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Rodrick had been meeting with Harris for weekly tutoring for about a month now, and they had fallen into a sort of a routine. Each Monday they met in the library, went over whatever Rodrick didn’t understand from class, and then they went somewhere to get shitty fast food or just hang out. It was a comfortable ritual, something for them to look forward to at the end of what was usually a pretty mediocre school day. This Monday was no different, though the actual ‘study’ part of their study sessions had dwindled down to a measly twenty minutes that were occupied with off topic conversations anyway. Rodrick loved it.
The two boys got into the Löded Diper van as usual, and Rodrick had already started her up and drove out of the parking lot before they had even really discussed where they wanted to go. His default route was in the direction of the same gas station they had visited on their first tutoring session, but Harris spoke up before they got too far.
“Let’s go to Sonic or something tonight,” he requested, leaning his arm on the center console. “I want mozzarella sticks.”
“Sure,” Rodrick laughed, amused by the earnest tone in which Harris had made his request. Lately, it felt like any little thing Harris did was enough to get him smiling. He adjusted his course, taking them to the drive-in fast food place instead. “Are you just planning on getting cheese sticks?” he asks, chancing a glance towards him.
Harris, who had been leaning closer than Rodrick assumed, scoffed, a matching smile pulling at his lips. “No, of course not. I’m also gonna get a cherry limeade slush,” he says matter of factly, and Rodrick has to tear his gaze away from eyes so baby blue before he runs a red light or something. “And then I’ll get you whatever you want, of course.”
“You’re buying?” Rodrick asked, pulling into one of the stalls at the Sonic. He didn’t make any moves to roll down his window yet, though.
“Mhm,” Harris hums. “You bought last time, right?” That was something else that was starting to become a tradition– they would trade off who buys food every week or so. Since Rodrick had bought slushies the first week, Harris had returned the favor and bought pizza the next week. The only thing that Harris really insisted on was helping pay for gas, since Rodrick always drove. Maybe Rodrick was a bit of an asshole for this, but he started waiting to fill up his tank until he knew he’d be out and about with Harris. If Harris caught on, he clearly didn’t mind.
“Fine,” Rodrick scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle a smile. He finally rolled the window down, though he had to unbuckle his seatbelt and practically lean his entire upper body out to reach the button to order. He could hear barely Harris snickering beside him as he began his order.
“Yo, can I get uh, two large slushies, one of them cherry limeade and the other one watermelon with nerds. Then can we get two orders of mozzarella sticks and an order of cheddar peppers.” Once the screen reflected their order and asked for payment, Rodrick slid back into his seat. He barely had to turn to see Harris, with his credit card at the ready. “Thanks,” he laughs, taking the card and sliding it into the terminal.
“I can’t believe you get the candy in the slush,” Harris comments once Rodrick hands the card back, sliding it back into its designated spot inside his wallet. “You sure that’s all you wanted, though?”
Rodrick shrugged, a smile pulling at his lips despite the mundane nature of the conversation. “You only judge so much because you’re boring,” he teases, leaning over the center console enough to shove Harris’s arm. “And I obviously have way better taste than you. Just a fact of life, really.”
Harris snorted a laugh, shaking his head and tilting his face to the side to hide his grin from Rodrick. “Oh, fuck off. You do not,” he insists, shoving Rodrick back. “You think they’ll give us any sauces? You didn’t ask for any.”
Huh, he hadn’t, had he? “Damn,” Rodrick muttered, shrugging. The person behind the speaker hadn’t asked if he wanted any, and it completely slipped his mind. He patted the center console, then pushed Harris’s arm off of it. “I might have something in here. We put any extra sauces uh,” he paused, popping the compartment open and pushing around whatever junk was inside to no avail. “Somewhere.” he finishes, gesturing vaguely.
“Somewhere,” Harris echoed, unbuckling his seatbelt and twisting around to fish something out from between the seat and the door. He straightened up, a crushed packet of sauce pinched between his fingers. Harris was making a face, his lip curled in disgust. “You seriously gotta clean your fuckin’ van, dude.”
