Bitter Affectionate

Chapter 23

"How many bikes do you think are in there?" Brent asked. He was lounging in the bed of my truck, leaned against the back windshield, looking out on the pond. It was an unnaturally warm day, so he was just in jeans and a t-shirt, and he was basking in the sunlight we didn't often get.

"More than ten, for sure," I answered. I was sat sideon, so I could see him. Something about his watchful eye kept me in check. Which was precisely what I needed since I was unravelling at the seams.

"Psh, ten is child's play," He said. "There's probably been ten added in the last year."

"Jump in and count if you're so curious."

"Don't tempt me, man. That pond is just asking me to be in it."

"Gross."

Brent gave me a solid shove, which only made me chuckle more. He rolled his eyes at me, but he was grinning about as much as I was.

"Progress," Brent commented. I didn't grace that with a response. It was too far from the truth. "Look at us, all smiles. You might be able to fool someone into thinking we're normal."

"Someone who never met us, maybe."

"Do you think it's weird?" Brent asked, glancing over at me with a amusingly thoughtful expression. "The way we can just be... okay every so often?"

"No," I replied. "Ups and downs, right? We're just people. We're allowed to be okay."

He looked back out at the pond. His eyes glittered more than the rippling water, and the sun created a halo around him. I hated that even when we were happy, some part of him felt wrong. I'd cure it all if I could. If only I knew how.

"We should get in the pond," He declared. He seemed rather sure of himself, but I still rolled my eyes like he was kidding.

"It's not that warm."

"Always a pessimist," He scolded. He scooted to the edge, so his legs dangled off the truck, and hoisted his shirt off over his head. He tossed it carelessly behind him and began untying his shoes. "Don't you want to do stupid teenage things? We do enough whining, let's get hypothermia and have a story to tell."

I laughed at him as he kicked his sneakers off, letting them thud to the dirt.

Once his feet were bare, he hopped off the truck and turned to face me as he quarreled with the button of his jeans.

"C'mon, I'm not going in alone," He said. I raised a brow at him.

"Oh, I think you are," I teased. "I'm not getting in."

"Oh, I think you are," He repeated. He was very sure of himself, which wasn't a good thing for me. He was very good at getting me to do whatever nonsense he wanted. With the button of his jeans undone, he leaned against the truck, puppy dog eyes on me. "You're not going to sit here and brood while I swim with bikes like the shittest seaworld event ever. And don't ask me if shittest is a word, because I don't care."

"Actually, I was going to say that seaworld is sea creatures and this is a pond."

He narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if I could find any part of him truly dangerous.

"Clothes off. Pond time."

He was done with me, then. He turned back to the pond, unzipped his jeans and dropped them to his ankles, leaving him in solid red boxers. He stretched like his clothing had been holding him down.

I shook my head at him, but - like the obedient bastard I was - began to get undressed as well.

I wasn't quite as bold - nor eager - as he was, so I started on my shoes first. I took my sweet time, taking too much pleasure in forcing him to stand in his boxers in the semi-cold air as he waited for me.