Chapter Text
Friday Night
It's Friday night, and there’s a party in the neighbourhood.
With the neighbourhood kids.
Though if they knew Albert called some of them ‘kids’ in his mind, they’d probably throw a fit.
The music is loud, but not absurdly so. The house, however, is weirdly dark. The dim lights give off the impression that they’re going to do improper things, instead of simply playing Just Dance and Mario Kart all night.
Albert looks around.
Everyone from Falcon North is gathered in the Gibson house.
It’s at the edge of the neighbourhood. You’d think it would make more sense for a neighbourhood party to be held in a house in the middle of the area,
but now they can blast the music as loudly as they want.
“Hey, Albert!” Lea Petersen calls out when he walks into the backyard. She’s sitting on one of the lounge chairs, her dark hair in two braids and a red cup in her hand.
“Hey, Petersen,” Albert says, and walks over to her. “How’s it going?”
“Good, good. Just enjoying a night with people who get me, you know.”
Not really.
Albert doesn’t feel like a lot of people get him.
But he guesses he’s not the only seventeen year old teenager who thinks that.
"Yeah," he says. "Nothing lifts the spirits like loud music, alcohol, and rebellious teenagers."
"Right?"
She knocks their red cups against each other, reminding Albert that he hasn't drank a lot from his Bacardi Coke.
He takes a sip.
It's still not very good.
"Is everything good at school?" he asks her.
Lea pulls a face. "Ugh, don't talk to me about school. For one night, I want to forget about that hell place."
Hell place feels too strong a phrase,
but Albert knows it's not cool to like school so he just nods.
"Let's do something fun," she says, moving to her feet. "Truth or dare or something."
Before Albert can give his opinion on her suggestion, she's already yelling at the other Falcon North kids gathered in the garden.
Because truth or dare promises gossip and possible embarrassing sexual situations,
everyone is interested.
Albert isn't.
He wants to slip back into the living room and join a round of Just Dance,
but Lea turns around, her braids flying through the air, and calls out, "Albert, come on!"
x
They’re sitting in a circle on the Gibsons’ impeccable and artificial grass.
It’s late April, so it’s warm enough to sit outside. Not that it would’ve mattered to Albert, who had the foresight to bring a cardigan.
After a quick discussion, everyone agrees to play truth or dare.
Lea is clearly the leader in this group, judging by the way everyone looks at her to tell them what to do.
“Okay, well, I’ll go first, and then I’ll point to the next person, okay?”
She picks dare and when prompted to take off an article of clothing, immediately takes off her shirt. There’s appreciative yelling, and she grins before taking a big gulp of her drink.
Albert watches her bright blue bra and wonders if he should feel excited or aroused.
They play a few more rounds. Isobel tells about the time she walked in on her parents doing it, Curtis admits he’s taken nude photos of himself, Joel has to let the girls shave his legs, and Derrick has to put ice cubes in his pants; the latter being Albert’s idea.
“My legs are so smooth,” Joel says in awe.
The girls who shaved his legs laugh and touch his legs too. Joel preens when they compliment him on how soft they are.
Meanwhile, Derrick—who had to put ice cubes in his pants—points an accusatory finger at Albert and says, “Your turn.”
Albert shrugs. “Okay. Dare.”
Derrick grins, then points to his right. “I dare you to kiss him for a minute.”
Him
is Thomas Holmes.
There’s a lot of things Albert knows about Thomas Holmes,
and even more he doesn’t know.
What he knows is this:
Thomas Holmes moved to Pegasus Lane when Albert was ten.
He had tried to carry too many boxes from the car, had tripped, and fell on the concrete. Albert had looked out of his window, curious because of the loud crying, and had seen how Thomas’s parents had started arguing instead of calming down their small son.
Thomas Holmes isn’t small now.
Yet Albert had failed to see him when they sat down for truth or dare.
Perhaps he’d joined their group while they were still debating what to play.
What Albert also knows:
People seem to be mildly afraid of Thomas Holmes.
It’s mostly because of his size.
He looks like he’s supposed to be in college on a football scholarship.
But it’s the cuts and bruises that really seal the deal.
Albert doesn’t pay too much attention,
but he’s heard the rumors.
People think he’s in a secret underground fight club,
bashing people’s faces in for extra money.
But what Albert knows about Thomas Holmes doesn’t matter now. Not when there’s an entire group of teenagers watching him with grinning faces, waiting for Albert to object to the dare.
But why should he?
