right this way

The packing is finished by Sunday afternoon. Walter does most of it, while Josh stands around with a shellshocked expression, a roll of tape hanging listlessly from his hand. Drake doesn’t help, and no one asks him to. The house is pretty much quiet, and Drake’s instincts keep telling him to take off, but he can’t seem to leave his room, which has been stripped of everything Josh owns. The empty spaces make his stomach hurt—bare walls and shelves, and Josh’s bed, shucked clean of linens as a reminder that Josh isn’t going to sleep here anymore.

By Sunday evening, Drake is sitting on his sofa and trying not to think about the huge gaping emptiness behind him, when Josh comes in and sits down. He’s a little closer than usual, but Drake doesn’t mind.

“All done?”

“Yeah,” Josh says, and he looks as sick as Drake feels, pale and strained, with his mouth tugging downward in a way that means he’s going to lose it. “I just got done packing the car with Mom,” he says, breaking on the last word, and then there are wet trails on his cheeks. “I guess she thinks it’s okay.” He wipes his face with his sleeve. “I mean, she’s not really my mom anymore,” he says, bringing his feet up to the sofa and pressing his forehead to his knees. “I just got used to having—“ He stops and doesn’t finish, even when Drake finds Josh’s hand between them and fits their fingers together.

It’s not hard to figure out what Josh had been about to say. It’s Walter and Audrey’s big divorce—or separation, they keep calling it—but Josh is the one who’s taken it the hardest.

“No way it’ll last,” Drake tells him, squeezing Josh’s hand, damp palm and bony knuckles. “They’ll get back together; we’ll think of something.”

“My dad has a lease,” Josh says. “You can’t break those.” He doesn’t look up from his knees, but he doesn’t let go of Drake’s hand, either. “Who knows how long they’ve been planning this. It feels pretty final to me,” he says.

“Mom says you can come over anytime,” Drake says. “Want to come over tomorrow after school?”

Josh goes still and silent next to him.

“Josh. Do you?”

“Yes,” Josh says, but he sounds sad, like the offer doesn’t change anything. The desire to do more keeps tugging at Drake. A little handholding isn’t nearly enough; even Walter could do that. He wants to take Josh away for a long time, or tell him all it’s been a big joke. But it’s not a joke, because he’s spent the past few days following Mom around doing his best to change her mind, and she hadn’t smiled once.

Josh sniffs a few times. “Do you think Mom is…”

“Is what?”

“Never mind,” Josh mumbles. “So, school’s going to be weird.”

“What? School isn’t going to be weird.”

Josh is silent for a long time, but when he finally says something, it isn’t the argument Drake had expected, but a quiet, “I really liked being brothers.”

*

School turns out to be weird, after all. Drake comes in the west doors, already looking for Josh and so wound up he barely notices Courtney Lavine’s new pushup bra. Barely. The house had been quiet this morning; no banter with Josh, and the chatter used to come from Mom and Walter’s room had been entirely absent.

It figures. Drake had raced through breakfast so he could get to the Josh part of the day, and Josh isn’t even here. When he finally appears, Drake drags him into a recessed doorway to give him a quick once-over. He looks tired. There are pronounced shadows under his eyes, and his smile isn’t as wide as the one he usually gives Drake when they’ve been apart for more than a few hours.

“You okay?”

Josh looks down at his hands, white-knuckled on his bookbag. “Yeah, I’m all right. It was just weird sleeping somewhere new. Hard to relax.”

“Miss me, huh?”

“Yeah, I miss all your weird sleep-talking.” His mouth curves into a smile, wavers there for a moment, and then droops. “Drake, about tonight.”

Drake bounces on his heels. He can’t wait for tonight, to get Josh back into the house so things will be normal.

“I can’t come over. Dad wants me to help finish unpacking, and I think he needs me right now. He’s pretty upset.”

“What about me? I’m upset!” Drake protests.

Josh’s shoulders droop. “I know. I’m sorry, I have to work tomorrow, but Wednesday I’ll come over after school, I promise.”

“You’d better.” He moves to leave, but Josh catches his sleeve.

“You, uh…” Josh glances around and lifts one arm. “Want a quick one?”

It doesn’t feel like they should, since they’re not related anymore, and Drake is already mildly disgruntled that Josh is blowing him off for Walter’s crappy apartment. But Josh’s rule number one is that you don’t refuse an offered hug, so Drake leans up and hangs onto Josh’s neck for just barely long enough to appease him.

“See you third period,” he says, and takes off.

*

The next day, he walks in on Megan, who clamps her laptop shut and takes off, which means she’s working on evil.

“I guess I’m going to get pranked twice as much now that Josh is gone, huh?”

She stops long enough to give him a pitying look. “Not yet. I have more important things to work on, like getting Mom and Walter back together.”

“Wait, you can do that?” Drake hasn’t let himself hope; he remembers how much time he’d wasted hoping when his dad had left. “Can I help?”

“I work alone,” she says, and disappears up the stairs.

*

At night, he can’t get comfortable. It’s not that his bed isn’t comfortable; it’s the space around his bed that feels different; weird echoes from that big empty stretch of floor where Josh’s bed used to be, and the total silence. The silence is what he can’t get used to. Headphones don’t do the trick, because he’s been falling asleep to Josh-sounds for the past few years.

After about a week, he wakes from an uneasy doze with the realization that what he needs is one of those soundtracks for people who move away from the city, or the ocean, or who miss the sounds of wolves howling outside their window at night. It’s a great idea, and he can’t even wake Josh and tell him about it, because Josh is sleeping five miles away.

The next day, he skips his last three classes and heads over to The Den of Zen for his guaranteed sleeping soundtrack. The store has chimes that sound when he enters, and smells of incense so heavy it makes his eyes water. Right away, he spots the wall of cds next to a trickling pink waterfall. There are a lot of them. Sounds of seagulls, thunderstorms, crowds of people, but he can’t find the one he wants. The salesgirl who comes over is pretty, but she has fingernails with jewels glued onto them, which scare Drake a little bit. He’s been hurt by acrylic nails in the past.

“Can I help you?” she asks. She gestures with her hand, and he jumps away. “Are you looking for a soothing sleep-sounds CD?”

“Yeah.” Drake looks over the displays again. “I need something with snoring.”

“Snoring,” she repeats, with a tiny frown between her eyebrows.

“And maybe…blankets or something? Whatever what it sounds like when somebody’s in bed.”

“Ahhh,” she says. She nods a few times and tilts her head as though the answer is rolling around in there somewhere. “We don’t have anything like that.”

“What? But you have to. You have—you have sounds of frying bacon, how can you not have this very normal nighttime sound?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and for some reason he lets her scary sparkling fingertips near him, a sympathetic pat to the shoulder that leaves him feeling even worse than before.

He nods, reluctant to leave. He doesn’t have a plan B. Josh was always good with Plan Bs.

“You must really miss her,” she says.

“Who?”

“The person in bed, the one you can’t sleep without.” She looks a little sad.

“What? Come on. It’s just my stepbrother, and I can too sleep without him. It’s just that my ears are used to his sounds, so it’s going to take a while for them to get used to it.” There’s got to be a whole scientific theory about ear-memory; Drake pays enough attention in science to know that much. “So, the cd is just…”

“For your ears?”

“Exactly.”

“I think the closest thing we have is Sounds of Mothers Doing Laundry.”

“No thanks,” Drake says. He already has that.

By the end of the week, he’s so tired he falls asleep in Economics, and not even in a cool, too-bored-for-school way. He wakes up at the bell sprawled face-down on his desk, and as his classmates file out of the room, he sees that Josh is asleep, too.

Drake goes to wake him. He looks tired; more unconscious than asleep, and so far Drake has tried to avoid thinking about how he’s feeling, but right now he feels a deep stab of regret that from now on, the only time he’ll get to wake Josh is at school. It had always seemed like Josh would be there forever, and Drake is already sick of walking into the house and not finding Josh watching TV or setting the table or studying in their room. Drake likes things new and exciting, but there are some things he wants to stay the same.

Josh is one of those things.

After a minute, he shakes Josh’s shoulder. Josh clutches at his desk one last time before he unfurls and slowly takes in his surroundings. “I fell asleep?”

“We both did.”

“But I never fall asleep in class! Until freshman year it was my job to wake the slackers.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. But congratulations, now you’re one of those slackers.”

“I’m not,” Josh says, gathering his books as though it’s hard to move. “It’s just, our upstairs neighbors have six poodles, so there are all these little feet scratching around above my head all night.”

“Come over tonight, you can crash in my room,” Drake says, and immediately regrets calling it his room.

Josh looks down at his Economics textbook, his face serious, his eyes shielded from Drake. “I want to, but I can’t leave Dad alone right now. It doesn’t feel fair that I can go back anytime I want, and he can’t. He really misses your mom.”

“And you don’t?”

“I do, but she calls me every night, so. That’s more than—I don’t know, Drake. Everything is different, now. I don’t even know why they split up.”

