Page 77 of Puck Love

“We are. She’s climbed a mountain, and I’m proud of her. She’s a different mom to Eddie than she was to me. I got the neglectful, selfish B, he gets Mother fuckin’ Theresa.”

I snorted. “Nice comparison.”

“It’s true. She loves that kid. She puts him first…above anything she wants for herself. I didn’t get that treatment, and I could be bitter about it, but that’s life. And by the way, I’m not trying to negate your childhood trauma or one-up you.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw ruefully. “I actually don’t really know why I told you any of it. I should probably apologize.”

“Oh, please. I don’t want any apologies. Thanks for sharing your?—”

“My oversized baggage?” he quipped with a laugh.

“Well, I wouldn’t have put it that way.”

“I would.” Mason snickered merrily. “That’s the shit that comes off the conveyer belt with a big-ass red warning label attached. Although it honestly doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. Eddie’s good, my mom’s good.”

“What about your aunt?”

“She passed away five years ago. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Me too. She was a great woman and an amazing role model. She was this lesbian trailblazer who didn’t take shit from anyone. I want to be like her someday.”

“I think you’re well on your way.”

Mason beamed. “You’re right. I even went bi.”

I rolled my eyes. “You realize that you don’t just go bi, right?”

“Yeah, so I’m bi. But you’re the only one I notice, Jakey.” He pulled me into a headlock and kissed my ears, ignoring my protests. “I tested the theory at camp today. Lots of decent-looking coaches, and none of them got a pulse out of me.Nada, zilch.”

“Oh, brother.”

“Seriously. Nikitinova isn’t tough on the eyes, and he has a cool accent. Doesn’t do anything for me, though. Who does it for you?”

I scoffed. “What kind of question is that?”

“A great one. C’mon. Let’s take a test…Batman or Superman?”

“Batman.”

“You’d choose Batman over Henry Cavill?” Mason widened his eyes incredulously. “’Cause I think I just got a Superman chubby.”

I laughed. He was ridiculous and manic with it, but he was hopelessly charming too. We finished our beers and sat side by side at the picnic table, talking about absolutely nothing of consequence. I liked the sound of his voice and the feel of his body pressed against mine in the warm summer night. I liked that he gazed reverently at the stars while debating which version of Spider-Man he thought was most badass. I liked that Mason Trinsky was unapologetically himself.

And more than anything, I liked that he let me in and showed me his scars.

Maybe there was no way we could be lovers in the real world, but somehow, I knew we were going to be the best of friends for a long, long time.

21

TRINSKY

Annie glowered at me over the rim of her coffee cup. “What’s the matter with the pancakes?”

I paused mid chew and flashed a sunny smile at the cranky old lady who insisted on being part of my carb-load routine. “Nothing. I’m in heaven. Can’t you tell?”

Annie set her cup on her kitchen table with a shaky hand. “No. You’re usually good for a dozen hotcakes. You’re picking at six, and you’ve hardly touched the eggs. Be honest. Did I crack a shell in ’em?”

I forked up a bite of scrambled eggs and dutifully ate them. “Delicious.”