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The first time Matt saw her, he was sitting in the back seat of his brother's car.
Francis was driving, and his best friend was in the front seat, and they were arguing about where to go for dinner. Matt was pretty sure they'd forgotten he was in the back seat, and the arguing wasn't that unusual either, so Matt just tuned it out and stared out the window. He really wasn't in the mood for anything in particular, so when the car turned toward the popular drive-in not far from their house, Matthew didn't bother speaking up in protest. A chicken sandwich and soda sounded pretty good, anyway.
Francis parked them neatly not too far from the building and rolled down his window, still idly arguing with Arthur as they waited for one of the waitresses to get to them. Matthew shifted a little in his seat, still looking out the window and watching as the waitresses zipped back and forth, easily weaving between the cars on their skates.
They had to be at least three-quarters of the reason the place was so popular, since their burgers were a little greasy and the rest of the food ranked okay. A whole fleet of teenage girls, young and pretty with legs that went on for miles under their short skirts and blouses that never had the top button buttoned. The restaurant's signature colours were red, white and blue; the fluttering skirts caught all three colours in vertical stripes and drew them up over the girls' shoulders in narrow matching suspenders. The skates they all wore were white, though each girl had decorated her own with glitter and gems, markers and coloured laces.
The first glimpse Matthew got of the love of his life was her hand as she zipped up beside Francis' car, reaching out to grab the window frame to keep from overshooting them. Her hand was slender and delicate, and Matthew noticed that her nails were painted bright pink and sparkling in the sunlight.
"I'm sorry!" she sounded a little out of breath as she straightened up and let go of the car. "Welcome to Al's Diner, can I take your order?"
Trapped in the back seat, all Matthew could see of her was between the shoulders and thighs, those slender hands as they fumbled through her skirt pocket for an order pad and pen. Her breasts weren't anything incredible as far as Matthew could tell, nothing to strain her shirt over and definitely not anything close to Francis' friend Katya's. But her voice sounded sweet and pleasant, and from what Matthew could see she definitely had licence to be wearing that short skirt. He squinted a little, trying to get a good look at her name tag where it was pinned to one of her suspenders. It looked like her name started with an 'A', and that was either a 'Y' or a 'G' on the end, probably 'Y'... Abby? Anny?
"Yes, I'll have a cheeseburger and fries with soda, and my friend..." Francis turned his most charming smile on the waitress, and beside him Arthur snorted and elbowed him in the side to stop Francis from ordering for him.
The waitress leaned over a little, to hear better or get a better look at the car's occupants, and Matthew could imagine what she saw. Francis, with his perfect hair and letterman's jacket and that winning smile, Arthur with his neatly pressed slacks and blazer and that air of respectability he carried around like a cloak. 'Yeah well,' he thought to himself, hidden unnoticed in the back seat. 'Good luck with that. Frannie and Arthur have been snogging every time they thought they were alone for the last three years.'
And then she leaned down far enough that he saw her, really saw her.
Her hair was golden, shining in the early summer sunlight, so warm that Matthew had to fight down the urge to reach out and touch it. It was cut shorter than fashionable, thick and curling almost into ringlets that just barely brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were blue, wide behind wire glasses and framed by long, darkened eye lashes and a spattering of freckles across her nose. She was finer boned than Matthew had expected from her muscular legs, her chin pointed and cheekbones delicate.
In short, she was the most beautiful creature Matthew had ever seen.
He was so busy staring at her, he completely forgot about speaking up for food. He didn't even really snap out of it until they got all the way home, Francis turned off the car, and Arthur commented, "Wasn't Matt supposed to ride home with us?"
~*~
There was never a time when Matthew didn't know his brother was queer.
Francis was nearly three years older than him, and for as long as Matthew could remember, Francis was different from the other boys. Not obviously so, but Matthew shared a room with him up until Francis was fourteen, and Matthew knew that no matter how much Francis smiled or flirted with the pretty girls at school, his posters at home were all Cary Grant and James Stewart, rather than Marilyn Monroe. Francis always got up an hour and a half before Matthew did, because he needed the extra time to pick out his wardrobe for the day and perfect his hair. Francis was friends with Katya and Eliza and Belle, the prettiest girls in school, and while he went out on occasional 'dates' with Katya or Belle, he never brought them home, and never bragged about how far he got with them like the other boys did. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together, and Matthew was no idiot. Francis never talked about it, and Matthew never brought it up. It was just the way things were.