Rodrick shrugged, grinning as he watched Harris gingerly drop the busted packet into the cupholder, where it joined some other fast food trash. “My van is awesome. Again, you just have no taste,” he jokes, letting his arm hang out of the window.
“Why do I put up with you?” Harris sighed, but even the way he rolled his eyes felt fond. “Seriously. I could be anywhere else right now.”
“Yeah?” Rodrick challenged. “Where would you be, if not right here?” He raised an eyebrow like he had asked this big question. Harris paused, slumping back in his seat.
“I’d probably still be hanging around the library,” he admits, head tilted thoughtfully. “I don’t really have much to go out and do, but it beats going home.” Rodrick wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that, but thankfully he was saved from having to come up with something by the carhop bringing over their order.
“Thanks,” he says passively, handing Harris his drink while putting the bag of warm food on his lap for a moment. Harris passes him some cash to tip the carhop, which he passes on to them before they left. He shoves his hand into the bag, handing Harris his sticks. “Where to now?”
Harris smiles, taking his mozzarella sticks and clipping his seatbelt back into place. “I dunno,” he mused. “I’d go anywhere you take me.”
Rodrick paused, struck by the casual trust that Harris gave him. His chest felt strangely tight for a moment, but he didn’t let himself dwell on it. The moment was short lived, because he thought of the perfect place. “Wanna go fuck around at an old playground?” he asks, leaning an arm onto the center console.
Harris shrugged back, considering it. “Sure? That sounds fun,” he agrees, and Rodrick beams at him. He pulls out of the parking space, clumsily maneuvering his van through the narrow driveway and back onto the road. During the drive, Harris spent most of the time looking out the window as he tried to figure out where exactly Rodrick was taking him. Rodrick remained tight-lipped about their destination, even when Harris tried to bribe him by threatening to steal some of his cheddar peppers. It was useless, Rodrick would’ve let him take as many as he wanted anyway.
The park was deserted when Rodrick parked his van. It was technically closed, since most public parks in their area closed after sundown. This one was a small playground right outside of a public pool, which was also closed because it was the off season. Harris got out first, sipping his slushie while looking around. Rodrick followed, bringing the bag of food with him.
“Kinda mid,” Harris comments, climbing up the playstructure so he can sit at its highest platform– which wasn’t all that high, since it was meant for little kids and all. Rodrick followed him up, setting the paper bag, which had gotten crumpled with the rough way he was handling it, between them. The two sat close, knees barely brushing. It wasn’t like they had much room, since playgrounds are often not meant for two teenaged boys to sit atop after daylight hours.
“Shut up,” Rodrick huffed, shoving his knee into Harris’s thigh and startling a laugh from the other boy. “This is why you have no goddamn taste, you’re too judgy.”
Harris nudged him back, without any of the force. “No I’m not, my tastes are fine,” he insists, stealing a mozzarella stick from Rodrick’s bag since he had already finished his own. “My only questionable taste is that I actually enjoy your music.”
“Hey!” Rodrick laughed, swatting at Harris’s hand. “Excuse you, Loded Diper is peak–” he cuts off, the rest of Harris’s comment finally registering. “Waitwaitwait– you actually like our music?” he asks, his chest feeling all weird for a moment. Sure, they had already established that Harris had heard of his band and listened to some of their music, but the highest praise he could get before was a mere “wasn’t bad”. The confirmation that Harris actually liked his music truly felt revolutionary in the moment.
“I take it back,” Harris groaned, hiding a smile by scrubbing a hand down his face. “You suck, your band sucks–”
“Nah, nope, no take backs!” Rodrick grinned, nearly knocking over his slushie in his haste to grab Harris’s wrist, pulling his hand back away from his face. How could he let him hide away after such a confession? “You liiiiike my music!” he teases, a wide smile on his face.
