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“Rachel Harding’s girlfriend is having a party next weekend.” Penelope said.
“Rachel Harding has a girlfriend.” Anderson looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Everyone knows that.” Elle said.
“I'm part of everyone…I seriously didn’t know.”
“Anderson, she's a junior at Georgetown and she writes those cool ass sci-fi stories.” Penelope said. “Rachel showed us one once; you loved it.”
“Oh wait, are you talking about Empty Planet? That story was epic. I remember her now…she's awesome!”
“Well she's having a party next weekend. It’s going to be LGBTQ friendly. There will be beer pong, flavored martinis, and new wave music. I don’t really think I can say anything else about its greatness.”
“I'm there.” Anderson raised his hand.
“Me too. What about Amanda? She's been Casper the Friendly Ghost lately.” Elle said. “What's up with that?”
They were sitting on Penelope’s back porch with overpriced Russian cloves and Coke. Elle had spiked the soda with some Parrot Bay coconut rum stashed in her backpack. It wasn’t much alcohol but took the edge off the chill of the February evening.
“She's with Paul tonight, oh I mean Dante.” Penelope replied. “He's doing open mic at that coffeehouse in Adams-Morgan. They’ve been hanging out.”
“Are they doing it?” Elle asked.
“I don’t think so.” Anderson shook his head. It wasn’t as if he needed Amanda to tell him all of her business. He didn’t demand it either. But surely if she was getting laid, even on the semi-regular basis, he would know about it. Amanda had never been shy about intimate details. It seemed as if none of the girls in his life were.
“I'm thinking she's his muse.” Penelope puffed her clove. “Paul says that he sees pain and poetry in her eyes. He says the lines of the scribe run through her bloodstream.”
“Wow, he's really cute but that’s some serious poet boy bullshit.” Elle smirked.
“Agreed, but he is cute.” Anderson said. “And from what I know he's not a douche. I don’t think he has a malicious bone in his body. All those girls who follow him around…he could be a real douche.”
“Someday when he's famous we’ll be VIP in all the clubs and cool ass shows.” Penelope said. “Two thumbs up on that.”
“You won't need Dante to get into all the cool parties.” Anderson said. “You're the essence of awesome.”
“I love you, G man.”
“I'm actually glad we’re all moving away soon.” Elle said. “DC is getting a little boring. I need a change of scenery.”
“Not all of us are moving away.” Anderson said.
“Sorry.” She put his hand on his shoulder.
“Why are you planning to stay so close?” Penelope asked. “College is one of the few times people have a legitimate excuse to pack and run. Any city is yours for the taking. I know Towson is a great school but there are so many out there.”
“I don't know.” Anderson shrugged. “I guess sometimes people have the wanderer in them, or the voyager, and others don’t. Sometimes it can be a money thing, though Towson will cost plenty. I'm going into the FBI after I graduate so I’ll have a million choices on where to live. They even have satellite offices in foreign cities and embassies. I've got plenty of options.”
“Hotch still going to New York?” Elle asked.
“He's applied to a bunch of different schools. We haven’t talked about a final choice; we haven’t talked about much of it. Letters are coming in the mail every day. It’s a crazy time.”
“Tell me about it. I got my Clemson letter two days ago. That was just a safety school though. NYU or bust. Berkeley is my second choice.”
“I don’t think two schools could be farther apart.” Penelope said.
“I know, but they're two amazing cities that I think I’ll fit well in.”
“I got three letters in the mail but I haven’t opened them.” Anderson said. “The answers aren't going to change but I'm still resisting.”
“MIT said yes.” Penelope said. “I'm holding out for Cal Tech; it’s my #1. Kevin is definitely going to MIT. They’ll be lucky to have him.”
“So you two are breaking up?” Elle asked. “Well that womps. I seriously have no faith in love anymore. I didn’t have much to begin with, but now…none.”
“Long distance is hard enough, those two schools have 3000 miles between them. Anyway, like 3% of Americans marry their high school sweetheart. Kevin and I will always love each other, always be the best of friends. We’re just both realistic.”
“Realism blows ass.” Anderson threw back his soda.
“Tell me about it. Do you need a ride home?” Elle asked.
“I think I'm gonna walk. I need to clear my head. It’s been a long week and we still have one more day.”
“Alright, well I gotta go babe. My parents believing that I follow their rules and curfew allows me more freedom in the end.” Elle grinned and then kissed Anderson's cheek. “See ya.”
