Part Twenty Three - Bare Essentials

As she stepped into Ruby’s backyard, Patty inhaled deeply, the scent of sun-warmed earth filling her lungs. No artificial calm settled over her, no hazy detachment. She felt it all—every flicker of disappointment, every pang of doubt. And she embraced it.

She found Ruby kneeling in the dirt, hands deep in the soil as she weeded around the pumpkin vines. A small pile of uprooted weeds sat beside her, and the air smelled of earth, herbs, and warm sun on eucalyptus.

"Hey girlie!” Ruby said, plucking another stubborn weed and tossing it aside. “What brings you by?”

Patty crossed her arms, watching her work, "Figured we should talk."

Ruby sighed, brushing her hands on her apron before finally standing, "Oh. You know me. I love a good gossip."

Patty exhaled sharply, "This time it is about, Sydney." Ruby tensed; her expression guarded. “You have been getting closer with Syd…maybe giving him some advice.”

Ruby pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes darkening, "I told him to be smart," she corrected, voice clipped. "I told him to think about his future—his real future."

Patty folded her arms, her frustration growing, "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

Ruby let out a sharp breath, looking up at the sky for a moment before turning back to Patty, "It means," she said carefully, "that Sydney already has enough working against him. His skin. His family history. His place in this world. And now, he wants to throw this into the mix, too? You think that’s wise?"

"What I am hearing is that you don’t want him to be with boys," she realized, staring at Ruby. "You don’t think it’s right."

Ruby’s jaw tightened, "It’s not about what’s right," she said. "It’s about survival."

Patty stepped forward, anger simmering now, "No, Ruby. It is about what you think is right. You don’t want him to be this way, and you’re trying to scare him into pretending he isn’t."

Ruby’s hands curled into fists at her sides, "What would a white privileged woman like you know about anything! He has a hard enough life ahead that you and your skinny-ass white boy will never understand," she snapped. "He’s already got a target on his back, and you want to slap another one on there?"

Patty’s eyes burned with emotion, but she didn’t back down, "I want my son to be himself," she shot back. "I want him to know that he doesn’t have to pretend for anyone—least of all the people who love him."

Ruby let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head, "Love won’t protect him," she said. "Love won’t stop the world from tearing him apart."

Patty felt her chest ache at the weight of that truth—because in some ways, Ruby was right. But that didn’t make it okay, "So you’d rather he lie?"

"I’d rather he live," Ruby countered.

Patty shook her head, "But what kind of life is it if he has to spend it pretending?"

For the first time, Ruby looked away, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her apron. After a long silence, Ruby turned back to her veggie patch, bending down to yank another weed from the dirt, “You know, his other mother wouldn’t be so pleased to hear your encouraging such behaviour. She’d probably pack him off to a witch doctor for treatment.” She glanced across at Patty, “At least I am reasonable.”

Patty exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Ruby didn’t respond, her focus on the soil beneath her hands. And for the first time, Patty realized—Ruby might never see this the way she did. But that didn’t mean she would stop trying.

**********

The warm scent of wattle blossoms drifted through the backyard, mixing with the crisp, earthy freshness that came after a spring shower.

The cubby house stood proudly, finally complete, for a second time, a fortress from the world. The whole structured looked a mish mash of the previous cubby house. They combined the left-over debris with new reinforced materials. The place now had character.

Inside, Teddy and Angelo lounged on the floor, passing a stolen bottle of beer between them while a faint breeze rustled the gum trees outside. Angelo had his shirt unbuttoned exposing his toned torso, dark hair beginning to seep through his chest.

"You know," Angelo mused, leaning back against the wooden wall, "I was thinking—we should turn this place into a secret society. No girls allowed, obviously."

Teddy smirked, taking a sip of the beer, "Lizzy would murder you."

"Yeah, but then I’d haunt this place and upset all her experiments," Angelo grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. "Seriously though, this cubby house? It’s like—our place. No one else. Just us. We can say what we want, be who we want. No pretending."

