Page 17 of Summer Skin

AVEN:WHAT ARE You Doing?

What Chase was doing, actually, was sitting in 3rd period, just like Aven should have been.

CHASE:I’m in class

AVEN:Get a sick pass and meet me at my car

CHASE: I’m not really a fake hurling in the bathroom sort of guy

AVEN: How would you know until you try?

CHASE:Weren”t you the homecoming king? Didn’t you take some sort of lifetime pledge to honor school rules?

AVEN:I never wanted that. I didn”t even vote for myself. Come onnnnn

CHASE:Dude

AVEN:I”m gonna screw your brains out in twenty-seven minutes

AVEN:First I’ll kiss you gently

AVEN: Then I’ll break it down to some aggressive foreplay

AVEN:And you know how the rest goes by now

Chase rolled his eyes, biting back a grin.

CHASE:Fine, see you out front in like ten

After a month and a half of official boyfriending, Chase was as eager as he’d ever been to spend time with Aven. More even. All his favorite parts of the day circled back to him: the two of them with Brooklyn in the woods before school, taking turns looking over each other’s homework at lunch, making a guessing game out of who Danny Cline—their class president—would sleep with next.

After school was reserved for Aven’s bedroom, where they created music together, and learned each other’s bodies in loud, sweaty, lingering detail in Aven’s parentless home.

Out in the school parking lot, Aven leaned against his laughably expensive car. Chase gave him a short wave, a smile blooming as he drew near. In an over-the-top breathy tone, Aven asked, “How much, sugar?”

“Oh my god,” Chase groaned, and Aven cackled. “Unlock your doors, bonehead.”

A click of a button and Chase slid into the passenger seat. Once they were both in the car, Aven greeted him with a kiss.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Chase asked.

“Keying a message into Nicole’s Wright’s car.”

Chase’s head whipped in his direction. “You did what?”

“You heard what Brooklyn said this morning.” Aven’s eyes narrowed. “Nicole threatened to kick her ass!”

Chase was of the mind that Brooklyn knew how to handle herself. If Nicole tried anything, she was going to get way more than expected. Still, a warmth spread through his chest at Aven going all high-school delinquent to protect his sister.

“What’d you write?” he wondered.

“Bully,” Aven said. “Truth in advertising.”

“Some might call keying a car bullying.”

“Vigilante work,” Aven corrected.

“Sure thing, Batman.” Chase leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Aven’s cheekbone. “Thank you for looking out for my sister.”

“My pleasure,” Aven told him with a mischievous grin. He’d had his fun, Chase knew.

“Why are we cutting class?”

“We’ve got a batch of cookies to whip up.”

“You texted that we were going to fuck.”

“Oh, I’m definitely taking you home to fuck. We’ll just be baking cookies first.”

Chase didn’t bother asking why they needed to get their Mary Berry on in the middle of a school day, he just buckled in, and leaned the seat back. It was Aven-logic, after all. One part impulsive thinking, one part magic.

On the way, they passed a house that Aven called the Wonka Factory. It was four stories tall, and six different colors, with balconies that seemed to have no doors leading inside, and stairs up one side of the house to a rooftop garden.

It forever called to mind a certain style his mom painted in when she was in her mushroom era.

“Reminds me of my mom.”

“What does?”

“The Wonka house we just passed.”

A pause. Then, “What’s she like?”

Chase fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. His mom was hard to explain to someone who’d never met her. He knew from experience that putting her into words didn’t always draw her in the kindest light. He couldn’t properly express how, even though she wasn’t the typical sort of mom society expected, she’d always made the world come alive for him. For Brooklyn.

“Your mom,” Aven clarified. “You don’t talk about her much.”

“You know my family. You know Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn’s not your mom though?”

Seconds ticked on as Chase struggled to find an answer that might please them both.

“Chase, you definitely don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want, okay? Just … if you ever do? I’d listen.”

The breath he’d been holding whooshed out, a sunny energy buzzing to life in his chest. He realized quite suddenly that this was what it felt like to be cared for. This was what it was like when your feelings mattered to someone else.

“Yeah,” Chase said. “My mom is … you’d like her, I think? I really think you would. Everyone does. She has that thing, you know? A certain je ne sais quoi.”

Aven glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “She sounds like fun.”

“She is.” He took a moment, watching glimpses of the sea flash by the passenger side window. “But she was also really focused on her artwork in a way that meant sometimes Brooklyn and I took care of our own dinners, even if that meant crackers out of a box. We bounced from home to home, crashing with her friends, never staying anywhere too long.

“Sometimes she took us to grown-up parties with less than savory characters, and we fell asleep playing cards in coat rooms. Or she’d drop us off at a mall or arcade for the night and forget to pick us up. And sometimes, I think she forgot about us altogether. For pieces of time. Too focused on her art, or some new guy she’d met who was going to introduce her to the right person to network with this time. I think … I think she felt if she kept it up, she was sure to get her big break somehow, and then she’d have time and energy to be a real mom.”

Holy shit, that was a lot to share all at once. Way more than he’d ever told anyone before. An almost instant feeling of regret sank like a stone to the pit of his stomach. A harsh realization that it was way too much to put on Aven, and he was finally going to get a clue what a loser Chase is and understand he’d been dating way, way under his own league with some reject whose own parents hadn’t even bothered to stick around. Aven was going to—

“Baby, you still with me?”