Of course Rodrick would be annoying about this– that was the sole reason Harris hadn’t bothered telling him until now. Not that he actually minded, even as he tried to wrench his arm away from him he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with him. “Piss off! Fine, yes, your music rocks.” he admits, changing tactics once he realized how pointless trying to pull away was. Instead, he pulled Rodrick closer, knocking him off balance and making him crash into his shoulder. “Happy now?”
Rodrick sucked in a sharp breath, slackjawed, but didn’t dare move. His shoulder was pressed flush against Harris’s, and their faces were only a few negligible inches apart. In the quiet of the poorly lit park, it truly felt like they were the only people in the world at that moment. He relaxed into this new position, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Uh-huh. Maybe there’s hope for you yet, since not everything you like is totally boring.” He is close enough to rest his chin on Harris’s shoulder, so he does.
“Dick,” Harris chides, his tone equally amused and fond. “How is everything I like ‘boring’?”
“You’re literally a tutor. That is so fucking boring,” Rodrick points out, his smile widening when Harris snorts.
“Okay, but I don’t like being a tutor. So it doesn’t count.”
“Why the hell are you, then?”
It was a simple question, but Harris still took a moment to ponder the best way to answer. “I mean, I had to do something community service related to go on my college applications,” he began, head tilted towards Rodrick just a bit. Any more and their noses would risk brushing. Damn, they really were so close, and Rodrick had yet to move. “But I originally chose tutoring because I uh, thought I wanted to be a teacher?” He smiled sheepishly, and Rodrick snorted a laugh. “Yeah, that dream’s gone. I mostly tutor younger kids, and it sucks. You’re by far my favorite.”
A warmth bloomed in Rodrick’s chest at hearing that, and an embarrassingly swoopy feeling filled his stomach. He pulled back, sitting up stiffly and accidentally knocking over his slushie. He fumbles to pick it up again, and thankfully only a little spilled down the side. His fingers would be sticky, but he seldom cared about things like that. “Psh, of course I am,” he declared, all bravado. “I’m the coolest, obviously–”
“You’re so full of shit,” Harris laughed, shaking his head. “C’mon, it’s late. Take me home.” he groaned, getting up and stretching. He was a bit sore from sitting on hard metal for so long, and offered Rodrick a hand. He took it with a sigh, letting Harris haul him up. Harris made a face once Rodrick let go, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Ugh, why the hell are your hands sticky? That’s so gross dude–”
Rodrick grinned, wiggling his fingers at Harris. “Gross, huh? You think it's gross?” he teases, laughing as Harris jumps to evade him.
“Quit that! Stop trying to touch me with your sticky ass hands! You’re such a fucking child!” Harris screeched, jumping down the playground steps instead of walking down like a rational person. Rodrick barked a laugh, chasing him all the way back to his van until both of them were laughing. Then they were off, laughing and talking as Rodrick drove Harris home.
Rodrick savored the drive to Harris’s house, each passing moment feeling more and more bittersweet as they drew nearer to the end of the night. It felt much too soon by the time Harris was getting out, offering Rodrick one last smile and wave before he disappeared inside his giant house.
During his drive back home, Rodrick turned his music up loud and found himself dwelling on the thought of Harris. Never in a million years would he think that he’d ever enjoy hanging out with someone like Harris, who was always so put together and polished. Hell, he was his tutor for christ’s sake! Rodrick definitely wasn’t the type who hung out with brainiacs or nerds, but Harris didn’t feel like a nerd. He was smart, sure, and cared way too much about sentence structure and paragraph construction, but he was also laid back. There was never a time in any of their sessions where it felt like Harris talked down to him, and there was a part of Rodrick that genuinely appreciated that, not that he’d ever outright express it. He didn’t try to force him to care about school anymore that he already did, which wasn’t much at all, but somehow his explanations of the usually boring subject matter had permeated his brain, and how he had a graded paper in his bag that he would get to show off to his parents– who might actually be happy with his grade, for once. It wasn’t an A, but there was a B- written in red ink at the top of the page, which was the highest grade he had earned in a long time. He had Harris to thank for that.
