The Maple Effect Read online

  When he finally popped it out, it teetered on the edge of the window before falling on him and shedding a years’ worth of dust into his wet hair. Coughing, he placed his hands firmly into the opening and hauled himself up.

  If he twisted and went shoulders-diagonal with the opening, he could just barely fit through. Arms strained, and feet kicked aimlessly behind trying to find something to put his weight on. They scraped against the side of the house for leverage, hurting his toes and bending at least one nail back. A mild pain compared to the screaming bruises on his ribs when he rested his upper body against the sides of the window. He paused to take a few needed breaths before setting his jaw tight and pushing farther.

  Aaron must have heard all the clatter because he turned the corner from the hallway and stared, speechless in June’s direction. Their eyes met halfway through the window, and June couldn’t help it. He flashed a wicked grin.

  “You’re dead, Valentine!”

  All of their previous fights seemed to wash away with the rain as June gave one last heave and landed in a tangle on the master bedroom floor. Ungraceful as it was, he felt alive with triumph.

  “Okay, just listen to me!” Aaron begged as June staggered to his feet and stalked toward him. “Listen, listen!”

  June shook his head, soggy locks of hair brushing his forehead in the movement. He was still grinning. “Oh, no. No way.”

  Aaron fled toward the living room, and June was hot on his heels, determined to catch him this time. The boy rounded the corner out of the hall just a second before him, clipping his shoulder against the bookcase and knocking several knickknacks to the floor. It gave June a tiny opportunity to snag his fingers into his wet shirt and yank back hard.

  “JUNE, PLEASE!” Aaron struggled and rolled his way out of the material in one last ditch effort to get away. He cussed and fell into the wall beside the T.V.

  June threw the damp shirt aside, and finally, he had him.

  With both his palms pressed flat into the wall and legs spread wide, Aaron had no way to move. He was cornered.

  There were a hundred different things June could have done to get back at Aaron for being such a freak, but as he held him there, pressed against that wall, every one of them fell away. He could have punched him in the gut, or kneed him in the groin, or twisted his arm around and put him in a headlock—made him beg for mercy. But instead, they stared at each other, breathing hard. Unspoken words—some much more volatile than others—passed between their eyes.

  June felt the pressure building to do something. Aaron’s fear was fading fast into relief while waiting. The anticipation of the fight flickering out of him like an old lamp.

  June watched him swallow, the rise and fall of his bare chest, and then the way his mouth went slack. Chin tilted down ever so slightly. Green eyes locked with his blue as if trying to reason with the storm.

  Confused and overwhelmed as June was, he didn’t really want to hurt Aaron, and that was a force he wasn’t prepared to reason with. He already had so many feelings happening inside of him. There were anger and guilt and dare he say, even excitement. Energy and static buzzed between them; something raw and untamed, something in all the eighteen years June had been to this mountain he had never, ever felt before.

  He wanted to hate Aaron right now; for making him feel like an idiot, but instead, he found himself incredibly drawn to him. To the unabashed way he sniffed and blinked before murmuring.

  “You deserved that.”

  June had no idea if Aaron referred to locking him outside or what, but he didn't care. He was right. He did deserve it. Whatever it was. Even this feeling.

  He’d never admit it, but at that moment he surrendered. Relaxed his hands against the wall and let his shoulders droop in defeat. He waved his white flag and searched Aaron’s gaze for…something. Maybe forgiveness for being such a loose cannon all the time. Maybe the same frustrating desire to hold onto their friendship even in the heat of a fight.

  There were no right words, but Aaron’s knuckles brushed against the flat plain of June’s stomach, and suddenly they gave into each other’s gravity.

  This time when their lips met, it was not much of a surprise, and neither one of them ended up with injuries. Just the careful, tentative push and pull of mouths together. Soft and slow. The quiet sound of sucking, followed by an intake of air. They passed the initiative back and forth; June’s mouth catching on Aaron’s chapped lower lip and then vice versa. A tremble rolled between them, raising the hairs on their arms. It begged and pleaded for more.