Teddy nodded slowly, understanding exactly what Angelo meant. Ever since that night—the fight, the kiss, the realization—Angelo had been different. Looser, freer, bolder. Here, inside these four wooden walls, he could be himself. But only here.

"Where is Syd anyway?" Angelo asked, tilting his head toward the open door, "Thought he’d be crawling back by now."

Teddy tensed slightly, rolling the beer bottle between his hands, "He’s been… keeping his distance."

Angelo huffed a laugh, shaking his head, "Probably trying to convince himself he’s in love with Sandy White."

Teddy’s stomach twisted, but he forced out a smirk, "Yeah, well. That’s his choice."

Angelo nudged him with his foot, "And you’re okay with that?"

Teddy shrugged, feigning indifference, "What else can I do?"

Angelo studied him, his usual mischief flickering with something almost serious for a moment. Then, with a wicked grin, he leaned in closer, "Well, if you’re feeling lonely," he murmured, eyes glinting, "I do give an excellent distraction."

Teddy let out a breathless laugh, shoving him away, "You are such a shit."

Angelo flopped back onto the floor dramatically, "Yeah, but I can be your shit. If you want."

Teddy shook his head, smiling despite himself.

That’s when Syd appeared in the doorway. The playful ease between them evaporated instantly. Syd took in the scene—Angelo sprawled out, Teddy sitting close, the bottle of beer between them.

His jaw tightened, "Heck! Didn’t realize I was interrupting something.”

Angelo grinned, ever the instigator, standing up, "Oh, you definitely are."

Teddy opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Syd lunged. The punch came fast, catching Angelo square in the cheekbone. Angelo staggered back, more shocked than hurt.

"You prick!" Syd snapped, shaking out his fist.

Teddy jumped up, shoving them apart, "Jesus, Syd! What the hell?!"

Syd’s eyes burned with something raw and furious, "You think this is funny?" He spat at Angelo, "You think this is a game?"

Angelo, rubbing his sore cheek, grinned through the pain, "Oh, mate," he said, shaking his head. "So much mascolinità. You must really like him."

Syd’s fists clenched, but he didn’t move. Teddy felt his breath hitch, his heart pounding violently against his ribs. For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Syd exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Teddy stood frozen, watching him go. Angelo, still grinning, nudged him. He slapped Angelo’s arm away. He knew nothing would ever be simple again. These tirades would be with him always as he navigated matters of the heart.

*********

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the backyard as Patty stood at the kitchen window, hands resting at the sink, watching the scene unfold outside. The radio gently playing the latest hits in the background.

Inside the cubby house, Lizzy and Gina were huddled together, deep in discussion, their heads bent over a makeshift lab station of jars, bottles, and scraps of paper covered in calculations.

The boys had been evicted from the cubby. They had fled to the river to cool off.

Patty smiled to herself, shaking her head. Lizzy had been moping for weeks, her usual spark dampened ever since Gina had been forbidden from seeing her, “Hello dears! It’s Patty,” Patty aware that she wasn’t in a TV sitcom but her own reality needing to talk through what had happened. Her diplomatic skills had worked. "A few days ago, that pig-tailed little poppit wandered into the yard once more,"

Rosa has relented. But the girls were forbidden from mentioning any of this to Gina’s grandparents. This was between mothers and daughters. For now.

Patty hadn’t missed the way Gina’s face had lit up or how Lizzy had practically dragged her off into the cubby with excitement, already planning their next experiment.

Now, here they were, their voices drifting through the open cubby house window, "I still think we should try adding the vinegar slower this time," Gina was saying, adjusting her safety goggles—an old pair of Freddie’s reading glasses with the lenses popped out.

"But that’ll just make the reaction boring," Lizzy countered, rolling her eyes. "We want it to explode! Just a controlled explosion this time."

Patty raised a brow. "Controlled" wasn’t exactly Lizzy’s specialty.

Gina sighed dramatically, but there was a fondness to it, "Fine. But if we blow up the cubby house again, I am not explaining it to your mother. That’ll end us for sure."

Patty stifled a laugh, shaking her head. She moved toward the back door, stepping outside just as Lizzy uncorked a bottle and poured a mysterious liquid into a beaker, "Should I be worried?"