There was a solid chance that the reason Rodrick found within himself to be able to focus was a combination of two things: Harris’s face, and his voice. Now, Rodrick was self aware enough to admit that he found guys attractive. Sometimes he’d catch himself eyeing some of his male classmates, or he’d get his hands on some alt clothing magazine to flip through. His mom had no problem with him owning that one for some reason– maybe because the main focus wasn’t half-naked women. He knew that he found the singer from Panic! At The Disco hot (it helped to know he wasn’t the only one), as well as a few male actors. The voice thing was fairly new, though. Maybe it was something about the patient way Harris would repeat himself, rewording things until it more or less clicked for him. Maybe it was the way he laughed at the dumb shit Rodrick said while they hung out afterward, or his dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Whatever it was, there was no denying that he hung off every word Harris spoke, even when it was something he couldn’t care less about, and somehow the words stuck in his brain. Even now, as he pulled up in front of his house, Harris’s voice was playing on repeat in his head.
“I enjoy your music.” “You’re by far my favorite.” “Your music rocks.” “You’re my favorite.” “You’re my favorite.” “You’re my favor–” a crash snapped him out of his thoughts, paired with his van jolting. Ah fuck, he pulled up a little too much and knocked over the trash bin.
Oh well.
He nearly forgets his bag because he had thrown it in the back of the van, but by some miracle he remembers and takes it inside. Despite the late hour, his mom was still awake and waiting for him to get home. Susan intercepted him when he tried to go up to his room, her arms crossed.
“How was band practice?” she asked, and Rodrick’s mind blanked for a moment.
“Uh,” he scratched his head, blinking a few times before his brain caught up again. Oh yeah, that was the lie he had fed his parents to excuse him staying out so late with Harris. They thought he was going to tutoring and then to practice in one of his friend’s garages. “Yeah. It was fine.” he lied confidently, nodding a little at his own statement. Susan nodded.
“And how did you do on the paper?” she asked. Rodrick had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide a smile as he tried his best to play it off like he didn’t care. He just shrugged, making no move to show her yet. She sighed. “Rodrick, I need to know if this tutoring is doing anything for you. If you’re even going.” She levels him with a stern look, and he finally unzips his bag.
“Yeah, fine, here.” He huffs, handing her the folder with his English work. Not a lot of his actual work made it into the folder since he usually just shoves loose paper into his bag with no regard to how crumpled they might get, but he had actually taken care with this assignment. It was the first one that Harris had actually complimented him on, and the one that best represented his progress.
Susan’s eyes widened as she took in the shiny ink spelling a B- on the page. “Wow! That’s– wow.” she praised, nearly at a loss for words. A small smile threatened to tug at Rodrick’s lips, which would totally ruin the image he’s worked hard to keep up. The smile on his mom’s face felt weirdly satisfying, though. “We should invite your tutor over to dinner sometime to thank him. You really are improving, Rodrick. I’m proud of you.”
Despite his mom’s approval, that one sentence sapped all of the warm feelings from Rodrick in an instant, replacing them with cold dread. Have Harris over for dinner? And let his family meet him? Absolutely not. That was a nightmare scenario– what if Harris met his family and decided he didn’t want to spend time with him anymore? What if his family scares him off completely, or totally weirds him out? There was a reason he hadn’t bothered telling them the real reason he was always out so late on the nights he had tutoring. But more than anything, deep in his gut, Rodrick hated the idea of sharing Harris’s attention with his family. If he came for dinner, then of course his parents would be asking him questions and trying to get to know him. Even thinking about it was beyond annoying.
Oblivious to Rodrick’s spiral, Susan continues. “You can quit going to tutoring, if you really want to.” she tells him. “I think you’ve been doing good enough to save yourself from failing, which is all I was asking from you.”
No more tutoring? Rodrick hadn’t even considered that he might not have to go anymore. It had become such an anticipated part of his Monday routine, and besides, giving that up would mean giving up seeing Harris. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Huh?”