And then when Francis was fifteen, he met Arthur.
There were times when Matthew couldn't help but long for what Francis and Arthur had. Sure, they fought constantly, and it was terrible that they couldn't be more than just friends anywhere that people might see. But when they were alone, or at least, alone except for Matthew, they touched each other with such tenderness that it made Matthew ache. The way they looked at each other, like nothing else mattered except this moment with each other. Not the fighting, not the fact that they were both men, not the disapproval of practically everyone else they knew if word of their relationship were to get out. Nothing else mattered when they looked at each other like that.
Matthew wanted that. He wanted that so badly that it burned. Though make no mistake, he wanted a nice pair of tits attached to the object of his affections. (He'd walked in on Francis and Arthur once, and beyond wondering how Francis could possibly be comfortable in that position, it convinced Matthew that he definitely, definitely wasn't queer.) But he wanted the way they looked at each other, the warmth there, the way they whispered to each other, close and tender. He wanted that kind of devotion, that even with the world potentially against them, they stayed together.
And in bright eyes and golden hair and pink nails, Matthew thought he might have found it.
"Fran, I need to borrow the car."
Francis looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother when he noticed the slight blush on Matthew's cheeks. "What for?"
"Arthur's coming over soon," Matthew said dryly. "I'd rather be anywhere but here."
It was Francis' turn to blush, and he shifted enough to dig the car keys out of his pocket and toss them to Matthew. "Fill her up before you bring her back."
"Sure," Matthew smiled. "And thanks."
Matthew was unreasonably nervous all the way back to the drive-in, his palms sweating against the steering wheel. As he turned the final corner, he firmly told himself to calm down. He didn't even know if she would be working that day. In fact, she probably wasn't, and he was just wasting his time coming all the way out here for a mediocre burger.
But when he turned into the parking lot, he couldn't help the way his heart lept when he saw that the space they'd parked in before was open. Maybe that was fate giving him a sign, that this was meant to be after all. Grinning to himself, Matthew pulled into the parking space and rolled down the window, crossing his fingers and almost daring to hope. He watched the other waitresses zipping back and forth between the cars, and got so engrossed looking for the pink-nailed beauty with hair like spun gold that he completely missed her skating up to the window until she cleared her throat.
He barely managed to keep from jumping at the sound and turned to her with a sheepish smile. Up close, and with those intense blue eyes focused on him alone, he felt his heart thud almost painfully in his chest. His mouth went dry, and he completely lost his ability to speak. "Uh."
"Hi!" She offered him a blinding smile, and amongst everything else Matthew noticed that her nails were blue today, somehow the exact colour of the summer sky. "Welcome to Al's Diner, can I take your order?"
Matthew openned his mouth and only managed a squeak. Frantically, he tried to find something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete idiot. His eyes fell on her nametag, which he could finally see properly. Amy. "Ah-" Come on, he told himself sternly, don't mess this up. "Y-yeah, hi Amie-" His French accent always flared up when he was particularly nervous, and her name slipped out in French, all soft 'ah' and emphasized 'mii', and he immediately wished he could die and sink through the car seat.
She looked startled for a moment, then burst into bright, warm giggles. (That word kept drifting through his head, but it was true. Everything about her was bright and stunning and spectacular, like fireworks or Christmas lights.) She had to grab the edge of the car door to keep from slipping off her skates, she was giggling so hard. It was infectious, and though he still felt rather humiliated, Matthew found himself laughing along. "S-sorry-"
"Nothing to apologize for," she finally managed to straighten up again, still grinning, the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose crinkling in mirth. "But you know my name, so do I get to know yours?"
She winked, and Matthew felt himself blushing hotly for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of. "It's Matthew."
"Matt," her smile was warm and beautiful and perfect. "Can I start you off with a drink?"
~*~
It became habit, after that. Friday afternoons when Arthur was over at their house anyway (so Francis didn't need to go anywhere), Matthew would borrow the car and go to the diner. Amy was almost always working, and even if she wasn't assigned to the area where he ended up parking, she would skate over and wave off whichever waitress was supposed to serve him. After a few weeks, he made sure to go around five o'clock if he could, because that was when she took her break and if he was there she'd slide in to sit in the front passenger seat, pulling off her skates for a twenty minute reprieve and sucking down a milkshake while she talked with Matthew.
