Page 64 of The Way We Swing Back

“So, like, serious-serious?” I laughed, moving my eyebrows up and down.

Gavin blushed as red as his pajama shirt. “If you really need to know, we both want to wait until after we graduate before we do anything like that.”

“Ohhhh, so little Gavin is too scared to have sex, then,” Tanner said, mocking Gavin in a way I’d never seen before.

Gavin adjusted his body and looked at Tanner, as if weighing his words. “Nah. I don’t want to nuke my relationship the way you and Easton did yours.”

I wasn't sure what hit the floor first—Tanner's jaw or whatever was left of my composure. Zach burst out laughing and offered Gavin a fist pump, which he ignored. He was serious.

“Not cool, dude,” I said.

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” Tanner muttered. His arms crossed over his chest, his muscles flexing as he squeezed his biceps.

“Wasn’t trying to say it any way at all.”

“Well, it came off like you being a little shit,” Tanner said, his voice stronger.

Gavin sat up straight, as if bracing for a brotherly brawl to break out, his legs stiff and his feet on the floor, ready to pounce. Gavin might even have been big enough to take Tanner now, his build quickly molding into Zach’s.

“Alright, you three,” Zach said, still laughing. “Tanner, you deserved that. Gavin, don’t be a douchebag about stuff like that. Now settle down because I’m not explaining to Mom and Dad why Christmas Eve ended with another ER visit.”

I guessed I’d never looked at it from Gavin’s perspective. He’d really had a first-row seat to what’d happened between Tanner and I. Had our mistakes had that much of an impact on him? I guessed it made sense that they had.

We settled down for the night and spread out blankets across the floor before turning off the lights. A Christmas Story played on the TV, the volume a near whisper (apparently, another Quinn tradition).

Tanner and I took the outside of the sleeping arrangements, with Zach and Gavin creating a barrier between us. Gavin ended up inches away from me.

“I’m still mad at you for that comment,” I whispered at him, finding that spot under his ribs he hated to be tickled on.

“Yeah, well, you ignored me for three months one time, so I get a comment when I want one,” he said through spits of laughter, always unable to hold back.

“Good night, kid,” I said, finally releasing him from the torture.

“Night, Easton,” he said.

I put my head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. How had I gotten to this place? It was Christmas Eve, and I was wearing too-tight pajamas on the floor of the basement in a house I now called home with three guys I’d kill for. Did I deserve this—to be a kid again, waiting to give out presents in the morning, with my best friends right next to me?

No, whispered a small voice that used to be much louder. Then another voice whispered, Maybe. I forced myself to listen to the new voice as Ralphie talked on the TV screen, and my mind wandered into the land of dreams.

I wasn’t sure who woke up first the next morning, but by the time my eyes were fully open, so were the other three sets in the basement.

“Mom says we can go upstairs now,” Gavin said, not even waiting for the rest of us to stand before he jogged away.

I pulled down the pajama shirt and wiped boogers out of my eyes as we made our way to the top of the stairs.

“Pictures before presents,” Mrs. Quinn said from the doorway of the kitchen, her face merry and bright.

The three Quinn boys lined up next to each other as Mr. Quinn handed them Santa hats. I lingered behind, unsure where to place my hands. (Or feet. Or body.)

“Quit being Edgy Easton and get over here.” Tanner smiled at me, tossing a hat in my direction.

I grinned back and joined them, Gavin and Zach putting their arms around me as Mrs. Quinn snapped photo after photo. She finally released us, and Gavin sprinted toward the tree; I hoped he’d never figure out he was too old to act like Gavin.

The five of us followed Gavin into the living room, and I looked over the mountains of presents that had formed underneath the tree. Mr. Quinn sat in his chair, the steam rising from the mug of hot chocolate in his hand; Mrs. Quinn sat on the couch, the aroma of her tea mixing with the smell of the tree.

I sat next to her, smiling at Zach, Tanner, and Gavin on the ground, each of them unwrapping a present; wrapping paper and the sound of it tearing was everywhere.