“Who knows why old people do anything?” Drake glances at the clock. “You want to get lunch?”

“I’m not very hungry.” Josh still isn’t looking at him; it’s like he’s not even trying, like he’d rather go back to how things were before they knew each other.

“Fine,” Drake says, and jerks his backpack up from his seat. “I was going to cut out early, anyways.”

*

That night, when Megan comes to him with an armload of schoolwork and asks if he remembers anything about inequality postulates, he gives it a lot of thought before he says, “I’m definitely against them.”

“I miss Josh!” she yells.

“So, call him.”

“I don’t want to call him! I want him here. Sometimes I want an easy target, okay? The kids at school have tiny heads.”

“What about my head?”

“I’m afraid if you lost any more brain cells I’d spent the rest of my life spoon-feeding you creamed corn.”

“Hey,” he says, but it’s no fun to fight with Megan without Josh around. He grabs his guitar and holds it, hands in their familiar resting place, until Megan shakes her head and leaves without even breaking any of his stuff.

Maybe she thinks it’s not fun to fight without Josh, either.

*

In a way, it would be nice to be like Megan: to yell I miss Josh! just so everybody would know how he feels about the empty stretch of floor in his room. But it doesn’t feel like it would accomplish anything, and Josh seems to be doing okay, aside from the poodles.

Drake keeps imagining Josh and Walter cooking up wildly fancy gourmet foods in their new kitchen, and cleaning up without argument because they both think dishwashing is a social activity. In the evening, they probably read newspapers and talk about current events, and have taken up smoking pipes in their sophisticated, uncluttered bachelor pad.

For Drake, that night’s dinner had been takeout straight from the container. Megan had still set a small kitchen-fire—out of spite, he imagines—and afterward, Mom had put her head in her hands and made Drake feel as though he’d failed at a job he didn’t even know was his.

When he goes to bed he’s beginning to think maybe he’s going to need the counseling they always offer children of divorce. He could probably get out of class, and maybe he and Josh could even go together. It would help him figure out why everything sucks so much all of a sudden. Sometimes, he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking until Josh tells him.

He’s just gotten under the covers when the window squeaks open and a bag comes sailing through. Josh’s bag. A second later, Josh’s head comes through, and he’s been a good pupil, because he climbs in without incident and barely makes a sound.

Drake sits up when Josh climbs up onto his bed. “Dude, you came over here wearing pajamas?”

“I can’t take another night of poodles,” Josh says. He crawls up next to Drake and collapses. “And my room doesn’t have its own thermostat, so it’s always about ten degrees too hot.”

“Welcome to sixty degrees Celsius,” Drake says proudly.

“Fahrenheit.”

“Whatever, it’s perfect for sleeping.” Josh is perfect for sleeping, and if Drake had been prepared, he’d have a tape recorder ready to make his own personal Sounds of Josh cd for future reference. Drake jerks the covers so Josh will roll over and let him lift the blankets over the both of them. There’s plenty of room in Drake’s bed, and it’s a good place to talk without being overheard, their pillows smashed together in the middle. “What’s Walter’s apartment really like?” he asks. Their knees bump together as he rolls onto his side to face Josh.

“It’s my apartment, too. And it’s nice. Cozy. I like it better here, though.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Drake smiles and reaches out, unsure what he’s going to do until his hand ends up in Josh’s hair. It’s nothing, just barely a pat that catches the softly curling ends, but Josh takes it as a sign that it’s okay to and grab Drake in a hug that makes something in Drake’s belly flop over with nerves.

“I miss you,” Josh says, his breath warm against Drake’s shoulder, even through his t-shirt. “It’d be better if you were there.”

It’s flattering that he thinks Drake would make it better. It relieves him in a way he hadn’t even realized he was tense, or maybe it’s the way Josh is rubbing his back, which feels so good Drake can hardly keep his eyes open, a slow press of thumb against each vertebrae; up and up and up. It feels fantastic—even though Josh should probably take the sofa, but Drake falls asleep with Josh’s hands spread warm across his back before he can say so.

*

Josh sneaks out early in the morning, before Walter can wake up and notice he’s gone. He works late the next night and slips in around the same time, and soon it’s a regular habit. Things start to feel more normal with Josh at school, and Drake is getting a solid seven hours of sleep every night. If that means he wakes up with his face pressed between Josh’s shoulder blades or with a knee in his ribs, it’s all worth it. In fact, that part isn’t as bad as it sounds. Josh is warm and comfortable and polite in bed, willing to rub Drake’s back nice and hard when he’s tense, and in soft soothing circles when he can’t sleep.

Josh also starts making visits during the day. When Josh agrees to stay for dinner for the first time, Mom glows all evening. She wears a blue flowered apron while she makes nachos, insists that Josh tastes everything, and stops to squeeze him so many times she nearly burns the meat.

Drake kind of knows how she feels.

At the table, everyone listens to Josh talk about school, the Premiere, and Walter’s new apartment. What Drake likes most is how the attention affects Josh. His ears are pink with pleasure, and his smile is slow and sweet as he glances around, as though he can’t believe everyone is so interested.

“So, this girl who lives in my building invited me to this teen rally at the youth center,” Josh says, pausing to take a sip of limeade. “And they had this speaker who was incredibly charismatic…”

Drake eats his nachos and thinks about the difference between tonight and last night’s dinner: mushy spaghetti he and Megan had thrown away as soon as Mom had gone upstairs. They’d eaten Wheat Squares out of the box in front of Animal Training Academy, which had been okay, since Drake had known that in a matter of hours, Josh would be climbing through his window.

“…and that’s why I’m wearing one of these babies until I find true love,” Josh finishes with a flourish, and whoa, Drake must have missed something, because Josh has hooked his finger on a ring he’s wearing around his neck, and is sliding it back and forth, back and forth.

“That’s great, sweetie,” Mom says.

“Wait, what? What’s that?”

“My purity ring,” Josh says, smiling down at the ring before he tucks it back into his collar.

“What? Why?” Drake drops his tortilla chip onto his plate, cheese everywhere. Drake has met a few girls with those rings, and they really don’t seem to make any difference one way or the other, but he knows Josh: Josh will take this seriously, all the way, and not having sex will become his life. Not that he cares if Josh has sex or not, but it’s so stupid.

“He had a lot of good points,” Josh says with his hand clutched protectively over his chest. “Why wait until the last minute to decide if you’re going to do something that could really complicate your life? I’ve seen people get into some pretty uncomfortable situations.“ Drake’s entire life flashes through his mind like a slide show as Josh’s mouth curves up at the edges, a dreamy smile that Drake wants to slap right off his face. “And I like the idea. It’s nice.”

“It is nice,” Mom says.

Drake has completely lost his appetite.

Megan laughs, a bright, sharp sound Drake hasn’t heard in a while. “I think it’s funny that you think you need help keeping the girls away. When was the last time you had a date?”

“For your information, the youth center thing was a date.”

Drake’s skin crawls with disgust. “Dude, no. Your date took you to a place where you’d make a promise to never…” He slumps back into his chair, because he can’t finish this sentence or get the kind of information he wants with his mom sitting right there. “That is not a date.”

“Was too.” Josh takes a defiant bite of his nachos. “We held hands on the way home.”

“Oooh, hand-holding.” Drake waggles his hands, feigning fear. “Isn’t that the gateway base? You start off holding hands and it leads to naughty, naughty touching.”

“Drake, stop it.” Mom gives him a frown that she doesn’t seem to mean, since she’s gone all heart-eyed for Josh. “Maybe Josh will take you and Megan to this youth center and you can hear what the man has to say for himself.”

No. No, no, no.

“Well, it was kind of a one-time thing,” Josh says, and then Drake is the one with the hearts in his eyes.

*

Drake likes the way Josh gets all nervous when he leaves, saying his goodbyes as if he won’t be sneaking through the window in about three hours. It’s even better when Drake says see you tomorrow with a wink that unravels Josh so much that Drake pushes him out the door for fear Megan will catch on.

“It was good to have Josh here,” Mom says when Drake wanders into the kitchen where she’s washing dishes. “I wish we hadn’t split you boys up,” she says, and Drake freezes in the doorway because her voice has gone all wobbly, and she looks so sad there, hunched over the sink. It’s worse than seeing Josh cry when he’d moved out, because Josh gets weepy over sad movies and stray dogs, but Mom doesn’t cry. Walter cries; Mom hands him tissues and pats his back.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says, waving her hand like he’s supposed to just walk away, and while he’s tempted, he knows that things aren’t good without Josh and Walter, and that it’s not fair he gets Josh every night while she lights up over one crappy dinner.

And he’s not much for hugging—except for Josh, who’d never given him any choice—but somewhere along the way this has become his job, because when he puts his hands on her shoulders from behind, she feels tiny, like she needs one of Josh’s hugs. “Hey,” he says, resting his cheek against her hair as she puts her hands over his. “I think Josh left a box of that girly bath stuff in the bathroom. If you want, I can…” He peers over her shoulder at the dirty dishes. “I can rinse these for you, and you can go crazy. Not that you’re crazy,” he adds quickly. “You can just take a bath.”