In the beginning, Matthew was still too tongue-tied and she was the one doing most of the talking. He learned that Amy's father owned the diner, so she was able to work just about whenever she wanted in exchange for a little spending money. He learned that she lived across town and went to the other local high school, which is why he'd never met her before. He learned she was only a freshman, like him, and that she was on the YMCA's girls swim team.
Eventually, he was able to talk a little bit about himself, about Francis and about how their father left when they were kids, about how he preferred to read rather than play sports or socialize with kids his own age, about how his dream was to go to medical school and become a doctor.
And sometimes, Amy would lean the seat back to prop her feet up on the dashboard, and Matthew would stare at the long lines of her legs and be pretty sure he was in heaven.
At the end of the summer, Matthew helped Francis pack to leave for university.
"We're going to California," Francis told him, and Matthew marveled at the joy in his brother's eyes; Francis hadn't looked this excited about anything in a long time. "Arthur's already gone ahead to hold the apartment. No one knows us there, and I've heard they're more open about boys like us."
Matthew smiled and reached out to catch Francis' hand, giving it a squeeze. "I hope things work out for you Fran, I really do."
Francis returned the smile, then snapped his fingers. "Ah, I nearly forgot. Here," he dug through his pocket, pulling out his keys. "We'll be living in the city, so there's no use taking a car. She's yours now." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think you've driven her more over the year than I have."
Matthew coughed as he took the keys, trying to hide his blush. "Th-that's not true. But thank you." He paused, watching as Francis closed another box and reached for the packing tape to seal it. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the truth that his brother was moving hundreds of miles away, and they might not get the chance to see each other again for a long time. For Francis it was a new beginning, but to Matthew it felt more like something important was ending.
"Fran, how did you know when you were in love?"
Francis paused, then straightened up to regard Matthew thoughtfully, hands on his hips. "I think... I just knew. I denied it for a long time, but I knew."
"How did you stop denying it?"
Francis' smile was soft and warm and fond. "When your only wish is to spend every day with a person, when you want to sit beside them even if you are not touching, when you want to watch them even if you are not speaking, that is love." He tilted his head, watching Matthew's expression as he couldn't help but think of Amy, and his smile widened. "And it looks like you've found it."
"Francis-" Matthew stopped, suddenly choked up and not sure what to say. His brother reached out, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair.
"Take good care of the car, Matt, and I'll see you at the wedding."
Matthew sputtered, trying to shrug Francis off. "Yours and Arthur's, or mine and Amy's?"
He'd meant it as a joke, but Francis just grinned and picked up the last box to carry it outside.
~*~
"Amy!"
Amy started out of her thoughts, raising her head to see who had called her name. The sun was just starting to go down, and she'd just gotten off her shift at the drive-in. Her skates and uniform were in her bag, she'd changed into a longer skirt and blouse for the walk home. As she looked around, she saw the familiar dark blue Friday sedan parked not far away. Matthew was outside the car this time though, perched on the hood. When he saw her looking he raised his hand in a wave and gave an awkward smile.
He looked really good, actually, Amy thought as she approached. One of the things she liked best about Matt was that he never tried to be someone he wasn't, just to fit in with the cool kids. He was wearing jeans and battered sneakers and a letterman's jacket she knew for a fact his brother had earned playing tennis. It was too big on him, but Amy thought he'd grow into it in a few years. She stopped a few steps away from him, not quite shy. "Hi."
"Hi," Matthew smiled awkwardly, then took a deep breath like he was trying to prepare for something. "...What colour are your nails today?"
"Huh?" Amy blinked at the unexpected question, glancing down at her hands out of reflex, even though she'd just repainted her nails this morning. "Red. Why?"
Matthew was smiling and blushing at the same time, and Amy realized he was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. "No reason. Want a ride home?"
Amy paused, listening to the faint rumbles of the other girls skating around the parking lot, the laughter of the customers as they ate. She watched the way Matt's head tilted as he waited for her answer, and all at once she knew what she wanted.
"Can I get a ride to a movie instead?"
Matthew's smile was brilliant in the dusk, and Amy dropped her bag, grabbed him by the collar and leaned in to give him a kiss.