“Sure,” Albert says.
He crawls to Thomas,
who’s watching him with a frown.
“Someone get a timer!” Lea calls, and Isobel scrambles for her phone.
On their knees on the artificial grass,
Thomas Holmes is still bigger than Albert.
“Are you okay with this?” Albert asks.
“Uh, I guess?” Thomas says, but it sounds like a question.
“I won’t do tongue.”
Thomas seems to choke on his spit. “Uh, okay.”
Without another word—because why procrastinate?—Albert closes his eyes and presses his lips against Thomas Holmes’s mouth.
Lea whoops loudly, and the others immediately join in.
Why, Albert doesn’t know.
It’s a very boring feeling,
just skin on skin.
Almost like a handshake.
Until Thomas presses forward a little, and Albert suddenly remembers he’s kissing Thomas Holmes.
A chilly wind blows through the backyard,
and Albert wants to blame it for the goosebumps breaking out on his skin,
but it doesn’t work because he knows it’s not true.
The goosebumps arrived before the wind.
The feeling quickly subsides,
but the minute lasts very long.
Long enough that Albert wonders if he should also move his mouth. Would that make it better?
Experimentally, he tilts his head a little,
and Thomas makes a little gasp-y sound like he’s surprised.
It’s not a bad sound.
It’s mostly a logical sound.
After all, it is kind of weird to be kissing your neighbour; the one you’ve kept an eye on for 7 years.
The timer beeps.
“Time!” Lea yells.
Somehow this startles Albert.
It’s time to pull back, he thinks.
Yet it’s strangely difficult. His eyes open slowly, almost lazily, like he was half asleep.
Except he doesn’t feel tired.
Not at all.
Thomas Holmes is looking at Albert with dark eyes,
darker than their usual coffee shade.
Somehow, the look in Thomas’s eyes makes Albert’s stomach feel funny,
all unstable and queasy.
Before Albert can act on the strange feeling, an arm gets thrown around his shoulders. “Didn’t know you had it in you, man," Lea grins.
Albert shrugs. “It’s kissing. It’s not advanced physics.”
“Guess not!” Lea laughs. “Okay, your turn to pick the next victim.”
Albert looks around the circle and randomly points at someone who hasn’t had a turn yet. When the game resumes, he turns back to Thomas.
But the spot beside him is empty.
“Did you see where Thomas went?” he asks Lea.
“Huh?” she says, not even looking at him, distracted by the game. “No idea.”
x
It takes Albert half an hour before he finally spots Thomas Holmes’s dark curls. He’s in the hallway, black bomber jacket in his hand.
“For a big guy, you’re hard to find,” Albert says.
Thomas looks at his feet. “I was just going.”
“Yeah, alright. It’s getting late.”
“Yeah.”
Albert walks to the door and opens it.
When Thomas merely stares at him, confused, Albert gestures outside.
“Well, let’s go.”
“You want me to go?”
“No, I’m going too.”
This doesn’t seem to clear up Thomas’s confusion.
But it does make him move.
He shrugs on his jacket, then walks out the door.
It’s a fairly bright evening. Not only are the streetlights on, but the moon is also almost full, glowing brightly down at the earth
and the silence between Albert and Thomas as they walk through the streets of Falcon North.
It’s not really awkward.
Well.
Maybe a little.
The houses get smaller and closer together the longer they walk,
but the distance between Albert and Thomas stays the same.
Respectable.
“How are you?” Albert asks eventually.
Thomas is silent for a few seconds. “The same as usual.”
“That’s good.”
Thomas shrugs, and there’s silence once more.
When they turn the corner and walk onto a sleeping Pegasus Lane,
Albert thinks absentmindedly that this is only the fourth time he’s ever talked to Thomas Holmes. For someone he’s known most of his life, it’s not—
“How are you?”
The words are pushed out into the night like Thomas literally wanted to break the silence.
Surprised, Albert pushes up his red glasses. “Also the same as usual. I go to school, meet my friends, do homework, then repeat everything the next day.”
“You don’t do anything after school?”
It’s only a few more steps until their houses.
Albert can see the ceramic pots on the porch that his brother and him painted when they were younger.
“I do. I play video games, or I read. Sometimes I watch a movie with my dad.”
Eyes on the ground, Thomas nods.
They’re standing in front of Albert’s home now.
There’s a light on in the living room, and Albert bets his mother is secretly watching them through the window.
“Anyway,” Albert says. “I’m going inside.”
Thomas nods again.