“That sounds nice.” She turns around and gives him a squeeze. By the time she looks up at him, her face is clear. “And thank you.”

He ends up washing all the dishes and putting them away. When he’s finished, he’s managed to push away the cold, nervous feeling in his stomach, and it’s almost time for Josh. He hops in the shower, gets in a quick jerkoff—he’s constantly horny these days, for some reason—and is settled in bed with his guitar when Josh shows up.

Josh does a quick change into his pajamas and brings a book to bed. They don’t say much, which is fine; Drake doesn’t feel very chatty. He feels like playing some music, until he loses his pick in the covers and Josh’s feet are in the way and nothing feels right, so he sets his guitar aside and flops onto his back with a sigh.

“What’s the matter?” Josh turns down a page and puts the book down.

Drake thinks about Mom’s small, still shoulders. He covers his eyes with his hands, but he still sees it, and he’s not used to thinking about this stuff; stuff that isn’t about him.

“I know you’re sad,” Josh says. “You always play that song when you’re depressed.”

“I don’t get depressed,” he says through his hands.

He hears Josh chuckle. “Not compared to most people, no. But Drake…” He tugs Drake’s wrist away from his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Oh. Okay. So…do you want me to rub your back?” Josh slides his thumb down the center of Drake’s palm. It slides easily down the crease, and Drake feels the touch deep down in all his muscles.

The decision seems hugely important, impossible to make, so he ends up just lying there and looking at Josh, who rubs the fleshy part of Drake’s palm in all the right spots, and then in the wrong one, because he hadn’t known there was any part of his hand that was connected to his dick. He pulls away, skin prickling with the shock of it, out of Josh’s grasp.

“No thanks. I’m really tired.”

“I’ll get the lights,” Josh says, and Drake isn’t sure, but it seems like when he comes back to bed, he gives Drake extra space, which isn’t what he’d wanted at all.

*

Drake forgets all about Josh’s ring until that weekend. It doesn’t seem like a little ring would have all that much power, until Drake wrangles a double-date with Aly Paisley and her hot cousin. Everything is going great until the hot cousin barges in and interrupts just as Drake is getting his hand up Aly’s skirt on her parents’ leather sofa.

“My date is over,” she announces, and who cares, what does that have to do with him? He swallows down a groan and wipes his mouth while Aly straightens her skirt.

“What’s wrong? Was he a jerk?”

Josh? Drake is annoyed with her for even suggesting it.

“Not exactly.” Hot cousin pouts and sighs loudly. “It’s just, he has this…do we have to talk about this in front of him?”

She looks at Drake as though he’s the one who pissed her off, and Aly apologizes with a sad little smile. “Maybe you should go? I can’t ask her to just sit there while we fool around. It’s not fair.”

Drake has a few terrified moments of wondering exactly what Josh ‘has’ that’s wound her up so much—is this about his rash?—before he gets to the car where Josh is already waiting. Then Drake remembers the purity ring, which Josh has in his hand, sliding it and forth as Drake pulls out of the driveway.

“Dude, do you know what you did to me back there? You totally freaked out the hot cousin.”

“I’m sorry,” Josh says. “But I made a promise. I took an oath! How was I supposed to know she’d call off the whole date if I didn’t put out?”

Drake shakes his head and rolls down the window to let the cool night air into the car. “Exactly what did you promise, Josh? I get that you can’t have sex, but can you do anything at all?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, can you get blow jobs?”

“No.” Josh sounds offended by the idea, not a good sign.

“Hand jobs?”

“I—that’s still sex, Drake.”

“What if you don’t get off?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because,” Drake says. He’s not just thinking about his own bad date anymore; he’s thinking about Josh. “You could do some serious damage. Tell me you can still jerk off.”

“Yes, I can still jerk off. And for your information, I’m glad I didn’t do any of that stuff with her. She was kind of mean.”

“Well, mine was nice. Really nice.”

“Sorry I didn’t compromise my principles just so you could get to second base with some blonde you’ve spoken to twice.”

“Third base,” Drake says, and from the corner of his eye, sees Josh’s wince.

And that’s all Drake had wanted, for them to suffer together, just like old times.

*

He does feel a little sorry for Josh’s date, he realizes later. She’d thought she was going to climb all over him, and then had been shot down. Such a pretty girl, too. He wonders how far she got before it happened; if Josh had kissed her for a while before pushing her away, which seems unbearably frustrating, because he’s seen Josh kiss, and she’d probably thought she’d hit the jackpot and had found a guy who was just going to take her, if girls even think things like that.

“What are you thinking about?”

Drake blinks away the image of Josh having his way with hot cousin and taps his knuckles on the candy counter, where he’d been watching Josh at work.

“I was thinking that for assistant manager, your job doesn’t seem all that different from before.”

“I stack candy out of love,” Josh says. “Not obligation. And that is not what you were thinking. You were thinking about girls; I know that look.”

“Actually, I was thinking about you,” Drake says. He reaches across the counter and tugs at Josh’s collar, just enough to catch a glimpse of the chain before Josh bats him away with a box of Raisin Chewies. “About your oath, and all that.”

“I already apologized for last night.”

“No, I was just wondering. What happens if you never get married?”

Josh concentrates on aligning every corner of his candy boxes. Drake doesn’t even think he’s going to answer, but finally Josh says, “I didn’t promise to wait for marriage. I just want to wait until I’m, you know, in love. Until I find someone who really means something to me. Someone who loves me back.”

“Someone like Mindy?” Drake doesn’t usually bring her up when she’s out of the picture, but he’s suddenly fixed on the image of Josh hooking back up with Mindy and then one day showing up without the ring. If Mindy is smug now, she’ll be even worse when she gets Josh’s…well, whatever it is he’s saving. Drake can just see them now: Josh rubbing Mindy’s palm until she sighs and squirms and takes off her pants.

“No. Not like Mindy.”

“Good.” Drake is about to say more, but Megan elbows her way up to the counter and interrupts.

“Normally I try to avoid your boob summit meetings, but I have an item for the agenda.”

“What is it?” Josh says.

She glances around, then shakes her head. “Not here. Get off work early. I’ll meet you guys at your apartment in thirty minutes.”

“What?” Drake steps back, waving his hands. “No way. I’m not going to Walter’s apartment.” He refuses to acknowledge it exists, and going inside will seriously damage that illusion. “Why not our house?”

“Because Mom’s home. And if you want to know why Mom and Walter broke up, you’ll be there,” she says, and walks out, her skirt swishing from side to side as she goes.

“Dude,” Josh says, his eyes wide and nervous, “I want to know.” He’s already unfastening his vest. “Give me two minutes and we’re out of here.”

“Maybe you can just go without me,” Drake says, trailing after Josh as he heads for the break room. “I can drop you off, and you can tell me all about it when you come over tonight.”

Josh retrieves his jacket from his locker and clocks out. He ignores Drake entirely until they get out to the parking lot. “You haven’t been to my place once, Drake. Don’t you think it’s my turn to have you over?”

Drake sputters a little before he manages to make a sound that demonstrates how deranged Josh must be. “You said you missed our room.”

“I do! But you’ve never even seen mine. And you always refer to it as my Dad’s apartment, like I don’t live there.”

“Because you don’t. You spend more time at our house than with Walter, and you keep Mr. Puff-Puff in my bed,” he says.

Josh doesn’t argue as they get in the car. It’s amazing he’s letting Drake get the last word, but Drake is the one who has to go sit in Josh’s new living room, so he’s the one who loses.

*

They gather around the coffee table, which has a glass top that Drake marks with his thumbprints: press and lift, press and lift. Pretty soon, he’s made what looks like a trail of paw prints.

“Hey Josh, looks like some of those poodles got loose,” he says, nudging Josh’s shoulder, but Josh ignores him.

“What do you know, Megan?”

She sits back in Walter’s armchair. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know if you two can handle this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell us,” Drake says. Megan’s usually right about these things.

“Quiet,” Josh says, shoving him away. “This isn’t about you. You’re not the one who had to leave. I want to know, Megan. I need to know.”

“Finally, someone who’s taking it seriously,” Megan says with an icy glance in Drake’s direction.

“Oh, I take it seriously,” Drake says, thinking of the evening he’d spent doing the dishes alone. “It’s just that you have to be careful when you interfere in these things.”

“What things?”

“Women.”

“How do you know it’s a woman issue?” Megan demands.

Drake sits back and looks at his poodle-tracks. “Because I’ve seen Mom, okay?” he says, even though he really doesn’t want to get into it. And a second ago it had felt as though they were both mad at him, but Josh leans close so their shoulders touch, his eyes soft with sympathy, and even Megan loses her murderous expression.

“Then maybe you won’t be surprised when I tell you that Mom is going to have a baby.”

