Walking in the front door, I take my Converse off by the entryway. Their house smells tropical—like pineapple, maybe. Mrs. Walker has always loved those smelly-good wall plugs from Bath and Body Works. Their house always smells like either a tropical island or a cookie. There is no in between.
The main floor is quiet, so I head up the stairs. Their house is spacious and comfortable. Polished wood floors that have probably never seen a scuff a day in their life, large bay windows that the sun floods in through, and a big open concept kitchen where the most delicious, home-cooked meals and desserts are made. Their family and this house remind me of the American dream. It’s homey, warm, inviting, with the sweet, cookie-cutter wife and the hard-working husband. It’s nice, and it’s something I’ve always wanted for myself but never had.
Reaching the top of the stairs, music floats down the hall from where Anderson’s room is. Rapping my knuckles softly on the door, a faint “come in” reaches my ears, and I open the door. My gaze goes directly to him, and an easy smile that reaches his eyes splits on his face. He gets up from where he’s sitting at his desk, comes over, and wraps me in a tight bear hug. He smells of sandalwood and a scent that is all his own. It invades my senses and calms my nerves on contact.
We’ve always been very touchy-feely friends. For as long as I can remember, we’ve hugged often and aren’t shy about sharing a bed when we’ve slept at each other’s houses. It’s never been weird, probably since we’ve been friends since we’ve been fresh out of diapers.
“Missed you, man,” he says, pulling away from me.
“Missed you, too.”
“Your ass needs to transfer to WSU. This seeing each other a few times a year is bullshit.” He laughs.
In high school, my dream was always to attend WSU. It’s everyone’s dream where we’re from. I worked my ass off all four years in high school, both on and off the field, to get a full-ride football scholarship—which I did—only to lose it all in the blink of an eye. It’s a sore subject for me, but I don’t let anyone know that.
“Yeah, yeah. Going to school close to home has its perks, though,” I grumble.
“So, how have things been, man?”
“Eh, can’t complain. I think I did well on my finals. What about you?”
“Same, same. How, uh, how’s everything else?”
Here we go.“Just ask whatever it is you want to ask, man. You don’t gotta tip-toe around shit with me.”
“Right. Yeah, of course. You doing okay with staying clean and all that shit?”
“Yeah.”Lies.“It’s going really well. Don’t worry about me.”All lies.I lie as easily as I breathe these days.
His shoulders visibly relax. “That’s awesome, man. Proud of you.”
“It’s nothing. Like I told you before, it was a one-time thing, and I just got really unlucky. No big deal.”More lies.“So, how’s shit with you and Carina?”
“Calina, bro.” He chuckles. “And we’re alright. Can’t complain.”
“Is she coming here for break?”
“Nah, she’s staying in Pullman. She’ll probably come down here for a bit during summer break though, so you’ll get to meet her.”
“Sweet.” Truth be told, I actually have zero desire to meet his girlfriend. Call me an asshole, but she’s just another reason for him to leave me behind. Fuck that.
We spend the next couple of hours catching up, listening to music, and hanging out. Despite being away from one another for several months, it comes so naturally to us. He truly is my best friend and the one I feel most comfortable with.
A knock sounds at the door before pushing open, Aston coming into view. “Hey, hey, man! When’d you get here?”
“What’s up, bro. Like… I don’t know? A few hours ago, at least.”
“Oh, no shit? Damn, I was holed up in my room for way longer than I thought. How’s it going?”
“Not bad, just chillin’. What ’bout you?”
“Dope. Same. Knox and I are going to a party at his cousin’s house tonight. You guys wanna come, too?”
Shit.The thing is… I knew about this party and had planned on going already… but not with all of them. I had no idea they were coming. Kalen told me he got in some new shit, and we were going to have some fun with it. Can’t do that if these fuckers are coming.
“I’m down,” Anderson says easily, turning to look at me.
Ah, hell.“Me too. Sounds fun.”