My Not So Anonymous Best Friend

By Elizabeth Arroyo

Noah aka NOS2321: Gamer. Weeb. Up-and-coming rock star. And gay. Encouraged by his anonymous pen pal, XES6969, Noah takes the leap and comes out of the closet—no instructions needed—accidentally sending his father to the hospital during his reveal. Despite his horrible dating track record which included two girls (because it was required that he at least try) and one boy (because he had to start somewhere), Noah believes in happily ever after. That belief gets tested when he falls for Evan Santiago.

Evan aka XES6969, believes in sacrificing yourself for those you love. Learning NOS’s identity hadn’t been his fault. Except he carries the lie which begins to fester, trapping him into silence. When a stray football brings them together, Evan no longer wants to keep silent. And when he learns that Noah is interested too, he takes a chance at love, risking everyone he’s tried to protect, including himself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: Apr 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9780369506016

Book preview

Prologue

Before…

Noah Stone clutched the letter as if it held all the Sonic cheat codes on the planet. He needed to keep the information inside confidential while trusting that Mrs. Newberry, his sixth-grade teacher, wouldn’t read it before sending it to a strange boy he’d never met who lived in a place called Berlin, in Maryland, not Germany. Noah didn’t want to be friends with a German. He’d fought his way through the Germans just last night in a Call of Duty campaign. It did not end well.

This is dumb, Sasha said beside him. Why do I have to befriend a stranger? Isn’t it like ignoring stranger danger?

The assignment was pretty simple. Write a letter to a pen pal they’d selected out of a box. They’d only been given their pen pal’s initials. Noah’s pen pal’s initials were XES. Sex spelled backward. Sasha had gotten a kick out of that one. Sasha’s pal was MO, which Noah had interpreted as modus operandi. The girl would probably have an excuse for everything. Sasha was SB. Noah couldn’t come up with anything interesting for that lame initial, which put Sasha in a bad mood. And Noah, NOS. Like Nitrous Oxide—what they used for cars to go fast—he looked it up, which was pretty cool, too. Not as cool as XES, but better than MO and SB.

"It’s not stranger danger if the person lives a million miles away and is the same age as you. That’s why they call it a pen pal. Pal. See? Friend."

Sasha rolled her eyes. She did that a lot.

I sent him my gamer tag so we can link up.

You don’t even know if he plays, Sasha pointed out.

"Yeah, but if he doesn’t play and wants to start, he can beg his mother for a system like I did and stay friends with me. A two-for-one deal, so I’m actually helping him." It made sense to Noah, not so much to Sasha.

She shook her head the way she always did when she didn’t believe him. Which was a lot.

They both dropped their letters in a box to be delivered to the post office. Noah hoped his teacher wouldn’t read it. He’d written it last night in a rush and it went like this.

11/20

To: XES

From: NOS

Dear XES,

I’m in sixth grade. Have a hamster named Winter. She’s white and poops a lot. I hate cleaning the cage. I almost drowned in the public pool once. Mom doesn’t know because I went to the pool alone because my BFF was busy. That’s my secret. I hope my mom doesn’t read this. She normally gives me privacy. Something interesting about me. I’ve been playing guitar since I was six. I take acting and dancing lessons too which I think is weird. I like acting like Prince. Do you know who Prince is? Do you have a guitar? I don’t look like Prince though. I’m white with dark hair and blue eyes. Mrs. Newberry says we should write at least two hundred words. I don’t think I have anything interesting to say that would fill up two hundred words. My best friend is mean sometimes but she’s cool. She likes to play Call of Duty. Do you play video games? Wouldn’t it be cool if we can be secret friends? Like never meet or anything. We can connect on Xbox. My gamer tag is NOS2321. You can DM me. Come to think of it, that’s probably lame. I’m not going to erase it because I’m too tired. I think your initials are cool. XES. Mine is NOS like Nitrous Oxide. I’m too young to race cars.

Okay, I hit my word limit. Hope you write back.

NOS

12/11

To: NOS

From: XES

Dear NOS,

I’m in sixth grade too. I don’t have pets. If you don’t count my three younger brothers. They are a pain. I love to swim. Mom says I was born in the water. Water baby, she calls me. I think music is pretty cool. I heard Prince. He’s ancient history, I think. My dad works a lot. My mom leaves me in the Y so I can exhaust myself. That’s what she says. I’m a bundle of energy. Not sure what that means. I sometimes think I’m the Flash. I’m fast but not that fast. Anyway, my secret is—I don’t really have a secret. I can’t think of one right now. Yes, my initials backward spells SEX. It’s weird. I don’t play video games. My mom says it’ll melt my brain. I don’t race cars either. I’ll ask my mom for a system for Christmas. See what she says. So we can still kind of be secret friends or something. I don’t know.

