Only Myself to Give-Rydon-4

I don't ride the bus home on Friday.

"You mean you're leaving me all alone?" Gabe asks, eyes wide in mock fear. "How can you do this to me, novato?"

"Grow up," I say, laughing and rolling my eyes.

"Well, I hope whatever you're doing instead is worth it," he mutters teasingly and scoots off to bother William.

I hope so too, I think to myself, watching Brendon and Pete playfully argue out of the corner of my eye.

After school, I meet up with Brendon, Spencer, and Patrick, and we all pile into Jon's car.

"I call shotgun!" Spencer says and purposefully makes his way to the front seat, leaving Patrick, Brendon, and I to figure out seating in the back.

Brendon offers to take the middle, but, "I'm the skinniest, I'll take the middle," I say and sit down in the middle, refusing to budge until Brendon reluctantly takes the seat to my right.

"I feel like such a bad host," he grumbles. "I should be in the middle."

"First of all," I begin, bossily ticking my points off on my fingers, "Jon's technically the host since we're going to his house. Second of all, we're not even there yet—we're in a car. Jon's car. And third of all, I'm so skinny that it's not uncomfortable." Pause. "So there," I add with a defiant grin.

Brendon sighs and shakes his head, but I can see the smile on his face.

"You just got owned, Brendon." Jon smirks from the driver's seat.

"Shut your fat face," Brendon mutters affectionately.

"Shut yours," Jon retorts.

"Mature, guys, real mature," Spencer says. "And Jon, please try to keep your eyes on the road—it'd be a real shame if you killed Ryan."

Jon sticks his tongue out at Spencer and Brendon's hands suddenly have my shoulders in a death-grip. "Holy shit!" he screeches in an award-winning high-pitched voice. "Keep your eyes on the road, keep your eyes on the road, keep your eyes on the road."

Chuckling, Jon turns his eyes back to road and carefully avoids driving off the side of the street into a ditch.

"I've never been in a car with Jon before," Patrick says quietly. "And all I can say is … thank god."

Somehow we make it back to Jon's house in one piece, but Brendon wouldn't take his hands off of my shoulders until we were out of the car and on firm ground.

"Must you always drive like a maniac every time I make a new friend?" he asks Jon as we head up the driveway to the front door.

"If you want to think of it that way," Jon says before opening the door and bellowing: "Mo-om! We're home!"

"Be right there!" a female voice calls back and Jon leads us into a cozy living room.

"Sit," he orders and we do. Patrick and Spencer each grab an armchair, Brendon and I find ourselves together on the couch, and Jon crams himself into Spencer's armchair, practically sitting on the other's lap.

Spencer rolls his eyes and unsuccessfully attempts to shove Jon out of his lap. "Eugh, Jon, really?" he asks in exasperation and they look so funny that I can't help but laugh.

Brendon gives me a shy smile just as Jon's mother walks in. "Jon!" she exclaims. "Don't sit on Spencer!"

"Sorry, Ma," Jon says with a crooked grin, and Spencer gives him a shove, causing him to promptly land on the carpeted floor with a soft thump.

"You must be Ryan," Mrs. Walker says warmly, extending a hand for me to shake. "Good to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine," I murmur, shaking her hand.

Brendon pulls one those of weird, little giggle-snort numbers and I hear him mutter, "Ever the charmer," under his breath.

"Shut up," I mutter back, digging my elbow in his ribs, and Mrs. Walker smiles.

"It's good to see you boys surrounded by such wonderful friends," she says fondly, heading into the other room. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Let's head up to my room!" Jon suggests brightly, getting to his feet.

"Our room," Brendon adds under his breath, and man, do I pity him for having to share a room with Jon Walker.

We climb the stairs up to a room with two twin-sized beds crammed into. Jon promptly claims a spot on the messier of the beds, which I assume to be his, and Spencer crawls over to sit next to him.

"Let's play Truth or Dare!" Jon cries with an excited squeal.

"What are you? A middle school girl?" Spencer mutters.

Jon pouts. "I could be for all you know!" he says.

"Okay, prove it, Walker," Patrick says, sitting cross-legged on Brendon's bed. "Drop your pants."

"Oh, you wish," Jon says with a smirk. "Now let's play."

Brendon sits down his bed and looks at me, patting the spot next to him. I sit and Brendon immediately kicks his legs up under himself and rests his head on my shoulder. I freeze up for a second then relax as Brendon closes his eyes and hums to himself.

Maybe Gabe's right. Maybe we will be best friends.

I hope so.

"Ryan," Jon's sharp voice drags me out of my thoughts. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," I say, just like I always have and always will; it's not safe to promise to tell the truth when you live in my house.

Jon taps the side of his face as he thinks. "Hmm," he muses. "Strip and run down the hall while screaming at the top of your lungs."

"I wouldn't want to scar you guys with the hideous sight of my naked body," I say with a laugh, panicking on the inside because I don't want any of them to see the bruises and scars on my body. "'Sides, I don't think your mom would approve."

"True," Jon says, chuckling to himself. "I would tell you kiss someone, but I don't wanna subject anyone to your lips."

"How thoughtful of you," Spencer mutters, rolling his eyes.

"So why don't you give Brenny a lap dance?" Jon suggests brightly, sending Brendon into a coughing fit, eyes stretched wide and face flustered red.

I gulp—the thought of giving a lap dance to anyone, let alone Brendon, makes me squirm, but I'd sure as hell rather do that than let people see my battered body.

"Alrighty then," I say as breezily as I can manage and turn to Brendon.

His brown eyes are large with embarrassment and there's a funny sort of grin on his plump lips. "Don't hurt me, Ryry," he coos, immediately dispelling about half of the awkwardness in the room with his pretend flirting.

"I'll try not to," I purr back and straddle his waist with my skinny legs. The blush across Brendon's face only intensifies as I melodramatically grind my pelvis against his. "You like that, don't you?" I ask mockingly and gyrate my hips in the most sluttish way I can pull off.

"Okay, that's enough!" Patrick interjects as I grab Brendon's shoulders and bend backwards towards the floor.

A small sigh of relief escapes from Brendon's lips as I stand up and sit back down beside him.

"That was …" Jon begins, voice trailing off uncertainly, "surprisingly hot."

"Sicko," Spencer mutters and throws a pillow at Jon's face.

Brendon takes my hand and squeezes it to let me know that we're still friends and I didn't screw anything up by giving him a lap dance.

"Thanks," I whisper, blushing and shivering.

"So, uh, who's next?" Jon asks brightly and Spencer shoves him off the bed.