“Ew,” Drake says automatically, but it makes sense. She’s been different lately, and he’d thought it was just the weirdness of losing half their family, but she’s pregnant, holy crap, like the girl who used to sit behind him in second-period history who’d started crying all the time before they’d pulled her out of school entirely.

“But-“ Josh looks lost. “Is it ours?”

“How should I know?” Megan snaps, and rolls her eyes. “But yes, of course it is. Its head is probably already the size of a bowling ball.”

“Wow. Dad didn’t say anything about it, and he loves babies. There are seventeen scrapbooks to document my infant through toddler years.”

“I feel sick,” Drake can’t help but say. Mom and Walter have mated.

Megan’s mouth turns down in a grimace. “I know. But I got over that months ago, when I found out she was pregnant.”

“What?” Josh sits up straight. “You’ve known for months? And why are we only hearing about this, now?”

“Because it wouldn’t have done any good. I didn’t figure out until today why she kicked Walter out.”

“She kicked him out? Is there any news not being kept from me?”

Drake is pretty sure Josh is going to have a breakdown if Megan gives him any more information.

Megan shrugs. “She’s being pretty sneaky about it. I overheard her talking to Aunt Nancy on the phone, and it turns out Walter had been going on and on about how he’d rather clip Bruce Winchell’s toenails than have a baby at his age.”

“It is pretty gross,” Drake adds—he really can’t help himself, even though Josh’s wild death-glare makes him nervous.

“That doesn’t make sense. If Dad knew, he’d be over the moon.”

“I know,” Megan says. “And this is why we’re all here. We need to get Walter with Mom so he can see her and get all boobishly excited.”

“I thought you already tried to get them together,” Drake says. She’d walked around in a cold rage for days after the failed attempt.

“That’s why I’m talking to you two. Not that I need you, but you’re going to benefit the most when they get back together, so you should at least do some of the work.”

“What do you want us to do?” Josh asks slowly, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Relax, you don’t have to do anything you’ve never done before. You just need to get in trouble together, so Mom and Dad will be forced to…I don’t know; bail you out of jail or rescue you from a den of bikers. Together. It doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you get it done.”

“I reject both of those ideas,” Josh says.

“But we do see your point,” Drake says thoughtfully. This could end up being a good time.

“Then start thinking,” Megan says. “Now, did I see a smoothie machine in your kitchen?”

*

“I think we should tell Dad about it,” Josh says that night, when he’s settled in Drake’s bed and getting ready to sleep. “He needs a pick-me-up.”

“No, Megan’s right,” Drake says. He’s not even sure why, only that she is, and that if it were as simple as telling Walter, she would’ve already done it. “Maybe we can ditch school tomorrow and go take a few turns on the Demonator. We’ll have a blast and get Mom and Walter on our backs. Win-win.”

Josh doesn’t say anything, but Drake is pretty sure he can talk him into it. He’s still working on his hard sell when he falls asleep with Josh’s heavy night breathing in his ear, and the next thing he knows, he’s still exhausted and there’s a light in his eyes.

“Ow, no,” he mumbles, reaching for Josh the way he’s grown used to doing in the middle of the night. Josh reaches back with a half-awake sound, and when Drake tucks his face into Josh’s chest, it blocks most of the maddening light.

He drifts back to sleep, to a dream where Walter has just discovered Audrey’s pregnancy.

“I don’t know whether to say thank god or oh dear god,” Walter says in a loud, everyday voice. He’s talking too loud, but he’s probably excited. It’s not often that old guys get to have babies.

“I have to admit I’m not prepared to deal with this,” Mom says. She’s wearing an apron with a baby bottle pattern, and Drake suddenly notices the crib with at least five sleeping babies all lined up in a row.

“Should we wake them?” Walter asks, and Mom sighs.

“We might as well get this over with,” she says, and Drake screams when he feels her hand on his shoulder, because he hadn’t even seen her coming. Then Josh is yelling in his ear and there’s a brief struggle before he realizes that he’s tangled in his covers, in Josh, and that Mom and Walter aren’t in his dream, but right next to his bed.

“What are you guys doing? What time is it?”

“It’s five-thirty in the morning, and Walter has been looking for Josh since four,” Mom says, pacing with a hand on her belly. Now that Drake knows, it seems so obvious.

Drake rubs his face and takes in Walter’s disheveled state: his worn out slippers and mismatched pajamas, set against Mom’s clean, prim robe. They don’t look mad; Drake is an expert at gauging those things. They look tired and a little embarrassed, which is a strange reaction. All Josh has done is sneaked out—and hey, maybe this can be their thing. Completely effortless; even Megan will have to be impressed.

“I, ah, boys, why don’t you get dressed and meet us downstairs for an early breakfast?” Mom says, and Josh babbles the entire time about being in trouble and causing a pregnant lady undue stress, but neither of them realize what’s going on until they’re at the breakfast table eating blueberry waffles and Mom says, “First of all, we want you to know that we love you no matter what.”

Josh’s eyes meet Drake’s over the table, where he sees the same confusion he knows is reflected in his own. “Uh, okay,” Josh says, but he lowers his fork to his plate. “Thanks.”

“How long has this been going on?” Mom asks, with a longing stare at Walter’s coffee. She has a glass of water and a piece of toast.

Drake considers his options. It’s best not to rule out lying unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“Since the beginning,” Josh says, his face downcast, as though he’s been caught doing something terrible. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Drake says, and tears off a piece from a dry waffle with his teeth.

“We don’t expect you to be sorry,” Mom says carefully. “It’s just a little unexpected, that’s all. We had no idea you two were even…” She waves her hand in a motion that doesn’t seem to mean anything other than a loss for words. “Much less in a relationship.”

“A relationship,” Drake says, his lip curling, but understanding has already begun to trickle in. They’d found him sleeping with Josh--sleeping with Josh--and yeah, this is much better than sneaking out or ditching school or any of the ideas they’d tossed around last night.

“Relationship?” Josh asks, sounding vaguely ill.

Drake chews happily on his waffle, energized by yet another plan gone right. The universe loves him. “Accept it, Josh. They know about us.”

“Us?” Josh says.

“It’s okay,” Drake says. “I’m glad it’s finally out. Now we don’t have to hide all the-“ Huh. He hadn’t thought ahead to exactly what kinds of things their parents think they’ve been hiding. “-all the making out,” he finishes, a bit unhappily. It’s probably better to get into these fake secret relationships slowly, and he’s already escalated things to secret makeout sessions in less than ten seconds.

Josh makes an incoherent sound of rage.

“I guess Mom and Walter have a lot to talk about,” Drake says pointedly, and Josh startles for a moment before he says, “Oh. Oh,” and nods. It probably takes Josh a lot longer to work up to fake secret relationships.

“I just don’t understand,” Mom says. “I didn’t even know Drake was interested in boys.”

Josh looks up from his plate. “But I was?” Drake kicks him under the table.

“I’m more concerned that they’re practically brothers,” Walter says.

“In what way?” Josh demands, pushing away from the table. “We don’t live in the same house anymore, and you guys are getting divorced! The only one lucky enough to get a permanent place in this family is the baby, who probably won’t even appreciate it!”

Drake had seen Josh cry a lot the weekend he’d moved out, but the anger is a surprise. Then again, Josh has refused to sleep in Walter’s apartment even though it means breaking the rules, so maybe Drake should have known it goes deeper than noisy poodles.

Walter has perked up a little with the coffee, but he blinks a few times and shakes his head before he says, “Baby?”

“Boys,” Mom says, looking very tired, “I think we’ll have to deal with you later.”

*

When they get upstairs, Drake kicks off his jeans and climbs back into bed. There’s still nearly an hour until the alarm goes off.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Come on, you can, too.”

Josh just stands there where his bed used to be, his arms handing at his sides. “How can you sleep when our parents are downstairs possibly getting back together-- and, no less important, thinking we’re up here being boyfriends.”

Drake laughs as he reclines on his pillow. “Well, we are sleeping together.”

“That’s not funny,” Josh says. “We have to tell them the truth.”

“No way. Not until they get back together. In fact, if they resist, we might have to take it to the next level.”

“There will be no next level,” Josh says, but he takes off his jeans and gets in bed with Drake. Drake isn’t even sure if Josh knows what the next level is, although he does notice that he tries to keep to the edge.

“Be cool,” Drake says softly, in a tone Josh usually responds to. They can’t start acting differently now. Drake likes the way things are; he likes the way Josh’s legs feel against his own, warm and solid, with soft hair that tickles when Drake gets daring enough to slide a thigh over Josh’s. He’s gotten that daring four times, so far.

“I shouldn’t have said anything about the baby,” Josh says just as Drake is starting to doze off. It figures. It always takes Josh the longest to fall asleep, because he worries too much. “It was too soon.”

“Nah.” Drake throws an arm over Josh’s chest and squeezes his shoulder. In this position, Josh’s nearest shoulder is a nice rest for Drake’s face, warm and comfortable. “You got it out there in the open. They might even be doing something disgusting right now.”