Then his eyes find Albert for the first time since their kiss, and even though Albert has to tilt back his head, it’s nice.
It’s nice to look into Thomas’s eyes.
“Good night,” Albert says.
“Bye,” Thomas says. He turns around abruptly, like someone pulled on his arm. Pulled him away from 48 Pegasus Lane.
Albert watches Thomas Holmes’s shape grow smaller before he gets inside the house. When he closes the front door, his mother pounces on him almost immediately.
“Was that Thomas Holmes?” she asks, hair in a messy bun and a book in her hands.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Albert asks.
“I know, but it was just so tense and I needed to know what happened next.” She waves the book in her hands for emphasis. “I swear I’m just going to finish this chapter and then I’ll go to bed.”
Unlikely.
Albert toes off his shoes and makes for the stairs.
“Wait, don’t ignore my question,” his mother says. “Was that Thomas Holmes?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“How’s he doing? You two never really talk.”
Albert leans against the wall and thinks back to the raging storm,
three years ago.
To the way Thomas Holmes’s laugh had made Albert smile.
“Not really, no,” he says.
“Do you think that’s going to change? You go to the same school, right?”
“We’re not in the same friend groups though.”
His mother takes a sip of her tea. “Well, you never know.”
But that’s the thing.
Albert prides himself on knowing nearly everything.
It’s uncommon for him to not know.
x
Monday, at school, Jenny is already waiting for Albert when he walks to his locker.
She recently re-dyed her hair black, and it shines underneath the fluorescent school lights. She’s scratching off her black nail polish, not because she wants to, but because she’s nervous.
Albert knows this because he knows her.
“Morning, Jenny.”
“Oh my god, there you finally are. I’ve been dying to tell you what my tarot reading said this morning.”
Albert takes a few books out of his locker while he listens to the outcome of Jenny’s reading. It’s mostly positive.
“Except,” she says, “it said that one of my friends would get into an accident this week.”
“You have more friends, though.”
The bell rings, and they start walking to French together.
“I know, I know, but I wanted to warn you. Just in case, you know?”
“That’s nice, thank you.”
“So keep an eye out for ladders and cars and potholes.”
“I will.”
There’s a crowd in front of the French classroom, because their teacher is always late when they have French first period.
A few of the gathered students are yawning and staring blearily at the door like their minds are still asleep.
Not Jenny’s though.
Judging by the little lovesick sigh beside him,
Jenny has already spotted her three year long crush.
It takes her a moment to come back to earth, but she eventually tears her eyes away and focuses on Albert once more. “So how was your weekend?”
“Alright. I went to the neighbourhood party—”
“Oh, right!”
“—but we didn’t do anything special. We just played some Just Dance and Mario Kart. Oh, and I got my first kiss.”
Jenny’s eyes widen in slow-motion,
like her brain is catching up to her ears.
“Yeah,” Albert says, and he pushes up his glasses.
“Oh. My. God.”
“It was for truth or dare.”
“Truth or—but still—Oh. My. God,” Jenny repeats, hands gesturing in the air like she’s trying to make sense of it all.
Before she can, their French teacher finally shows up, a coffee pot in her hand.
Albert goes inside with the rest of the students. Behind him, he hears Jenny whisper furiously, “I will get a name from you, Albert Meadows!”
He looks over his shoulder. “Oh, you don’t need to pry. It was Thomas Holmes.”
At that,
Jenny stops in her tracks and stares at him with her mouth open.
x
Monday, at lunch, Albert has frankly forgotten all about this morning.
He’s listening to Alistar and his boyfriend, Carter, talk about their weekend, while Will dozes off—as he usually does on Mondays.
“And it was so big,” Car says. “They rented this entire hotel, which was necessary too because it was packed with people.”
“And so many people were cosplaying Lord of the Rings,” Alistar adds. “I didn’t think people still thought that was cool.”
“I mean, it’s Comic Con,” Albert says. “Everyone there probably grew up with Lord of the Rings.”
Alistar laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“So, anyway, there we were,” Car continues, “waiting in line for what seemed like two hours—”
“It was only half an hour,” Alistar says.
“—when suddenly this security guards walks up and—”
A chair next to Albert scrapes loudly over the linoleum
and then Jenny falls into it.
“You,” she says. “Talk.”
“I was,” Car mutters, which makes Jenny realize there’s more people at their lunch table.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for hijacking the convo, but Albert needs to tell me what happened this weekend or I’m gonna die.”