Bye.

XES

Noah read the letter to Sasha. See, he thinks it’s a good idea. Secret friends like spies are kinda cool.

Sasha rolled her eyes. She didn’t have secret friends. Ice cream didn’t count.

A month later, NOS2321 got a friend request from XES6969 on Xbox.

Chapter One

Evan

Evan Santiago is an asshole.

Noah Stone mumbled this to no particular person at his lunch table. He just threw it out there for everyone to hear. Then he turned around and caught me standing close enough to have heard his words and blushed, embarrassed at the name calling. Only Noah could get smacked in the face and feel bad for calling the prick who did the smacking an asshole. Unfortunately, that prick was me. I hadn’t actually thrown the ball, but it didn’t matter. He assumed I had and that was enough. Morgan Trent had thrown the offending ball. Morgan was quarterback and captain of our football team, which made me wonder if he’d thrown the ball on purpose into Noah. Something I’d file for later when I got the guy alone. The ball had slammed into Noah’s book, bounced into his face, and busted his lip.

In our defense, it was football season, and football players usually tossed around the football in the green. Noah had been walking in the line of fire. As always, he was looking down at his book, his hair all over the place, and not paying attention to the world around him. Something I had always found charming and dangerous. He wasn’t tall or short, but average. Shorter than me. A bit on the thin side. Unlike me, who stood at six-four and a hundred and ninety pounds of solid muscle. I’ve been in sports since I could walk. I learned that well-balanced competition stirred camaraderie. It meant being the last one off the barbells. The last one off the track. The last one to pass out from exhaustion. Yeah, male testosterone in action. The reason for my current size. I couldn’t stay still to save my life and no longer tried. Instead, I continued to play hard, run hard, until exhaustion took over. The only way I could calm my mind and my body. My mom used to say I had a fire angel in my soul. I liked that. Better than having ants in your pants.

The angry expression Noah wore on his face knotted all my insides. Who was I kidding? I wanted to cry. That would be a sight to see. A jock as big as me busting out a Sally Field sob—because Sally Field could make even God cry. I’d take that to the grave with me.

Don’t be such a priss, Stone, Jake, my best friend, said from behind me. I winced at his word choice. It was an accident.

Harper got to her feet and came to his rescue. She wore a black tee with a unicorn in battle. Her long, blonde hair was tied in its usual pony, with bangs hiding her brow. We shared third period AP Chemistry, but she never looked at me directly. She gently put an apple on Noah’s lip and gained enough courage not only to look at me, but to glare at me.

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets to keep from reaching out and trailing my thumb along his swollen lip. Are you okay? I asked him.

Noah narrowed his eyes at me as if I really wasn’t sorry and I was simply making this shit up because really, everyone knew jocks couldn’t be sorry for fooling around with balls. It was part of our genome. Jocks and balls. And slamming into an unsuspecting non-jock was considered collateral damage. Too bad. So sad.

I’m sorry, man, I said again. Because I was sorry. I’d never wanted to hurt Noah. Ever.

Just then, the boyfriend showed up. A thin, scraggly thing at risk of being blown away in a whispering breeze. Carlos’s best feature seemed to be the way he took care of Noah, like a mother goose on steroids. The guy was handsome in a blah sort of way. Dark hair cut short in the back and long in front. Perfectly trimmed brows. Unlike me, he always seemed put together, as if he’d planned his outfits months in advance, adding little tags on them. Monday: white khakis and a pink polo. Tuesday: jeans, white anime tee, and a tan vest. Wednesday: pink pants, white tee, and a sweater vest. Thursday: white tee, torn light blue jeans, and a bright blue blazer. Friday: anything goes. And his shoes were usually canvas sneakers of varying colors. Yeah, it was hard to miss the guy with Noah. The guy opposite of me. Apart from my sports gear, my wardrobe simply consisted of jeans, tees, sneakers, and boots. I didn’t need anything else.

The team slinked back as if they didn’t want to catch whatever the two guys had. I wanted to catch what they had. So bad it hurt all my insides.

What happened? Carlos asked and ran his thumb gently across Noah’s lower lip.

Something dark curdled inside my stomach, and I took a step back to avoid swinging at the guy. One more fight and I’d be stripped off the sports teams and expelled. I didn’t do much in football but watch Trent lead the team into a losing streak and play the occasional crash dummy for the guys during practice. Swimming was my nirvana and my chance at Berkeley with a scholarship. If I got expelled, I’d lose it all and my dad would go apeshit. He was looking for any reason to put me back into the nuthouse, and I wasn’t going back there ever. If you weren’t crazy going in, you’d come out crazy.

I clenched my fists and kept them in my pockets, pulling in my anger.

