Point of View: Narrator
Leighanne came downstairs a few hours after Brian had hung up with AJ, to find him still curled up in a ball on the chair in the living room, the blanket pulled tight around him, shivering, but asleep.
She frowned. It wasn't that cold in there. She laid a hand across his forehead.
He was burning up.
Leighanne quickly moved to the downstairs bathroom to get the thermometer. Baylee came bounding down the stairs as Leighanne was returning, excitement on his face. "Daddy said we could go to the beach today!" he cried, which explained the swim trunks, flippers and snorkel that he had on.
"I don't think Daddy's going anywhere today," Leighanne sighed.
"WHY?" Baylee wailed, following her, his flippers slapping loudly against the floor, as she walked into the living room.
Brian was still shivering violently in the chair. Baylee stared at his father and frowned. "What's wrong with Daddy?" he asked.
"I think he's got a fever," Leighanne said patiently. She gently reached over and shook Brian's shoulder, "Bri-Bear..."
Baylee leaned on the arm of the chair and stared at Brian as Leighanne woke him up. Brian's eyes opened slowly, they were red and unfocused. Leighanne ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair. Baylee knew that feeling. She did it to him all the time when he was sick, too. He grabbed Brian's hand and patted it, which was what Brian usually did.
Brian smiled at Baylee, "Hey bud," he said. His voice sounded scratchy suddenly.
"Here," Leighanne stuck the thermometer in Brian's mouth before he could object, and ran her fingertips through the thinning curls at his forehead. She smiled fondly, remembering how thick and beautiful they'd been when she'd first met him. She missed those curls. The thermometer beeped and she withdrew it. "Hundred and one," she said, "Dang, Mr. Littrell."
"You have a fever," Baylee told Brian matter-of-a-factly.
"I'd say so," Brian replied.
Leighanne rubbed Baylee's head, "Why don't you go change and then we'll make feel-better breakfast for Daddy?" she suggested. Baylee, who loved 'feel-better breakfast' (french toast, which Leighanne carefully reserved for special occasions), bolted from the room with a squeal of delight and thundered up the stairs. "Careful!" Leighanne called, "Don't run in those flippers!" She turned to look at Brian, whose eyes were halfway shut again. "Baby, what did AJ want earlier?"
Brian blinked. "Huh?"
"AJ... when he called this morning. What was wrong?"
Brian sighed. "He thinks he's in love with Kayla."
"Nick's Kayla?" Leighanne asked, her voice concerned.
"The one and only," Brian answered.
"That's bad," Leighanne said, frowning.
Brian nodded, "That's only half of the story." He proceeded to quickly fill her in on the almost sex and the attack of the bra clasp before Baylee returned. "So now he has a pirate patch and no woman, and he's afraid Nick's gonna kill him," Brian concluded.
"I'M READY!" Baylee cried as he re-entered the room in his own sweats, socks and t-shirt. He looked like a miniature of Brian. "Let's make feel-better breakfast!"
Leighanne looked at Brian. "You relax, mister," she said as he started to get up to go help with the breakfast. "We'll make it and bring it out."
"Thanks," Brian said, smiling up at them as Baylee grabbed Leighanne's hand and pulled her out of the room like a tug boat.
AJ had smoked a half a pack of cigarettes since hanging up with Brian. He snubbed out yet another one and crumpled up the sheet of paper he'd been writing on and tossed it. A pile of crumpled papers were pooling around him on the floor. He tried again:
Nick, I'm a fuck up of a friend and you deserve better.
Nick, I'm in love with
Nick, I'm sorry.
AJ sighed. There were no words he could say that would take it back.
Between breakfast and lunch, Eric was sitting in the common room, wishing for the millionth time since they'd met that Nick could be out there, too. He was in the chair furthest in the corner, away from everyone else, reading a book.
Suddenly the book was snatched out of his hands.
He looked up. The two guys were leaning over him. He was only vaguely aware that their names were Kyle and Jerry, but he'd never referred to them that way. They were Tattoo and Scar in his mind because one had tattoos, and the other had a scar on his face.
Tattoo had the book and he laughed, then tossed it to Scar, who discarded it behind his shoulder. "So we see you got a new boyfriend," Tattoo sneered.
Eric shifted uncomfortably. "No. But so what if I did? Is it any of your business what I do with my life?" he asked, trying to sound tough like Nick had instructed.
"Ooh, is your little boytoy teaching you how to be all tough sounding lie him?" Scar, the one who had talked to Nick in the yard the day Eric kissed him, asked.
"Shut the fuck up," Eric snapped, trying to keep the shiver out of his voice.
They both laughed. Tattoo looked at Scar. "This is certainly interesting."
"Yeah it is," Scar laughed.
"Is he as much fun as we were?" Tattoo asked, laughing when Eric's face clouded over.
"Go the fuck away," Eric said, but his voice cracked with emotion and it made the two guys laugh again.
Tattoo leaned across the chair so that his face was less than an inch from Eric's. His breath reeked. "Maybe we should try him on for size ourselves?" he whispered.
Fiery anger surged in Eric. "Don't you fucking even joke about it," he said, his voice coming out legitimately harsh for the first time.
Tattoo laughed, not noticing the hard edge to Eric's words. "What'sa matter, widdle Eh-wick? You don't want us to fuck your boyfriend?"
Eric kicked him in the crotch. Hard. Tattoo fell down, clutching himself, his eyes watering. Scar backed up. Eric stood over Tattoo. "Don't you dare touch him."
He walked away to his room, leaving them there to recuperate.
Nick was sitting in the caf when Eric came over and sat down, looking triumphant. "Hey," Nick said, "What's up?" he asked, noticing Eric's glowing face.
"I stood up to them," Eric announced proudly. "I kicked Tattoo in the nuts and he crumpled like a house of cards."
"Nice!" Nick laughed. "See? You are tough."
Eric smiled.
"How'd you do it? What'd they say?"
Eric hesitated. He knew Nick was already scared of prison. He didn't want him to be worrying about those guys bothering him that way, too. Eric decided to leave that part out of it. "They were just picking on me."
Nick smiled, "I'm so happy right now," he said.
Eric watched as he shoveled dry looking macaroni and cheese into his mouth off the tray. He looked down at his own food and picked up the spoon, taking a bite.
Nick suddenly reached over and patted Eric's shoulder. "Really, I'm proud."
"Thanks," Eric said.
