“Hot date, Parker?”<br/><br/>For the last two weeks, Anderson Lee, star quarterback, all-star asshole, and somehow still someone Everett never hesitated to call a friend was laid up with a fractured ankle.He still insistently sat in on practices, seemingly with express intent to bark orders and reprimand the poor junior who had taken his place. Everett and Anderson had never been best friends. They seldom bothered with one another outside of school and practice. For as long as either of them could stand, they'd been on all the same sports teams. Underlying their constant banter and occasionally too vicious teases, they shared a sense of mutual admiration.<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Everett shrugged, wearing a devious smirk as he pulled his shirt on. He’d been the first to and out of the showers, greeted at the lockers by Anderson and his barrage of innuendo. “Jealous?”<br/><br/>“Rosy, right?” a voice called from the showers, failing to stifle laughter as he clarified, “Rosy Palms?”<br/><br/>“Shove it, Eric,” Everett hollered back with playful venom as his phone buzzed with a new message. Julien. Art room. They’d talked about it last night. He gathered his things, slung his backpack over his shoulder and nodded a quick goodbye, “See you tomorrow.”<br/><br/>The halls were always empty around this time save for Everett, who had made a habit of making the trek between the locker room and the art room to peek inside for Julien. He was the only one to stay behind when he didn’t have to – caught up on new projects like he lived and breathed inspiration. He’d come to feel at home setup with the latest chemistry assignment in a quiet corner, waiting for Julien to call the day, always ready to jokingly chastise him for those perpetually black-stained fingers just so he could have an excuse to forget to let go of Julien's hand after inspection.<br/><br/>His heart still pounded hard in his chest with that contact. Today, nerves twisted his stomach before he even opened the door. They’d talked about this. Everett was just as sick of hiding as Julien and with that thought, he fought the instinct to hesitate and pushed the door open.<br/><br/>“Hey,” he greeted with a wide smile and made his way across the room to stand beside Julien. His gaze passed over the drawing – a white feather surrounded by darkness – and, although he suspected that Julien would be his own worst critic, added, “I like it.”