“You’re probably not—” Albert starts, but she cuts him off.
“Albert!”
“Yeah, alright.” Albert pushes up his red glasses. “We played truth or dare. I dared Derrick to put ice cubes in his pants.” The group winces. “And he tried to get back at me by daring me to kiss Thomas Holmes.”
Alistar was in the middle of taking a sip of his water, but he nearly chokes on it when Albert’s done explaining.
Or well,
he thought he was done.
“And you did?” Jenny asks, leaning forward.
“Yes.”
“And how was it?” Car asks, while patting a coughing Star on the back.
It’s the question Albert dreaded.
Because he doesn’t know.
“It was alright,” he says, because he’s got to say something. “It got better towards the end, but then the timer went off.”
“Shit,” Jenny mumbles, biting on her nail.
“I don’t want to be, uh, rude,” Car starts hesitatingly, “but are you into guys? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Albert takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them to postpone his reply.
Because he’s annoyed.
Annoyed at all these questions he can’t answer.
“No idea,” he says.
He must’ve sounded irritated,
because Jenny briefly puts her hand on his shoulder.
“That’s alright,” she says. “You don’t need to know now.”
Maybe not.
But Albert likes knowing.
x
Wednesday night,
in bed,
Albert decides to put the issue out of his mind.
Partly because the end of the school year is near and he needs to focus on school,
and partly because he’s not planning on kissing Thomas Holmes again.
He knows he could kiss other boys.
The question proposed to him was if he liked boys,
not if he specifically liked Thomas Holmes.
But the fact of the matter is,
that the thought of kissing boys, just any boy,
doesn’t interest Albert at all.
x
Friday morning does nothing but undermine Albert’s resolve.
Because after he puts his bag on the passenger seat and turns the key in the ignition,
the car splutters and stalls
but doesn’t start.
“What?” Albert mumbles, and tries again.
The engine tries to whirr to life,
but it splutters out again.
Even after a few more tries.
Albert looks at the house, but the curtains in his parents’ room are still closed. He’d rather not wake up his father to get a lift. Not on his day off.
With a sigh, Albert gets out the car and props open the hood, peering at its mechanical organs like he’s a surgeon without a degree.
Which is just a normal person.
He lets his forehead lean against the hood. “Ugh.”
Guess he’ll have to take the bu—
“Hey.”
Startled, Albert takes a step back.
Standing next to his broken car is none other than Thomas Holmes,
holding onto the strap of his backpack with a bruised hand.
“Hi,” Albert says, surprised. “What’s up?”
For the first time in three years,
for the first time since that storm,
Thomas Holmes cracks a lopsided smile.
“Think I should ask you that.”
Right.
Albert huffs a laugh. “Yeah, okay. Good point.”
“What’s wrong with your car?” Thomas asks, joining Albert at the hood.
“It won’t start. I turned the key multiple times, but nothing's happening.”
Thomas is silent.
Albert watches him look over the car, and wonders how the cut on his cheek got there.
Does he really fight others for cash?
Without a word, Thomas walks around the front and peers through the window of the driver’s seat. He has to crouch quite a bit to be able to.
“I think I know what your problem is."
“That would be perfect.”
Thomas points at the dashboard, his finger tapping against the glass.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Don’t tell me,” Albert starts, but it’s confirmed when Thomas grins.
“Yup. No gas.”
Albert groans. He closes the car’s hood. “Thanks for solving the problem. Guess I’m taking the bus.”
"Um." Thomas straightens up. “I can give you a ride.”
“Really?”
Eyes shifting to the side, Thomas nods.
“Well, I’m not going to say no,” Albert says.
He grabs his bag from the passenger seat, locks the car, then follows Thomas to his car.
It’s a big truck, big enough for Thomas to get in without having to bend himself in half.
Before Albert can reach for the passenger door, Thomas tells him to wait and runs inside the house.
When he returns, he’s holding a key in his hand,
and it’s then that Albert wonders if he’s ever seen Thomas drive a car to school.
Doesn’t he normally ride a bike?
They get inside the truck, which roars to life after just a simple turn of the key.
“That sounds better,” Albert jokes.
Thomas only nods.
He seems focused on driving out of the driveway, bruised hands holding tightly onto the steering wheel.
Quietly, Albert observes the cuts and bruises on Thomas Holmes’s hands.
They look fresh.
And they’re not just on his knuckles.
Rather, they seem to be on the palm of his hand. Or at least, the small part that Albert can see.
