He pokes a finger at his chest. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah. Someone like you. Someone who’s …” I suddenly find I can’t look him in the eye when I say these next words, so I glance over at a bright yellow sneaker on the floor that I’d kicked off. “Someone who’s … so annoyingly good-lookin’.”
“Annoyingly good-lookin’?”
“Yeah. With your stupid, pretty brown eyes. Your body. Your cute hair and your sexy dance moves.”
“Sexy dance moves?”
I snap my eyes at him. “Can you quit repeatin’ everything I’m sayin’? What are you, a parrot?”
“What are you saying, then?” Jimmy brings both his hands to his chest now. “You’re holdin’ my God-given beauty against me?”
“It’s just a fact, Jimmy, and it’s a fact that happens to … make a difference in this … situation. You’re good-looking. You’re a guy that girls and guys … happen to enjoy looking at. I mean, did you not notice how you got hit on as much as I did at the club?”
“So are you sayin’ I can’t help my buddy out? I can’t just hold you when I know you’re feeling lonely? I can’t just kiss you so you feel good for a single night?”
“Jimmy, it ain’t right.”
“It ain’t right??” He’s on his feet now. “The hell? It ain’t right? What are we, fuckin’ pastors in Fairview with their ‘hate the sin’ bullshit? Since when did kissing a guy become ‘not right’?”
I’m on my feet, too, and with just a few steps, I’m nearly nose to nose with him. “You want to tell me with a straight face that the guys on your brother’s high school football team are gonna kiss each other when they don’t have girlfriends?—y’know, just to relieve some of that loneliness inside them? Think that’s normal? Tell that to me with a straight face.”
His fingers are balled up into fists. His eyes are burning and his face is so intense, especially this close to mine. “Well, maybe it ought to be normal. Who the hell decided straight guys can’t hold hands when girls do it all the time? Who decided we can’t fuckin’ show affection for one another? I sure didn’t.”
“But you’re straight, Jimmy. I’m not. It makes a difference.”
“So the fuck what?” He grabs me by the waist and tugs me against him, our bodies crashing together at the hip. “Who says it’s wrong?”
“Jimmy …”
He brings his mouth to mine.
I try to push away from him, but Jimmy pulls my body against his with even more force, pressing a forceful kiss to my lips.
It takes a lot of effort to push away a kiss from Jimmy Strong.
Because for one, Jimmy Strong is strong.
And two: Jimmy’s the best goddamned kisser I have ever known.
“Well?” he says when he pulls his mouth away for one brief instant. I’m out of breath. My head spins. “Who says it’s wrong?” He kisses me again, destroying me. “What’s wrong with it? You’re my friend. I fucking love you. So what’s wrong with wanting to show it?” He forces another kiss on me.
“J-Jimmy, stop,” I protest against his soft, perfect lips.
He lets go of my waist, but stays right there in my face. “I’m not the one with the problem. You are.”
I’m stunned. My lips still crackle with the energy of his forced kisses. “S-So that’s it?” I fire back into his intense eyes. “You’re gonna show your love by kissin’ your gay best friend? Really? You don’t think anyone might think—”
“Fuck what anyone thinks.”
“Then why not go all the way with it?” I challenge him, taking a step forward, forcing Jimmy to take a step back. It’s like our own little dance; I’ll call it Cat & Mouse. “Why not just be my boyfriend for real, then? Kiss me all the time? Sleep with me? Tell me, what’s stopping you from doing that?”
My words strangle Jimmy, closing up his throat and causing his eyes to harden.
“You’re so comfortable kissing me, after all,” I go on. “Your gay best friend.”
“Stop callin’ yourself that.”
“Well, I am. I’m your gay best friend, Jimmy.”
“I know that. It’s how you’re sayin’ it, like it’s wrong, or bad, or something scandalous.”
I let out one dry laugh. “We live in Spruce, Texas. Everything is scandalous here.”
He half turns away, throwing his eyes to the window where he glares beautifully through the glass.
I have to stare at him awhile, wondering how someone can look so beautiful when they’re angry.
Was he really just doing something he thought would make me feel nice? Is that really all this is? Am I just angry because of how not homophobic my best friend is?
Fuck. Am I the homophobic one?
All the fight leaves me at once. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.”
“Nah.”
“Seriously. I’m sorry. I blew this way out of proportion.”
“Nah, don’t be sorry.”
“I’ve just been mulling over it all damned day …”
“Bobby, it’s fine …”