“They’re probably saying the same thing about us.”

“Ha. Bet they’ll think twice before they come in without knocking, now.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve still got my purity ring,” Josh says.

“Blah,” Drake says under his breath. “And you might have the ring, but you can still make out and give sexy hand-massages.”

Josh falls abruptly silent, and it occurs to Drake that while he’s been thinking about the magic press of Josh’s thumbs into his palm, Josh still considers everything he does as platonic as a thump on the back. No wonder hot-cousin had been so pissed off; Josh had probably touched her in a dozen sexy ways and then said, whoa, not so fast, missy, I’m into hand-holding.

“Or whatever it is you do,” Drake says quickly. “Now, shh. Go to sleep.”

*

“You must really want Mom and Walter back together,” Megan says the next afternoon, as they’re sitting at the table with their homework.

“Pretty good, right?”

She shrugs, her long hair sliding over one shoulder. “Good for Mom and Walter. Bad for you and Josh.”

Drake watches her make a few notes in the margin of her book. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re stuck pretending Josh is your boyfriend,” she laughs.

Drake rolls it around in his mind for a while, but still doesn’t see the problem. “So?”

She laughs some more, a sound that makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and goes back to her homework.

She thinks she’s so smart, but that night when Walter brings Josh over to watch the two-hour special of Temp Agency, Drake is the one who gets to sit wedged up between Josh and Mom on the sofa that night. No one talks about divorce or babies or Drake’s D minus in Spanish, and it feels great to have Josh with him without having to sneak around.

Mom keeps shooting him and Josh fond, puzzled little glances, and it’s a while before Drake realizes she’s probably thinking about their big secret love. The worrying thing is how okay she seems with it. A little too okay, because if she and Walter aren’t freaking out then they might not have as much to talk about. Just in case, Drake insinuates himself even closer against Josh’s side and puts his hand on Josh’s thigh, so their fingers rest lightly together.

Josh turns his head sharply, and a second later, whispers, “What are you doing?”

“The gateway base,” Drake whispers back, lingering at Josh’s ear, in the hopes that it looks like a kiss to everyone else. Just a harmless little peck; nothing to get too worried about, but definitely enough to rattle their parents. When he draws back, he gives Josh a convincing smile and hooks their fingers together.

Josh looks at him for another couple seconds, but then he smiles and relaxes his hand in Drake’s. His hand feels warm and welcoming, and Drake kind of wishes this was okay to do all the time—not just when Josh is crying, or as part of a big fakeout. In his experience, holding hands is just a brief segue to other ways of touching, so a nice low-level anticipation is already traveling pleasantly from his wrist right up into the rest of his body.

Drake knows it’s for show, but he can’t help switching his hand around every few minutes, rearranging its clasp just to remind Josh he’s still there, and that they’re touching. Each time Josh laughs, his fingers twitch against Drake’s, and when the credits begin to roll, he squeezes Drake’s hand.

It really doesn’t feel very different from how they normally act.

Mom seems to pick up on the same thing. “I don’t know how I missed it,” she says, shaking her head. From her other side, Walter is leaning forward a little to look down at them.

“I suspected,” he says. “After the dance contest.”

“Can we not talk about this, please?” Josh says.

Mom smiles as though Josh is the sweetest thing she’s ever seen, and stares at them for so long Drake starts to squirm. “Yeah, we’d better get to bed,” he says.

They could’ve made an easy escape, but Megan says, “Too much information,” and Mom’s expression turns worried.

“Boys,” she says, and Drake feels Josh stiffen next to him. They both know that tone. “It’s probably too late for this talk, since you’ve been sleeping together for God knows how long, but—“

“Sleeping, sleeping!” Josh sputters. “That’s all! Does my vow of abstinence mean nothing?” He holds the ring away from his neck and waves it so hard Drake is surprised the chain doesn’t snap. In a way, he wishes it would.

“Oh. All right then, that’s good to know,” Mom says. She exchanges a look with Walter, who pats her shoulder, which Drake takes as a good sign. “Maybe we can hold off on that talk for a while.”

“How about forever?” Drake says, and tries not to seem too eager when he follows Josh upstairs.

*

“Dad said they ordered me my own bed,” Josh says as they’re changing into their pajamas. “It’s getting delivered tomorrow.”

“I heard.” Drake loses his shirt and tugs at the waistband of his pajama pants so they sit low on his hips, just in case Josh is watching. He wants to get close to Josh tonight, closer they’d been on the sofa, and in his experience, there are a lot of good ways to get people interested in touching him and a few great ones. He makes sure he gives a good show when he stretches out in bed, and by the time Josh joins him, he’s eyeing Drake as though they haven’t been doing this every night. “But we still might have to share,” Drake says. “To make it more realistic.”

“You just want a new bed,” Josh says slowly, as though he’s trying to figure it out. “Or…you’re not just messing with Mom and Dad out of revenge, are you? Because of the separation?”

“What? No.”

“Good,” Josh says, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper and heading up to bed. “Because they’ve got a lot of problems right now, so we shouldn’t do anything to make them worry about us.”

Drake doesn’t like the way that sounds, as though there couldn’t be any other reason he might want to keep sleeping with Josh. “That’s not what I’m trying to do, man,” he says, crawling under the covers so Josh’s hand skids across his side before it’s abruptly withdrawn. “I just don’t get why we have to mess with a good thing. There’s plenty of room for you up here.”

“I know,” Josh says, but there isn’t any conviction behind his agreement.

“And I’ve always said, why mess with a good thing?”

“I know you have.” Josh stays far, far away.

“So…” Drake rolls onto his side and gropes for Josh’s hand under the covers. “Why mess with a good thing?” Josh grips Drake’s hand hard, but doesn’t respond beyond that. He smells faintly sweet, like shampoo and mocha cola, and Drake feels warm and urgent all over, just from lying here like this.

“I- space,” Josh says. “I mean, you’ve been nice about this whole thing, but I know you just felt sorry for me. So now you can…don’t you want your space?”

“If we were together like Mom and Dad think we are, we wouldn’t just stop.” Drake untangles his hand from Josh’s and lays it flat on his belly.

“But we’re not together like that.”

Drake thinks about that as he twitches his fingers against Josh’s belly, the rough cotton drag of his t-shirt. They’re not, but they could be. It sounds crazy, but he’s sexy, Josh is sexy, and there’s something about the way he feels when he wakes up under the heavy weight of Josh’s arm that makes him certain this could work. “We could be,” he says, and Josh is quiet for a while.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” he says slowly, “But it’s not funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” Drake says, but he brings his hand back to his own side of the bed.

*

The next day, Megan asks them to come to her room, but Josh is so nervous about entering the forbidden domain that he stalls out in the hall, twitching with anxiety. Drake nearly pulls something trying to tug him through the doorway, where he clings with white knuckles until Megan says, “You have a one-time pass, so relax. But if you touch anything, you’ll be sorry.”

Drake sits down carefully on Megan’s rug, and Josh joins him, moving slowly, as though he’s afraid of triggering a bomb. Drake remembers when Megan’s room had been all fluffy bunnies, but now it’s decorated in aggressive reds and browns, with posters of Megan’s favorite bands spread over all the wall space. One thing that hasn’t changed is the flat screen tv on the wall.

“Okay, watch this,” she says, pointing a complicated-looking remote at the tv. “This is from last night, right after we all went upstairs.”

The screen flickers twice, and then there’s Mom and Walter in high-def resolution, sitting on the sofa. Drake can’t tell where the camera is hidden, but it’s good. The picture even zooms in when they start talking.

“I’m not sure we should let them spend all that time alone up there,” Mom says.

Walter is pretty obvious; he can’t keep his eyes off her belly, helpless with longing. “Yes, well. The new bed is coming tomorrow. That should take care of things.”

“I don’t know.” She curls her knees up on the sofa so she can face Walter. “Now that they’re interested in each other, it seems irresponsible to let them lock themselves up there unsupervised…” She puts her hands over her face, and Walter looks equally mortified.

“I had the sex talk with Josh years ago,” he says with a small laugh. “But I guess I gave him the wrong one.”

Mom nods. “The thing is, I’m fairly certain I gave Drake the right one. I hate to say it, but this whole thing has me worried about Josh. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Drake glances at Josh, and catches him doing the same thing.

Walter looks impossibly flustered. “I think we need to let them work it out by themselves,” he says. “But some supervision wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Mom lays her head on the back of the sofa, and Drake sees how tired she looks. “The thing is, I can’t be here all the time. So I thought that you might not mind dropping by afternoons, or when I have to work late…”

“You shouldn’t be working late,” Walter says, soft and intense. “You should be taking it easy. I’m happy to help you keep an eye on the boys, and I can help out with the house, too. Dinner, vacuuming, that sort of thing.”

“It worked!” Drake says, but Josh claps his hand over Drake’s mouth, listening intently.

