Page 10 of As the Years Pass
“Hey, you wanna go grab lunch?” Brett shouts from across the locker room. I look up, realizing he’s talking to me.
“Nah, man. I have a family thing to do.”
“Fucking boring,” he mutters, then goes over to Kent, who’s sitting on the bench, lacing his sneakers. “How about you?”
“You driving?” he asks.
“I guess.”
“Cool. I’ll be done in five.”
I grab my stuff, faintly listening to them talk about where they’re going to get food. Part of me wishes I had enough energy to go. Another part of me is fine going home and helping my parents make this new kid comfortable.
A lot of the kids who come to us are taken away from their families because they’ve been abused. My parents do a lot of emergency cases, where kids come in the middle of the night.
This new guy, Adam, is coming to us because his parents died and he doesn’t have any family. Getting ripped out of the only home you know must suck, though I guess there is some relief knowing you won’t be abused any more. But having your parents die then getting shoved into a stranger’s home? It sucks. It has to.
So yeah, I’m fine going home and helping my parents because this kid doesn’t deserve this shit.
I park in the large driveway and head inside, unsure if Adam is here yet or not. But my question is answered the moment Iopen the door and I see him sitting on the couch, head bowed, arms resting on his thighs. One black duffel bag is lying on the floor beside his feet.
Even from here I can see how attractive he is—even without him looking directly at me. I see the shape of his nose and jaw, the curve of his shoulder. Fuck, he’s beautiful.
I’ve known I’m into guys for a few years now, but I don’t usually have an attraction to the kids coming to live here. In fact, it’s never happened before—ever. So this is… jarring.
“Hey, honey,” my mother says. I flick my gaze to hers and offer a smile, hoping that my dick will stop inflating now that it knows she’s here too.
Thankfully, it does.
“Hey.”
“How was practice?”
I shrug, dropping my bag to the floor by the door. “Just practice.”
“This is Adam,” she says. “I was just telling him about you, actually. Here, sweetie.”
She moves beside him, offering him a bottle of water. He looks up quickly, ignoring me, but taking the water from her. He twists the cap off and takes the smallest sip before replacing it.
“I was hoping you could show him to his room?” my mother says, looking at me.
“Yeah, of course.”
I toe my shoes off, leaving them in the pile by the door. Our house is clean, but it’s lived in. You can tell a handful of boys live in this house, that’s for sure. There are shoes piled up by the door, sports equipment up against the wall, and a musky scent the moment you walk up the stairs.
“You, uh, ready?” I ask, taking a few steps toward Adam.
He sighs, then gets to his feet. His eyes meet mine, and they widen slightly. He pulls them away just as quickly, grabbing his bag and staring at the floor.
“Come on.”
I head up the stares, hoping he’ll follow. Halfway up, I catch my mother’s soft smile. I give her one back.
“So, this is your room,” I say, walking inside. “You have to share with me, because all the others are taken. I hope you’re okay with the top bunk.”
He looks around the room, taking in every inch. The posters on the walls, the curtains, the stuff along my dresser, the beds. But he doesn’t say anything.
“This dresser is yours, and you can do what you want with the closet. I don’t really use it.”
