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Going-out Raihan is certainly different from Everyday Raihan. Smooth. Suave. And decked out in some righteous threads. A two-piece suit. Big platform boots. Shades. Along with the keys to his momma’s new Cadillac.
“I dunno how you managed this,” Leon tells him, sliding onto the bench seat, admiring the cream leather color of it. His own folks haven’t replaced their car in years. “But I swear, I’ll never doubt you again.”
He quickly buckles up, and when he looks back over, Raihan’s got this smug look on his face. Ugh. “Oh, now you have faith in me. I must say, Mister Jackson, I’d have never taken you for a groupie.”
“Groupie? You jivin’? We both know that’s the other way around.”
Raihan scratches his chin as he pulls away from the curb. “Nah, I’d have’ta fight you on that one. The way I’m lookin’ now? Don’t be surprised if the honeys can’t keep they hands off me.”
Leon rolls his eyes. Show-off. With his new clothes straight from a department store, and super bad shoes from Flagg Brothers. Meanwhile, Leon’s pants were a touch too snug, and he had to beg Dad to let him wear his velvet boots.
The only thing that helps is for him to think about Everyday Raihan. Raihan, who gets beat up on the daily for mouthing off to the wrong people. And more often than not, Leon is stuck defending said boy without a set to back up his big mouth. That makes Leon smile.
“What’chu laughin’ at now?”
He looks over. Raihan’s got his arm resting on the seat back, driving one-handed, glasses pulled on his eyes. Leon has to fight to keep from combusting in a fit of laughter.
“Nothin’,” Leon reaches forward, flips the dial for the drop-top. Woah. Total stud mobile. “Nothin’ at all.”
“Brotha, you gotta free ride. The least you could do is offer some entertainment.”
Leon opens his mouth to say something that he knows won’t be very polite, but what comes out is a choked cry. The seat belt tightens against him, and then he’s jerking back so hard that his hat tilts askew.
“What the hell, man?” is what he manages once oxygen has returned to his lungs, his soul to his body, and his stomach from the floor.
Raihan’s just as jostled, though a (cute) grin is on his face. “Braked too hard. My bad. S’the shoes.”
…
Sadly, his driving doesn’t get any better, and after almost scrubbing up the paint job, Leon orders Raihan out and takes the wheel himself.
“I don’t see what was so bad,” Raihan says. “No one but you was complaining.”
“That’s because I’m the only one here. Seriously, Raihan, how’d you get your license?”
“I told you it’s the shoes! And as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t be driving, you don’t even have one.”
“I don’t need one,” He explains, signaling before making a lane change. “I can take the bus. Y’know, like we do every day. Why do you need one?”
“Freedom is sexy, baby.”
Leon laughs. “Oh, f’sho.”
Though he didn’t say, there was another reason, however, why Leon didn’t have his license yet. And that was his poor navigational skills.
He hadn’t outright told Raihan for obvious reasons, but he was no idiot, which is why Leon isn’t shocked at all when he says, “I know they say the journey’s more important than the destination, but are we ever gonna make it to the party, Lee?”
“Mhm. I think I just missed a turn.”
“Try twenty. We way on the other side of town now.”
Oh. Leon isn’t sure how that happened. “Well, maybe you could tell me how to get there.”
“You’re the driver,” And he folds his spindly arms up behind his head. “Figure it out.”
“Seriously?”
“I think it’s a map in the glove box, lemme check.”
“Cut it out, Raihan! Just tell me how to get there before we’re late.”
“No way! You won’t even let me drive!”
If that’s what you could even call it, but Leon just doesn’t have it in him to keep going back and forth. “Okay, let’s compromise. What if… you drive after the party?”
“Alright.”
“Really?”
“Hell no! You must take me for a sucka!”
Leon huffs. “Would you blame me if I do? I mean, this is helping no one, and we’re getting further and further away, so just—” Something covers his mouth. Raihan’s knobby fingers. It’s a conflicting type of emotion. Ew, a hand is on his mouth, but it’s Raihan’s hand. Geez, he even sounds like a sap to himself.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you! Just wanted to see you squirm.” Raihan’s smile is so big, Leon can see the chipped tooth on the left side of his mouth.
Leon grips the wheel tightly. “I wasn’t squirming.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
♡♡♡
There’s a line to get inside. Backed all the way down the sidewalk. And this isn’t the most shocking thing. It’s the bouncer Gordie has parked at the door. A gotdamn bouncer.
Finding themselves at the end of said line, Leon figures they better start looking for their ticket in. “Raihan, where’s Nessa?” He cranes his neck this way and that. No luck.
All Raihan has to give is a shrug and a stupid look. “I dunno. Prolly already inside.”
“Then… how are we supposed to get in?”
“What makes you think they won’t just let us in?”
Considering Nessa’s a socialite and the one who got them invited, Leon can name a few reasons.
Still, he just shakes his head and crosses his arms, to which Raihan says, “Take a pill, baby,” Then drapes his arm around Leon’s neck. It would be endearing if it weren’t so obvious that he was talking jive. “Gettin’ here was the hardest part. This’s a cinch!”
“Finally, you admit your driving is terrible.”
“Au contraire. I was actually referring to you. Don’t worry, the minute this shindig’s over, ya main man’s gettin’ behind the wheel.”
Truly, nothing could be more frightening.
They inch closer and closer to the door, all the while Raihan’s arm remains in its place over his shoulders. It’s a chummy hug, Leon knows this. Still, he finds himself leaning into Raihan’s touch because even if it is platonic, he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth, no shame.
When they do reach the door, they find nothing less than a miracle. Nessa schmoozing with the bouncer. “Hey, those two jokers are with me.”
