Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) (14 page)

By ten past seven on Friday night, I was starting to worry about Jamie. He had been late for school a few times and had come right down to the wire getting ready for church, but I felt unnerved that he wasn’t here yet. This date was important—to me, to us—and he knew that. He would have made an effort to be on time, wouldn’t he? The thought that someone had found out about us, that someone had hurt him, sent a chill through me. Stopping myself for what must have been the tenth time, I didn’t call him. I couldn’t appear too eager just to go out for burgers and an action movie. His parents might wonder. My emotions were going to be our undoing; I would just have to wait.

Five minutes later the soft knock on the door left me with residual anger and a lot of relief. The fear had burned off into anger, mostly at myself for being so ridiculous. The relief swelled as I opened the door and saw his perfect features. He was smiling, almost ruefully, as he stood there in a perfectly fitting T-shirt, one I hadn’t seen before, matched with jeans and canvas tennis shoes. With the way he was dressed, you wouldn’t think he was going on a date, but I saw the differences. He had made an effort to tame his shaggy blond hair. I’d taken similar care about my own appearance. For the first time since he’d said he’d pick me up, I felt hope.

“Bye, Carolyn!” I called over my shoulder in the general direction of the kitchen. I heard a noncommittal response as Jamie led me out of the house. He didn’t touch me, or even look at me, as we walked down the steps to the walkway. While I knew it was just for the benefit of the neighbors, I wondered if maybe I had made a mistake in asking him to go out on a date. I nearly ran into him as he took a sharp right and headed toward the back of the house, and I noticed for the first time that his car wasn’t out front.

“Are we walking?” I asked cautiously. “It’s going to take us all night to get to the theater that way.” Making a joke out of it would help take away the sting. Maybe his parents wouldn’t give him the car, or maybe he had changed his mind. When we walked around the corner of the house, he led me back up the driveway, where I saw the car sitting under the canopy of elm trees that stood sentinel near the old garage. Surprised, I walked to the passenger side while he got in the driver’s side. I waited for him to tell me why he’d chosen this location in which to park. Usually, he just parked on the street, never in the drive.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Jamie said as he reached behind my seat. He was so close as he searched the floorboard that I couldn’t stop myself from placing a small kiss on his neck. Thankfully we were surrounded by trees on one side and the house on the other. I couldn’t believe my boldness; all it would take would be Carolyn looking out the kitchen window, and it would be all over. Chastising myself, I sat back in the seat and looked nervously up toward the house and saw nothing.

Then the rose in Jamie’s hand passed in front of my eyes.

“It took me forever to get this out of my mother’s garden without anyone seeing me.” He set the rose on my leg under the line of sight provided by the car windows. I didn’t know what to say; I was relieved he was no longer angry. Setting the rose on the dash, I reached over to hold his hand because it was the one thing we could do inconspicuously. But instead, he took his keys and started the car, his face impassive as he backed out of the drive. For the rest of the ride to dinner, I stared out the window, feeling dejected. I know I had no right; I had practically forced the whole situation on him, but I had been planning this night, anticipating this time with him for weeks. It felt like everything had gone wrong before we ever even got out of the driveway.

When we pulled into the parking lot at the fast food place he’d decided on, I was disappointed to see it was almost full. We would have to be on our best behavior. He got out of the car and started to walk toward the door. Quickly I got out and followed him, feeling a lot like a stray puppy trying to get some kind of attention.

The place was packed with people, mostly teenagers I recognized from school but none I knew particularly well. They didn’t give us a second glance as we stood near the counter. Since I was the one paying and the place was almost overflowing, Jamie gave me his order and then went to find a booth. He walked off with his shoulders hunched and head down. I hated it. He was scared, and it was my fault.

I thought I would feel shy or awkward around him. First dates were supposed to be about getting to know each other, but we already knew everything about each other, especially because we had already been intimate.
What was left to talk about, to discover about each other?

