips in and out of smiling when Willow steals the ball from him or jumps, trying to lick his face.

Then he has moments of staring out into space absentmindedly with a deep frown, his posture tense.

He’s changed. Something’s happened, but I don’t dig into it and just enjoy that he’s back.

Dennis is finally back, and nothing else matters.

As always, we both run out of gas way before Willow does, and while she scurries off into the rose bushes, Dennis and I collapse onto our backs in the cool grass underneath a tree .

“Fuck, nothing beats a Willow Workout,” he pants as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Sweat blooms on his royal-blue button-up.

I hum in agreement and lean up on my elbow, taking him in.

He’s a mess. His hair is tousled, damp locks sticking to his forehead as drops of sweat trail down his temples.

My fingers itch to reach out and run them through his hair and growing beard to see if it’s as soft as it looks. I want to feel him now that he’s back.

“Maybe you’re just getting old, squirt.” The endearment slips from my lips before I have a chance to correct myself. I know he has a love-hate relationship with the pet name I gave him ages ago. Instead, he laughs, his voice lofty, youthful.

“Squirt… Argh,” he repeats as he stares up at the tree’s crown high above us.

Then he stretches his arms over his head, and that damn untucked shirt slides high up his body, the fabric caressing his obliques and his ribs.

For a second, I feel like an intruder, my eyes not leaving his flat, tanned stomach with a thatch of dark hair below his navel, but then I just plain ogle him.

Fuck . I’m ogling Dennis. He’s stunning as he lies there, his body relaxed, his chest still heaving from playing ball.

“Den, did you date in college?” I ask before I can stop myself. For some reason, the need to know about this most intimate part of his life burns inside me.

“What?” I almost think that I’m home free, and that he didn’t hear me, but then his body stiffens and he sits up slowly. He looks at me intently before gazing away, plucking blades of grass. “Yeah, sure. I dated some.”

Some . I try not to interpret that word, but my mind is funny like that.

It always does what I don’t want it to do.

Some . That’s plural, right? Some . Is that a couple or many or…

I nod, and apparently I’m a fucking gl utton for punishment because next thing I know, I ask him, “Were… were any of them serious?”

He narrows his eyes at me, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah.” He pauses, staring back at the grass beneath us, and then he sighs.

“Yeah, there was someone. It was pretty serious. At least for me. It… it didn’t end well.

” He deflates, and the carefree version of him when we were playing with Willow is gone, and I instantly regret asking.

Because there’s a sadness there that tugs at my heartstrings.

Then there’s the truth underneath it all, my truth.

That I’m jealous. I’m jealous of anyone who has ever dated Dennis, held his hand, kissed him…

fuck, anyone who has ever even looked twice his way or breathed in the same fucking air as he has.

There it is. Plain as daylight. I’m jealous.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I am. I’m sorry that he got hurt and I couldn’t be there for him.

“It’s okay. Are you?” he asks, fragility in his voice. “Are you dating anyone, Mike?” It’s the first time today that he’s said my name, and it completely blindsides me. Mike . “Mike?”

“Oh. Sorry. Yeah… Nah…” Shit, I feel like I’m in a spelling contest they forced us to do when we were kids, my tongue not working properly as I tried to spell some complicated word. Even for me, this is a new level of awkwardness. “I have… some.” I borrow his word. “Not really anymore, though.”

“Why not?”

Shit. Because they don’t make me feel the way you do.

It hits me that I feel more physical attraction stirring inside me, ogling Dennis’ stomach, than I ever have with a woman.

I’ve never been attracted to anyone. I’ve never felt this simmering sensation in my body that I feel right now, lying next to him like this.

This tingling just beneath my skin, like an itch I can’t scratch. But Dennis is my friend.

“I guess I’m not really a dating kinda guy.” I shrug, and he laughs bitterly.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. Dating fucking sucks.” A shadow moves across his face, then, abruptly, he stands and reaches for me. “It’s just gonna be you and me this summer, Mike. Just like old times.”

