Free Tipping the Balance by Christopher Koehler Page B

but….”
     
    “But you’re not a contractor?” Brad prompted.
     
    Drew plucked at a grass stem. “No, and that’s the big stumbling block, or one of them. I’ve got a contractor I usually work with. He’s retired, but he’s willing to inspect my work and sign off if I pay him as a consultant. But by no stretch of the imagination is he new to this business, one of the requirements of the job. That’s even assuming he’d be willing to work on this. It’d be pretty big, and that’s another thing. It’d take all my time.” He groaned and lay back on his towel, covering his eyes with one arm.
     
    Brad watched him, considering. He was kind of jealous, actually. When it came down to it, he liked the housing trades. He liked being physical and working with his hands. He liked being outside, at least when it wasn’t quite so sweltering. That was why crew had been such a good fit for him, and the same things that had drawn him to rowing were what he liked about home-building—working with his body in the outdoors, working as part of a team for a greater whole.
     
    Despite his dad and that damn double-cross about where he’d be working, he liked the idea of his job. It was at least familiar territory while he figured out if this was what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. But for someone with some experience in the home trades, someone adrift and looking around after college, this sounded like a dream job. That said, he knew he could never do anything like that.
     
    “So are you going to do it?” Brad said, trying not to sound too excited.
     
    Drew looked up at him. “Probably,” he said. “Yes. I don’t know.”
     
    “So long as you’re sure and all that,” Brad said.
     
    “I’m sorry, I’m sure this sounds pretty pathetic,” Drew said, sitting up again. “Sorry to dump all this on you.”
     
    “No, it’s totally okay,” Brad said. He smiled. “I like hearing about it.”
     
    “Oh,” Drew said, smiling shyly in return.
     
    Brad looked back at him for a few moments. Then the tingly fluttery feeling got to be too much. “Hey, let’s slide some more. I’m getting hot again.”
     
    Drew didn’t say anything for a minute, but Brad could tell he was up to something. He could see the muscles in Drew’s legs bunching.
     
    Sure enough, Drew sprung up. “Last one in buys dinner!”
     
    And he was off, pelting across the pool deck, Brad in hot pursuit, the booming voice of the lifeguards chasing after them, demanding they walk.
     
    Laughing like maniacs, the pair of them, they slowed down fractionally, each trying to beat the other to the stairs leading up to the top of the water slides.
     

     

     
    A few hours later, Brad felt let down going home, as if going back to the ordinary world were a return to the world he’d seen on old TV shows, a world of monochrome where the afternoon had been in laughing, breathing color.
     
    He realized he’d felt happier that afternoon than he had all summer, happier with Drew. He frowned, thinking. Drew was his old coach’s best friend. In some ways, maybe Drew was his last connection to crew, his last connection to the best part of college. That had to be it.
     
    But that didn’t change the fact that he’d spent the afternoon romping and playing with a half-naked gay man and had a fine time doing it too. Drew was Drew. There was just something about him that Brad liked being around, and if Drew liked dick, then Brad had spent the afternoon with a man who liked dick. That was all. It didn’t have to Mean Anything. He could almost see the capital letters floating in the air.
     
    Brad wasn’t one to analyze things, but there wasn’t really anything wrong with a straight guy like him having a close gay friend, was there? If that was what this was. He squirmed. He so didn’t want to think about this.
     

Chapter Seven

     

     
    Thursday afternoon, Emily met Drew at his house. Thursday was usually Drew’s day for getting things done.