His Secret

3. Matías

CHAPTER THREE

MATíAS

He scoots up, one leg dangling off the side of the bed. I find myself leaning toward him, wondering what the hell kind of secret he’s about to reveal—to me of all people.

“I don’t want to work for my dad.”

I lean back. Was it ignorant to believe, even for the tiniest of seconds, that he was going to reveal he was secretly gay and also maybe had a crush on me? Perhaps. It could happen though. It does in books and movies.

“Oh?” I question, trying not to sound disappointed.

He nods. “I’m not saying that pro football is what I want to do either.”

“What do you want to do?”

He picks at a string on his hunter green comforter. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about a few things, but I guess they’re mostly hobbies.”

“Tell me.”

“I like writing.” He peers up at me like he’s waiting for me to make fun of him.

“Really? Like stories? Poetry? ”

“Stories, though I did start with poetry. I’m not too good at it. You’d think rhyming would be easy.”

I chuckle. “What else?”

He beams. I can almost see light radiating off of him. “Come here.”

Reaching into the drawer next to him, he pulls out a photo album. I’m standing in front of the bed, but he taps the spot next to him so I reluctantly climb on top of the covers.

“I do a little photography.”

Inside the album are dozens of photos ranging from black-and-white candids to vivid landscape scenery.

I grab hold of the photo album and keep turning the pages. “Oh, my god. These are incredible.”

“They’re just pictures.”

“No. These are really good, Adrian.”

We look at each other, and he grins, a tinge of pink staining his cheeks. “Thanks.” With a sigh, he continues, “But they’re both hobbies. Dad says I can’t make a living with writing or photography.”

“No offense, but your dad is wrong.”

“Wanna tell him?” he says with a laugh.

I grip the album, but angle my head to look at him. “You got strict parents?”

“Oh, yeah. Strict is actually very understated. I have dictator parents.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“My parents are fine. I’m closer to my mom, but my dad is cool. They divorced when I was fifteen, and I stayed with my mom.”

For the next two hours, we lose track of time as we talk about our families and what it was like for us in high school. I tell him about growing up in Detroit and why I plan on staying in South River after college. He tells me he’s from Chicago and mentions some football rivalry between Detroit and Chicago’s teams. Then he goes on to talk about his sister, and I tell him about the first time I drank and why I don’t want it to happen again. It involved an embarrassing story about throwing up in a sink at a bar.

We talk about nearly everything and get to know each other so much more in just a matter of hours. I’ve never talked to someone like this before. I’ve never known so much about another person. I had some friends in high school, but I wasn’t a popular kid. I didn’t have sleepovers and birthday parties at skating rinks. I talked to other students at school and that was about it.

Adrian ignores his buzzing cell phone to continue listening to me talk about my failed attempt at fishing for the first time and why I’ll never try that again either. He laughs when I tell him I threw the fish back in the water after catching it, because I felt bad, only to find out he died anyway.

After a quick bathroom break, he comes back in the room with a story about running away when he was twelve. He didn’t last long; he went back home only hours later with his tail between his legs because he was hungry.

At some point we end up flat on our backs, Adrian throwing a small basketball in the air and catching it over and over while I stare at the blades of the fan spinning around.

“So, you want to get into software development?” he asks.

“I love anything to do with computers. I’m certified with CompTIA A+ and have been since high school. It’s a basic understanding of IT. But I’ve always loved creating games and doing coding and stuff like that. ”

“That’s cool.”

I stifle a yawn and finally look at the time. “Holy shit. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is it?” Adrian asks, looking at his clock. “Damn.”

“I should get going.”

He puts the ball down. “Yeah.”

I sit up and swing my legs over the side. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course. You ready to do it again next weekend?”

I grin as I walk to the door. “Maybe, but don’t hold your breath.”

The truth is, I can’t do it again. I feel myself liking him way too much already. It’s dangerous, this sort of thing. I’m infatuated. He’s oblivious.

He gets up and follows me. “Want me to walk you to the car?”

I bite my lip before saying, “Would you?”

“Let me get my shoes on.”

I yawn and wipe the wetness from my eyes.

“Maybe you should stay here. You know what they say, ‘driving sleepy is driving impaired.”

“Is that what they say?”

He nods. “Yep.”

“Hmm.” I tap my lips with my finger, realizing just how tired I am. My eyes do feel a little blurry. A slow, long blink might put me to sleep, but staying with Adrian is not the smartest move.

“Do you have class tomorrow?” he asks.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that irresponsible.”

He laughs. “Okay, so stay. My bed is big enough. I can give you something to change into so you don’t sleep in jeans. ”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll make it home fine. It’s not too far away. Maybe right under thirty minutes.”

“Just stay and stop being weird. It’s not a big deal.”

To you.

“Well—” I yawn. “I guess. Thanks. Um.”

“Bathroom is down the hall to the left. I’ll find you some pants. They’ll probably be too big, but…” He shrugs, but doesn’t finish his thought. “Okay, let me show you what to use in the bathroom.”

I don’t question what he means, choosing to quietly follow him instead. There are still people downstairs, but nobody sees us as we cross the hall.

Adrian opens the cabinet under the sink and pulls out a caddy. “This is my stuff. Soaps, mouthwash, toothpaste, deodorant, etcetera. Use what you need. I don’t have extra toothbrushes, but you can use the floss and mouthwash.” He hands over a pair of pants. “And here’s these.”

I take them and give him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He turns around and goes back to his room, so I close the door and start my routine. I don’t shower because I don’t want some of the other guys to try to come in, but I do quickly undress and basically give myself a sponge bath with what looked like a clean cloth in a basket full of them, and some of Adrian’s body wash. I focus on the important parts and toss the cloth in the hamper before using some lotion and mouthwash. With my own T-shirt and underwear back on, I take the lounge pants Adrian gave me and pull them up my legs. They are big on me, in both length and in the waist, but luckily there’s a drawstring.

I quietly open the door and peek out, hoping nobody else is up here. I don’t know why I’m sneaking like I’m going to get in trouble, but as soon as I realize I’m alone, I rush to Adrian’s room before I see anyone .

When I get inside, I quickly shut the door behind me. Adrian’s at the bed, pulling the covers down, but he spins around at the noise. “Someone chasing you?”

“No.”

He laughs. “You’re being weird.”

“No I’m not.”

“Pants okay?” he asks with a quick glance.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Cool. I’m gonna use the bathroom now, but you can get comfortable.”

Once he’s gone, I remove my shirt and climb under the covers, turning to the side so he can’t see my face when he gets back in.

The door clicks with his return, but he doesn’t say anything. I hear some shuffling and a drawer close, and then the bed dips with his weight.

After a few seconds, he says, “You asleep?”

I hesitate briefly. “No.”

I feel him roll around. “Did you used to date James Parrish?”

I stop breathing.