“You okay?” he asks, when he realizes it’s been minutes and Thomas’s grip on the steering wheel still hasn’t let up.
“Yeah,” Thomas says tightly.
“You don’t drive a lot, do you?”
“Nope.”
Ah.
“You didn’t have to give me a ride if driving makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable about driving.”
As soon as he says the words,
someone on a bike cuts them off.
Thomas nearly stands on the brakes. The truck stops with screeching tires and Albert flies forward, his seat belt cutting painfully into his chest.
“Not sure I believe you,” he winces, rubbing his chest.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Thomas says, shooting Albert a quick look. “You’re right. I’m not a good driver.”
“That’s alright. I’m proud that you admitted it.”
The tips of Thomas’s ears turn red, and his shoulders rise like he's feeling awkward.
“Could you stop staring,” he says nervously.
Oh,
Albert had been staring.
It surprises him, because he hadn’t been doing it on purpose.
“Sorry,” he says, turning away. “That probably doesn’t help your nerves.”
They’re both silent for a while.
Until Albert has an idea.
He pushes up his red glasses. “Hey, if you want, I could drive us back this afternoon?”
Thomas turns to him in surprise. “You still want to ride with me?”
“Yeah,” Albert says, meeting Thomas’s dark eyes. “Of course.”
Even though Thomas turns his head back to the road,
and even though his curls partially obstruct his face,
Albert can see he’s smiling.
It makes Albert’s chest feel weirdly warm.
x
“Have you seen the bruises on his hands and face?”
“Yeah, I heard he beat up someone twice his size!”
“That’s impossible, he’s already a giant!”
Albert looks up from his locker.
Two girls a year younger than him are unabashedly gossiping about the nature of Thomas Holmes’s injuries, and it bothers him.
He closes his locker and walks up to them.
The girls look at him in surprise.
“And?” Albert asks. “Did he win?”
“Oh,” the left girl says. “I don’t know, I think so.”
“How can you not know? Who’s your source?”
“Uh.” She fidgets. “A guy in my class told me.”
“And how did he know?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Of course.
It’s just high school gossip.
Calm down.
But what if it’s real?
Only one way to find out, Albert thinks, as he leaves the girls with a quick goodbye.
Ask the source.
x
“You’re coming with me to the game tonight, right?” Jenny asks him during English.
“Of course,” Albert says, eyes on the whiteboard lest the teacher thinks they’re not paying attention. “I promised you I would.”
“I know, I know. Just checking. Also, I’m going to text you a few potential outfits tonight.”
“Alright.”
The teacher adds another note to the board then, and they both turn silent as they copy it.
“Oh,” Albert says when he’s finished. “My car wouldn’t start this morning.”
“What?” Jenny turns to him with wide eyes. “No shit! The tarot reading from Monday came true!”
Just an unlikely coincidence.
“Guess it did.”
“Sucks for you, though. I hope the bus wasn’t too bad.”
“Oh, no. Thomas Holmes gave me a ride to school.”
At this, Jenny drops her pen.
It clatters loudly on her desk, and she scrambles to pick it up.
“No. Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did.”
“What. That’s insane! He normally doesn’t even drive a car to school. I heard he’s got this crazy mountain bike thing.”
It’s true.
It’s what other people don’t know:
Thomas Holmes taught himself how to ride a bike.
The first year the Holmes family moved to Pegasus Lane, Albert often found himself watching through his bedroom window how Thomas Holmes tried to ride a bike.
Tried,
and failed.
Many times.
Albert had thought it strange that Thomas hadn’t known how to ride one,
or that his parents weren’t there to teach him.
He found himself rooting for his neighbour, secretly cheering him on and wincing whenever Thomas hit the hard concrete.
But Thomas always bit through the tears, even when he was only ten years old.
And even though Albert was only ten years old,
he admired that.
x
Thomas Holmes is sitting on the hood of his truck when Albert exits the school building.
The sight is strangely aesthetically pleasing,
and Albert stops dead in his tracks.
The dark jacket, dark curls, and dark eyes;
everything reminds Albert of Heath Ledger in Ten Things I Hate About You.
He secretly loves that movie.
A few kids bump into him, complaining loudly how he's standing in their way.
But that doesn’t bother Albert.
What bothers him is the way people look at Thomas as they give him in a wide berth.
There’s distrust,
and suspicion,
and straight-up dislike.
For someone they don’t even know.
When Thomas spots Albert, he quickly slides down the truck and straightens his jacket.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” Albert says. “Were you waiting for long?”