Both girls jumped, Lizzy quickly shoved a cloth over the beaker as if that would somehow hide the experiment.

"Not at all, Mother!" Lizzy said far too cheerfully.

Patty raised a brow, crossing her arms, "Uh-huh. And what exactly are you two doing?"

Gina grinned, pushing her goggles up onto her head, "Perfecting our propulsion experiment."

Lizzy nodded enthusiastically, "We’ve got the design for the rocket, and Gina’s been helping me refine the fuel mix!"

Patty let out a slow breath, "Just tell me you’re not planning to launch anything inside the cubby house. It took a lot to restore it last time.” The girls exchanged a guilty look. Patty pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lizzy..."

Lizzy sighed, waving a hand. "Alright, alright. We’ll do the actual launch outside. But Mother, this is important research!"

Gina nodded solemnly, "Lizzy’s going to change science forever. And I’m gonna hand her the test tubes."

"You’re both very lucky," she murmured. "Not everyone gets to find a friend who understands them like this."

Gina glanced down, smiling shyly, "I missed this."

Lizzy bumped their shoulders together, "This is better than making tomato sauce."

Patty watched the two of them, warmth blooming in her chest. She knew Gina’s mother had taken a risk allowing this. But watching them now—laughing, dreaming, building something extraordinary together—Patty knew it was a risk worth taking.

*********

The knock on the door came fast and hard, rattling the frame like a thunderclap. Patty jumped, nearly dropping the plate she had been drying. From the study, Freddie’s chair scraped loudly against the floor, and she could hear him muttering under his breath as he moved toward the door.

Before he could reach it, the knock came again—louder, more insistent.

Patty wiped her hands on her apron, her stomach tightening as Freddie yanked the door open. Standing on their front step, looking every bit like a storm about to break, was Reginald Cash—the mayor.

The tension in the doorway was thick enough to choke on. Reginald Cash stood tall, his sharp eyes gleaming with quiet menace, while his two hulking shadows loomed just behind him.

Patty had never liked the man, but tonight, he reeked of something worse than arrogance—desperation.

Freddie stood his ground, chin high, shoulders squared, but Patty saw the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, "If this is about the article," Freddie said, voice even but firm, "it was thoroughly fact-checked. Everything in it is—"

"—a disgraceful smear against my family’s good name," Cash interrupted, his tone low and dangerous. "My grandfather is dead. His crimes, if you insist on calling them that, are buried with him."

Patty felt her stomach tighten, but Freddie didn’t flinch, "The town deserved to know the truth. You profiteered on the back of a criminal.”

The man completely ignored Patty. He stepped toward Freddie, "I thought we had an understanding? You keep your mouth shut and I don't come near your family."

A cold shiver ran down Patty’s spine, but she stepped forward before Freddie could speak, “You listen to me! I made him print the story." She arched a brow, letting her words sink in, "It was my idea." Patty tilted her chin up defiantly, "Your son hurt someone I care about. A woman. And we both know a scandal like this? It touches all members of the family. You raised him to think he could get away with anything. And now? You’re getting a taste of what it’s like when the world doesn’t turn a blind eye."

Cash’s eyes darkened dangerously, "You’re playing a dangerous game, honey!"

Patty smirked coldly, "And you’re playing a losing one, Mr. Cash. Your family is already the talk of the town."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Cash let out a sharp breath, adjusting his coat with deliberate slowness, "Enjoy your righteousness," he muttered as he turned on his heel. "Let’s see how long it lasts. I still have people who a loyal to me. They'll cripple you!"

He backed away from the door, their footsteps heavy against the pavement.

The moment the door clicked shut, Freddie rounded on Patty, "Patty," he said, voice low, urgent. "We've just upset the beehive!" He studied her face, "We just need to hold firm against them."

After a beat, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. But as the night settled around them, her pulse still thrummed with unease. Because standing together was one thing—but keeping their family safe? That was another battle entirely.

*********

The night air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and eucalyptus. The streetlights flickered dimly, barely illuminating the quiet houses that lined the street.