  June’s hands slipped from the wall and gathered against each side of Aaron’s jaw. His thumb rubbed the raised skin of the triangular scar there, holding him steady. Deepening the kiss. Building momentum until their chests bumped together.

  When the tip of Aaron’s tongue flicked against his, he tasted the acrid tang of blood, too potent to be from his bloody nose, and he felt Aaron’s hands brush timid against his sides. He tingled from head to toe, even as they softly eased him away.

  Aaron was breathless. His eyelids heavy and cheeks splotched with red. He swallowed twice before he could speak.

  “I...I bit my tongue when you…you know.”

  June was dizzy and completely, utterly lost. He cleared his throat, removed his hands from Aaron’s neck, and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder.

  “S’okay,” he whispered, then left for the bedroom so he could lock himself up until summer was over.

  10

  Mambo No. 5

  Aaron lay in the tiny guest bedroom, staring up at the ceiling with a small smile tugging at his lips and a swarm of butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He was every bit as confused as he was afraid of how this strange and eventful evening might ruin his and June’s friendship, but he still couldn’t help feeling slightly elated. The aftershocks of that kiss made him warm from head to toe. Buzzed like caffeine in his system, keeping him wide awake.

  He’d like to think he might simply be relieved the day had ended on a pleasant note, but there was no denying how high his spirits had risen. June had been so ready to fight that Aaron had assumed the worst would happen. He never imagined June might retaliate differently than…bashing his face in. Certainly not by kissing him.

  His stomach felt like it was full of cotton balls, floating around fluffy and strange, although not exactly unpleasant either. When he turned on his side, he felt the need to stuff his face into his pillow and try not to scream.

  Aaron didn't know why he had kissed June in the first place; just that he’d looked so broken and pitiful lying in the rain on that picnic table. Aaron had wanted to do something to help or comfort or…at the very least calm the ache in his own heart. Rationally, he knew June’s misery had been a product of his actions, but Aaron felt guilty over the whole ordeal anyway.

  He had no idea if June believed him about being afraid of the dark, and that was a conversation he was still determined to have, but everything else surrounding the topic had fallen away. Aaron’s heart was now awkward and heavy, a little too frantic when he pressed his fingertips to his lips and remembered the feeling of June’s there.

  Why? Why all of a sudden?

  Aaron had never been particularly obsessed with his masculinity or sexuality like other teenage boys could be. Years of bullying for his fear of the dark had built a strong resistance to the more absurd things teenagers had said. And with a musical background, he wound up in things like dance classes once in a while. People had called him gay, and it had stung here and there, but it had never led him to doubt his preferences. He’d chalk it up to meanness and him being an easy target. Forgive and forget. Rinse and repeat. Never let them see the wounded part of you.

  Up until exactly three hours and two minutes ago, Aaron Valentine had wholeheartedly considered himself a typical straight man. Maybe a little on the passive and metrosexual side, but still just a dude. He’d never thought long enough about his sexuality to consider himself something besides straight. Hone
stly, he’d never really considered things like that at all. Never lined up the social norm next his personal feelings and gave it a good hard look.

  He did now though, face stuffed into the pillow and hot with embarrassment. He thought back to a time in his life when his mother had asked him why he didn't have any crushes at school, or why he didn't ask a girl to go to his fifth-grade dance. When he’d shrugged it off, she’d ultimately let it go, turning to his father and whispering something about him being a late bloomer. He hadn’t understood the significance of those words then.

  He thought about the girls he later did ask to go to dances with him. How they’d always been pretty in their dresses but how he’d never felt particularly excited about them either. How Arco would occasionally come to him with a dirty magazine and a Christmas-morning grin. The pictures had only made him anxious. He worried one day he might be just as naked as them. With them. Doing things to them. Responsibility outweighed the idea of pleasure every time.

