Page 50 of Summer Lessons

And then he fell asleep.

DANE WOKEthem up an hour later with doughnuts and a big glass of milk to share. Mason struggled to sit, and Terry sacrificed all his pillows to prop Mason up.

“So,” Dane said when they were all settled, “what are we doing today?”

“I gotta go home soon,” Terry said apologetically before biting into a chocolate glazed. He chewed and swallowed blissfully. “Well, maybe in an hour.”

“While you’re here, we should plan cleaning out your mom’s backyard,” Mason said, suddenly excited about having another home improvement project.

“Is this before or after we fix the guest room?” Dane asked skeptically, and Mason shrugged.

“It’s only green?”

“No, it’s not only green. It’s the green that makes ogre barf look beautiful and pure, you asshole. Are you telling me we have to live with that for another two weeks?”

Mason tried to do that begging-with-his-eyes thing that Terry was so adept at, but Dane was the baby brother and as such was apparently immune.

Terry finished off his doughnut and looked up to see the eyeball standoff still underway. “Uh, so, how long will it take to repaint this disaster?” he asked cautiously.

Dane smiled at him with pointy teeth. “Well, if you set up while I’m at Lowe’s getting a better color, probably two hours.”

“That is way underestimating,” Mason warned. “It took us all last Sunday.”

“Yeah, but the tarps are still down because we saw it dry and tried not to hurl,” Dane retorted. “I swear, if Terry can fix the tape up while I go get any other fucking color but that one, it won’t take that long at all.”

“Fine,” Mason said, in prime negotiations mode. “You do that—butyou have to plan the work party for Terry’s yard next week. We need six people besides me—”

“You’re sitting on a folding chair and supervising!” Terry protested.

Mason grunted. “Well, okay. So you two—”

“Carpenter,” Dane supplied.

“Carpenter,” Mason conceded. “And Skip and Richie and—”

“Anyone else I can get Carpenter to ask,” Dane finished. “Deal. What will we need?”

Both of them turned toward Terry, who was in the middle of his second doughnut.

“Are you naked?” Dane asked into the sudden silence.

Terry looked down at his bare torso, and Mason watched as a flush traveled up his stomach, outward from his pectorals, and liberally splashed his neck and ears. “I’ve got boxers on,” he mumbled, taking another bite of doughnut. In the pause afterward, his nipples pebbled, and Mason choked back a smirk—and on the temptation to scope out his crotch to see if anything else perked up.

“Work party,” Mason rasped. God, they’d slept together all night, and he’d been so stoned he hadn’t been able tofuck. The unfairness of that seemed overwhelming right now. “We need to plan the work party.”

“Yeah,” Dane said, looking pointedly at the desk in Mason’s room—so, pointedlyawayfrom Mason’s sort-of boyfriend. “What will we need?”

“Uh, work gloves?” Terry forgot his sudden embarrassment. “Work gloves, jeans, boots—God knows what’s back there. We need something to cut back the weeds and shit—”

“Pruning shears and a Weedwacker,” Mason supplied.

“Yeah—we don’t got none of that. And I don’t know where we’re going to put all the shit—”

“Rent a dumpster,” Dane said, ticking it off on his fingers.

“Sustenance,” Mason said seriously. “Dane and I can bring a big thermos of coffee and doughnuts—”

“And pizza and beer for later,” Dane agreed.