Patty needed a night cap to help her sleep after a run-in with the mayor. Suddenly, she noticed a head bobbing above Betty’s fence. The moonlight picking out movement on the other side.

She froze. Someone was prowling around Betty Knight’s house. There were recent stories of a prowler stealing people’s underwear from clotheslines.

Patty’s stomach clenched. Without thinking, she grabbed the rolling pin she had left near the back door and marched forward, her slippers whispering against the grass.

Patty peered around the edge of her yard. The figure straightened—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with purpose. With a quick, silent sprint, she raised the rolling pin high—and brought it down hard against the back of his head.

The thud was sickening. The man let out a grunt, staggering forward, but Patty was relentless. She swung again, this time hitting him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the ground with a pained groan.

"What the hell—?" he started, but Patty was already on him, planting her knee on his back.

"I don’t know what you’re looking for, Panty thief" she said, voice sharp, steady, "but you’ll find know joy here.”

The back door of Betty’s house flung open, and there stood Betty herself, dressed in a silk robe, her hair slightly mussed but her expression unreadable, "Patty?" Betty said, brow lifting. "Are you… sitting on a man? Did we relapse?"

“No pills. No alcohol!” Patty exhaled sharply, catching her breath, “I thought he might be the neighbourhood pantie thief.”

She pressed the rolling pin against his back.

They hauled the groaning man inside, dumping him unceremoniously onto Betty’s plush armchair.

He groaned, shifting in the chair, but Betty ignored him, her attention on Patty, who was still gripping the rolling pin like she might take another swing.

“This man is no panty thief,” Betty sneered. “He works for my husband.”

Patty stared at her, incredulous, "Betty," she said slowly, "Why is your husband not dead?”

“A dead husband has been much easier to stomach than one in prison,” Betty’s jaw tightened, her polished exterior cracking slightly. She walked over to her liquor cabinet, poured herself a brandy, and took a long, slow sip before turning back to Patty, "It’s a shame he got out.”

Patty blinked. "Prison?"

"For embezzlement and fraud," Betty clarified, swirling the brandy in her glass. "He was always brilliant at making money. Unfortunately, he was equally brilliant at stealing it." Betty exhaled, leaning against the cabinet, "When I married Anthony Knight, I thought I had hit the jackpot—wealth, status, a life of luxury. Then I woke up one morning to find out that all of it—the houses, the investments, the bank accounts—were built on lies." She gestured vaguely, her expression darkening, "He was taking money from people, investing in businesses that didn’t exist, making deals with the wrong sort of men. When it all came crashing down, he was arrested, and I was left to clean up the mess."

Patty swallowed hard, "You had no idea?"

Betty let out a bitter chuckle, "Oh, I had suspicions. But I was too busy playing the perfect society wife, draped in diamonds, sipping martinis at cocktail parties. By the time I realized just how deep he was in, it was too late." She set her drink down with a soft clink, "They seized everything—the house, the properties, the cars. I had to sell it all to pay those who he stole from.” Betty added, her lips curling into a sly smile, "But never fear, I had my own little nest egg tucked away. A very private account he never knew about. I was able to disappear.”

Patty’s eyes widened slightly, "So you ran."

"I vanished," Betty corrected. "And found a nice, quiet place where no one would find me." She turned toward the intruder, who was now glaring at her through one swollen eye, "But it seems dear old Anthony has been digging a little too well."

Patty exhaled sharply, shaking her head, "And what exactly does he want from you now?"

“Now that would be telling,” Betty smirked, “Patty, I do appreciate all your…invigorating assistance but I’ll keep that secret tucked away deep in my brassier for safe keeping.”

Patty glanced at the man in the chair, then back at Betty, “What about him?”

“You just leave everything to me,” Betty began to usher Patty toward the door, “Just go back to your endless home duties and leave matters to me.”

Patty was practically pushed outside, and the front door was firmly shut in her face. Her job was done. Betty would safe-guard the rest.

*********

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting the living room in golden hues. Patty stood at the kitchen counter, rolling out dough with steady hands, though her mind was elsewhere—still stuck on the events of the past few days, still thinking about that man in Betty’s house.