Chase raised his eyes. They were parked in Aven’s driveway.

“Thank you for telling me all of that. And I’m sorry. I wish it had been different. I can tell by how you talk about her that your mom loves you and you love her too, right?”

A nod.

”But, god, Chase. I really wish that all of you could have had something more stable.”

Chase breathed in, held the air, and let it out. He’d been afraid telling someone any of this would have them pitying him or ripping into his mom. But what Aven said was exactly what he needed to hear. And it wasn’t like he was blind to the neglect he and Brooklyn had suffered, but still, she was their mom. And for all the uncertainty they’d been through together, he knew she loved him. Knew she loved Brooklyn, too.

“Come here.” Aven leaned towards him, placing a tender kiss on his mouth. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“You’re just saying that because I’ve gone and overshared.”

“It wasn’t an overshare,” Aven protested. “I asked. And I’m glad you told me. It makes me know you better. And I like knowing you.”

He twisted a finger through a lock of Chase’s hair, gently tugging, watching him with a fond look. It was absolutely terrifying and thrilling all at once how easily Aven could get his heart beating overtime.

“Come on,” Aven said, a slow grin growing on his face. “Let’s go in, these cookies aren’t going to make themselves.”

“What are we baking them for anyway?”

“’Cause it’s Valentine’s tomorrow.”

“And cookies are your gift to me?”

Aven’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding me. You think after months of being glued to your side you’re only getting cookies? Prepare to be dazzled tomorrow, babe. You’re my first ever Valentine, you know.”

Chase had a sudden, sinking sensation that the playlist he’d created of songs that reminded him of Aven was a silly, childish idea. He’d ordered blank discs and burned an honest-to-god CD for him, drawn a cover for it and everything, knowing how Aven had a peculiar fondness for an old-school boombox he’d had as a kid and still kept in his bedroom.

But the way Aven was talking, maybe it would come off as meaningless.

“We’re making cookies for Andi to give Emi. If she has a plate full of treats, there’s no way she can back out of talking to her again.”

Chase sort of doubted that. Andi seemed to excel at finding ways to weasel out of approaching Emi. “How did she talk you into playing baker?”

“She didn’t, I asked if I could. I love Andi. And I want her to be happy.”

Love. Aven loves her. Chase wondered if he’d ever earn that for himself.

“Andi’s always liked me for who I am, not for who she wants me to be.”

“An arrogant dick?” Chase asked with too-innocent eyes.

“Hey, the better to fuck you with.” Aven batted his lashes in Chase’s direction.

“How long have you and Andi been best friends?”

“Since forever. I don’t have a memory of existing before Andi, we’ve been neighbors for most of our lives.”

The eternal girl next door. Chase thought about how impossible that seemed. To live in the same home your entire life. He didn’t think he could even count all the places his family had crashed on both hands.

“What is it?” Aven asked softly.

“It’s nothing,” Chase told him, shaking his head. “You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I know,” Aven said simply, popping open his car door. “And now I have you too.”

Chase followed him into the house, remembering what Aven said about Andi liking him for who he was. From what Chase could tell, a lot of people looked at Aven and saw him a certain way, thinking he was something he really wasn’t. Chase did that when eying all the superficial pieces of Aven too.

But the real Aven was a million times better than the Aven he’d made up in his head. Aven was funny and charming and kind. He was sexy and he listened and instinctively tried to make everything alright. And he made Chase feel safe in a way he’d never known.

“Hey,” Chase said as Aven pulled ingredients from the pantry. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, poking his head out to give Chase a questioning stare.

“Just for listening, I guess.”

“Any time.” His gaze locked pointedly on Chase. “I mean that, okay?”

“Okay.”

Following the cookie recipe brought back young memories of time spent in the kitchen with Brooklyn. Aven pulled up an album they’d played on repeat lately, singing along under his breath as they measured ingredients out.

Finally, sliding a tray of peanut butter heart-shaped cookies into the pre-heated oven, Aven cocked his head to one side. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“This is our song.”

“Yesterday you said the same thing about the song that played a minute ago.”

“That’s because this is our album.”

“I thought our album was the first one we had sex to?”

“Our album is whatever we’re listening to together. Because every song is for us. Every song is ours.” He moved a hand to the curve of Chase’s back, the other sliding palm-to-palm.

Aven whispered honeyed lyrics into the shell of Chase’s ear, gliding them around the kitchen as though it were a dance floor. Like a prince sweeping a pauper around the ballroom. And Chase held on, swaying, breathing into the warm, male scent of Aven’s skin.

The oven timer went off and Aven turned to it, but Chase tugged him back in, giving him a kiss that sang of stay, stay, stay, all while the persistent buzzer warned their time was up.

He’d never know how he got so lucky. Everything about Aven was 24-karat gold. Chase was cubic zirconia that got passed around thrift shops. He could never match up.

“Chase. You lost somewhere?”

“Huh?”

Aven tapped his temple. “You go somewhere else, babe?”

“No.” He grabbed Aven’s hand. “I’m right here. With you.”

For as long as the dream would hold, there was no place he’d rather be than with Aven on a makeshift dance floor.