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What can be worse than a weeklong record hitting heatwave? A weeklong record hitting heatwave with a broken aircon that your father keeps insisting he will fix but never does.
Finney has already taken two cold showers and it’s only midday. It’s tempting to take another one but wasting more water would be reckless. He doesn’t even want to imagine what would happen to him when the water bill comes in at the end of the month. His father would not be pleased. They are already struggling as it is.
His sister, Gwen, was smart enough to retreat to Suzie’s house for the day but wouldn’t let him tag along because “girls only”. Of course. Finney wishes he had someone he could go to as well.
That’s how he finds himself knocking at his neighbour’s door. Albert Shaw. Finney hasn’t really talked to him before apart from exchanging an occasional ‘hello’ and ‘have a nice day’, but from the limited interactions they’ve had the man seems friendly enough. He feels embarrassed to have to do this. He’s not really good at talking to people he doesn’t know. But his only other option is Mrs Moore next door and Finney would rather pass out from heat exhaustion than ask her for help.
Finney isn’t sure if Mr Shaw would even allow him in the house. They’re no more than acquaintances after all. He knows he wouldn’t allow the man in his house if the roles were reversed. Well, it’s worth a try anyway.
He hears the lock click and the door opens to the sight of his neighbour, shirtless, in nothing but grey drawstring shorts. He raises an eyebrow in a question, clearly not expecting to see the boy.
“Hi, Mr Shaw,” Finney starts, giving him a little wave. Right, he’s rehearsed these lines in his head a thousand times. Just have to say them out loud this time. “Sorry to bother you but is it alright if I come in to cool off for a little bit? Our aircon is broken and it feels like my skin is melting off.” Phew. Didn’t even stutter. “It-it’s okay if not!” Almost didn’t stutter.
Albert chuckles and opens the door wider to make way for Finney. “Sure, but mine is not very good either. Might as well be broken too, that thing.”
There is a slight, hardly noticeable, breeze coming out of the opened door and even that makes Finney thrilled. He will be able to escape the heat, even if just a little bit.
“I’ll take anything at this point. Thank you!” He steps inside and exhales with relief. Albert was not lying when he said the aircon isn’t great. It barely works, really. But it’s enough not to have the house feel like an inside of an oven. He bets the walls aren’t hot to the touch either.
“Do you want anything? Water? Soda? Some ice?” The man asks, walking into the kitchen. Finney follows him in. There are several vegetables on the counter. He’s probably cooking. “Oh! I’ve also got a couple of popsicles in the freezer.”
“An ice pop sounds nice,” Finney nods, standing in the doorframe in between the living room and the kitchen. He doesn’t want to seem rude by walking around the house like he owns it.
And it’s a nice house. Tidy. Not something he’d expect a single man’s residence to look like. Maybe he does have a wife and Finney just happened to never see her. Is it even possible? Albert’s been living here ever since Finney’s family moved in the area. Maybe he just likes having a clean house. Wouldn’t be too odd.
“An ice pop it is then!” Albert reaches into the freezer and gets two brightly coloured popsicles out. “Grape or cherry?”
“Grape, please.” Finney smiles. It’s his favourite.
The man unwraps both ice pops, hands him the purple one and sticks the red one in his own mouth. He winks at him, then turns around to resume cutting up his salad at the kitchen counter. Finney’s heart skips a beat. He’s never really looked at his neighbour up close. Didn’t have the opportunity nor the desire. But now, standing not too far apart from each other, Finney can see. There is a certain charm to him. In the way he talks, behaves and… looks. It’s distracting to say the least.
Finney hears a wet pop of the popsicle leaving the man’s mouth before Albert speaks again. “Feel free to watch the TV. I don’t really have any other entertainment for you here.” He sounds apologetic. “I’ll keep you company when I’m done if you’d like to chat to this old man.”
“Thanks,” he simply says before retreating into the living room. He wanted to argue that Albert wasn’t an old man but, realistically speaking, he was. There is no denying that. Finney doesn’t know how old he is exactly, but he can see the strands of grey hair and the wrinkles on his face. And, to be fair, anyone over the age of twenty would seem old to him anyway.
He sits down on the very edge of the couch, not bothering to turn the TV on. Finney can see into the kitchen from this angle. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the man’s toned bare back. That’s another thing Finney is shocked to discover – Mr Shaw is kind of fit. He’s used to seeing him wearing baggy clothes that don’t emphasise the muscles he’s apparently been hiding this whole time. Wow, okay. He can’t help but keep looking him up and down. His long-ish hair in a ponytail, his neck, shoulders, arms, back, legs… His whole body covered in beads of sweat, glistening in the sunrays coming through the window. The casual laid-back stance. Finney felt himself being drawn in. There is an impulsive desire at the back of his mind to get up and feel the man’s skin under his fingertips. And he is unable to push it away.
It’s hard to tell how long he’s been staring. Feels like it’s been both forever and only a few seconds all at the same time.
He’s getting hotter by the minute; the weak breeze of the air conditioning doesn’t seem to be helping anymore. Did it actually get hotter? Finney swallows and shifts in his seat. Maybe it did. Wait, why do his fingers feel so sticky?...
“Crap!” He exclaims out loud, making Albert turn around in concern. Finney’s been so mesmerised by the man’s sole existence that he completely forgot about the popsicle in his hand. “Oh no…”
The purple liquid has dripped onto his lap and the couch.
“Oh, dear me! Let me get a paper towel.”
Finney uses his other hand to prevent any more drops from dripping down. This is just embarrassing. He shouldn’t have been staring. He ended up messing up the couch. It’s a miracle none spilled onto the carpet.
Albert returns from the kitchen with a roll and gets down on one knee in front of the boy.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry about that, it’s just water.” He tears a couple of pieces and carefully takes the popsicle handle out of Finney’s hand, wrapping it up and putting it on the coffee table. Then he wipes the boy’s fingers, one after the other, making Finney grateful for the heatwave, since it can be used as a plausible excuse for why he is blushing so damn hard.
“It left a stain…” He nods at the purple circle on the couch in between his legs. The colour makes it very visible. It’s a harsh contrast to the rest of it.
Finney feels blood rush to more than just his face when Albert switches to wiping his lap. The strong hands apply pressure that shouldn’t be as pleasurable as it is.
What is happening!?
“Oh… It did, didn’t it? Well…” Albert gives Finney’s lap one last wipe-over and gets up to his feet. What does it mean if he wants the man to keep touching him? What if he wants him to do it with no paper towel breaking the skin-on-skin contact? What if he wants him to use his tongue to rid his fingers of the sweet stickiness?... “The couch is pretty old anyway. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” He picks up the dirty pieces of the roll and takes them to the garbage can.
Albert is too nice. Too handsome. Too considerate. It makes Finney’s head hurt. Does he like men? No, no, no. That’s a ridiculous thought. Mr Shaw is an objectively attractive man. Finding him good-looking does not make him gay. Plus, he totally has a crush on Donna. And she is a girl. It doesn’t make sense.
These feelings are too confusing to understand. Maybe Finney will have to spend more time with Albert to figure it all out. Thankfully, the heatwave is going to last the whole week. He’s got an excuse to stick around.