The Bones of You by Laura Stone

Author:Laura Stone
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Interlude Press
Published: 2014-11-17T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Oliver made his way carefully out of the car, trying not to tip the unwieldy platter of cut fruit he’d picked up at the market on his way over. He didn’t want to show up empty handed, and fresh fruit was always a good option, he figured. He bumped the car door with his hip to shut it and carefully made his way up the narrow path that had been shoveled on the front walk. He pressed the doorbell with the edge of his knuckle and tried to keep the platter level while rolling his shoulders and forcing himself to breathe normally as he waited on the porch for someone to answer.

He’d been both excited and incredibly nervous on the drive over, especially as he exited the highway and took the familiar drive on auto-pilot. The streets were the same—except, that wasn’t quite right. The second house on the right before he turned on Seth’s street was gone, a new brick house in its place. The Larsens’ neighbors seemed to have lost their giant maple, the one with the huge silver-backed leaves; he remembered drawing the edge of one along Seth’s forearm one summer afternoon as they sat on the front porch.

“I’ve got it!” he heard, and then Seth was there, looking utterly gorgeous. It took a moment for the ghost of teenage-Seth to fade from Oliver’s mind and let the actuality of Seth as he was now—slightly taller, broader, more relaxed, just more—sink in. “Oliver. Please, come in.”

Oliver ducked his head as he stepped inside. “I brought this; I hope that’s okay?”

Seth smiled back at him warmly as they walked to the kitchen, where Oliver felt both comfortably at home and completely foreign. Seth took the plate from his hands and set it on the pony wall between the kitchen and the living room.

A loud voice called from living room, “Is that Oliver?” John sauntered over, a huge grin on his face. “’Sup, man?” John said, his face open and friendly.

Oliver couldn’t help but match his smile. John somehow managed to look exactly the same as he had years ago: short and broad-chested in his old leather vest with a Harley Davidson tee underneath. His kind, weather-worn face and relaxed manner put Oliver at ease.

“Well,” Oliver laughed. “Not much, I guess.”

John gave him a bro-five and pulled Oliver in for a pound on the back. Oliver wanted to tell John just how much he appreciated being there, that he was thankful John was still being so friendly and open toward him, but that would just make everyone uncomfortable. So instead he pounded John on the back in the manner of dudes, while still worrying that he might actually vibrate out of his skin from self-induced tension.

As John started catching him up on the shop and the “sweet setup in the basement, seriously, Mike’s TV is freakin’ huge,” Oliver checked his periphery for signs of Big Mike, still unsure how he would react to Oliver being here. He wasn’t

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