“Bye.”
“Catch you on the flip side, PG.”
“Later tater.” Penelope smiled and waved. She sat down next to Anderson on the old glider. Giving him a gentle bump with her shoulder, Penelope looked at him. She handed him another clove. “One more for the road?”
“Thank you.” Anderson exhaled his words.
“What's up you?” Penelope lit her clove before giving him the lighter.
“I'm good.”
“Please tell that to someone who hasn’t known you since like seventh grade.”
“Change sucks.”
“Um hello, my name is Penelope Garcia and I don’t like change. I hear you.”
“I mean some change is great. Aaron Hotchner is my boyfriend, can you even believe that? I’d jerked off so many times thinking about him that he'd made the Gay Boy Fantasy Hall of Fame. He stood alongside such illustrious names as Tom Felton and scruffy but not homeless looking Zachary Quinto. That’s a big deal.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
“I love him, Penelope. I love him like crazy and in six months it’s all over. He's off to New York to meet much cuter and worldlier guys and girls than me. I'm pretty cute but my worldly skills could use some tuning. Hotch is a prime catch…he's gonna be single for like 30 seconds. He's probably gonna meet some older rich dude with a Bentley who wants him to be his boy toy. After that he’ll probably marry some Governor’s daughter and live on a converted plantation.”
“Let’s not turn this into an afterschool special.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Aaron Hotchner will not shag just anyone. He has ridiculous standards.”
“Still, I don’t want to delude myself about the long distance thing. You're right about what you said earlier. But every time I think about it I literally cannot breathe. I feel like I'm gonna die and then I get mad at myself for letting my life turn into an episode of some generic soap opera. I refuse to go Ophelia about the whole thing.”
“Sometimes love makes you go a little Ophelia.”
“She killed herself in the end. Hell, she didn’t even make it to the end.”
“There is that.” Penelope shook her head.
“Poor Kate Winslet, she was so good in that movie. You seem so Zen about you and Kevin splitting up. How do you do it?”
“We've been together since the summer after 9th grade.” She replied. “Sometimes you just grow apart and get into different things even though you still like the same stuff too. Thankfully every breakup isn’t about throwing dishes or listening to Carly Simon songs in the shower while you cry your eyes out.”
“I've done that.” Anderson raised his hand.
“I know; me too. There are times when I'm doing homework or working on fun stuff and this gray cloud comes over me. I don't know if I want to give him up but all of my reasons are selfish. Kevin deserves better than that…I do too.”
“I want to be totally selfish.”
“I can't blame you. You’re just beginning to enjoy the awesomeness. I think you should breathe deep and talk to Hotch about it. Talking works for you guys. Some couples never even reach a middling communication level, which is why 52% of marriages end in divorce.”
Anderson nodded, puffing on his clove and finishing the rest of his Coke. Even though he was scared, talking about it was inevitable. Better to get it over with than to cling to something so heartbreaking. It was these kinds of things that made him miss being a loner.
“I'm gonna text him and then go home. You should get inside Penelope; it’s getting colder.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you're a big giant sweetheart?” Penelope asked.
“Yes, but my mother gave birth to me so I think she's a little obligated.”
Penelope smiled. She kissed her index and middle finger, pressing them to Anderson's forehead. He smiled too as she walked in the back door. Once alone, he pulled his cell phone out and opened his text message feature. Finding Hotch wasn’t difficult, his name was on top. Anderson began to type.
‘Are we still on for tomorrow? I want to talk to you about something important.’ –Anderson
‘Are you alright?’ –Hotch
‘I'm good.’ –Anderson
‘Are you lying?’ –Hotch
‘Sort of.’ –Anderson
‘Why don’t you call me?’ –Hotch
‘I have homework to finish tonight. Cross my heart that it’s nothing earth-shattering but I do want to talk tomorrow.’ –Anderson
‘We will, my parents are leaving at about 7:30.’ –Hotch
‘I’ll be there at 7.’ –Anderson
‘See you in school first.’ –Hotch
‘Yep. I love you, goodnight.’ –Anderson
‘Love you too, sweet dreams.’ –Hotch
He put his phone in his pocket, pulled out his gloves and started making his way home. It was cold but not bitterly so. The night air was almost pleasant. It wasn’t easy but Anderson did his best to let go. He had Latin homework, reading for U.S. Government, and they were reading Fahrenheit 451 in AP English. Anderson didn’t even want to think about trig but Monday’s quiz wouldn’t study for itself.
