Award-winning author, journalist, and former The Advocate entertainment editor Jase Peeples is taking readers back to the late 1980s with Before You Can Fly, a heartfelt queer YA romance about identity, friendship, and first love.
The novel follows 15-year-old Clayton Wheeler, a comic book–obsessed teen whose world is turned upside down when his former best friend Derek suddenly moves back to town. As their connection reignites, the two boys find themselves navigating feelings neither of them fully understands — and dangers neither can fully escape.
“This story grew out of the time and culture that helped shape me,” Peeples says. “I wanted to write honestly about growing up as a gay comic-book geek in the late ’80s, while also capturing the people, passions, and imagination that gave that time its color and meaning.”
Before You Can Fly is now available from Evernight Teen. Read an exclusive excerpt ahead.
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We transform into a bundle of arms and legs, laughing and rolling on the floor. In just a few seconds he’s got me pinned, chest to chest, his body diagonally across mine. I try to wriggle free, but it’s impossible. He’s so heavy. The side of his head is pressing against my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck. It sends a shiver rippling over my skin.
“One. Two. Three,” Derek hollers, slamming his foot on the floor with each number. “And the heavyweight champion wins again.” He lifts up, just enough to stop crushing me, still holding my arms down. His face is only a few inches from mine. “Better luck next time,” he whispers. He’s staring directly at me, eyes full of wild energy.
I feel time and space warp. Our lungs are in sync, short and fast breaths filling the room. Derek smiles in slow motion, licks his lips, and then I kiss him. It’s only a second, but it’s like dropping a sparkler in a field of dry grass.
I pull back. My breath freezes in my throat. I don’t know why I just did that. I stare at Derek with wide eyes. There’s a lot of emotion flying around his face, but what kind? I can’t tell.
He loosens his grip on my wrists. Pretty sure he’s going to punch me. He dives down and then the impossible happens. His lips collide with mine. Reality shatters and we fall into an alternate Earth, one where we’re kissing — really kissing. Not the kind that surprised us seconds ago, or the cartoonish kind that happened in his bedroom. The kind where his tongue finds mine, and mine finds his. The kind that’s my first.
The hardwood floor is jabbing me in the back and killing my elbows, but I’m afraid to make any sudden moves. I don’t want to mess this up. It feels right, even when we bump our teeth together.
Derek presses his body against mine, and we’re a couple of magnets. I can feel him through our jeans. He’s hard, and now I’m getting there too, but this time, I don’t want to run away. It’s terrifying and exciting all at once.
His hand travels down my side, across my stomach and I shiver. He starts kissing my neck and I melt into the floor. I wonder how someone just kissing your neck can make you feel like this, as if a snowstorm and a summer breeze are both blowing through your veins at the same time. I exhale and a soft noise I’ve never made before comes out.
Derek presses into me harder and hooks a finger inside the waist of my jeans. A bolt shoots through me. My body clinches. I grab his arm.
“Wait,” I say.
He pulls away. My heart is going berserk. I’m sweating. Derek is too. He’s scanning my face now, searching. I don’t know why I said anything. Don’t talk. Don’t mess this up. Just do. And I know what I want to do. Oh God, do I know.
I grab his shirt and pull him into another kiss, the way I see people do in movies. The air is crackling with electricity. I reach my hand around his waist and—
“Goddammit!” a gruff voice explodes from somewhere downstairs.
“Fuck,” Derek gasps. The magnetic energy inside us reverses and he flies halfway across the room. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
My insides ice up.
“I know you’re in here, you little bastards,” the voice continues, echoing throughout the house.
I move for the door and stop. We can’t go that way. I feel my legs begin to tremble. I turn to Derek and mouth, “What do we do?”
Derek’s face is pale. His arms and legs are all over the place, like a robot short-circuiting.
“Fuck,” he silently repeats.
“You messed this place up and you sure as shit can clean it. Get your asses down here!” the voice sneers, coming closer.
Derek bullets over to one of the windows in the room and flings it open. He motions for me to follow. I protest with a wide-eyed stare and shake my head. Is he crazy? We’re on the second floor.
“Get over here,” Derek mouths through gritted teeth, slinging a leg over the windowsill.
The sound of heavy boots stomping up the stairs marches into my ears. My heart is running a marathon in my chest. There’s no time left. We’ve got to move. I run to the window as Derek carefully lowers himself over the edge, hanging the length of his body from the windowsill before he drops. He lands, rolls, and springs back up in one motion. He’s off and running before I even have a foot out the window. I slide the rest of my lower body over the edge, take a deep breath, and let go.
My heels hit the dirt and I fall back on my ass. The impact is so hard, it rattles my teeth, but I made it. I’m not dead.
The gruff voice hollers something I can’t make out behind me, but I’m up, charging in the opposite direction. I don’t look back, even when I reach the ramp.
Derek streaks by on his bike and I’m launching mine seconds later. We pour on the speed and don’t ease up until I lead us down an alley off Georgia Way. We finally stop to catch our breath when we come out the other side.
“That was awesome, man,” Derek roars as he rolls up behind me.
“Awesome? Really?” I ask, gulping air. “I thought … he had us … for sure.”
“Hell no. Dude … come on. We were like … ninjas,” Derek pants. “So cool.”
My heart rate starts settling down and I realize it’s not fear pumping through my veins anymore; it’s something else: exhilaration, I think.
Derek smiles and then I smile, wondering exactly what just happened back there, who this guy is next to me. He’s not who I thought he was at all. Neither am I. It’s as if we’re alternate versions of us in another universe now — and I think I like it here.
Cover art for Before You Can Fly by Jase Peeples. Illustration by Joe PhillipsEvernight Teen