I take his hand, and his skin feels warm and slightly clammy against mine.

He pulls me to my feet, just like that, and we stand so close I can count the freckles scattered across his nose.

His breath becomes my breath, and when my gaze dips to his lips, I can’t look away.

Fuck, I should’ve kissed him back that night.

No maybes or what-ifs . I should’ve kissed him.

I see his mouth moving, but I can’t for the life of me hear what he’s saying.

Then something black and blurry blows past me, and Dennis turns, in a rush, laughing, and bolts after it, his scent lingering in the air all around me after he’s gone.

His distinct scent, with undertones of grass and sweat, wraps around me like a blanket until it eventually dissipates.

Then I slowly follow him, a thousand questions buzzing in my head.

They’re doing a rerun of Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs down at the drive-in.

It’s Dennis’ favorite movie. He knows most of the dialogue by heart, whereas I always mess up all the characters.

Mr. Brown, Mr. White, Mr. Blue. I think there’s even a Mr. Blond, but don’t take my word for it.

Dennis has always had a sick memory, which is why he ended up doing so great in school.

I tried to leave Willow with Mom so I could have Dennis all to myself, but she’d already made dinner plans with Frank. Perhaps it’s better to have Willow as a buffer between us anyway.

Yesterday was weird with the way he kept pulling away, disappearing inside himself, plastering a strained smile on his face that never reached his eyes. I hope a dose of Harvey Keitel and Steve Buscemi will make him relax and enjoy himself.

Sarah opens the door when I knock. She holds a towel in her hands, and looks surprised to see me.

“Oh, hi, hun,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “You here for Dennis? He’s not home.” She wipes her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand, then steps aside to let me in.

I follow her into the kitchen, where a plate of freshly baked brownies is resting on the kitchen island.

The scent of dark chocolate and butter hits my nose, and I’m reminded that I haven’t eaten since lunch.

I clocked out of work a little after three, so it must be around four now.

Where there’s sugar, there’s usually Dennis, but with the plate of brownies still intact, I can tell he hasn’t been home in a while.

“Did you have plans?” She asks, then grabs a brownie and hands it to me on a paper towel. I accept it and shake my head.

“Nah, not really. I was hoping I could steal him away to catch a movie. They’re showing Reservoir Dogs down at the drive-in.” I take a bite out of the brownie, and the rich chocolate explodes on my tongue. “Wow, these are insane, Mrs. H,” I mumble around the bite. “New recipe?”

She smiles brightly. “Yes. Thank you for noticing, Mike. I can always count on you.” She walks to the kitchen cabinet and gets a glass, then moves over to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk, pouring a generous glass.

She puts it in front of me, then sighs. “He went out this morning after breakfast, and I haven’t seen him since.

He was… He didn’t bring his phone.” She pauses, rubbing at an old stain on the surface of the wooden kitchen counter.

Then she looks directly at me wi th worry lingering in her eyes.

“Did he…? Mike, you know him better than anyone. Did he seem off to you yesterday?”

I shrug. “A little, maybe. I wouldn’t worry, though. He probably just needs time to adjust. Must be a big change being back home again.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “I just worry, you know. I’m a mom. That’s my job.”

“Yeah, I know. My mom’s the same way. But I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mrs. H.

” I hope he will. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how it feels to have your heart broken.

Well, I do, but not like that. My heart broke in a different way when Dad died.

It broke because of all the things I would never get to do with him again, and for all the future things we would never share.

It must be different when you break up with someone.

I don’t know if Dennis was in love with the guy he was dating, but he sure did look a little heartbroken yesterday. I felt it.

I hang around and chat for a while, and then Sarah sends me off with a Tupperware container of brownies. “Say hi to that sweet mom of yours for me.”

“I will.”

Back in the truck, Willow looks as disappointed as I feel.