Page 56 of Totally Geeked

We haven’t hung out in ages, not really. Most of my afternoons have been spent with Arlo, and Duckie and Ian don’t exactly spend a lot of time out of their room either.

“Sure, that would be good.”

“No anchovies, extra mushrooms, right?”

“Perfect.”

***

“Gross, what is this?” Ian asks, flipping the lid on the pizza box.

“Those would be mushrooms, the best pizza topping in the world," I reply, grabbing it from his hands.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re one to talk, you put pineapple on yours.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Pineapple is a fruit. You put fungus on yours.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” I laugh, holding up a piece for him. He frowns but takes it and then hands me a piece of his. I can smell the sweetness of the pineapple before it even reaches my lips.

“On three,” Duckie says, like he’s calling a match of some game. “The first one to spit it out or throw up loses.”

“I thought you were inviting me for a relaxing pizza night, not a disgusting food showdown,” I laugh, and he shrugs.

“You two started this, I’m just ending it. Besides, I deserve to have fun, too.”

“Just call it,” I say, and lock eyes with Ian. He’s nowhere near as reserved as he was the first time we met. He throws me a cheeky grin as Duckie counts down then on one, we both bite down. The pineapple hits the roof of my mouth, and when I chew it bursts with sweet juice over my tongue, making me gag.

“Ohhhh,” Duckie teases, leaning in close. Ian’s nose is scrunched up, and his mouth looks like it’s fighting him just as much on each chew of my pizza. Neither one of us will quit though. When he swallows, I force myself to do the same, and I think we’ll be good to call it a draw, but then that fucker goes in for a second bite.

“Nope, I’m out, you win,” I say, tossing the rest of the pineapple piece at him. It lands in his lap covering his crotch with toppings and sauce.

His eyes go wide, and he spits out what’s left in his mouth, then throws the piece at me hitting me in the chest.

“Winner!” Duckie cheers, grabbing his hand and holding it up in the air, and I laugh, and it’s real, whole, and amazing. I want so badly to be able to do this sort of thing with Arlo. To hang out with friends, not eat pineapple on pizza, ’cause no way is that going into my mouth again, but this part. Laughing andrelaxing and just being us, being open in our relationship with our friends. I want that so bad.

***

The second I walk into the locker room the next morning, Gordon glares in my direction, and as much as I should be waiting until tonight, the dinner where Arlo plans to have it out with him, my stomach is churning like a raging fire pit, and it’s like all these years of friendship mean nothing to him. Like I mean nothing to him.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m done with your bullshit,” I say, storming over. “You have a problem with me dating your brother, fine. That’s your problem, not mine.” He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the locker. “You think I’m not good enough, and you’re probably right, but for some miracle in the universe, he wants to be with me, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love Arlo, so if that costs me what I thought was the greatest friendship anyone could have ever had, then I guess that is the choiceyouare making.”

My pulse is thumping in my ears. My whole body is hot, like I’ve run a marathon, a lump rises to my throat and my eyes sting with the onset of what I’m sure are tears, but I fight them back as I turn to walk away.

“You’re unbelievable,” he starts but I don’t turn around. I raise my right hand to flip him off and head straight out onto the field.

“Hey, Alan, everything okay? Why aren’t you out there already?” I ask when I see him on the side of the field.

“I’m good. I was just…watching.”

I scan the field, only a few of the guys are already out there from our team, but the Funky Monkeys are in full swing already.

“Who are you watching?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.

“No one in particular,” he says, a rosy blush rising to his cheeks that says otherwise.

“Sure,” I agree, moving to hold on to the fence beside him while I stretch my legs.

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