I set the tray down in front of Jamie, he glanced around nervously, and I felt a tightening in my chest. I sat across from him, took our food from the tray, and then set it near the back of the table. Jamie didn’t say anything as he stared at the paper-wrapped burger.

“Do you want to go home?” I whispered across the cheap Formica table. Raising his head, he looked at me, and I expected him to admonish me, to tell me this was my idea in the first place, but he just shook his head and opened his food. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking our way, and then I picked up my chicken sandwich. As I took the first bite, I slid my feet forward so that they were entwined with his. On such a busy night with so many customers, no one would notice how close our feet were under the table. After what felt like an eternity, his foot moved, caressing mine. Still not looking up, he turned up his mouth in a small smile, and I relaxed against the seat.

“What time does the movie start?” I asked, trying to strike up some kind of conversation. He hadn’t spoken to me since giving me his mumbled order. It didn’t matter what we talked about; I just wanted to hear his voice. The fear that I had pushed Jamie too far by insisting we go out, the fear that someone might see us there, was threatening to drown me. There was also the ever-present fear that I would fall even harder for him, and that when he did leave me for whatever reason, it would be that much harder to bear.

“It starts at eight fifteen. We should have plenty of time,” he said between sips of his soda. Not being able to think of anything else to say, I nodded.

“Did you see that
Boltz
is coming out soon?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He knew full well that I wasn’t really into video games, but I was glad he was making the effort. The tension in his shoulders had dissipated slightly, but he still looked wary. I rubbed my foot against his under the table, trying to show how much I appreciated him being here with me.

“No, I didn’t know that,” I told him, and he smiled, rubbing my leg again with his shoe. I relaxed somewhat at his touch, and that broke down the invisible barrier that had been between us.

We talked about everything and nothing for the next twenty minutes while we ate. Occasionally someone stopped by the table to say hi, and Jamie would tense, but generally we were left alone. The movie would be worse. Being in a dark theater alone with him and not being able to touch him would almost be physical torture. Too bad we hadn’t decided to go and play paintball instead. I’m sure he would have loved to shoot me right then.

On the long drive to the theater, we held hands, reveling in the physical contact, an indulgence we were rarely afforded. The perfect way his hand fit into mine helped to ease the dull ache of fear pressing on my chest. It was Friday night, and the theater parking lot was more crowded than the restaurant had been. I sighed, and Jamie squeezed my hand once before letting go. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to go inside. As I reached for the door handle, the fear surrounded me like a physical presence, pressing against me and escalating to the point of panic. The tightness in my chest made it hard to breathe. Jamie noticed I hadn’t gotten out of the car and came around to my door, opening it. I still couldn’t get out.
Someone is going to know; they’ll be able to tell, and then they’ll hurt Jamie, and it will be my fault.

Why the hell hadn’t I just left well enough alone?

“We have to go in if we want to get good seats,” Jamie said quietly as he leaned on the top of the open door, an old black sweatshirt in his hand.

“I don’t care about good seats. You were right, maybe we should just go home,” I said, voicing my concern. We’d pushed our luck far enough.

“No. You were right, we shouldn’t have to hide. I’m just as scared, Brian. It would kill me if someone hurt you because of me. We can sit in the balcony, away from the others, and we should be okay.” His words came out in a breathless rush, and before I knew it, he was tugging my T-shirt to get me out of the car. I was sure he would have taken my hand if there hadn’t been so many people around, because it strayed toward me several times before we reached the theater.

Resigned, I followed Jamie past the rows and rows of cars on the way to the door of the theater, relaxing a bit when I didn’t see anyone I knew. We split up once we were inside. I bought our tickets while Jamie went to the concession stand. It didn’t matter that we’d just eaten dinner; popcorn and soda were a rite of passage for moviegoers everywhere. Since we weren’t able to go out often, we were damn sure going to make the very best of it.

When I got through the line and back to where Jamie was waiting, I handed him his ticket, and he handed me my popcorn and soda. We climbed the long, decrepit stairway until we reached the back of the sloping balcony.