I wasn’t sure why I stayed rooted watching the two of them. Maybe I liked torture. Noah led Carlos’s attention to me in answer to his question.

"You again. Carlos looked about ready to spit like some sort of pissed off Frenchman. All he needed was the scarf around his neck. You Neanderthal. Just leave him alone."

He should be with me. I swallowed the thought.

Sorry, I said again. In case Noah hadn’t heard it the third time.

Yeah, Noah said. You said that already. His voice softened. You should be careful. You’re big. Noah’s gaze trailed the length of my body, and I felt it like a touch everywhere. I couldn’t move. Our eyes met and he broke contact first. I turned and started walking away, afraid that Noah, Carlos, and the whole damn school would know how I felt.

I was in love with my not so anonymous best friend.

Chapter Two

Noah

"You should be careful. You’re big."

I wanted to slap myself upside the head after those words just slipped out of my mouth. What did being big have to do with a football slamming into my face? And, to top it off, I couldn’t even stop myself from checking him out. In front of my boyfriend! I was a total slut. Carlos deserved better. Not me. Anyone but me.

And Evan had looked so hurt when I called him an asshole. What was wrong with me? I usually reserved the name calling for my raging sessions on Xbox. After the bullying that happened last summer with the football team at the beach, I just couldn’t hold my tongue. I hated bullies. I hated being bullied for coming out as gay. I bit into the apple Harper had pressed to my lips and mumbled a thanks as I sat down. Everyone returned to their usual ignorance and life went on.

Unbelievable, I said, still thinking about Evan Santiago. The way he looked genuinely apologetic. And the way his green eyes held mine as if he wanted to see the depths of my soul.

Carlos, my boyfriend, started talking about Mrs. Tate’s class. He’d wanted to get into art school since he could pick up a pencil. That’s all he talked about. And it droned on, and I tuned out to think more about Evan Santiago. I couldn’t help it. I had the guy implanted in my brain.

Evan had moved to town as a freshman, and his career skyrocketed to helping the Dolphins carry a swimming state championship three years in a row. The guy could swim. And he looked really good in a Speedo. Yeah, I had looked. He’d never looked back until I came out last summer and started dating Carlos. Maybe he was curious about his own sexuality and wanted to ask me some questions. Yeah, right. I almost snorted at the thought. Evan Santiago was a heterosexual player who snarled at people more than smiled at them.

Except. I couldn’t get the way he apologized out of my mind. He looked so genuinely sad I wanted to reach out and touch him. The feeling was so weird for me. I didn’t do the touchy-touchy stuff. Not even with Carlos. Our relationship was strictly PG-13. Carlos had been a friend with guiding knowledge. He had come out during seventh grade. I found strength in his resolve. And he was cute.

Not like Evan Santiago cute.

Shit. I hated myself.

Sasha plopped on the chair beside me and scowled at my lip. Damn Trent. I hate him. She released that with venom that made chills rise up along my skin.

You mean Evan.

She lifted her eyes to me. Evan didn’t throw the ball. Trent did. Evan’s going to kick his ass for it, too. She started on her food while I processed her words. Sasha was like that. You could miss very important details if you didn’t hit the pause button on her once in a while.

What? Why would Evan kick his ass?

She opened her milk, smelled it, and took a drink before answering my question. You remember when Trent started the hazing on you and Carlos? Well, Evan beat his ass for it. The jocks know not to mess with you.

That was the first I’d heard of this. Why am I hearing about this now?

She shrugged. I mean, no one admits that the fight happened because of what Trent did to you. But they fought right after so…

She put two and two together and got six.

My world deflated. Thinking about Evan Santiago defending my honor had a significant draw to it. That mixed with the lazy gazes he had been giving me since then … well.

Sasha snapped her fingers in front of my face, bringing me back to reality. She lifted her chin to the person on the other side of me. Carlos. My boyfriend! Oh, gods, I was just fantasizing about a Neanderthal in front of my boyfriend.

Carlos’s expression darkened. I gotta go, he said, got up, and walked away.

Sasha gave me an eye-roll. She did that very well. Dude, not cool to drool over another guy in front of your boyfriend. Do that behind closed doors and with a towel.

I glared at her.

Thankfully, the bell rang. We started moving like cattle on the way to the slaughterhouse back to class.

After school, I got home to an explosion of flowers and ribbons splashed on practically every surface. The mixture of fauna and flora scents made me sneeze. Hello, did I just walk into the American Horror show? I called out as I wiped my nose.

Honey, come straight to the kitchen, my mother called.

My mom, the artist who would’ve blended nicely in a hippie commune, wore her auburn hair natural and clothes that breathed with her. Both my sisters had inherited her auburn locks and brown eyes while I looked like my dad, with dark, unruly hair and wide blue eyes that couldn’t hide our emotions even behind glasses. Thankfully, unlike my dad, I didn’t need glasses yet.

