Page 27 of Saving Sparrow
His happiness was infectious, so I didn’t complain when he dumped me onto the bed and tackled me—although my bruises had a lot to say about it.
Elliott and Quentin formed their own bond after that. We’d all officially become friends.
Miguel
Then
We spilled into the bedroom, soaking wet from the rain. Quentin began stripping out of his clothes on the way to the bathroom. “Anyone want to join me?” he asked as he pulled the wet fabric over his head.
“I was on the sidelines,” I said, peeling my own shirt off. “You and Elliott were the ones running around getting sweaty.”
It had been another week of spending our days with Elliott. There was no more quality time with just us two while Quentin raged about it somewhere. The three of us were inseparable.
Quentin looked at Elliott from the bathroom doorway, a teasing grin on his face.
“I’ll use the bathroom down the hall,” Elliott said predictably. Quentin’s laugh could be heard even after he’d closed the door.
I rummaged through the clean laundry basket for something to wear while Elliott grabbed something from the closet, then padded down the hall. I was sitting on the couch reading when he and Quentin both appeared at the same time.
Elliott wore a knee-length red dress. He’d undone the braid he’d worn to run drills with Quentin, leaving his hair hanging in wet, loose waves.
“Bold choice,” Quentin said in that unfiltered way of his. Elliott flushed, sitting on the fluffy rug in front of the couch and tucking his feet under him. I loved that he felt comfortable enough to slip into my mother’s things. I noticed he only wore the new stuff, and I wondered if that was in respect to my sentimentality, or if the idea of wearing something she’d worn creeped him out. Either way, I appreciated it.
“Can I ask you something?” I set my book aside as Quentin knelt behind Elliott, a hairbrush in hand. We were on day four of this routine. They did football stuff, showered, then Quentin brushed the tangles from Elliott’s hair while I read aloud. It was cute seeing Quentin soften for Elliott in a way he never did for me, and even cuter seeing Elliott take interest in Quentin’s second favorite thing—football. Neither made me feel jealous, which I took as a good sign. It felt like I was gaining something rather than losing Quentin.
“Something like what?” Elliott wasn’t a fan of questions, at least not the intrusive kind.
I phrased it three different ways in my head before speaking. “Why do you like to dress like that?”
He couldn’t see Quentin, but I didn’t miss the interest in his gaze as he sectioned Elliott’s hair. We’d both been wondering.
Elliott rubbed the silk fabric between his fingers. “It’s soft and comfortable, and it feels that way against my skin.” His lips thinned as he seemed to struggle to find something more to say. “It feels like I should be in it. I mean, I’m a guy, but this feels like me too. I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated with himself. “I just like it.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I like it too.”
Elliott gave me a half-smile.
I tried to hold my next question in, but it came out anyway. “Did you pray before putting it on?” When he didn’t answer right away, I tried again. “Why do you do that?” I knew he prayed; he always did before changing into something more “comfortable.” We could hear the mumbled words drifting through the closet door.
Quentin stopped brushing his hair, and the moment became awkward as we both waited for Elliott to reply.
“Part force of habit,” he eventually said.
“And the other part?” I prompted softly.
Elliott bunched the skirt of the dress between his fists, staring down at it. “I want to be different. I want towantdifferent things.”
“Does it ever work? Praying?” Quentin asked as he came around to sit on the couch with me.
Elliott gazed down at the dress again. “No.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Quentin said, “because we like you the way you are. Maybe you can even find something comfortable to run drills in tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “There’s some cotton stuff in there. You can wear shorts underneath.”
“Outside?” He seemed terrified by the idea.
“No one’s gonna see you,” Quentin said. “I mean,wesaw you the last time, but no one else will see you. We’ll tell Olga to take the day off, and you and I can do simple stuff. No routes. Offensive plays only, and I’ll let you be the quarterback this time.”
