René stretched out on his bed. He was such a jerk. A fucking asshole. A total knob.
Any idiot could’ve smelled Billy’s fear. He was in grade ten, desperately attempting to claw his way to grade twelve. The freshmen year was about getting the toes wet. In grade ten, a dude waded into deeper waters. Hadn’t Keith said as much when René had emailed him about seeing a guy who was two grades behind him?
All his buddies were having sex, except for Chunk. That was because René’s numero uno man didn’t have a girlfriend, never had a girlfriend, and at this rate, his future looked girlfriendless.
René scrubbed his face. He was in the same category of loser, and not because he couldn’t get a date. There were way too many offers he’d already passed on.
Using a circular motion, he massaged his temples. At least Chunk had called at the right time, saying he didn’t need a lift to school tomorrow because he had to work the morning shift at his parents’ restaurant and his mom was dropping him off before first bell.
René sat up and crossed his legs. What Billy needed was understanding. Major patience, too. Since September, the poor guy had been shuffled around, starting at Uncle Ned’s and then landing here. He still had to go up against his brother and mother in court.
The dude packed all sorts of awesome. He deserved what he’d been deprived of from birth. Even though Billy snuck a lot of peeks at chicks, he’d been adamant about not wanting to date any of them—especially Carla Morrisseau, whose dark eyes said she’d do anything to be Billy’s girlfriend.
Could he turn around and cut Billy loose again? Give him a chance to live a normal life? René flopped back on the mattress. His head sank into his fave pillow. This new whatever-it-was-going on between the two of them was enough to give him a migraine.
There was a knock.
Weird. He should’ve seen Mom or Dad’s headlights flash in his side and back window when they’d entered the driveway. He must’ve been too busy thinking to notice.
“Enter,” he called out.
Billy poked his head inside, a totally weird move for a ballsey guy who always got up in everyone’s faces—especially René’s.
“‘Sup?” he asked.
Dumb question. By Billy’s downcast gaze and rounded shoulders, René had again hurt the one person he didn’t wish to. Fuck, he was always pulling this crap. He must get his act together. Then again, he’d given fair warning to Billy to run far away when he’d begun pursuing a friendship between them during the middle of September.
“C’mere.” René sat up. He patted the edge of the bed.
Billy shuffled across the sitting room to the main sleeping area, fingers in his jeans, head still slightly downcast. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean to blow it.”
His gorgeous hooded eyes, the shape of almonds, and a sexy long, straight nose with lips the same thick size, were as downcast as his slumped stance. His gaze begged for another chance.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” René said quietly. “I get you’re in grade ten and—”
The old Billy flickered by the lifting of his perfectly sculpted chin. He was quite the babe. Not the drop-dead, capable of making a dude’s tongue hit the floor Keith Harlow kind of sexy. Not even close, but Billy still had some growing up to do, even if he was filling out his clothes. He wasn’t the food-deprived kid anymore, having packed on a good fifteen pounds from tasting real chow instead of scrounging for leftovers in a home run by two loser drunks who should be sitting in jail cells, not out on bail.
Billy plopped on the edge of the bed. “I... I wish I could explain...” He wiped his palms on his jeans.
“You don’t gotta explain anything. You’re in grade ten.”
A scowl twisted Billy’s mouth. “Why do you always gotta say that?”
Oh, man, another thing about this guy—talk about being stuck in an interrogation room under a hot spotlight for the last two months.
“Say what?” René squinted.
“Bring up how I’m two grades behind you. It doesn’t matter. ‘Kay?” Billy pointed back and forth. “We gel, don’t we?”
Yes, they did. From the start, René had assumed he’d been helping Billy build a new life, but because of the guy’s never-ending questions, pushy ways, and determinedness, he’d forced René to acknowledge what he loathed most about himself. If only he could say this kind of shit aloud. Maybe typing everything out to Keith and clicking the mouse button to hit send had gotten too easy.
“We gel...” René tangled his fingers with Billy’s. They were smooth hands, only the palms a bit chafed from holding charcoal pencils to sketch.
A smile wiped away Billy’s downturned lower lip. He stretched across René’s lap, staring up at him with the familiar look of hearts pretty much beating in his eyes. He’d once insisted René held a lot of power over people. Did he? He skimmed his fingers through Billy’s loose mop of waves. His bangs were swept to the side.
If not for Keith, maybe more could happen between them. But this was simply dating. Billy still had a shitload of living to do, new stuff to discover about himself, Keith had said in his last email about sophomores. And René couldn’t give his heart away, not when Keith had already claimed it, whether his elder brother’s best friend wanted it or not.
René traced Billy’s fine cheekbones, then explored his brows.
Billy wet his lips and sighed. “I could lie like this forever.” An almost crackle-like echo came from his soothing declaration.
A pipe dream. Eventually, they’d go their separate ways. René kept running his fingers through Billy’s fluff of curls. He might have once been a drug-dealing, lying, thieving punk, but he wasn’t like his former buddies. The vulnerability reflecting in Billy’s eyes said as much.