“I know you probably want to do other things with your time,” Susan said kindly, trying her best to sympathise with her eldest son. “And you’ve done what I asked and got your grades up. So I’m saying you don’t have to go anymore.” At Rodrick’s continued silence, she frowned a bit. “I mean, unless you want to keep going–”
“No! Pfft– hell no, tutoring is for nerds,” Rodrick blurted, crossing his arms over his chest and drumming his fingers rapidly. His mom gave him an unimpressed look, but a smile dawned on her face regardless.
“If you say so,” she chuckles, rubbing his arm soothingly. Rodrick makes a show of pushing her off. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Night, mom.” He mumbles, his face feeling strangely warm. He was finally able to go up to his room for the night, but the conversation left an odd taste in his mouth. Why was it getting to him so much? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see or talk to Harris at all if the tutoring sessions stopped, after all he did have his number and they texted each other periodically. Sure, they barely ever saw each other at school because they had completely different schedules and hung out with different people, but that was fine. He could deal.
…he sure did spend a lot of time thinking about it, though. Maybe it was a bigger deal than he wanted to think it was.
In the end, Rodrick lied. At home, he played it off like he had dropped tutoring at the first opportunity. After school, he didn’t bother to tell Harris that he wasn’t being forced to come to be tutored anymore. And it all went well for about a week before cracks started to form in his lie.
And who else would be there to wreck his flawless plan other than Greg?
It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Rodrick had been sprawled out on the couch ever since he had gotten home. He wasn’t able to meet with his band because Ward was sick with strep and had lost his voice, so instead he was lounging around and texting Harris. Greg was milling around as well, avoiding doing his homework that he had gained a fresh hatred for even since he had made it to his final year of middle school.
“Why are you smiling at your phone so much?” he asked, his voice cracking oddly and making him cough as he tried to peer at the texts. Rodrick hadn’t even noticed that he was smiling. He nearly dropped his phone on his face in his haste to turn it off and lock the screen.
“Don’t you have anything better to do, dweeb?” he hisses, sitting up to shoot a glare at his younger brother. “Stay out of my business.”
Greg studied him for a moment, albeit from a safe distance. “Do you have a girlfriend or something?” he asked, a sour look scrunching his face. “Is that why you meet somebody at the library every week?”
Rodrick scowled, his face growing hot. “No! Of course not,” he denies, grabbing one of the throw pillows and holding it at the ready. Greg keeps the couch between them, staying too far to hit.
“Why else would you be on your phone all the time?” Greg grinned, enjoying the leverage he apparently held. He might not exactly know why Rodrick was getting worked up, but he had endured Rodrick’s teasing and bullying for years. He deserved to get back at him a bit. “You’ve been skipping out on your band practices too, right?”
Susan popped her head out of the kitchen, her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?” Rodrick’s blood ran cold. How the hell did this wimp know about that?
“What?” he scoffed. Deny deny deny. “That’s stupid. Why would I be skipping out on the band?”
“Especially when you told me you were going to practice after tutoring.” Susan says suspiciously, stepping into the living room with her arms crossed. Greg’s eyes widened– this wasn’t what he meant to happen when he decided to tease Rodrick. Rodrick shot him a glare anyway, mouthing you’re dead. “Greg, what did you mean when you said he’s been skipping?”
“Uh,” Greg swallowed audibly, his eyes darting between his mom and his brother. Soon enough, his dad would get home and probably get involved too. “I dunno, I just heard Ben complaining that they don’t practice on Mondays anymore.”
Susan looked back at Rodrick, who was caught giving Greg a murderous glare. He shifted awkwardly on his feet under her gaze, unable to plausibly deny such a damning statement. “Rodrick,” she began, in that stern way all mothers learn to master. “What have you been doing all afternoon?”
Rodrick swallowed down a shudder. “Uh,” he began ineloquently. “Depends.”
“Depends?” Susan asked, unimpressed.
Rodrick nods. “I just.. Go out. Get gas or food or whatever.”
“Alone?”