The sharp knock at the door made her jump. She wiped her hands on her apron and moved toward the sound. A little apprehensive until she opened the door.

Betty Knight stood there, effortlessly elegant, a large framed painting tucked under one arm, wrapped in brown paper, "Darling Patty," Betty greeted smoothly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I come bearing gifts.”

Patty arched a brow as she shut the door behind her, “Should I be worried?"

Betty scoffed, peeling back the brown paper to reveal a painting of abstract, fragmented shapes—geometric swirls of colour, twisting perspectives, a cityscape that seemed to be moving even while it stood still. It was bold, sharp, utterly modern—something straight out of Jean Metzinger’s cubist school of thought.

Patty tilted her head, absorbing the sharp angles and the strange, dreamlike quality of the piece, "You won this at the auction,"

Betty reminded her, studying her nails like the information was beneath her, "I thought you and your dreary house could use some lightening up especially after recent events."

Patty snorted, shaking her head, "Oh, so this is charity?"

“When one has so much, it is only natural to want to give back,” Betty shrugged elegantly. "I thought it would be a good reminder of that day when I received your cherry pie facial.”

Patty grinned at the memory, "That was the best part of the fair.”

“Dear,” Betty wrinkled her nose, “Your immature amusements are banal to me.”

Patty’s smirk faded slightly as she set the painting down against the couch, her eyes narrowing at something unusual.

The back of the frame had been reinforced, a fresh panel nailed down, concealing whatever had been there before. A single, reinforced hook gleamed under the afternoon light.

Patty ignored the painting reminder of the other pressing matter, "The prowler," she said, voice sharp. "What happened to him?"

Betty’s expression barely flickered, but Patty caught the way her fingers tapped lightly against her knee—a rare sign of unease, "He’s been… dealt with.”

Patty’s stomach tightened further, "Dealt with?" she echoed. "Betty, what does that mean?"

Betty smiled faintly, picking up a stray button from the side table and rolling it between her fingers, "It means," she said, choosing her words carefully, "that he won’t be bothering us anymore."

Patty’s mind spun with possibilities—her imagination immediately leaping to film noir-style scenarios. Betty, draped in silk, a pistol gleaming in her hand, a cigarette dangling from her lips as she whispered a final goodbye before sending the man to an unmarked grave in the bush.

She swallowed hard, “Betty! What did you do?”

Betty sighed theatrically, setting the button down, "Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that," she purred. "I’m a respectable woman."

Patty folded her arms, "You didn’t answer the question."

Betty exhaled, standing gracefully, "Some things, my dear Patty, are best left unknown," she said smoothly. "For your own good."

Patty’s jaw tightened, "Betty—"

"Just enjoy the painting, darling," Betty interrupted, patting Patty’s cheek lightly, her fingers cool and deliberate.

Patty stared after her, heart hammering as Betty waltzed toward the door, her usual smirk firmly in place. With one last knowing glance, she disappeared, leaving behind nothing but the painting and the questions swirling in Patty’s mind.

Patty looked down at the newly concealed back of the frame, the reinforced hook glinting. Her fingers twitched. She would definitely be having a closer look at that painting at a later date.

*********

Teddy sat on his bed, sketchbook open on his lap, his pencil moving in slow, careful strokes. It was an image of Syd. Capture in lead lines and shading. A light knock came at his bedroom window, he didn’t hesitate.

He crossed the room, pulling back the curtain to see Syd standing outside, hands shoved deep into his pockets, eyes heavy with something unreadable.

Teddy’s breath caught for a second before he pushed open the window, “Are you going to hit me too?”

“Heck! I will,” Syd huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If you don’t let me inside.”

“I’d hate to ruin your neanderthal knuckles,” Teddy stepped aside, and Syd climbed through, landing gracefully on the wooden floor.

For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other in the dim light of Teddy’s bedside lamp.

Then, Syd let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, "I went on the date.”

“Yeah!” Teddy felt his stomach twist but kept his face neutral, "Do you feel like a real boy now?”

