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Pope didn't actually like beer. He was only clutching this solo cup in a desperate attempt to seem cool. Was it working?
Probably not.
Pope didn't really like keggers, either. He wasn't like JJ, or John B, or Kie. He wasn't that good at talking to people. He regretted almost everything he said, no matter how insignificant.
Everybody thinks you're weird.
Pope clutched his solo cup a little tighter. He wished he liked beer. He wished he could stomach the thought of not being completely in control of his inhibitions. But he couldn't. He couldn't stomach it. He had to have both hands on the wheel at all times.
It was exhausting. It would be so much easier to just crash the damn car.
"You ever gonna drink that?"
JJ's voice startled Pope out of his internal pity party. He was smiling, one side of his mouth a little higher than the other, the night breeze stirring his hair. And unlike Pope, the cup in his hand was empty.
"Have you been watching me?" Pope shot back in a flustered huff, and he knew he was deflecting, but he didn't care.
"Like a hawk, baby," JJ drawled, slinging a beefy arm around Pope's shoulders. Strong. Safe. "I'm always keepin' an eye on you. You're my boy."
"Uh huh," Pope muttered, not bothering to shrug off JJ's touch for reasons he might never admit. Not while sober, anyway.
"You upset about somethin'?"
Pope looked down at the sand; nudged it with his shoe. "No. Just tired I guess."
"Don't be such an old man." JJ leaned in kind of close then, beer breath and all, and murmured, "You wanna get outta here?"
Something stupid fluttered in Pope's chest. He lifted his head, eyes meeting JJ's own. "And go where?"
"I dunno. Away."
"Yeah," Pope said, soft and a little bit breathless. "Yeah, that sounds good."
So JJ grabbed Pope's hand, grinning, and started to lead him away from the crowd of shit-faced teenagers. Pope stole a frantic glance over his shoulder, worried about the implications, but nobody was looking. Relief washed over him, then a fresh wave of nerves. Him and JJ, alone. Away from everybody. It was Pope's wildest dream and worst nightmare all at once.
JJ just kept dragging Pope down the beach, stumbling now and then. Pope would reach out with his free hand to steady him, and JJ would look over his shoulder, smiling, and say, "Thanks, man."
Pope didn't even have the breath to say you're welcome.
Eventually the kegger was nothing but a dim light flickering in the distance. The beach was painted in the darkest shades of blue, only rivaled by the silver moonbeams that made JJ look like some kind of seaside phantom. He let go of Pope's hand to jog ahead and hop up on a shitty old dock. As always, Pope followed, but hesitated before hopping up after him.
"I don't think this thing is structurally sound," Pope said, placing an experimental shoe on the decaying wood. The creaking sound it made didn't give him much comfort.
"What did I say about bein' an old man?" JJ reminded him, offering a hand that Pope tentatively took. He let JJ pull him up, muttering, "No offense, JJ, but I don't listen to a vast majority of what you say."
JJ put a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "Ouch, dude. But I don't believe that. I think you hang on every word."
"In your dreams, bro."
"Yeah," JJ said, smiling. "In my dreams."
They wound up at the very end of the dock, JJ sitting with his feet dangling above the water while Pope hugged his knees to his chest. JJ kept flipping his zippo open and shut, open and shut, the light from the flame dancing across his face.
"You don't like parties very much, do you?" he piped up out of nowhere, stealing a sidelong glance at Pope.
"They're okay. It's just... Hard for me to talk to people, I guess," Pope said, shifting a little. He and JJ didn't do this very often. Open up. Spill their guts. It was an uncomfortable thing, especially for stupid teenage boys.
But there was no discomfort in JJ's voice when he said, "You can always talk to me."
The fluttering in Pope's chest returned with a vengeance. "I know."
JJ looked out at the ocean then, unusually thoughtful as he chewed on his bottom lip. It was almost as if he was searching for something in the waves. Courage, maybe. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it at last, looking over at Pope again.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure."
"I'm not into girls."
"Very funny," Pope said, eyes rolling, and JJ scratched at his neck.
"No, seriously. I thought I was, or should be, or whatever, but it's never gonna happen." JJ smiled one of those sad, what-can-you-do smiles. "If my dad could hear me right now... Shit, he'd have a total heart attack."
Realization settled across Pope's face; disregard was replaced by worried lines between his eyebrows. "It's gonna be okay, JJ."
"You wanna know what made me realize it? Like, for sure?" JJ asked, still smiling, but not quite as sad. "You. You and your bigass brain. Ain't that some shit?"
"Are you just saying this because you're drunk, or..?"
JJ shook his head so hard it bordered on violent. "I'm saying it 'cause it's true, man. And I'm sorry if that makes you, like, uncomfortable, but I'm sick of pretending I'm something I'm not."
Pope blinked at him. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable."
"You don't have to lie to protect my feelings or whatever."
"I'm not lying."
"Seriously, Pope, it's cool if–"
"JJ," Pope interrupted. "Shut the hell up and listen to me, okay?"
And for once in his life, JJ shut the hell up and listened.
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable," Pope continued, nice and slow, "because I feel the same way. About you."
JJ just looked at him. Looked at him like he was crazy. And maybe he was, because what the hell was he thinking? This was never supposed to happen. Not while he was sober. Not while JJ was staring right at him, big blue eyes swimming with turmoil and moonlight.
"No fuckin' way," JJ said, breathless. "I don't believe you."
Pope sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was getting a migraine. Then he dropped his hand and said, "Fine."
JJ didn't even get the chance to open his stupid mouth again before Pope was kissing him. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, the kind that they both deserved. And JJ kissed him back just as sweetly, calloused hands fluttering against Pope's neck like lovesick butterflies.
JJ Maybank was gentle. JJ Maybank was kind. JJ Maybank was Pope's person, and loving him wasn't so scary after all.
When they finally pulled away, JJ grinned all crooked and content and said, "That was pretty damn convincing, actually."
Pope grinned, too. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." JJ tugged on Pope's earlobe. "I love you, man."
"Gross," Pope murmured, swatting his hand away, but he was still smiling. How could he not be smiling?
"Oh, totally. Super grody."
"Absolutely repulsive," Pope agreed before reaching out to ruffle JJ's hair, face softening like butter left out on the kitchen counter. "I love you, too."
Pope had officially crashed the car, but it felt more like a triumph than an auto accident.