Deep down, they were both outcasts who didn’t fit into the puzzle at school. But that was changing. The sophomore class was accepting Billy. He stood a chance.
This former punk deserved the ultimate respect. Sex was a big fat no between them. He was in grade ten and should move at the same pace everyone in the sophomore class did.
“We can try...” Billy ran his finger along René’s chest.
Not a chance. René would cherish their time together before he said goodbye when he turned eighteen next December. By then it’d be considered illegal for him to be seeing someone under the age of majority, Keith had said.
For now, René was still sixteen. They made a great team. They were learning lots about themselves through their friendship. Hopefully, whatever expectations Billy had were realistic instead of a fantasy, but knowing Billy, he’d want the fantasy.
* * * *
Billy walked up the bus steps to talking and laughing. Stuart and Andrew waved from the middle section. They sat with Carla, Meghan, and Bonnie, something they’d been doing ever since the Halloween Dance.
As Billy made his way down the aisle, palms came out for the laying of fives. This was too awesome, how in only two months everything had changed. At the beginning of September, he’d boarded to fearful, downcast gazes, doing their best to hide from his attention.
His former main men, Lonn and Dylan, sat at the very back, a spot where Billy used to sit. The moccasin telegraph was saying they’d taken over his old job and were dealing for Hoyt now.
Billy plopped in the seat beside Carla, the only spot left amongst his new crew.
“Hi.” Carla ducked her head.
“Hey.” Billy removed his backpack.
“You in?” From behind, Stuart poked Billy’s shoulder.
“In for what?”
“We’re going to the movies this weekend,” Stuart replied while his eyes shifted to the side at Meghan sitting beside him.
That bordered on dating. Billy rubbed his jeans. If he went, he’d hurt René again. There wouldn’t be a repeat of the Halloween dance when he’d almost lost the guy he...
The breath left Billy’s throat. Holy hell. He loved René. This was what love must feel like. Wasn’t this why he’d pursued the senior class’s most popular guy relentlessly, never giving up? The more René had resisted, the more Billy had pushed to get his way.
Last night, he’d wanted love from René—not sex. Long kisses. Time spent lying on the dude’s bed together. A chance to let it all unfold until René was Billy’s for keeps. But the only way to win the René’s love was for Billy to go down a road that had him trembling in his bus seat.
If this were Lonn or Dylan, they’d dive in headfirst to get nasty with any ol’ smokin’-hot girl.
“Dude, you in?” Stuart leaned over the back of Billy and Carla’s seat.
They had turned off Ojibway Drive. The bus was on City Road, heading for the T section.
“I... I... can’t.” Billy licked his lips. “I promised Mrs. O I’d help her around the house.”
Disappointment filled Carla’s big dark eyes.
Billy glanced away. Something resembling needles dug into his spine.
* * * *
Minus Chunk, René sat in his usual chair at Gold’s Coffee with his usual buddies and their girlfriends. In the past, he’d enjoyed holding court and talking music. Today, he built a pyramid from the empty creamer containers. Bottom line. The table might as well be empty sans The Chunkster—and Billy, who’d always joined them before Dad had put a stop to it on Monday morning.
“Interesting, Renny.” A smirk lingered on Sheldon’s words. “You taking up art now? That’s something outcasts do.”
René clasped his cigarette he’d let burn in the ashtray and took a drag. He sat back in his chair. “Well, if you had something more interesting to say other than hyping yourself, maybe I’d listen.”
Ian, Eddie, and their girlfriends chuckled under their breaths.
Vince, naturally, set his hand on the back of Sheldon’s chair and cast René a warning look. The Gerhard twins, Matt and Mike, ducked their heads, so it was hard to tell if they were laughing or pissed. As for the brothers’ girlfriends, the chicks had expressions of confusion on their pretty faces.
Moxy palmed her mouth, but the plumpness of her cheeks said she was trying to hide her laugh.
Sheldon’s blue eyes narrowed. He stink-eyed his girlfriend. “You find something funny?”
Moxy shrugged. She stretched her mouth in weird shapes while stirring her coffee, most likely attempting to contain her smile.
“What’s the problem, Renny?” Sheldon tossed his spoon on the table. “That was a shitty thing to say.”
“If you wanna bust my balls, I can bust yours, too.” René held Sheldon’s hard stare.
“I wasn’t busting your balls. I was pointing out only outcasts would do something...” Sheldon motioned at the pyramid of creamers “... like that.” He glanced around where other it seniors sat at their tables or booths.
“Don’t worry. I think they got better things to do than wonder what I’m doing with these.” René set the tip of his index finger against his thumb and flicked a creamer on the bottom of the pyramid. They toppled over. One rolled along the table.
“I’m not worried...” Sheldon glancing at the other seniors. “Where’s your lapdog? Noticed he hasn’t been around all week. Seems you’re riding by yourself to the school since The Chunkster had to work.”
“I’ll ride with Renny,” Moxy piped up.
Sheldon’s jaw almost hit the table. He averted his hard stare to Moxy, who kept eyeballing René.