“Leave it out, smart-ass,” Syd scowled, "We had ice cream. Walked around town a bit. She’s... nice. Sweet, even." He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head, "She kissed me." Teddy’s fingers twitched against his sketchbook. Syd sighed, dropping onto the edge of the bed, "And it just... didn’t feel right," he admitted, his voice tight. "I wanted it to. I really did. I thought maybe if I just tried it would click. I’d stop feeling like—"

He cut himself off, shaking his head. Teddy set the sketchbook aside, turning toward him, "Like what?"

Syd clenched his jaw, "Like I’m wrong. You saw your dad. We're going to face that all our lives."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long.

Teddy’s chest ached, "We're not wrong!”

Syd let out a sharp breath, shaking his head, "Then why does it feel like I am? I mean—" he gestured helplessly, "—everyone expects us to be a certain way. To like girls, to grow up, get married, have kids—"

"Syd," Teddy interrupted, reaching out before he could spiral further. Syd looked at him, eyes dark and stormy, "Being normal is boring," Teddy said, offering a small, lopsided smile. “Life is much more fun when it is just us. You know Angelo, me and you. We can be ourselves. We don’t have to second guess. Just be."

He reached for his sketchbook, flipping through the pages before turning it toward Syd. On the final panel of his latest comic, two masked figures—Teddy’s hero and Syd’s counterpart—stood side by side on a rooftop, city lights flickering behind them. Their capes billowed in the wind, and in the next frame, they turned to each other... and kissed.

Syd stared at it, his breath hitching slightly.

Teddy watched him carefully. "They save the day, and they get their happy ending," he murmured. "Just like we will."

Syd’s throat worked as he swallowed, his fingers brushing over the drawing, "You really put us in a comic?"

Teddy shrugged, "Where else do heroes belong?"

Syd let out a choked laugh, but this time, his eyes were brighter. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Instead, he reached out—slowly, tentatively—and rested his forehead against Teddy’s. A silent truce. A quiet understanding. And just like that, they were okay again.

*********

The dining table was a mess of crumpled wrapping paper, cake crumbs, and half-melted candles. Teddy sat slumped in his chair, already itching to leave, while Lizzy and Gina sat opposite, watching him like two nosy scientists observing a lab rat.

"So, what are we doing for your birthday?" Lizzy asked, watching Teddy like a scientist dissecting a frog.

Teddy barely looked up from licking frosting off his thumb, "We already had a birthday. You want another one?"

Gina beamed, "A trip to the river! That’s what we always do!"

Teddy exchanged a glance with Syd and Angelo. Their plan definitely didn’t involve two eleven-year-olds.

"Yeah… no," Syd said flatly.

Lizzy’s eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

Angelo smirked, stretching lazily, "We have serious teenager business to attend to."

Gina put her hands on her hips, "What kind of business?"

"Secret business," Teddy said. "No kids allowed."

Lizzy’s jaw dropped. "Kids?!" she echoed, scandalized. "We are scientists. Explorers. Revolutionaries!"

"Uh-huh," Angelo smirked, ruffling Lizzy’s hair. "And now you’re also staying home."

That was it. Lizzy and Gina locked eyes. A silent, deadly pact was formed.

"Fine," Lizzy said sweetly. "Enjoy your serious business."

The boys barely noticed them leave. They should have. They would have noted the gleam of mischief in their eyes.

The night air was warm, thick with the scent of damp earth and eucalyptus. Their bikes lay abandoned in the grass as the boys passed a bottle of beer between them, its bitter warmth loosening their laughter.

"This is the life," Angelo sighed, stretching out on the riverbank. "No rules, no parents, no little sisters."

Syd smirked, taking a swig, "And no consequences, right?"

Angelo grinned, "You know what would make this even better?"

Teddy raised a brow, "What?"

Angelo waggled his eyebrows, "Skinny-dipping."

There was a beat of silence.

Teddy let out a dry laugh, "Yeah, no."

Syd snorted, "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on," Angelo drawled, sitting up. "We’re out in the wild, beer in our hands, stars overhead—this is freedom, boys! You're telling me you’ve never done it before?"

