Page 40 of One Hot Summer
He hugged back, hard. “Don’t make me regret saying this, but I’m happy for you, Adam. For both of you.” He looked down at his feet, then back up, eyes uncharacteristically gentle. “If it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you. I haven’t seen my dad this happy in… well, ever. And it’s all because of you.”
I wanted to laugh it off, toss him a snarky comeback, but the words caught me off guard. My throat closed up. “Dalton—” I started, but he waved it away.
“Don’t get all emotional on me, I’ll break out in hives,” he said, but his voice shook just a little. “Just—take care of him, okay? And yourself.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. He clapped me on the shoulder, then, reverting back to form, added, “But don’t get cocky. I’m still the favorite.”
I found my voice. “Dude, you’re not even the favorite when you’re not competing against anyone.”
He rolled his eyes, then grinned. “Bet I still get the best Christmas presents.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” I said, smiling so hard it hurt.
Down on the street, Dalton revved the engine while I took one last look up at our old windows. They reflected nothing but sky and sun, empty as a blank sheet. It was over. A whole era, packed into boxes and carried out in the back seat of my best friend’s Civic. I turned my attention to the windshield, keeping my eyes forward. The next chapter was waiting for me, and I couldn’t wait to watch the story unfold.
Griffin’s condo was a world away from anything I’d ever called home: floor-to-ceiling windows, oak floors you could see your reflection in, a kitchen stocked with actual knives instead of a plastic spork collection. Everywhere I looked tonight there was evidence of our lives merging together—my video game collection on his console, a framed photo of the two of us above the TV, a stack of my paperbacks already wedged haphazardly onto his precisely ordered shelf.
Dalton made a show of stacking the last box in the foyer and then plopping down on the couch, legs splayed. “So, this is how the other half lives,” he joked.
I snorted and flopped beside him. “You should know seeing as how you grew up with all this.”
He nodded solemnly, the teasing faded, and he just looked at me, really looked. “You’re gonna be good here,” he said.“Promise me you won’t be a stranger. You might be dating my dad, but you’ll always be my best friend.”
“Promise,” I said, and meant it.
A little later, after we’d downed pizza and sodas, Dalton stood to go, patting me on the shoulder with a quick, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Actually, scratch that, you probably already have. Just don’t set the kitchen on fire. My dad’s blood pressure can’t take it.”
I shoved him, but he yanked me back for a quick hug. He hugged Griffin too, and then he was gone. For a minute, it was weirdly quiet. The only sound was the city, humming behind double panes of glass.
Griffin pulled me into his arms. He looked tired, but the good kind—the kind that came from a full day of real, honest living. His shirt was open at the throat, and there was a hint of stubble along his jaw, the sort of imperfection I would have died to touch even a month ago. I reached up, framed his face with both hands, and just stared for a moment, because I could.
“You sure about this?” I whispered. “About all of it. Living together… me?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Adam, I have never been surer of anything in my life.”
The words hit me so hard it almost knocked the air out of me. I swallowed, unsure how to respond, so I just pressed my forehead to his and let the silence fill in the rest. After a long minute, I broke the spell. “So, what do we do now?”
He smiled, slow and warm, and pulled me onto the couch, lowering me gently until we were both sprawled out in a tangle of limbs. “Now,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes, “we live.”
I grinned. “That’s it? Just… live?”
He nodded. “Happily. Together.”
I bit my lip. “Forever?”
He nodded again and then started kissing my face in rapid-fire succession: temple, cheek, nose, the spot right by my ear that made me snort with laughter. “You’re such a dork,” I said, and he only grinned wider.
“And you love it,” he countered, before kissing me again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fade to white noise. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t waiting for disaster. I was just… happy.