***
“Hello, Grant. Come on in.”
He cringed at the mention of his first name. It wasn’t horrible or anything, just rarely used. He’d been Anderson for a long time. The people in his life, adults as well as other kids, seemed to just let it happen. No one, except Amelia Hotchner-Preston, called him by his Christian name.
“You look amazing ma'am.” He closed the door. “Your hair is fabulous…very Lana Turner.”
“Exactly.” Amelia smiled. She gently patted Anderson's cheek. “Aaron, I'm telling you that this young man is a total keeper. He's a sweetheart.”
“Yes ma'am.” Hotch came out of the kitchen. “Hey.”
“What's up?” Anderson held up his hand to wave.
“I went to The Studio in Alexandria.” Amelia went on, her Southern accent dripping off her like diamonds. “I refuse to be one of those women who still tries to wear her hair like she's 19.”
“Oh yes ma'am.” Anderson nodded. “Whatever age you are, which a woman never reveals, you wear it well.”
“Thank you. I told Chloe I wanted something classic and beautiful, very Peyton Place. Do you know what she asked me, Grant?”
“I can guess. She asked if you wanted Lana Turner or Diane Varsi, as if Hope Lange doesn’t exist.”
“That’s exactly what she asked me. I told her, Chloe I'm old enough to be your mother, do you think I want to look like Diane Varsi.”
“Well you look stunning, Mrs. Preston. Wherever you're going tonight, you're sure to turn every head in the place.”
“You are the sweetest thing.” Amelia said. “I'm going to call you when I'm having bad days.”
“Oh hello there, Grant.” Lucius “Tug” Preston walked down the stairs. He smiled at the young man, who was still standing in the foyer with his wife. “I heard the door and thought it was the car service.”
“They're waiting downstairs Tug.” Amelia said. “I wanted just wanted to chat with Grant first.”
“Hi, Judge Preston.” Anderson waved. “Bye, Judge Preston.”
“Good evening.” He went to the closet and got his wife’s black fur. After he helped her into it, he put on his wool dress coat. “We should be back by midnight, Aaron.”
“OK.” Aaron said.
He and Anderson both waved as his parents left the condo. He smirked at his boyfriend.
“You're such a kiss ass.” He said.
“I can't help it if mothers find me irresistible. Seriously though, your mother is fabulous…and so is her hair.”
“You made her night.”
“Then my job here is done.” Anderson nodded.
“I sincerely hope not.” Hotch pulled him by the hand and into his arms. “You said last night that you wanted to talk.”
“Will you feed me first?” he kissed Hotch’s nose and then his lips.
“What are you hungry for?”
Anderson grinned. He leaned to whisper in Hotch’s ear; the teenager’s dimples came out of their hiding place. Hotch gripped Anderson's hips.
“Jesus.” He whispered.
“Until I can have that I’ll go for pizza and some wings. Capitol Hill Pizza has that bacon cheeseburger pizza and it’s awesome.”
“That sounds good to me.” Hotch nodded. “You wanna watch a movie too?”
“We can put a movie on.”
Hotch knew what that meant. He and Anderson had codes, and ‘we can put a movie on’ meant that a movie would play but there would be a major make out session as well. That was more important than anything cinema had to offer.
“Can I ask you a question?” Hotch held his hand, pulling Anderson toward the couch.
“Ask away.”
“Why do you hate you first name so much?”
“I don’t hate it. It could surely stand to be more fabulous but I don’t hate it. I just haven’t used it in a long time.”
“Why is that?” Hotch asked. “I mean I doubt there were 20 Grants in your first grade class and you wanted to stand out.”
“Truth?” Anderson asked as they flopped onto the couch. Amelia Preston would’ve had a bird if she saw that.
“Yeah.”
“When I was in fourth grade there was this mean, psychotic, Henry Bowers type motherfucker that was a year ahead of me in school. His name was Dale Schrader and he was probably like 12 but I think he’d been left back too many times to count.” He shivered just thinking about him. “Anyway, I was in one of those 4th/5th grade split classes because I was pretty smart. One day I was hanging on the playground, I’ll never forget it because I was eating pudding.
“Dale came up to me and said ‘you gonna grant me a wish today?’ I didn’t even have a chance to ask him what he said, I hadn’t heard him, before he hit me so hard in the stomach it knocked the wind out of me. Knocked me right on my ass. So for the next 100 and something days of school, Dale Schrader made a dumbass joke about my first name and then punched me or shoved me or put his boot print in my ass. The teachers tried to get me to give him up but I was terrified.
