Page 68 of The Way We Swing Back

There were still voices coming from the basement when I entered, but I didn’t trust myself around people, so I headed to my room. Well, Tanner’s room, but he’d refused to let me give it back to him while he was home for breaks, instead opting to sleep on Gavin’s bunk bed.

I jumped under the covers without changing and stared up at the stars on his ceiling, the glint calming me slightly. What was I supposed to do when a kid—and that was all he was—tried to kiss me?

I should ask Tanner.

Except I couldn’t. I’d promised Jake I wouldn’t tell anybody.

But what would Tanner say?

He’d say not to run again, I thought to myself. Well, I’d fucked that up by not saying anything in the car.

What would he do next? How would he possibly handle this?

He’d text Jake and tell him not to freak out, and we’d talk tomorrow.

I ripped out my phone and typed out the text. Jake was likely spiraling right now—I’d spiraled myself so many times, for the same reasons. I was close to spiraling tonight, too. But I found my inner Tanner and managed to send the text, hoping Jake would be okay. I liked the kid. But not like that.

Tanner didn’t even have to be here to tell me what to do. And he was still somehow right.

The next morning, I walked over to Jake’s house, taking the mile of sidewalk to think through how I wanted to approach him. Jake knew I was coming over; his text back to me had been three paragraphs of words in a single run-on sentence.

I’d bundled up in a hoodie and a jacket; my entire body radiated heat except for my toes, which walked through slush the entire way. The glint of the sun bounced off the six inches of snow covering the grass, somehow brighter than the sun itself.

Jake lived in a trailer park right outside of town; there were maybe a dozen houses surrounding a small playground area I’d never seen anyone use. His mom’s car sat in the driveway, so I shot him a text to come outside.

He came out wearing an old camouflage jacket on top of a pair of black athletic shorts. When he saw me, he pulled his winter hat low on his head and walked over.

Between him not making eye contact and his face blushing redder than the cold would have made it, I knew I’d have to be delicate with what I said.

“Maybe go put on some pants, you numbnuts.”

Okay, I could have been a little nicer there. But he smiled at me and finally made eye contact. “I’m fine; it’s not that cold.”

“Whatever, dude,” I said, walking away, knowing he’d follow. He caught up to me quickly, matching my stride as we strode toward the park entrance.

I only slowed down when we got near the swing set; should we stop here?

No. Too many memories of too many deep conversations. Better not let that distraction get in my way.

“So, what were you doing last night in the car, dude?”

Jake looked down at his feet, his arms barely swinging by his side anymore.

“I’m not mad at you or anything. But I need to figure out what that was.”

“I just thought, well... I don’t know.”

Choosing to give him space to answer, I shoved my hands into my hoodie, my fingertips ready to freeze off.

“I’ve never kissed anyone. I’m desperate. And you’ve always been so nice to me, and I thought you liked me. I’m sorry.”

“Jake, we’re friends. But you’re fifteen, and I’m eighteen. I’m not into you like that.”

“I know that now,” he said, finally lifting his head again and looking at me.

We had halted at a stop sign near a busy road; the sound of cars flying by made it tough to hear what Jake was saying.

“I’m sorry.” He kicked at the snow next to him, and a chunk of it flew in the air.