It was deserted.

We took the stairs down the side of the rows of seats, past discarded popcorn buckets and sticky stains of spilled beverages, to the very front row. We sat in two seats directly in the middle of the row, propping our feet up on the railing. Every few minutes we glanced back over our shoulders, but no one else entered the balcony. We looked down over the railing and saw that the main theater area was also pretty empty.

This movie must really suck, and I, for one, am grateful.

We settled back in the seats as the lights went down, working on the popcorn we were forbidden to share. Within the first ten minutes of the movie, we knew where it was going, a melding of heterosexual machismo and sex, but I didn’t care. I was on a date with Jamie. No matter how bad the movie was, it was perfect because I was there with him.

Just as the ninjas, or whatever they were, back-flipped onto the screen for the third time, Jamie pulled out the generic, black hooded sweatshirt he had brought in. At first, I didn’t realize why he’d bothered. The theater was air-conditioned but still not cold enough for a sweatshirt. I was even more confused when he laid it over his legs rather than putting it on. Then as he straightened it out, he took my hand underneath it, and I understood. He wanted us to be able to hold hands during the movie without taking the chance of anyone seeing the small gesture of affection.

It thrilled me that he was holding my hand in this place, around people, even if there were only a few and they weren’t in the balcony. The date meant as much to him as it did to me, but it saddened me as well.
Why does being together, here in this second-run theater, or anywhere else, have to constitute such a risk for us?
What I wanted more than anything was to lean over and rest my head on his shoulder while we finished watching the movie, but that would be like a neon sign flashing “fag” over our heads. I had to be content with what I could get.

So I was.

Sitting in the theater, we held hands under the cover of the sweatshirt and ate popcorn for the next hour. Even though the movie was awful, it was the best time I’d had in a long time. For that short period, we felt somewhat normal, like our feelings for each other weren’t some kind of abomination, but rather something beautiful.

We continued to hold hands on the drive back to my house. However, in the safety of the car, we didn’t need the camouflage of the sweatshirt. Every once in a while, on a deserted stretch of road where no one could see, Jamie would bring our entwined hands up to his lips or to caress my cheek. My heart swelled with each gesture. Just before reaching the Crayford city limits, he glanced around and pulled to the side of the road.

“I can’t kiss you goodnight on your doorstep like you deserve,” he said quietly, letting go of my hand for the first time since we left the theater. “It will have to be here.”

Jamie cupped both sides of my face in his hands, rubbing my cheek with his thumbs. Watching my face for a long minute before he leaned in, he captured my lips with his own, and every feeling of love and sexual desire escalated into a slow burn through my skin. God, I loved the way he kissed me, like nothing else in the world mattered. The smell of popcorn still clung to his clothes, but there was something else, body wash or shampoo, something uniquely Jamie. The passion in our kiss continued to spiral as our tongues explored, danced against each other’s, and everything else was blocked out by its all-encompassing heat. Sun, moon, and stars took a backseat to him. Sacrificing modeling supplies and downloaded songs for weeks was definitely worth it, even if just to have this kiss at the end of our very first date.

Jamie stopped the kiss before either of us got too carried away. Even though it was more chaste than I would have preferred, I got what I needed: his love, his comfort, and my very first real date with the boy I could not live without.

T
HE
next morning, I was still thinking about my date with Jamie, holding his hand at the theater, and kissing him in the car. I had just decided to jump in the shower and think about it more thoroughly when I was interrupted by a knock on my bedroom door.

“Brian, could I talk to you for a minute?” Richard asked as he stood in the doorway. Immediately, I was uneasy; my foster father rarely wanted to have a heart-to-heart, covering mostly superficial things at dinner but never anything that really mattered. Those talks were left up to Carolyn. It meant he wanted to talk to me about something Carolyn didn’t feel comfortable discussing with me… like sex.

Oh God, he knows about Jamie.