  Aaron always assumed thinking about sex had set his teeth on edge because it would inevitably take place in the dark, and he’d be forced to perform in said environment. He choked on the idea of losing control in a situation with already so little control. It did things to his blood pressure he wasn’t proud of. Made him wary of going out with girls regardless of who they were or what they wanted from him.

  Even past the earlier pubescent years, Aaron had felt nauseous when someone would gather up the courage to ask him out, and he’d have to turn them down. Even as a young adult settled in a relationship for the first time, the sight of his girlfriend taking off her bra had only brought on hesitance and regret. It was no wonder she’d cheated on him with a man who was willing to give her more than just good company.

  Years of his life had passed by, and he still blamed his fear of the dark for having not lost his virginity yet. Aaron never even came close to considering it might have a lot less to do with the time and setting than it did the people involved.

  Heat threatened to scorch him from the inside out as his mind wandered back to the bruised teenager in the master bedroom. How easy would it be to open the door and let himself in right now? To crawl into the bed beside June and ease him awake. To kiss him slowly at first; then harder and faster until he was breathless. To let his curious hands memorize the shape of another man for the first time. To taste June’s skin at his chest, his hips, and maybe lower.

  The fantasy alone gave Aaron goosebumps. So, he clenched his teeth hard and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine the real scenario instead. June would punch him. Definitely. He’d probably punch him if he knew Aaron even thought about him like that.

  It had been one kiss. One heated, spur-of-the-moment kiss composed more of anger than anything else. If Aaron was stupid enough to think that could spark an entire sexual awakening in him…then he obviously needed some sleep.

  He pulled his sweaty face out of the pillow and rolled to his back again. Blew out a noisy breath and pushed his palms into his tired, dry eyes.

  June had kissed him so differently than he’d ever been kissed before. It was a shame (or maybe a blessing) the boy had zero communication skills. Otherwise, Aaron might be tempted to shuffle across the hall and try and get to the bottom of things.

  The next several hours crawled by. And the more Aaron focused on sleep, the more he ended up rolling around helplessly in bed. Plagued with the idea that maybe one day the dark wouldn’t be so scary, and if he was distracted enough from it while kissing June then how would he feel if they did something even more distracting? Maybe he wouldn't be nervous at all.

  Maybe he wouldn't be a virgin for the rest of his life either.

  Eventually, the need to pee drew him from the bedroom, and he didn’t have it in him to try and sleep any longer. He had to find something to occupy his time. Even watching the news on the shitty T.V. would be better than this intense desire to interrupt June’s sleep. Or worse, let his mind wander to things he shouldn’t be thinking about.

  He stopped in the mouth of the hallway and stared at the living room for a moment; eyes cast to the shiplap wall where he’d been pinned. His chest tingled, and it didn't take long to realize being in this room might make things worse. The memory was too fresh.

  Aaron was just about to turn around when the discarded items from the bookcase he'd knocked into caught his eye. He bent and picked them up slowly, inspecting the more fragile things for damage and setting them on their respective shelves.

  He was left with his disposable camera in his hand, thumb fumbling nervously with each button and ideas brewing sluggish in his head. He’d only taken two photos this summer so far, and knew if he wanted to capture his time here, then he was going to have to try harder.

  Aaron wound the camera with his thumb as he approached the door to the master bedroom. He pressed his ear close to it, waited until he was positive June was snoring before he settled his hand on the knob and tested it. Unlocked. His heart raced.

  June was fast asleep in a nest of blankets and pillows when Aaron peeked at him. The blinds normally covering the window were pushed aside, and through the glass, a brilliant moon fought its way out of the clouds and threw silver onto warm, tan skin. Aaron held his breath.

  He didn't know how heavy a sleeper June was, but Aaron was feeling rather brave, and the camera in his hand felt innocent enough. He wanted to remember this summer, and that was a good excuse for him to flip open the flash, raise the little device to his eye, and snap just one picture of the first boy that had ever kissed him.

  He returned to his bedroom much the same way he had the last time. Fighting a smile.

