It was getting late. The sun was nearing the horizon when they finally had finished that chapter of the math book. Doing homework. What a start of spring break. Though it wasn't all that bad. It was nice having a boy like Oliver on his lap, all be it frustrating as hell. Jack knew he was gay. Not a flamboyant gay or anything. You probably wouldn't guess it by looking at him. It was just who he was. It wasn't as if he was going to do anything naughty with Oliver, but he was free to imagine what he wanted. Nothing wrong with enjoying what life presented him with. Oliver stood up and stretched, showing off a bit of his belly as his shirt lifted with his arms.
“Think I should be getting home soon.”
“Maybe,” Jack said. Oliver stood, looking at the floor and shuffling his feet, obviously not really wanting to go yet. Jack could pick up on the signals.
“Come,” he said, and took Oliver by the hand and lead him out into the court yard.
“Your not going to take my cloths off again and lock me up are you?” Oliver said smiling. Was that a flirt? Jack wondered. Keep that up and he just might.
“Not unless you misbehave.” That would leave Oliver with the chance to subtly express what he wanted.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
“What do you have?”
“Water, coke, beer, wine.”
“I'm not allowed to drink yet, remember.”
“Oh, how obedient you are. Coke then?” Oliver nodded. “Wait here.” He returned with one coke and one beer for himself and also one of the kitchen chairs. Oliver took a hesitant step back when he saw Jack unlocking the shed, but Jack was only bringing out the collapsible chair. They sat down.
“Thanks,” Oliver said.
“Sure you don't want a sip?” Oliver looked at the bottle, biting his lower lip with indecision.
“I should probably just know what it tastes like at least,” he said and took a tentative sip before making a face. “Ugh. That's horrid.” Jack laughed.
“It's always like that the first time. You'll learn to love it. I promise.” The doorbell chimed. Jack went over to the ivy grown fence and peered threw it.
“Oh. It's your dad.”
“I'm not here,” Oliver whispered urgently, putting down the beer bottle in fearful hurry before climbing into the shed and shutting the door. Jack looked from shed to the street. Well, there was nothing wrong going on. Just a kid out past curfew it seemed. Jack was no stranger to breaking curfew. He checked his phone. Eight thirty. The sun hadn't even sett yet. With strict parents like that, no wonder Oliver was hiding. He went to open the door.