Rodrick winces, but shakes his head. “...no.”
“And you’re not with your band?”
“Nope.”
“So who are you with?” Susan demanded, exasperated. Sure, Rodrick had a tendency to be difficult, but so did her other two kids! She couldn’t just accept that he was ‘out and about’ with some random person. She’d never have any peace of mind at that rate.
Rodrick sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve been hanging out with Harris,” he grumbles, not meeting his mother’s eyes. Embarrassment flooded his system as he admitted it, there was simply no way around how lame it looked to be hanging out with your tutor.
“Harris..?” Susan mused, looking confused for a moment before realization dawned on her face. “Oh, the boy who was tutoring you?” all of the suspicion had drained from her, replaced by a mild confusion. “Why would you lie about that?”
Rodrick shrugged. Greg was watching him with wide eyes, biting back his laughter lest he earn himself more of Rodrick’s wrath. “It’s lame.” he mutters.
“What-? It’s not lame,” Susan sighs, a kind smile on her face. “I think that’s sweet, actually. We definitely have to have him over for dinner now.” She decides, turning and going back to the kitchen.
“Damnit…” Rodrick groaned into his hands. Greg finally let a couple of snickers slide, but his laughter turned to a shriek when Rodrick lunged at him, trying to grab hold so he could pummel him properly. “Get back here you punk!” he seethed when Greg managed to dart away, running to the safety of his room. “Mind your fucking buisness next time!” The door slams shut just before he can reach it, and it doesn’t budge when he shoves his weight against it. “Tch.” he scoffs, giving up for now.
With the fact that he and Harris are friends being out in the open now, there was no way he would be able to get around his mom inviting Harris over for dinner. Which meant there was only one thing to do now: come clean to Harris and hope to god that he wouldn’t want to come to dinner at his house, and he would have to do it before his mother took matters into her own hands and invited him over herself. That would be beyond embarrassing.
This is what leads him to his current predicament: trying to work up the nerve to ask Harris to meet up with him at school. It wasn’t really something either of them had brought up before. Sure, they’ve seen each other at school, usually in brief moments where they might catch each other’s eyes across the hall or something and nod at each other, but nothing more than that. Would Harris even want to see him at school? Would he think he was weird for asking?
He stares at his phone, where his conversation with Harris was open. They had been talking about how dumb one of their history assignments were (they had the same class but in different periods), but the conversation had tapered off after Rodrick accidentally sent a keyboard smash back when he nearly dropped his phone, which he could wholeheartedly say he blamed on Greg. It took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out what to send, and he might have just said fuck it and sent a text without letting himself dwell on it for too long, but it was done. Kind of.
“heyy can we meet up @ shool? I wanna tlk to u abt smth”
Harris was always quick to reply (or at least check) his messages, and today was no different. This message did have a bit of a concerned tone, though. “Yea ig? Is everything okay?”
Rodrick’s stomach swooped when he read Harris’s reply. Of course he was concerned, Rodrick was being weird. “haha yeah I just gotta talk to u and itd be bettr in person”
“Okay? I have a free period after lunch if u wanna meet somewhere”
“yes ok that works. i have a key 2 the band room if u wanna meet me there”
“Coolio. See you tomorrow then?”
“yea tmmr”
Tomorrow. He will come clean tomorrow.
Rodrick may have underestimated how quickly ‘tomorrow’ would come for him. A big part of him was severely regretting setting the meeting time for the middle of the schoolday, especially because it was during what was supposed to be his PE period. That was a period he regularly skipped, but still, hanging outside of the empty band room waiting for Harris to arrive was nervewracking.
“Hey,” Rodrick’s head whipped around at the sound of Harris’s voice, part of him immediately relaxing at the mere sight of him. Something he had noticed was that Harris always looked a bit more dull-eyed than usual when he spotted him around school, but today he seemed especially dead on his feet.
“Hey, uh hi,” Rodrick mumbled, pushing the door open and letting Harris in first.