“Oh, Walter,” Mom says with a sigh. She slides her hand over his and they sit there for a few moments in silence before she says, “We should probably call it a night. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Drake isn’t sure he wants to see what happens next, but Megan points the remote at the screen and shuts it down with a click.

“So, we did it.” Drake had known his plan would work.

Megan gets up and puts her hands on her hips. “Sort of. You did it, but only so long as they think you’re set on doing unspeakable things to each other when their backs are turned.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you’d better keep it up until Walter sublets that apartment and we all live here together again.”

Josh looks down at his hands for a while before he finally says, “Megan, why do you even care?”

And Drake doesn’t see her falter often, but her face is unguarded for a few seconds before her eyes narrow and she says, “Because I refuse to be the one who gets stuck changing diapers all the time, boob. Now get out, and don’t screw this up.”

*

Mom catches him that evening when he goes downstairs for a drink. He may have been avoiding her since this whole thing started, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s surprisingly hard to be cool when she sits him down on the sofa and forces him to make eye contact.

“I’ve been so preoccupied with the pregnancy and trying to go back to doing everything on my own that I think a lot has gotten past me,” she says. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, weakly, already dreading what comes next.

“I want to know about you and Josh,” she says, in the same tone she’d used when his grandmother had gotten very sick and died. “All this time, and it never occurred to me there might be more going on than…”

“Mom.” Drake isn’t sure, but he thinks Josh might be in the kitchen.

“Drake,” she mimics. “You’ve got to give me something, here. I feel like I really missed something, so if you could just—“ she pauses for a second, studying him. “Tell me what you love about Josh.”

Drake groans. “You know,” he shrugs. “He’s Josh.”

“But honey,” she says. “There has to be more. If you’re willing to change your entire sexuality for-“

“Ugh, Mom, no. Please!”

“All right, all right,” she says. At least she’s not enjoying this, either. “But I’d like to know how you’re feeling, if only to ease my mind.”

“Fine.” Drake glances toward the kitchen. If Josh the one rattling around in there, Drake doesn’t want him listening in. “Well, you know, he’s always being nice to me. To everybody, really. He makes me pudding, and we have fun.”

“And?”

Drake drops his head back and sighs. “Relax, okay? It’s not much of a change from girls,” he says. “Josh has nice hands, a pretty smile.” It makes his heart do a little jump to say so, when he’s usually such a smooth liar. But what he’s saying is true, and not just the bit about his smile. Josh is nice to look at all over.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, and Drake nearly rolls his eyes, because she’s so mushy when it comes to Josh.

“So. I’m kind of hungry,” he says, and flees to the kitchen.

*

Of course it was Josh in the kitchen all along. Drake sidles up to him and watches while he stirs a bowl of what looks like brownie batter with a wooden spoon.

Josh gives a soft snort, as though he’s not quite laughing at Drake. “I had my own interrogation earlier,” he says without looking up from his work. “I had to explain everything I looove about you.”

“Oh,” Drake says, cringing inside. Of course Josh had heard everything. He should probably explain himself, but everything already feels so complicated, he doesn’t want to add to it. Anyway, he can’t look away from Josh’s forearms, pale and solid where Josh had rolled up the sleeves of his light blue shirt from work. Drake knows that Josh has been working out for a while now, but he’s never really taken the time to notice the results, the way his arms flex as he stirs, his wide hand steady on the spoon. Josh, he thinks with a prickle of annoyance, who walks around all sexy and then puts on a purity ring.

“So, you like my smile, huh?”

“Your pretty, pretty smile,” Drake says. For effect, he leans heavily on Josh’s shoulder when he reaches in to drag his finger through the batter. “What’d you say about me?” he asks with a little squeeze to Josh’s shoulder.

“Uh. You know,” Josh says, and in the second it takes for him to duck his head and blush, Drake goes from simply making conversation to needing to know.

“Wow, must be embarrassing.” Drake wriggles his way up onto the counter and smirks at Josh. “C’mon Josh, what’d you say?”

“None of your business,” Josh says. “And get out of my bowl.”

“Was it my hair? My talent? My…” He falters when he realizes that he’s got no idea what might get Josh going, but why should Josh be the only one getting the good compliments?

“Shut up,” Josh says, and then frowns. “What does it matter, anyhow? This isn’t even real.”

“Hey,” Drake says, still watching the hypnotic motion of Josh’s forearms. “Shhh.” Mom’s still out there.

“Sorry.” Josh’s shoulders slump for a moment before he sighs and hands Drake the spoon. The chocolate is excellent, sweet and bitter on his lips. “I just wish I knew what was going to happen.”

“Making out, that’s what’s gonna happen,” Drake says, just in case Mom is listening, and Josh looks so mortified that Drake catches his hand to press a few exaggerated kisses onto his wrist. “Because we’re boyfriends.” The skin is smooth under his lips, and Josh twitches a little, as though it tickles. At the last second, Drake edges higher and lets his teeth graze the muscle he’d been admiring earlier.

Josh’s new spoon clatters against the bowl as he jerks away. “Drake,” he says slowly. His eyes are shadowed by reproach. “We don’t have to do all this. I mean, you heard what they said. They’re already convinced.”

“Convinced, maybe,” Drake says, tugging at Josh’s hand until he stumbles forward against Drake’s knees. “But we need to keep them worried.”

When Josh looks up at him and doesn’t argue, Drake knows what’s going to happen. He’s tired of Josh looking so sad all the time; Josh, who gives Drake brownies and the best backrubs, and deserves so much more than a busted up family. Drake is going to kiss him. He does it before he can change his mind, with one hand at the back of Josh’s neck to keep him close while he kisses him the way he thinks Josh might like to be kissed: slow and deep, with his fingers stroking at the edge of his hair, to show how much he means it.

Josh doesn’t pull away so much as he sways away from the counter, his mouth wet and his eyes averted, half-hidden beneath his hair. He sidesteps Drake and goes back to his brownies, breathing hard and saying nothing.

Drake wants him to come back. He’d just been getting into it; he hadn’t even gotten to feel Josh pressed against him. Josh’s hands hadn’t moved at all.

“So, that’s what we should do from now on,” Drake says, but Josh must not hear him, because he continues scraping the batter into a pan and doesn’t reply.

*

Despite the new bed, they sleep in Drake’s that night, which Drake takes as a good sign. Josh doesn’t offer to rub his back or fall asleep with his hands fisted in Drake’s t-shirt, but maybe he’s just like this after he kisses someone for the first time. Josh is shy in a lot of ways.

*

Things are going well, which is why Drake is blindsided by the seething resentment that rises up under his skin when he comes home from school and finds Josh in their room—on their sofa—shoulder to shoulder with Andrew Jeffries, laughing at some stupid joke about math, of all things. Drake wants to punch him in the stupid smiling face.

“What’s going on?” he asks, tossing his backpack onto the table at just the right angle to send Andrew’s book over the edge.

“Drake.” Josh frowns and reaches for the book. “We’re studying.”

“Studying, right.” Drake isn’t the jealous type; it’s just that he knows flirting when he sees it. Andrew is even wearing the guilty, trapped expression of a guy up to no good. Slowly, as though he thinks Drake might not notice, he removes his hand from Josh’s arm. “He has a purity ring, you know,” Drake says, crossing his arms over his chest. Ha. “And he takes it seriously, so why don’t you just take your so-called books and go home?”

“They’re real books,” Josh says, and then shakes his head. “And that isn’t the point! You can’t just come in here and—Andrew, wait, you really don’t have to go.”

Andrew is already up, with half his stuff packed into his bag. “I forgot I was supposed to be home early tonight,” he says. “Sorry, Josh. Um, sorry Drake,” he adds as he hurries out of the room, keeping to the edge of the room, far away from Drake.

“Sorry Drake?” Josh shouts as the door closes.

“Apology not accepted,” Drake says. He still can’t believe Josh had another guy in here, about to do who knows what on the same sofa where they sit every night.

“I’m not apologizing!” Josh sputters. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“We’re not supposed to have girls up here,” Drake says, ignoring the several dozen times he’s broken the rule. “Especially not with the door closed.”

“Andrew isn’t a girl!”

“Yeah, which makes it even worse! I’m supposed to be the only guy you bring up here, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Josh says, dropping his face into his hands. “I just don’t get why you’re getting all jealous over a fake relationship, when you don’t get jealous over any of your real ones.”

Just like that, Drake’s anger breaks apart into something less volatile, but just as uncomfortable. Maybe some of their relationship is a put-on, but there are parts that are so real they’ve changed the way Drake sees himself and Josh and their entire life together. But Josh has already said it: fake relationship, and he’d been up here with Andrew, and he hadn’t raised his hands to touch Drake when they’d kissed.

It takes a few seconds for Drake to identify the heaviness in his chest, but then it starts to rise up behind his eyes and he’s smart enough to get out before he embarrasses himself. He’s used to knowing what he wants, but he’s not used to wanting in a way that feels so raw it hurts. For the first time since the day he met Josh, he doesn’t try to get the last word.