“Looks like I’m not riding alone.” René couldn’t help his grin. He took a drag off the cigarette.
“It... uh... err...” Matt glanced at his brother. “We should get going. It’s gonna be first bell soon.”
The Gerhard twins could never make up their minds which team they were on. René reached inside his jacket and withdrew his wallet. He tucked the bill beneath his mug for the waitress. Everyone began doing the same thing.
They piled out to the parking lot. René hit the remote on his key set and unlocked the doors. He got in and started the truck. The passenger door opened. Moxy’s long legs stepped in first, followed by the rest of her sleek body that would have stood René’s dick at attention... if he were straight.
“You sure about this? Y’know he’ll be pissed,” he asked.
“So?” Moxy closed the door. Her seductive fragrance, Sex on Ice by Cleo LeSalle, invaded the interior. She opened her silver-studded leather purse and withdrew a pack of gum. “Want one?”
“Pass, but thanks.” He stole another glance.
Empire Records was Moxy’s favorite movie. She looked it, too. A plaid miniskirt, long black underwear, combat boots, a midriff-baring fluffy sweater, and a studded leather jacket to match her purse. This week she’d died her hair neon blue to match Gwen Stefani. Instead of the double top knots, Moxy’s locks were parted in the middle and flowed down her back, because no self-respecting metal chick cut her hair.
He backed the truck out of the parking spot.
“Okay. I just don’t wanna be the guy who starts a fight between you two.” He guided his wheels from the parking lot and onto the congested Arthur Street.
“There’s nothing to fight about. Sheldon doesn’t own me.” Moxy blew a big bubble. “Be a doll and stop at Quickie Mart. I need more gum.”
“Sure.” There was one on the main drag. René hit his turning signal and pulled into the convenience store’s lot.
While she headed inside, he dug around in his compartment for a CD. He set Tiny Music... Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop by the Stone Temple Pilots into the stereo. Eric Kretz’ drumming was so underrated and should be given way more props. Not only was he the band’s drummer, he wrote a lot of songs, something that had inspired René to join Ian in writing music.
“I’m back.” Moxy plopped in the seat. She leaned over and lowered the stereo volume.
René stifled his sigh. Why did only Chunk respect the music enough to keep the level at eleven?
“Wanna get high?”
“High?” A rush of cars came in their direction. René whisked the truck onto Arthur Street so they wouldn’t have to wait for the onslaught of vehicles and end up being late. “We got class.”
“Oh, c’mon, skipping won’t hurt any.”
“Pass. Mr. Garrett’s starting a new lesson today.”
“I hear you. Advanced classes seem to pick your brain.”
Too true. Only René and Matt were staying an extra year to obtain their Ontario Academic Credit. The rest of the clique were going to college or trade school.
“If you think advanced classes seem hard, they’re nothing compared to university, my bro said.” René guided them north onto James Street. “Danny was always studying. He still studies. He’s going for his MBA.”
Moxy smoothed her skirt and shifted in the seat, staring directly at him. “Renny...”
“Yeah?”
They cruised by buildings and houses.
“I always thought we would’ve hooked up after I nominated you for Freshie King...”
René squeezed the stick shift and steering wheel.
“I mean, nobody expected you to win, right? We’re rockers.”
“I guess so.” What was he supposed to say? Shit, one of his buddies’ girlfriends was macking on him.
“It’s why we nominated you. We knew if anyone could win, it was you.”
“Thanks.” René glanced out his own window at the houses.
“Renny... “
“Yeah?” Maybe he should crank up the tunes.
If Sheldon heard this conversation, he’d freak. As much of a pain in the ass he was at times, they’d been tight since kindergarten. There was no way René was betraying any of his friends, even if it meant getting laid. He wasn’t out for a night of humping anyway. He could do that whenever he wanted to with willing girls at parties. If his first time ever happened—and by the looks of things, he’d be collecting old-age pension by then—it’d happen with someone he wanted to screw.
She snapped her gum a few times. “You wanna hook up after you’re done work tonight?”
He whipped his head at her then back to the street. “What the... Huh? You’re seeing my bud. No way. Not a chance. Absolutely not.”
“What if we broke up—?”
“Still a big fat no. Guys have a code the same as chicks do. And we don’t go near our buddies’ girlfriends or ex-girlfriends. It’s just how it is.” René added a heaping of coldness to his tone before her offer started a fight within the clique.
He zipped the truck onto Churchill Drive. When he pulled up at the school, only a few people lingered outside. By the time on the stereo clock, the first bell had rung. Billy was still waiting, like always.
René switched off the truck, grabbed his books, and slammed the door shut. Moxy fell in step beside him. She took his arm.
“I didn’t mean to piss you off. I know how close you and Sheldon are, even when you’re giving each other major attitude.”
Having her arm through his was not the way René wanted to enter the school. By the flash of Billy’s eyes, he wasn’t impressed either. What a way to start the weekend. Ten bucks someone would box René’s ears before the end of the day.