  June stared long and hard at his bedroom window, trying to decide how badly he wanted to climb out of it and run away. He weighed the cost of putting more strain on his bruises and falling into a bush versus seeing Aaron Valentine’s face ever again. Running the risk of pissing off Angie’s mom when she found out he was squatting at their house for free or blushing like a teenage girl when he saw those gentle green eyes looking expectantly at him.

  He wasn’t much for conversations regarding his stupidity; and without a real excuse as to why he’d kissed Aaron, he didn't know what he was going to say to explain it. He could pout and tell him he was the one who started it…but so what? An unexpected peck on the lips was nothing compared to the way June had leaned into his bare body and tasted the blood on his tongue.

  Just as June was about to get up and throw himself out the window, his cat, Quail came to him mewling loudly. Headbutting and eventually kneading his claws into the tender skin on June’s lower back for attention. He wanted his breakfast and held no sympathy for June’s festering humiliation.

  “You’re so needy!” June scooped up the animal like an infant and cradled him tight to his chest. “Can’t you tell I’m brooding?” he whined.

  Quail’s only response was a solid, unforgiving glare. He sighed. Cats were so much more emo than he ever could be.

  And anyway…he would have to face Aaron eventually.

  The cabin was quiet and cool when June finally made his way to the kitchen, stepping through patches of muted sunlight beneath the windows. The storm had passed, but the smell of petrichor remained thick and heavy in the air—an unusual smell for California, but a welcome one nonetheless.

  June dropped his cat beside the food bowl and filled it with a handful of pellets, trying to figure out what to do when Aaron woke up. What if he was completely disturbed and expected an apology? June could manage the latter, but if Aaron showed even the slightest hint of homophobia toward him, he was going to have to kiss—KILL—him again.

  He dropped into one of the kitchen table chairs and buried his face in his hands.

  I’m so in over my head.

  More than anything right now, June wanted to find Angie and spill every detail of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He wanted to confide in his best friend and let her pet his hair until it was okay again. He also wanted ice cream from t
he shop (preferably sorbet with some kind of alcohol that was not tequila splashed on it). However, the fight at the bonfire was probably still very fresh in her mind, and he wasn’t sure how she might react knowing June had been such a jerk to Aaron yesterday afternoon. He could picture the disappointment on her face when he explained what caused them to fight in the first place.

  Angie would accept Aaron’s fear of the dark with her usual, pleasant grace, but it wasn’t a good idea to go telling people about Aaron’s fear when he so obviously wanted to keep it secret. That was one way to lose all hope of ever being normal friends with him again.

  Friends.

  June might not know how to process how he felt about this whole situation, but he was certain he wanted to be friends with Aaron. He missed that first day they went to the lake together—when they’d gotten into a mud fight, and nothing else in the world mattered. Before the crush had really set in. Before he’d told Angie about him. Before Charlie and especially before Charlie’s asshole older brother.

  Was June’s temper getting worse? Or was he getting more and more desperate to control his feelings? After all, it was hurt and disappointment that had caused him to want to fight that evening. Albeit admittedly, he didn't blame Aaron for any of that now. He’d always had poor behavior when his emotions skyrocketed. It didn't matter if it was caused by a love interest or spilled milk.

  Still. Why did Aaron, of all people, stroke his rash nature? It was as if he gently blew on a flame, nursing it, encouraging it to blaze through the entire forest and destroy everything in its path.

  “Get a grip,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head down at the grains in the table. “This is your last summer, get a fucking grip.”

  “June?”

  He jumped; banged his knee into the leg of the table and cursed.

  Aaron stood in the hallway, looking tired and mildly interested in the state he’d just found June. There was something soft and new behind his green eyes. This was it. This was the end of him. He was too far gone. Aaron Valentine could run him over with that shiny red convertible and June would still have a stupid crush on him. Maybe not at first but eventually he would come full circle. Eventually, he would give in to that handsome face. Eventually, he was going to want to kiss him again.