“So..?” Harris drawled, head tilted slightly. “You said you wanted to talk?” Hearing him be so straight to the point did nothing to sooth Rodrick’s nerves.
“Yeah, about that–” Rodrick cringed at himself, he really should have thought this out better. “I uh, I’m not being forced to go to you for tutoring anymore.”
Harris blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. “Uh, yeah? I know that?”
Rodrick gaped, heat rushing to his face. Huh? “What do you mean you know?”
A smile had started to form on Harris’s face, and a small laugh bubbled up from his throat. Rodrick’s stomach did a confused swoop. What the hell was happening? “Your mom called to thank me for all the help and said you wouldn’t be coming by anymore,” he explained. “And then you showed up anyway and didn’t bring it up, so I wasn’t gonna push it.”
Rodrick felt paralyzed. He already knew. What the fuck. “Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah, uh, I told her I was done, and she seemed happy enough with my grades, so…” he shuffled awkwardly on his feet, somehow feeling even more like a fish out of water than he did when he started this conversation. “I wasn’t gonna tell you because I– um,” he trailed off. Because what? Because he didn’t want to give up their little ritual? That sounded lame. Would Harris think he was lame if he outright said that? Why the hell did he care? Plenty of people thought he was lame or cringe (they were wrong, obviously, but still). So why did it matter so much right now?
…Oh.
Harris watched him silently, his brilliantly blue eyes focused on his face. It felt like too much, but it finally made him come to terms with a glaringly obvious fact: he didn’t want to stop seeing Harris. He didn’t want to give up their nights together, or their stupid text conversations where they complained about school or planned what to do after their next tutoring session. Rodrick wanted to keep hanging out with him, because he liked him. Like-liked him, even. “I didn’t want to stop hanging out with you,” Rodrick finally manages to say, his face feeling hot.
Harris huffs a laugh, punching his arm lightly. “Why would we stop hanging out?” he says, like it’s obvious. “I mean, you have my number. We text fairly regularly. I met up with you today, right?” Rodrick nods. “But… I guess having a weekly thing scheduled is pretty nice, huh?” his tone turned teasing, and Rodrick couldn’t but smile too, despite his embarrassment.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, rubbing his arm. He shoves Harris back lightly. “Can we still hang out like that, though?”
“Duh,” Harris assures him, his smile turning a bit devious. “But I think we should keep up the tutoring sessions until the end of the month. Since you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest sooner.”
“What?” Rodrick squawked. “The fuck kind of logic is that?”
“The fuck kind of logic is pussying around and not telling me all of this sooner?” Harris shot back. “I mean, come on dude. You sent me the most ominous ‘we need to talk’ text yesterday. I thought you were gonna– I don’t know, man.”
Rodrick kind of wanted to laugh. He never imagined that Harris would have been stressed about this meeting too– well, he also didn’t think he knew as much as he did either. “Fuck. Sorry,” he groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“You’re such a fuckin’ dork, Heffley.” Harris laughs, a soft sort of look on his face. Rodrick didn’t quite know what to make of it, but it sure did make his heart flutter. God having a crush sucks ass. “We good?”
“We’re good,” Rodrick confirms, nodding. Harris lets out an exaggerated breath, like a weight was lifted off of his chest, making them both laugh. For the rest of the period, Rodrick and Harris stayed in the empty band room, talking about nothing to pass the time, simply enjoying being with each other. Because Harris wanted to keep seeing him too, Rodrick now knew. It made him feel all warm and jittery to know, and he rode that feeling all the way until the bell rang and they had to deal with the rest of the school day. They walked out together, and just as Rodrick figured it was time to say goodbye, Harris spoke up.
“So, was your mom serious about me coming over for dinner sometime?” He asked, an amused smile on his lips. “Because I told her I’d like that, but I didn’t want to confirm any actual plans before running it by you first.” Rodrick nearly tripped over his own feet, his stomach dropping all over again. He had completely forgotten about that. Fuck. It clearly showed on his face too, because Harris just laughed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then. How does Friday sound, Rodrick?”