The whole family is at the dinner table, and they all sense the tension. Every time Megan catches his eye, she gives him a look that threatens ten kinds of violence, but there’s nothing he can do. In a way, he’s more disappointed that Josh isn’t better at pretending to be crazy about him.

“Are you two fighting?” Walter asks as he spoons peas onto his plate. He gets some for Mom too, and they smile together as though he’s done her a great favor.

“Dad,” Josh sighs. “Me and Drake, we’re not—“

Drake’s mouth drops open as blood rushes to his head, along with all the anger from earlier. “Whatever you’re going to say is a lie,” he says, pointing at Josh. He doesn’t care who hears. “You can call it fake if you want, but you slept in my bed every single night, Josh. We both wanted it, we both liked it, and not just because of poodles.”

Josh’s eyes go wide, as though Drake has accused him of something terrible. “I happen to need eight hours of sleep-” he says, but Drake cuts him off before he can ruin everything.

“And the backrubs, do you think that’s normal?”

“I never said it was normal! I never said I wasn’t…”

“Yes, you did! You are! You’re trying to just get out of it so you can make out with Andrew Jeffries.”

Josh throws his napkin onto his plate. “I don’t want to make out with anyone. Not him, and not you.”

“What about last night?” Drake asks. It’s supposed to be a continuation of the argument, but it comes out plaintive, weak, and Josh has always been tuned into his weaknesses, because he shuts his mouth and studies Drake with a careful gaze.

“What happened last night?” Megan says.

Drake stares down at his food and shrugs. Nothing, as far as Josh is concerned.

“We kissed,” Josh says softly, and when Drake meets his eyes, he realizes that he’s not the only one who’s been screwed up by this whole thing.

*

It’s not unusual for them to share the bathroom mornings or late at night, stepping around each other as they brush their teeth, but Drake really isn’t in the mood that night, when he’s running a sink of hot water to wash his face and Josh slips in behind him.

“Do you mind?” he says, glaring at Josh’s reflection in the mirror.

“Nope.” Josh stuffs his dirty clothes into the hamper and shuts the door without even asking.

Whatever. Drake is still peeved about Andrew, about Josh trying to blow their whole cover, and he doesn’t know why he’d ever thought he could pretend to be like, in love with Josh, when they live to fight with each other. In fact, it feels great to step back just when he knows Josh is passing behind him, the satisfying thud of their bodies and the crunch of Josh’s foot under his heel.

“Ow!” Josh says, but he stays right in Drake’s space, crowding him against the counter in a way that would feel threatening if it were anyone but Josh.

“I’m not finished.” Drake unfolds his washcloth and dunks it in the water, the water lapping against his knuckles.

“I know,” Josh says. “I wanted to talk to you without Megan’s cameras.” He puts his hand on Drake’s back, warm and heavy and too late. “Drake, I know why you’re mad. I know you think I rejected you or something, but I didn’t.”

Drake snorts and turns off the tap so hard the pipes clang. It had been more like a blatant rejection, which stings because he’s Drake; he might not be smart like Mindy or even built like Josh, but he has his own charms. He’s a rock star, he’s exciting, everyone likes the way he wears a pair of jeans. He wipes his face with the washcloth and slicks back his hair, ignoring Josh’s sad-puppy face in the mirror.

“I’m sorry,” Josh says.

Drake lets the washcloth slide back into the sink and licks the water from his lips. “Stop saying you’re sorry. Besides, you didn’t reject me. I never…”

Okay, so he had. He’d held Josh’s hand, tried to be his boyfriend, kissed him.

“I don’t believe you,” Josh says, catching a drop of water with his thumb as it slides down Drake’s neck. “You were jealous of Andrew, for real.”

“Shut up.”

“You didn’t have anything to be jealous about, Drake. I wanted everything, even more than you did.”

“Right.”

“It’s true,” Josh insists. “I think about it all the time. About you.”

“Not the way I want you to,” Drake says.

“Yes,” Josh says, and turns Drake around by the shoulders. “I watch you all the time. I know you like having your hands touched,” he says, taking Drake’s hand and lifting it between them. He traces the lines of Drake’s palm until goosebumps have shivered their way up Drake’s arms and down his spine, and then he presses in with this thumbs. Drake exhales, shakily, because Josh is right: he likes this a lot. It’s more intimate than kissing, to have Josh’s eyes watching his every reaction as he strokes between Drake’s fingers, down his wrist, and finally kneads lightly at the base of his thumb.

“You’re sensitive here,” Josh says. For one dizzying moment, Drake thinks he’s going to put his mouth on Drake’s fingers, but he just keeps touching him there, over and over, as though he knows how hard he’s making Drake with every pass.

“I like other things, too,” Drake says.

“Me too.” Josh leans in close, Drake’s hand trapped between them. “In the kitchen. When you kissed me, I felt like you really wanted me. But then you made such a big deal out of faking it, and I didn’t know.”

“I wanted you,” Drake says, putting his arms around Josh’s neck and holding him close. He presses his face to Josh’s neck and feels the cool scrape of silver across his chin. “Ugh, that stupid ring,” he moans, churning with frustration. “What can we do?”

“We can do this,” Josh says, breathless, as his hands wander down Drake’s back and into the back of his jeans. For a guy wearing a purity ring, he’s doing a terrible job of slowing things down. It’s Josh who’s doing all the work of rubbing Drake against his hip, friction Drake has been dying for ever since Josh first touched him.

He kisses his way down the side of Josh’s throat, sucking just hard enough to make a mark, and that’s his mistake, because a few seconds after Josh makes a sound way too ecstatic to be coming from the bathroom, Megan pounds on the door.

“Give it a rest, Mom and Walter aren’t even in the house!” she yells. “And I need my robe, so get out.”

Josh steps back, touching his fingers to the ring.

“Take it off,” Drake says softly.

Josh looks a little dazed, but he shakes his head. “I don’t think so, Drake. This is why I have it, so I don’t do something…”

“Something stupid?”

“No, no, not stupid. Can’t you tell how much I like what we were doing?” Josh gets close again, and Drake can’t help but bring him in for another kiss, because yeah, he can tell. Josh is vibrant against him with a restless energy, as though his restraint is barely holding, until he pulls away, his hands still petting softly over Drake’s hair. “But Mom is right, this could be a bad idea if we don’t both…I mean, what if something happens? We need to make sure before we do anything we can’t take back. That was the whole point; to make me stop and make an informed decision.”

Leave it to Josh to make an informed decision about kissing.

“I mean it!” Megan yells. “I’m going to tell Mom that you showered together, and she’ll never let you near the bathroom again.”

Drake jerks the door open and blows past her toward his room. Josh can deal with her if he wants to.

*

“What, you’re sleeping in your own bed now?” Drake sits up when Josh starts pulling the covers down.

Josh tugs the covers back into place. “No. Yes? I don’t know. If I get in there with you, I’ll want to touch you.”

“So? That’s what we do.”

“But things are different, now.” Josh doesn’t move toward him.

“Yeah, better.”

Josh smiles, ducking his head a little, weirdly shy. “Better,” he agrees. “But still different. Before, when I’d rub your back, it felt like I was getting away with something. But now that I know I can do more…” His eyes go unfocused for a few seconds, and Drake is instantly turned on by the idea that Josh is imagining all the things he might do—if he didn’t have that ring.

“You can do more,” Drake says. “I can take my shirt off. Or leave it on. Or, I can rub your back.”

“Uh, you probably shouldn’t,” Josh says, but he turns off the light and climbs in bed with Drake. It only takes a few seconds of fumbling before they’re kissing again, Drake on his back and Josh hovering over him, warm and solid and surprisingly aggressive, which Drake hadn’t even known he liked until now. He discovers that Josh makes the most amazing sounds when he gets hot, half-formed moans against Drake’s mouth and the occasional, “Drake, you feel, oh god Drake,” just from Drake’s hands on his face and in his hair.

Then Josh shifts against him, and Drake gasps for air, still clinging, because for a second he’d felt Josh’s erection, as hard as steel against his belly, and he wants to touch it so badly that his chest hurts, his skin hurts, and the ache between his legs is just as bad.

“Okay, stop,” he says, pushing Josh off to the side. He kicks the covers down and throws his arm over his eyes, his mouth wet and tingling from Josh. It’s still hard to wrap his mind around the fact that his mouth feels like this because Josh had been so eager for it. “I can’t do this,” he says. “I’m sorry I don’t have your perfect self-control, but I can’t make out with you and not get off.”

“That is so good to hear,” Josh sighs. He sounds just as wound up as Drake feels. “I’ve seen you kiss girls for hours like it was no big deal, but as soon as you touch me…”

“Yeah,” Drake says miserably, slipping his hand into his underwear and giving his dick a squeeze. The skin is hot, and sticky at the tip.

“Don’t even think about it,” Josh says, like some kind of freaky mind-reader, and Drake stares up at the dark ceiling until his vision starts to fade out at the edges.

