Permanent Scars

Oversized Sweaters And Shirtless Boys

November 16, Saturday. 1:45 p.m.

"I feel like I wasted summer this year," Adam mutters softly, leaning forward as he wraps his arms around his crossed legs. A few spaces away, umbrella lying beside him, Dylan leans against the twisty spine of a young oak tree that has taken root in the stones. His eyes are half closed as if he's napping.

   I flick a pebble over the edge of the crumbling wall we've perched ourselves on, watching it fall into the slow-moving water below. "Why do you say that?"

   He stares off into the wide, wild yonder, a small smirk playing at his pierced lips as he moves his left arm to snake his pinky around mine. "Because. I didn't know you. And I think if we'd met earlier, we'd have had the best summer ever."

   My cheeks get hot and Dylan's eyes widen briefly before narrowing in a secretive smirk, so much like Adam's.

Why does he have to make faces like that? Why are they so much alike?

   "Well, we know each other now," I mumble, my mind racing in search for words. "We can have next summer."

   His eyes darken. "I don't know."

   "Why? Adam, tell me why you said that."

   He won't speak. Removes his pinky. Though the day is warm, a chill wind wisps through the surrounding trees. He loosely hugs his legs again, perched on the edge of the wall, clad in his turtleneck sweater and black skinny jeans. It's a good look for him, dare I say it. Is it normal to find your own best friend attractive? Moreover, is it okay?

Today's been very different in comparison to the past couple of weeks. And by different I mean it's more like the night of my birthday, or the night of my Initiation. Adam is his usual melancholy self, not overly concerned with me, not too stuck in his own drama. Dylan is Dylan. I never notice anything out of the ordinary with him. Despite his own anxiety, he's the only one out of us three who's actually stable in terms of behavior. I, on the other hand, am an emotional pendulum. Adam is a chameleon metronome.

   But today, we're more like the people we were when we first met. With the exception of actually knowing each other, of course.

   Having stared in contemplation at the water for quite some time now, Adam turns his face slightly in my direction.

   "I kinda want to go swimming."

   "So swim," Dylan yawns from his lounge spot.

   "Fine, I will." Adam wags his head with attitude and stands, pulling off his sweater and tossing it to me. I'm not sure what possesses me to do so, but I take it willingly and slip it over my head. Mmm. Cozy. Warm, smells like him. Really soft, too. Absolute apparel perfection.

   Adam tips his head to one side, a bit puzzled, then starts laughing. Dylan is trying not to grin. He keeps acting like he knows something, and I don't understand.

   "Alrighty, then." He turns to Dylan. "Look, Dyl. She's wearing my sweater."

   "Aye," I smirk, waving a floppy sleeve in the asthmatic's direction. Dylan shakes his head, no longer able to keep a smile off his face. I love watching him come out of his shell.

   He takes us all by surprise by jumping to his feet with a swiftness I had no clue he was capable of, shoving Adam over the edge of the wall. Of course, Adam has catlike reflexes and grabs onto his buddy, dragging both of them into the water. I stand on the edge and watch them sink, both boys shouting and laughing. A struggle occurs in the liquid as Adam attempts to dunk Dylan, but the shy boy is sneaky and slips out, leaving nothing but his shirt in Adam's grasp.