Piper and Mom were in the kitchen, raving over flowers and place cards, invitations, and everything bridal related. It finally slammed into me that my sister Piper was going to get married. Be hitched with ball and chain. And soon afterward, probably punch out a few babies that would call me Uncle. I smiled. Couldn’t help it.

I know, right? Piper said, as if we’d just talked through some magical mental link.

What happened to your lip? Mom asked.

I touched the tender swelling. Football. Mom cocked a brow. I just shook my head. Walking around Neanderthal jocks during football season is dangerous.

She made an expression of understanding.

I took a seat and sifted through the colors, forgetting my lip almost immediately, the artist in me pushing through. So, teal?

Oh my God, that’s what I was thinking, too. I love this one. She pulled out a color palette, and before I knew it, I had spent a few hours with them. Helping Piper come to a color decision. We decided on teal. And flowers. Mom helped with that part. I didn’t know anything about flowers.

I spoke to Dean, and we would like it if the Purple Band plays at the reception.

My mouth hung open. Really?

Piper reached over the table and squeezed my hand. Yes. You are awesome, little brother. Yes. Yes. Yes. She squealed. And then I squealed, and it was a very gay moment. Happy alert.

Piper and Dean stayed for dinner. It was the first time I’d seen them since my announcement and Dad’s emergency room embarrassment. I found myself liking Dean and missing my sister.

She hugged me fiercely before she left. I’m so proud of you, she whispered into my ear. I didn’t feel proud of myself, though. My stomach coiled tight as I thought about how I had to apologize to a jock who I’d called an asshole—and figure out how to break up with my boyfriend.

Chapter Three

Before…

NOS 2321: I want to be a rock star when I grow up. Dad is teaching me. I think he wanted to be one too. He writes music for commercials and movies. He calls them jingles. I can play six songs perfectly. My dad says he’s going to put me in a band. I already have a name for it—The Purple Machine. I have to pay tribute to Prince. Dad thinks it’s silly, but he’ll let it slide if it keeps me playing. I wish I had friends that play music. All my friends play video games and watch anime. My parents think because it’s animated that it’s for kids. Not.

I only have two friends and you.

I draw too. Did I tell you that?

Winter died. I buried her in my backyard. I want to keep her bones. Is that weird? I sometimes think I’m weird. Like why do we have to tie our shoes? Why do we need socks? My mom puts Vicks on my feet when my nose is running. That’s weird, right? I’m weird like my mom.

I think you’re the only person I’ve told this to. Weird, right?

It’s easy when I really don’t know you. For real. Like a real person.

Do people think you’re weird?

Hope you write back. It’s raining and boring. I got punished for flushing my sister’s tampons down the toilet. It flooded the toilet. They were on my side of the bathroom. I think I’m evil. Tampons are gross. You’re lucky you don’t have sisters.

XES6969: Sorry about Winter. Did you cry? I’m a star athlete. I won the state championship in my grade level for swimming. Dad wants me to be like Michael Phelps. He’s my rock star. You are weird. But I think everyone is weird.

I don’t have friends outside school or swimming. And now that it’s winter, dad put me in football. I throw the ball really good. Makes him happy. I think he just wants me to be still. He keeps telling me to silence my mind and my body will follow. Not sure what that means though. I got the Millennium Falcon Lego set for Christmas from my grandmother. I think she and Mom wanted me to do something with my brain. Grandma says I have ants in my pants. I wish you were here to help me build it. I haven’t opened it yet afraid that the ants will walk away with the pieces. Ha. Ha.

I’m weird too, I guess.

Gotta run.

Chapter Four

Evan

My shoulder needed to be iced. My legs trembled like jelly, and my nose hurt. The consequences of being the backup quarterback. I got to be the target on the field during practice.

Dad had moved us out of Berlin, stating that he needed a fresh start. A new job. New home. New us. Yeah, that didn’t work out too well. Especially since he wanted a new Evan and had to settle for the old Evan. We lived in a modest four-bedroom house with the best feature being the large backyard swimming pool where I trained for most of the year whenever I wasn’t playing football.

I handed Mark the bags of fresh veggies when I got home. Grocery duty had been fun after practice. I still had my gear on when I went into the store. I don’t think Mr. Chang appreciated me trailing dirt into his small store, but he wished me luck in next week’s game anyway. Small-town life. Everyone knew everything about each other. Everything okay? I asked Mark.

Yup, Mark said. At fifteen, he was already starting to fit into his skin. Tall and thin, he had our dad’s light brown hair and brown eyes. Good. Start chopping for the salad. Did you already put the chicken in the oven?

Yeah.

Start the noodles. I’m going to shower really quick.

"Do you have