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It’s the third Monday of his senior year. Chris is eating lunch alone, doodling in the margins of the notebook he uses to jot down story ideas, and trying to calculate how many Mondays he has left to endure of high school.
Chris doesn’t notice him until the guy has already set his lunch tray down in front of the seat across from him. He glances up from his notebook, startled, and sees that it’s the tall, dark-haired boy that’s here on exchange from…somewhere. He’s in a few of Chris’s classes, but they haven’t spoken. Chris doesn’t even remember his name.
“Uh, hi?”
The boy smiles brightly, and woah, his teeth are perfect. “Hello. Do you mind if I sit here?”
He speaks with an accent. Chris is pretty sure it’s French. “No, by all means. Um.” He gestures vaguely at the empty chair. “Go ahead.”
Still smiling, the boy sits and extends a hand in Chris’s direction. “I do not believe we have been formally introduced to each other. I am Roberto.”
Chris suppresses a small smile at the formality. He shakes Roberto’s hand. “Chris.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Chris.”
“Likewise.”
He’s not really sure what to say after that, so he takes a bite of his turkey and cheddar sandwich, chewing slowly so he has time to think. Roberto just sips at his water. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Chris since he sat down. Chris finds it somewhat unnerving.
“So…you’re an exchange student, right? Where from?”
“Switzerland,” Roberto answers. “Romandie? It is the Western part of the country, where they speak French.”
Chris feels a small thrill at being right. “So French is your first language?”
“Oui, but my German is quite good, also. English is a work in progress.”
“You’re good. I mean – you speak it well,” Chris says, blushing.
Roberto laughs. “Thank you, Chris. But I am afraid my writing is not where it should be. It is not up to par, as they say. And since we have our first essay assignment due in a couple of weeks, and as we are in the same English class, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to help me?”
Chris stares at him blankly. “Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude or whatever, but why would you want my help? My English grade is kind of…Mediocre.
Chris thinks Roberto is too polite to scoff, so he takes the breathy huff as a European show of disbelief. “Impossible. You are always writing! You must be excellent.”
Shrugging, a little self-conscious, Chris replies, “Well, my teachers wouldn’t agree. But thank you. Writing is important to me.”
“What do you like to write? Novels, poetry?” Roberto props his chin on one hand, tilting his head and smiling fondly. He has dimples, for Christ’s sake. Who is this guy?
“Um. Everything, I guess? Novels especially. And screenplays.”
Roberto’s eyes light up. “I love films! You must promise to cast me one day.”
“You act?”
“One day, I hope,” he says, ducking his head bashfully. “But first I must graduate and attend a performing arts school. Here, preferably.”
Chris raises his eyebrows. “I hope you mean here America and not here Clovis, because let me tell you, the performing arts scene isn’t exactly thriving in this town.”
Roberto laughs. He really has the most beautiful smile Chris has ever seen. “Yes, here in America. New York City has several good institutions.” He leans forward a little, clasping his hands on table behind his untouched lunch tray. “So, Chris. Will you be so kind as to lend me your aid? Help me realize my dream of returning to America after graduation by assisting me with this essay?”
Chris can’t help his smile. He can’t think of a good reason to say no, and more than that, he doesn’t want to. With the school play pushed back to spring, his schedule is pretty empty. And it’s not like he’s in any position to shy away from offers of friendship. “If you’re sure you want my help, then yes. Why not?”
Roberto’s smile is positively luminous. “Wonderful.”
***
They become fast friends, eating lunch together every day, spending hours together after school every day working on homework. For the first week or so they work at the school library, but then one day Chris forgets his lunch, so he’s starving by the time school lets out. He invites Roberto over for snacks and a study session at his house. After that, Roberto becomes something of a permanent fixture at the Colfer house.
Chris’s parents adore him, naturally. He’s a perfect gentleman, always complimenting Chris’s mother on the décor or her hair or her clothes, and perfectly content to chat with his father about the local news. He stays for dinner a couple nights a week (“Mrs. Colfer, your cooking is simply marvelous, you really must share your recipe for scalloped potatoes with me, my father would love it.”).
They laugh together. Chris is surprised and so pleased to have met someone who appreciates his brand of humour. They have a lot in common, actually. Movies, music, theatre. One weekend, they spend a whole day taking turns showing one another their favourite bands and artists on YouTube. Chris gains a whole new appreciation for French pop music. By 10pm the music has devolved into silly comedy sketches and cat videos that Chris has seen fifty times before but still make him crack up.
They’ve just finished watching one where the cat sees herself in a mirror and loses her shit. Chris has fallen back on his pillows, both hands on his stomach because it actually hurts from laughing so much. He closes his eyes, one hand reaching up to wipe away the moisture that’s built up there.
“God,” he huffs out, still chuckling. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard I cried.” Roberto doesn’t respond. Chris peeks at him from under his hand. He’s closer than he was before, lying on his side, facing Chris with his head propped up on one hand. He’s staring at him, smiling that same fond smile from the first day they met. Chris’s heartbeat picks up. “Berto? Is everything alright?”
Instead of replying, Roberto leans in and kisses him. It’s gentle and sweet, but Chris can’t help his surprised gasp. Roberto pulls back, but only a little. He’s still so close that their noses are almost touching. “Was that okay?” he asks softly, concernedly.
Chris nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, yeah. You just caught me off guard. Can we… again?”
They both smile into the next kiss.
***
Not much changes. They still do their homework together. Roberto still stays for dinner. They still watch movies and share music and laugh at ridiculous YouTube videos together.
They sit closer, though. Brush shoulders as they work and smile secret smiles every few minutes. When Chris’s parents are out, Roberto will cook for him (and Hannah, when she’s there. She, like his parents, is completely charmed by the handsome European boy with the magic smile). They cuddle when they watch movies, hold hands when they listen to music. They kiss when they get to Chris’s house after school and they kiss goodnight when Roberto leaves and sometimes they kiss just because.
It’s all so sweet and romantic. Chris has never been happier. He had never thought a high school romance was in the cards for him, but he’s delighted to have been proven wrong.
It can’t last, of course. Roberto is leaving to go back to Romandy a week before Christmas. Chris does his best not to let the countdown get to him, but it’s hard. Roberto is his first boyfriend, but he’s also a lovely friend. He’s not looking forward to a lonely second semester. He keeps telling himself to enjoy the time they have, throwing himself into Christmas baking, and relishing the way warmth blooms in his chest every time Roberto steals some dough or kisses him on the cheek.
The day before Roberto leaves, they’re cuddling on the couch with mugs of peppermint hot chocolate. Roberto presses his face into Chris’s hair. “I have a present for you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything, silly.”
Roberto shushes him. “You deserve to be pampered, Christopher. If I could, I would shower you with gifts every single day.”
Chris laughs. “Well, just one will do for now. Come on then, hand it over.”
Roberto reaches down into his bag where it’s laying at their feet. He pulls out a small rectangular box, neatly wrapped with gold wrapping paper and a red bow. “Merry Christmas, mon cher.”
Chris kisses him and mumbles thank you against his lips. He tears off the wrapping paper, takes the lid off the box, and finds nestled in tissue paper…
“Oh, my God! You didn’t.”
Roberto laughs loudly, wrapping his arm around Chris’s waist and squeezing gently. “They are vouchers for airplane tickets to Switzerland. Good for the next year. Come and see me, yes?”
Chris throws his arms around Roberto’s neck, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. “Yes. Yes.”