“Nah. Only an hour or something.”
“That’s long.”
Thomas shrugs, and again, it looks awkward instead of angry or threatening.
Albert knows how sensational and wrong high school gossip can be,
but every time he meets Thomas, he feels like they really missed the mark with him.
Albert gets into the driver’s seat,
then stares at his feet in surprise.
“What?” Thomas asks nervously. “If you want to take the bus, that’s—”
“No, I—” Albert starts laughing. “I can’t reach the pedals.”
He swings his legs for emphasis.
He watches Thomas’s eyes drift down, watches him process the fact that Albert’s feet are nowhere near the pedals.
Then, he also laughs.
“Oh, right. I’ll adjust it for you.”
Thomas leans in and fumbles for something underneath the chair.
He’s so close that his dark curls brush against Albert’s cheek.
Albert knows he could lean back,
knows he could move his legs to give Thomas better access.
But there’s something interesting happening while Thomas’s hands bump against his knees as he searches for the handle.
“Found it,” Thomas grunts, and sure enough, the chair lowers in short, sudden bursts. “Can you reach it now?”
Thomas looks up, and it puts their faces at a kissing distance.
Albert knows this because he’s kissed Thomas Holmes less than a week ago.
It had been too dark then,
too dark to appreciate the two small birthmarks underneath Thomas Holmes’s left eye,
and the espresso hue of said eyes.
Albert knows he should move back,
but it’s not unpleasant to be this close.
He watches Thomas’s ears turn slightly red.
Then, Thomas swallows, and starts leaning in, like he’s going to kiss Albert.
It startles Albert out of his staring.
He quickly looks away and puts his feet on the pedals. “Oh! Right, yeah, I can reach them now.”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Thomas lean back.
“Good,” Thomas mumbles.
“Let’s see if I can drive your truck,” Albert half-jokes, but it sounds a little awkward, even to his own ears.
x
Friday night, the stadium is packed with people wearing yellow and green around their necks, on their bodies and on their faces.
Jenny doesn’t join in because she doesn’t want to break her goth aesthetic,
but Albert put a yellow and green stripe on his cheeks to show his support for the Roseburg High team.
Jenny wades through the sea of people,
a spot of black in the colours.
They find pretty good spots on the left.
“Damn, it’s warm tonight,” Jenny says, pushing up the sleeves of her black dress—the winner of the 5 outfits she texted him. “Can I have some popcorn?”
Albert gets the bag of popcorn from his backpack and hands it to Jenny, who tears it open immediately.
“I also brought coke and water,” Albert says.
“Cool. I brought wine.”
Because it’s tradition,
Albert isn’t surprised.
He was the first time, though.
“So how was the ride with Thomas Holmes today?” Jenny asks, while she pours the wine in a red cup. “Did you kiss again?”
“No, but I think he wanted to.”
Jenny nearly spills the wine. “No way! How do you know? Did he say?”
“No, he leaned in like he was going to kiss me.”
Jenny hands him the cup, then pours one for herself.
Albert takes a sip. “It frustrates me, Jenny.”
“What? That he’s trying to kiss you?”
“No. Well, a little,” Albert admits. “When I saw him leaning in, it felt too soon. I don’t really know him, but…”
Music starts playing, and the stadium lights dim for a few seconds to alert the audience that the entertainment is about to start.
“But at the same time,” Albert shouts, “it feels like I’ve known him all my life.”
“What?” Jenny asks, leaning in, but it’s then that the trumpets start playing.
The school band marches onto the field, followed by a group of jumping and cartwheeling cheerleaders, and Albert knows he’s lost Jenny’s attention.
When the big entrance is done,
the head cheerleader takes a step forward, her blonde hair shining underneath the harsh stadium lights, and waves at the public.
Beside him, Jenny waves back like her life depends on it.
Albert knows she’s been crushing on Rose Robinson for years.
He doesn’t think it’s odd.
Rose Robinson looks beautiful, and she’s rumoured to be super friendly. Everyone adores her. Everyone probably has had a crush on her at some point in their lives, too.
But the thought never crossed Albert’s mind.
For curiosity’s sake, he tries imaging kissing her, but all he feels, if anything, is a mild nausea.
Because he doesn’t know Rose at all.
The thought feels like another clue,
like he solved part of the equation,
but at the same time, it doesn’t.
The question:
Do I like boys?
Not an answer:
I don’t want to kiss Rose Robinson.
x