Page 87 of Summer Lessons

“What was that for?” Mason asked wonderingly.

“For being here and being awesome and not telling my mother to piss up a rope.”

Mason laughed evilly. “That’s only because I didn’t think of it.”

Those kisses on the cheek were still not getting old. “You’re awesome,” Terry said meaningfully. “Rudy thinks I’m lucky as shit.”

“Rudy?” He was tall—taller than Mason or Skipper, even—and thin, with a shock of black hair, pale skin, and green eyes. Mason had grudgingly admitted to Skipper that he was damned beautiful, but there was no guarantee he even played for the boys’ team.

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. He and I started talking a couple of weeks ago, which is why he offered to come help. He knew I was excited about it.”

“He seems nice,” Mason lied. He seemed like a pasty, scrawny boyfriend stealer, but Mason wasn’t going to say that. For one thing, it would be embarrassing if it wasn’t true, but for another?

Mason had made a show for Julie, but fact was, they weren’t officially boyfriends.

Or a commitment.

Or anything with a name.

And Mason couldn’t put one on him until Terry did it himself.

“He is. He found out that my soccer captain was gay and wanted to know if the guys were okay with it.” Terry blushed. “I told himIwas gay, and he said he was too. It’s like… you know. A friend.”

Of course. Mason knew how that went. In college he’d hung out with all the gay friends. At his last job, it had been his female coworker, Janice, and a couple of his managers.

Here, it was Dane and Skip and Carpenter.

You looked for people—not just sex people, but kind people. Terry had found his own.

“Well, I’m glad he found you. Maybe he can play on the team.”

Terry smiled at him like he’d invented friendship. “That would be awesome! ’Cause, you know, now that you’re good on defense, we need more subs. It would be great if we had more than one or two, you know?”

Mason thought he could play an entire game without a break if it meant Mr. Scrawny Pasty Green Eyes wasn’t there, but then, Mason didn’t get a say, did he?

“I think that’s an awesome idea. Why don’t you ask Skip?”

Terry grinned and hopped in his car, and they took off for the jump to the moon.

By that evening they had everything unpacked and in its place—including the new coffeemaker, microwave, and sheets Mason bought for Terry’s bed. The sheets weren’t fancy—a basic stripe—but they came with a comforter, and Terry got so excited Mason wondered if he’d ever had sheets not from the secondhand store before.

And then he felt bad.

This was Terry’s day—his bid for independence. Even if Mason lost his boyfriend… friend… Saturday lover… these gifts needed to come from a whole and untainted heart.

Mason felt bad enough to try to make friends with Rudy.

It didn’t go well.

“So, uh, Rudy. You know Terry—”

“Jefferson? You’re the only one who calls him Terry.” Rudy blinked at Mason with those dark-fringed green eyes, and Mason tried again.

“Well, yeah. But he’s, uh, sort of special to me. Anyway, you guys know each other from work?”

“Yeah. I work at one of the service stations he comes to.” Rudy regarded him with sober alertness, like he was just waiting for the next question.

“Working your way through college?”