Mansfield—At least that’s what the nametag on the lapel of his leather jacket says—steps aside to let them pass, but not before pointing a meaty finger at Raihan. “Alright. But take off them glasses, Youngblood. What you think this is?”
Raihan purses his lips the way he does when he’s about to bullshit. “Mansfield, what would you say if I told you… they were prescriptions?”
Bullshit, indeed.
…
“So,” Nessa drawls. “Did Raihan tell you yet?”
“Tell me what?”
She makes a face, then a noncommittal noise, like “Are you stupid?”
If it isn’t obvious, Nessa’s in a completely different league than him. Leon doesn’t want to say The Snobs, but yes, The Snobs. With her huge hair and the cute blue number she’s sporting, probably from one of her modeling gigs. And even more, her I’m-too-hip-for-you attitude. How she’s friends with Raihan still eludes him.
“F’real, Ness,” He says. “Tell me what?”
“Are y’all tryna keep it under wraps? I must say, a party is the worst place for that.”
“For what? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play with me, Leon. I know he told you that he wants to go around.”
Leon blinks. “He… he what?”
Her eyes go big, and the normally collected Nessa stammers, “Oh… I-I guess he didn’t. Forget I said anything.”
She makes her leave, naturally, and Leon doesn’t try to stop her, too busy staring what was completely apparent in the face. Of course, this was a date! The thought makes his knees weak. He’s glad he’s sitting.
Suddenly, his legs are the least of his worries. His heart in his throat, vision hazy, ringing in his ears. The music’s so loud he can barely think.
(Why didn’t Raihan just tell him? Was this just to impress him? He liked Raihan without all of it. Wasn’t that apparent?)
Someone goes to change the record, granting Leon a moment of silence to calm his racing thoughts. It’s short-lived, though. The raucous laughter of other partygoers. Maybe Nessa was right about this being too public.
He is still reeling when Raihan finally returns, coat tossed over his shoulder, showing just how gangly he is. No wonder he can’t fight for shit.
“Lee?” Raihan hands him a cup of punch. It smells terrible. “You good?”
Neither patience nor subtlety has ever been Leon’s forte. “D’you know what Nessa just told me?”
“Mm. That we owe her for getting us in?”
“Nah,” Though Leon didn’t doubt such. “She said that… you wanna go around.”
“Yeah.”
He manages this all with a straight face. Hardly moved. Contrarily, Leon is fighting mad. How can Raihan be so calm about this? “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell me!”
Again, all Raihan has to give is a shrug and a stupid look. “I mean, I thought it was obvious.”
Obvious? Has he forgotten who he’s talking to? Leon has enough nerve to knock him upside the head. Then kiss him. Maybe knock him upside the head again.
Before he has the chance to do just that, Raihan says, “Let’s boogie,” then pulls him up without waiting for a response.
Leon feels like little more than a ragdoll the way Raihan drags him out into the mass of people. He sees now why Gordie was so stringent with the invite list. The foyer is huge and still full to the brim. Everyone’s gettin’ down. In other words, no prying eyes. Except for one pair.
“Quit it,” He tells Raihan. “Didn’t you learn it’s rude to stare?”
“That’s how much you know. I been doing it all day, s’why I wore the glasses.”
“Creep.”
“Turkey.”
Leon laughs, starting a little step-touch thing. Raihan’s the better dancer of the two, evident from how much he watches Soul Train. Vaguely, Leon wishes he’d taken Hop up on his offer for dance lessons. “I can’t believe you thought that stunt you pulled at the door would work. You know so damn well you’ve never worn prescription glasses.”
“You think he’ll give ‘em back when we leave?” Because Mansfield the Bouncer confiscated his precious sunshades no sooner than the words left his mouth.
“No way! Just get that out your head.”
“That won’t be hard since you’re always in it.”
Heat rushes to Leon’s cheeks. Going-out Raihan. The cheeky devil. It hits Leon then just how much he likes this chump, and he wonders if that makes him a chump too. Probably. Definitely. Especially considering all he can do is squirm—Sigh—from Raihan’s smooth-talking.
Fortunately, Going-out Raihan’s reign comes promptly to an end when he does a quick turn, loses his footing, and falls into Leon. Some of his dignity remains intact; he somehow wraps his arms around Leon’s waist, then fixes his gaze up at him. The bastard actually looks pleased with himself. Was this really him being clumsy or just a ploy?
Raihan says, “You’re really good at this. Good reflexes.”
“I play ball,” Leon swallows. “Comes with the territory.”
“I bet you tell all the guys that, huh?”
God, is it that hard for him to just be quiet? The world would certainly be a better place—For Leon, at least—if Raihan didn’t say the first thing that came into his head. Leon takes a shaky breath, reaches up to grab Raihan’s cheeks. Then places a hand over his mouth. “Please… just. Keep it closed.”
Raihan’s lips are warm against his fingers. Leon wonders what they’d feel like pressed against his own. He smells so good too. Is it his cologne or the oil on his locs? These thoughts are sudden, new, and a bit puzzling, but Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t over the moon. Past the stars. Outa-Space like Billy Preston.
He isn’t sure how long they stay like that.
Eventually, Raihan can’t stay quiet any longer, he taps Leon’s hand. That mouth is a menace to society once more. “Really though, Lee. Do you like this? Us?”
Unlike before, he’s serious. Heavy. One look in his eyes, and Leon realizes he’s just as nervous as him. Open. Afraid. Yet, it’s slightly less scary knowing he isn’t the only one.
He doesn’t have to lean down far to meet Raihan’s lips. A quick peck, but so much more. “Yeah. I can dig it.”
Raihan smiles. “Solid.”