Teddy and Syd exchanged a glance.

"Exactly," Angelo grinned. "First time for everything."

Teddy felt his stomach tighten. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before—swimming naked, the way it would feel, the rush of doing something reckless. But the thought of being naked in front of each other? That was something else entirely.

Syd shifted uncomfortably, fingers drumming against his bottle, "Yeah, well. That’s a lot of… exposure."

Angelo smirked, "Oh, come on. You shy?"

Teddy snorted, "Syd? Shy? Please."

"Then prove it," Angelo challenged, already tugging off his shirt.

The moment it came off, Teddy felt something shift. He’d always known Angelo was built—lean, toned, the kind of effortless athleticism that made girls swoon. But seeing him now, bathed in moonlight, droplets of sweat and beer glistening on his skin—that was different.

And judging by the way Syd quickly looked away, he felt it too.

Teddy swallowed. "You’re awfully eager to get your kit off."

Angelo grinned. "I am Italian, Tesoro. We are born to be beautiful."

With that, he stood and unbuttoned his pants. Teddy and Syd froze as Angelo stripped completely, standing there totally bare, like he hadn’t just changed the entire vibe of the evening.

Teddy forced himself to look at literally anything else—the trees, the water, the sky—but not Angelo’s body.

"Heck," Syd muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You really don’t care, do you?"

Angelo shrugged, completely at ease, "What’s there to care about?"

Teddy felt his throat go dry. Everything.

There was a pause. A long, heavy pause.

Angelo raised a brow. "So? You coming or what?"

Teddy and Syd hesitated. It wasn’t just about getting naked. It was about seeing each other. Sizing each other up. Exposing something unspoken.

Teddy was hyper-aware of the way Syd shifted next to him, the way he was hesitating too. Because they both knew, once they did this, they couldn’t take it back.

But the beer was buzzing in Teddy’s veins, and the night was pressing in, and the water was right there, "Fine." Teddy muttered, kicking off his shoes, "It is my birthday after all."

Syd let out a sharp breath, "Shit!"

They peeled off their clothes, their movements stiff, deliberate.

Teddy kept his eyes trained anywhere but below the waist, but he felt their gazes—how they flickered, how they lingered just a second too long. Then, before anyone could overthink it, they bolted for the water. It was freezing, but the rush of it made them laugh, splashing wildly as they dove under.

Teddy surfaced, breathless, his skin tingling. "Okay," he admitted. "That was worth it."

Angelo grinned, "Told you!"

Syd slicked his hair back, exhaling hard, "Yeah, yeah. You win, alright?"

The tension broke—just a little. They floated there, grinning at each other, still charged but easier, caught somewhere between nerves and exhilaration. And then—SPLOOSH!

A wet, heavy object slammed into the back of Angelo’s head.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

The boys spun just in time to see two figures cackling on the riverbank.

"Lizzy!" Teddy roared.

"A birthday ritual!" Lizzy shrieked, throwing another mud ball straight at Syd’s chest. "You're all shameless."

"You dirty, dirty boys," Gina cackled.

The boys scrambled, covering themselves, tripping over each other in the water.

"Stop looking!" Teddy yelled.

"Stopping being naked!" Lizzy shot back.

And then, Lizzy and Gina scooped up their clothes.

Teddy froze. "No."

Angelo paled. "Oh, hell no."

"Oh yes!" Lizzy whooped. "Welcome to humiliation town! Population three!"

Before they could even move, the girls bolted, cackling into the trees—taking everything with them. The boys stood there, shivering, completely and utterly naked.

Teddy groaned, "We are so dead."

"They took everything," Syd moaned. "Heck! Even my bloody shoes."

Angelo stared into the void, "I hate girls."

Syd sighed, "We underestimated them."

"Never again," Teddy vowed.

They stood there, shivering slightly, before reality hit. They had to get home. Which meant walking. Naked. Through town.

Syd ran a hand down his face. Angelo smirked, eyeing Teddy. Teddy groaned, "Happy birthday to me."

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