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Two

Ezra

October 12, 2018

I t’s like someone flipped a switch, and now it’s all just good times. I don’t trust it, but I let myself sink in the way I did one day when we went to an island in the lake and swam together. Cool submerge, and when I look up at the surface, I see Miller through the sloshing water—his face, smiling. Miller like an angel telling me to come up. Telling me to stay.

I stay because I want to. Really. That’s my secret. All I’ve ever wanted since I was a little kid was play football and watch movies and drive in a Jeep with the top off through some trees, down a dirt road, and at the end there’s something good. There’s something worth it.

Miller loves me. I can tell he -wants-me in his room at night. One night I didn’t go in, just to test it, and he came and got me.

“C’mon angel. I get cold without you.”

That’s what he says now, like it’s just a fact- that he gets cold without my body heat up on him. I’m hot when I sleep, I guess. He says I’m like a heating blanket.

We take turns who’s in back. Lots of times, I like to wrap him up all snug and shit. Other times, he’ll spoon me. Sometimes I tell him I want him to do that. And he does.

Yeah- it’s that easy.

It feels good.

It’s October.

It’s October, and I’ve played six games now. Marcel and I fucking kill it. There’s been scouts there almost every week—for him and me. Last week, we won 78-21. I’m looking online, and my stats are better than damn near every other QB. There’s this guy in Texas, and another one in North Carolina. But I think I’m still ahead. Maybe. I’m not even sure how much it matters.

Other than at practice and on game days, I almost forget about it.

I think about Miller in the mornings with his sleepy eyes. The way he smiles and tucks his face into my shoulder. The weight of his arm around my back. It’s the best feeling.

It’s October 12th, and I’m sitting in my Jeep with ten minutes before game time for us players. Scribbling in a spiral notebook. Like old times. But it’s not like old times. I’m going to rip this up or fold it up or - something safe when I’m done.

I got here early to call mom. Mostly because I want to keep things smooth with DG.

Keeping this smooth is I guess all I want. For this whole school year. I get to wake up with him every morning, kiss his freckles and ruffle his hair before we go downstairs for breakfast. In the car, I get to touch his knee and feel him up through his pants. Sometimes we trade parking lot blow jobs. We meet up in school bathrooms twice a day. Sometimes out behind the school, and other times up in the library loft. I get to taste his warm, soft Miller mouth. I get his hands on my face.

All I have to do- my only task- is keeping my shit separate from him.

I didn’t get my mom just now, but I left her a voicemail. Letting her know I’m ok. I tell her I’m “seeing someone.” Not a lie. I think it’ll make her happy. Carl told me she called him the other day, so I know she’s not in the dark. She knows I’m alive. I’m sure she’s keeping track of my football stats, too.

After the game tonight, we’re going to a party. In the last week or so, we’ve been making an effort to go out with everybody else, so no one notices about us. We sneak off in the woods and mess around or hang in a group together. I appreciate Mills even when there’s other people around.Always, always, always-

Last weekend, we went to his dad’s house. His dad, who’s such a shit to Miller, acts like he likes me- and I don’t like it.

You know what I like the best lately?

Holding Mills in bed and watching stupid TV with him. We lift weights together sometimes.

It’s all perfect.

It feels weird to write like this again. Like in a journal.

I just want to tell you that I’m happier than I deserve. And that I love him.

I hope it will last.