“The kid had psychopathic tendencies and liked to set things on fire. One time he set a girl’s pigtail ablaze. They tried to expel him but his parents went apeshit, saying it was an accident. Luckily for me his family moved town or something because Dale left like 2 weeks before school ended. Hell, maybe he'd killed a kid and had to go. I skipped to sixth grade and from that moment on I was just Anderson.”
“Bullies are such assholes.” Hotch shook his head. “It really sucks that that happened.”
“I'm consoled by the fact that he's most likely on death row now.” Anderson said. “Let’s get some food babe; I'm starved!”
***
“Mmm,” Anderson mumbled, sucking on his boyfriend’s neck. “Mmm hmm.”
“Hey, look at me. It sounded important in the text.”
“We have plenty of time to talk. It’s not cool to distract an artist from what is surely his best work. Do you think the man who loved Da Vinci interrupted the painting of Mona Lisa to talk about what was on his mine? I'm just saying.” He went back to nibbling.
“I’ll have you know that I had to steal my mom’s concealer or whatever it’s called to cover the three purple marks the last time you attempted a masterpiece. Luckily we’re pretty much the same complexion.”
“You stole your mother’s makeup to cover hickeys?” Anderson asked. “I seriously adore you more than words can express.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Hotch said. “What did you want to talk about? I know we have plenty of time to talk but the same could be said about necking.”
“Necking…how 1950s, backseat of a Chevy quaint.”
“Grant Bramwell Anderson.”
Anderson gasped. He backed away from Hotch and gasped.
“Oh my God, did you seriously just three name me? You three named me hardcore. What the hell am I even supposed to do with that? I feel this weird combination of appalled and turned on in my belly. We’ll revisit this a little later.”
“Just talk to me.” Hotch replied. “C'mon, what's up?”
“I don’t want to seem needy or weird.” Anderson said.
“No matter how hard you try, you're always gonna be weird.” Hotch smiled. “I love that about you.”
“Don’t go to New York.” He blurted out. “I know that I have no right to even ask that and surely not to demand it but we haven’t had enough time. And I know like 3% of Americans marry their high school sweetheart, and I don’t wanna get married anyway, but I want to be together now.
“I've waited so long for someone like you. I can't give that up after so little time; I just can't. I don’t want to wake up in a cold sweat some time in my 40s unable to shake the one who got away. I think we should drive each other batshit crazy and break up with a crash instead of fizzling out. We both deserve that. We deserve each other. If you leave…”
“If I leave what?” Hotch asked.
“Geez, I think I've said enough.” Anderson punched him on his arm. “You say something.”
“First I have to decipher what you said. When you're nervous you speak at lightning speed.”
“I’ll wait.” Anderson folded his arms.
“I honestly have no idea what I'm going to do right now.” Hotch said after a few minutes of silence. “I applied to a lot of schools and have gotten some letters back. I got accepted to the New York schools I wanted to and am waiting to hear back from more local schools. I've waited a long time for you too. You could always come with me.”
“I'm not ready.” Anderson shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to see the world one day. My fabulousness is too much to only grace the DC Corridor. But I'm barely 18 and I'm just not ready. New York is the biggest city in the world; I know I’d lose myself there. It’s bad enough I might lose you…I don’t want to lose myself too.”
“You're not going to lose me. We’re always going to be in each other’s lives. I promise you that.” Hotch spoke in a firm tone, squeezing Anderson's hand.
“OK.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.” Anderson said. “I just…I love you, Aaron. And I've lost enough people in my life. It’s probably not fair to lay that at your feet but it’s still true. I wanted to talk about it but I don’t think I really want to talk about it.”
“You wanna make out?” Hotch asked, smiling.
“Maybe we should watch a movie. I'm in a total Hitchcock mood. Let’s watch Judith Anderson psychologically torture Joan Fontaine while Laurence Olivier pretends nothing is happening.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad way to spend a Friday night. Rebecca’s in my bedroom though, so we’ll have to go upstairs.”
“Aaron Hotchner, did you just segue into us having sex?” Anderson smiled as they both stood up from the couch. He wrapped his arms around Hotch’s waist from behind, following him step for step across the living room and up the stairs. “You are the most awesome boyfriend ever.”
“The night is still young…there's more awesome where that came from.”
***