Ethan and Jacob: Wish You Were Here

by SalientLane

Chapter 3

The cold November air clung to the windows of the heated gym, a foggy barrier between us and the gray skies outside. I swung my legs over the pommel horse, muscles tensing as I found my rhythm. Jacob was next to me, his movements fluid like they were part of the music that our gym teacher played in the background. Our bare chests rose and fell, synced with the sound of our exertions.

"Nice form, Ethan," Jacob said, flashing me a grin that lit up the dreary day. His hair was a mess from the workout, black locks sticking to his forehead.

"Thanks, man," I replied, trying to focus on the horse and not the way his shorts clung to him just right. "You're killing it, as usual."

"Hey, wait a minute," Jacob suddenly blurted out, standing straight and eyeing me with mock suspicion. "When did you get taller than me? You're like a tree!"

"I grew!" I said, stretching my arms high above my head, feeling the pull along my sides. "Seriously, my mom's going crazy with all the new clothes she's having to buy." We had been standing eye-to-eye just a couple of months ago.

Jacob laughed, shaking his head. "Overnight, huh? Should've wished for something cool, like laser vision or the ability to fly."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Flying would be awesome. Though I might stick out in gymnastics competitions." We both knew I'd never outshine him there.

"True," he conceded, giving me a nudge. "Come on, tree, let's finish this up before we turn into actual icicles."

I was about to retort, maybe crack another joke about my sudden growth spurt, when the air shifted. JD's shadow fell over us like a dark cloud on what had been a clear day.

"Look at the lovebirds," he sneered, his voice slicing through our laughter.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, anger and embarrassment tangling in my chest. I clenched my fists, ready to throw back more than just words, but Jacob's hand on my shoulder was steady, grounding. He gave me that look, the one that said 'he's not worth it,' without uttering a single word. I exhaled, trying to let go of the heat. Not now. Not because of JD.

"Let's just get back to it," Jacob murmured, and I nodded, grateful for his calm presence.

I watched Jacob then, as if seeing him for the first time today. He flipped effortlessly into a handstand, his fingers splayed wide on the mat. His chest and shoulders, no longer quite those of a boy but hinting at the man he would become, flexed with each controlled movement.

"Show-off," I teased, but my heart wasn't in it. My eyes were too busy tracing the lines of his form, the way his shorts tightened against his thighs mid-flip.

Jacob's chuckle was light, but his gaze caught mine as he righted himself. "Just keeping up with the giant," he said, winking.

I tried a few routines myself, attempts at gracefulness amidst the awkwardness of my longer limbs. But Jacob – he was poetry in motion, each muscle contracting and relaxing with practiced ease, a silent testament to all the hours we'd put into training.

"Nice work, Ethan," he called out after I struck a particularly tricky dismount. His praise sent a wave of warmth through me, mixed with an odd twinge of something else. Something I dared not name.

"Thanks," I managed to say, wishing for the umpteenth time that I had worn a shirt. Anything to hide the flush of my skin, the tell-tale sign of my racing heart, and my excitement down there. And from the way Jacob's eyes darted away from my midriff, and the way he kept his hands clasped in front of him, I guessed he was fighting a similar battle.

Our gazes locked again, and for a moment, there was nothing else. No gym, no JD, no teasing. Just Jacob and me and the unspoken tension that shimmered between us like heat off the pavement in summer.

"Your turn," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Watch," he replied with a playful glint in his eye, heading to the pommel horse.

And I did watch, every line and curve, until our shared blush was the least of my concerns.

"Race you to the showers?" I challenged, knowing full well he'd take it and win. But that was okay. Watching him move was worth coming in second.

The blast of the showers drowned out the clamor of locker doors and the echoes of laughter from the gym. I leaned against the cool tiles, water sluicing over my shoulders, trying not to look at Jacob. But it was like trying not to breathe. He stood there, just a few feet away, lost in thought under his own stream of water, his muscles relaxed yet defined after the workout, his black hair glistening like a raven's wing. The more I tried to divert my gaze from him, the more hypnotized I became. Our eyes met for a moment, and a shiver ran down my back.

"Hey, think Mrs. Doucet will actually check our math homework?" Jacob's voice cut through the white noise. His words were casual, but they hung heavy in the steam.

"Probably," I grunted, eyes fixed on a loose tile, anything but him. "She's got that sixth sense for laziness."

Jacob chuckled, and I snuck a glance. Water coursed down his chest, tracing the lines of his abs before disappearing into the drain. My throat felt dry despite the humidity.

"Race you on the algebra test?" he suggested, a playful challenge in his tone.

"Only if you enjoy losing," I shot back, forcing lightness into my words. But there was no joy in winning, not when every victory meant he was the one to beat.

"Always so confident, Ethan." Jacob turned off his shower, ruffling his hair with a towel, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as heavy as the wet fabric in my hands.

"Someone has to be," I muttered, wrapping the towel around my waist and avoiding those eyes that seemed to see too much. The steam began to clear, taking with it the veil that had allowed stolen glances and unspoken confessions.

"Let's head out," I said, eager for a change of scenery, for air that wasn't charged with the electricity of our proximity.

"Right behind you," Jacob replied, and we shuffled out, flip-flops slapping against the wet floor.

Back at Jacob's house, the air was different—familiar and comforting like an old sweater. We dropped our bags by the door and headed inside, quiet settling between us like an old friend.

"Need to use the bathroom," I said quickly, veering toward it as if chased by my own racing thoughts.

"Sure, take your time," Jacob called after me, his voice light, but I could feel the heaviness of the moment spreading its roots.

I locked the door behind me, leaning against it, alone with the buzz in my head and the tightness in my chest. I thought about Jacob, quietly, hoping the sound of me wouldn't carry.

"Get it together, Ethan," I whispered to my reflection as I washed my hands, a boy on the cusp of something terrifying and wonderful.

As I emerged, I heard the unmistakable click of Jacob's bedroom door unlocking softly. Alone in his sanctuary, he had sought the same solace I had. Two boys, each in their own world of silent confessions and hidden yearnings, bound by something more than friendship, even if neither of us dared to name it.