*
On one hand, Drake is privately giddy with relief that Josh is his; that there’s no way to lose him now, no matter what happens with their parents. He has to remind himself not to act like a big goofy dork, when all he feels like doing is smiling and holding hands with Josh and all the crap that they really can’t do anywhere but home.

On the other hand, he’s going crazy with the ridiculous amount of kissing they’re doing—and the one time he’d slipped his hands under Josh’s shirt and groped at all that warm, smooth skin for a good two minutes before Josh had run away like Drake had tried to get to third base. No wonder hot cousin had been so angry; who can live with this kind of frustration gnawing at them every single minute? Not Drake.

He’s trying to understand. He’s even managed to ignore Mom’s hint-dropping that it would be a real shame if Josh were pressured into going against something he felt so strongly against, which isn’t fair because she hasn’t seen all the times he’s wrenched away from Josh and jerked off later, alone, in the bathroom without any griping. Well, hardly any griping.

Still, it’s hard. When Drake comes into the Premiere, Josh always stops what he’s doing and gives him a smile that goes all the way to his eyes and lingers too long for propriety, but Drake doesn’t care because he’s too busy recovering from the sudden plunge of his belly, like that first loop on the Demonator. He hangs around until Josh closes as often as he can, because then they get to make out in the parking lot, to use the front seat of the car as an excuse to get closer than they probably should.

Every once in a while, Josh will say something like “So, you’re not doing this with anyone else, right?” or “You’re amazing, you know that, right?” and Drake will get his hopes up, but that’s a far cry from the true love forever that he’d talked about when he’d explained about his ring. Drake doesn’t know how to make that happen, but he’s pretty sure he’s already there. Josh has always been the slow one; just getting started while Drake is sprinting across the finish line.

Bedtime is Drake’s most dreaded part of the day—and also his favorite—because he gets to kiss Josh for what seems like hours. No matter how much he hates kissing without getting off, not kissing would be even worse. Once in a while, he’ll let Drake climb on top of him, but most of the time they lie on their sides, Drake’s leg draped over Josh’s hip, crotches carefully apart.

Tonight, Drake is on his back when Josh climbs onto the bed and kneels next to him.

“Hi,” Josh says, looking down and smiling. He smells of shampoo and the shaving cream they share, and Drake’s hand automatically goes to Josh’s face, cool and smooth. Nice. Drake doesn’t know how he missed things like this before: Josh’s gorgeous skin and mouth and the way it feels to have Josh’s eyes on him like this.

He touches the spot just beneath Josh’s lower lip. “I thought you had to stay up and study.”

“I should,” Josh admits. “I will later. But first, I’d rather do this.” He catches Drake’s hand and bends it back lightly so he can trace over the taut surface of his palm. Drake’s toes curl under the blankets. “Feel good?” Josh asks, and he nods wordlessly. Maybe Josh had been right about watching him all the time, because he knows exactly where to touch Drake, how to press at the base of each finger in a way that makes Drake throb with need.

“Have I mentioned how much I love that you like this?” Josh says, trailing one finger feather-light over Drake’s palm before he starts on the fleshy part, digging in deep in all the right places until Drake is warm and liquid all over, his heels pressed into the mattress. His eyes try to droop shut, but he can’t look away from the concentration on Josh’s face; concentration on him.

“Your hands are sexy,” Josh says, letting his hair fall over his eyes as though he’s embarrassed. “Especially when you play. The first time you let me do this, I wasn’t exactly doing it for you.”

Josh shifts so he can straddle Drake’s thighs, a better angle to hold Drake’s hand, and Drake’s eyes slide shut as he sinks into the pleasure that Josh is willing to give him, the relentless rub of skin against his palm. “Do it for whoever you want,” Drake mumbles, just as three of his fingers sink into wet heat. His eyes fly open, every nerve alive, his heart thudding high in his chest. “Josh,” he breathes, as Josh’s tongue slides along his sensitive fingertips.

Oh god, he wants this. He wants everything it suggests, Josh’s mouth on his body, but he wants this specifically, the way Josh presses his teeth into the pad of Drake’s middle finger and flicks his tongue over all the in between spaces, keeping a steady, relentless massage on the rest of his hand.

Drake pulls in a breath and squirms on the bed, because his balls are tightening up and pleasure signals are darting through his body in a confusion of sensation. He tries to be cool, tries to relax as though this were any old massage, but Josh’s eyes are dark and intent as he uses his tongue to prod at every sensitive spot he can find until Drake’s thighs are trembling, his whole body trembling with restraint that he doesn’t have. “Josh,” he says, curling his fingers in protest, but they just slide across Josh’s tongue. “Josh, wait, I’m gonna come,” he warns, desperately trying not to touch himself.

The air is cool on his fingers as Josh lifts his mouth, half-open and glistening wet. “No way.”

“Yes,” Drake chokes out. Josh’s thumb is still grinding a rhythmic circle into the heel of his palm.

He feels heavy-limbed, as though the pleasure is weighing him down and he doesn’t have any control over his body, and then he really doesn’t, because Josh takes Drake’s middle finger all the way in and sucks, slow and deliberate. His orgasm moves like Josh’s mouth; it unfolds in the same wet, languid pulses of warmth that lap through him like a restless tide that never quite stills, even after the crest, which leaves him shaking and damp-skinned…and Josh, still holding his hand.

If he could catch his breath, he’d say something—or maybe he wouldn’t, because he’s just as shocked as Josh looks, from where he’s clutching Drake’s hand to his chest.

“Drake, I…are you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says quickly. “And I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count. I mean, I didn’t even take my pants off.”

“No, I know,” Josh says. “It was just pretty intense. I’ve never made anybody do that before. I didn’t even know you could. Not from...”

“It could happen to anyone,” Drake says, even though it’s never happened to him before. But he’s heard stories.

“But you've never?”

“No.”

“Not with Carly? Or that girl in the park with the halter top?”

“No.” Drake tugs his hand away from Josh and sits up. “It’s because of you, okay?” he says, abruptly sick of himself and of the entire situation.

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not mad, Josh. It’s just that stupid ring! It’s like a big symbol that you haven’t made up your mind about me yet, and I don’t get it. You said when you found somebody-“ He covers his face with his hands. “Ugh, never mind. Forget I said anything. Just go study. And thanks,” he adds.

Josh just watches him with wide eyes. “You’re welcome,” he says without a trace of sarcasm, and climbs out of bed.

*

Josh doesn’t wake him in time to ride to school together, which Drake feels is an unfair punishment, when Josh is the one with the boundary issues and sexy finger-sucking. Then again, Mom had warned him not to pressure Josh about the ring, but that’s not fair either, because Mom has not only got Walter’s undying devotion, but she has clearly been having more sex than he’s been having. His brain hurts when he thinks about it, but it’s true.

He doesn’t even see Josh until Economics. Halfway through the class, Josh turns around in his seat and gives Drake a smug smile that usually means he’s got a big dorky secret, or a really cool secret. It’s pretty much fifty-fifty, so there’s no telling.

After class, Josh corners him in the alcove near the gymnasium. “Hey, wait up,” he says, still smiling. He bumps Drake with his hip, and Drake glares, but he doesn’t mean it. There are only so many ways they can be close at school.

“I’m late for study hall,” Drake says.

“You always ditch study hall,” Josh says, leaning into Drake’s space. He smells like lavender, and Drake wants to lick his neck. Except, then he’d run up against that chain, and he can’t handle that right now. Out of habit, he glances into the gap between Josh’s collar and his neck, but he doesn’t see anything. No necklace, no ring.

He looks at Josh, who’s smiling even more. “What?” he says, irritable. He likes to be in on Josh’s secrets.

“Looking for something?” Josh sing-songs. He shakes his bookbag with both hands.

“Dude, did you have coffee on the way to school?”

“Nope.” Josh leans in even more, spreading apart his collar until Drake shoves him away and they get in a scuffle based purely on mutual giddiness that ends with Drake jumping on Josh’s back. They tumble through the gymnasium doors and land on the floor, hard enough that Drake bruises his knee.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks, before Josh can get up.

Josh shrugs. “You were right. Or, you were wrong. I’m not waiting for anything. I was when I first got the ring, but then I told you all about it, so once we were together, I worried that if I took it off, you’d think it meant I was…that I’d made assumptions.”

Drake glances around the gym, and finding it empty, crawls over to Josh. “Make all the assumptions you want,” he says.

“Plus, it’s getting too hard to stop. Last night, I could’ve- your fingers weren’t the only thing I wanted in my mouth.” Josh reaches for him until Drake is half on his lap, and can feel how hard Josh is just from talking about it.

“You want to blow me?”

“I want to do everything,” Josh says. “I want you touch me.”

“Jerk you off?” Drake says, sliding his hand up between Josh’s legs until he finds the thick line of his erection in his jeans.

Josh nods, swallowing hard, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I want that, too,” Drake says, and when he slips his other hand under Josh’s collar, there’s nothing but Josh’s soft gasp and bare, smooth skin.

*

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