by Lotus Oakes
Then Dirk swallowed and said, “There’s syrup if you want that too.”
Instead of answering, Simon huffed and flounced for the table. He sat next to Haley, which unfortunately put him across from Dirk, stuffing a large bite into his mouth and hunching his shoulders.
“Mom said they were going out to the lake today,” Haley said, without looking up from her crossword. “They won’t be back till tomorrow, I think. She left some money if we want to order out for dinner tonight.”
“Baby,” Dirk protested. “I can cook more than just eggs.”
“We could hit up the grocery store instead,” she agreed, and looked up to smile at him. Simon stared more resolutely down at his plate, unsure of how much he wanted to see them so comfortable with each other. When had that happened? Was it because they’d slept together? How long had this been going on without him noticing?
The rest of the meal passed the same way, with Simon methodically eating to keep his mouth full and trying to tune out the rest of the quiet conversation, troubled by his own thoughts — but once he was finished, Haley stood, folding her newspaper up again.
“It’s the theater down on Main,” she said. “We could walk there. It’s not supposed to be too hot today.”
Dirk snorted as he rose as well, and Simon had to wonder what was so funny — Haley was wearing a white sundress that cut off just below her knees, with pink roses and green vines embroidered along the hem; it looked like the sort of thing that wouldn’t be hot even under the noonday summer sun. He didn’t elaborate, though, reaching to take her hand with an ease that Simon envied. “C’mon,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder at Simon. “You got a problem with walking?”
He scowled, shooting to his feet in a single sharp movement, nearly knocking his chair over. “Walking’s fine! I don’t mind! Let’s go!”
“Be nice,” Haley chided before she reached out to take Simon’s hand with her other one. It was an unexpected gesture, and it came so easily that he couldn’t even protest, just reach to accept it. Her fingers were cool against his, and softer than he remembered.
The whole walk there passed in a blur, the sounds of Haley’s voice and Dirk’s filtered just above background noise. Simon spent the entire time watching his hand in hers, not quite marveling at the whole package: the way her fingers interlocked with his, slimmer and just a little paler, with neat oval nails cropped short. He only snapped out of his daze when Haley pulled away — to pay for an obscenely large box of popcorn, which she handed to him before taking a soda for herself.
They filed into the theater in a line, with Haley leading the way and Simon in the middle. He walked just a half-step too close behind her, crowding into the narrow aisle after her and taking the immediate seat next to hers. For a moment he thought Dirk might squeeze past them both, to sit on Haley’s other side, but instead he sat, half-dropping into the seat next to Simon’s and bending his knees up, resting his feet on the chair in front of his. Commercials were still playing, occasionally flashing to screens of stupid trivia questions, which Dirk answered under his breath, in between the handfuls of popcorn he took from the box in Simon’s lap.
When the lights finally began to dim Simon glanced to his left, where Haley was settled comfortably, her hands folded in her lap. He glanced to the right, and Dirk still had his feet on the empty seat before him. Both of them were watching the screen, so he sank a little lower in his seat, eating popcorn a single piece at a time.
The movie began with a monologue over a sweeping panoramic scenery shot. Somewhere around the appearance of the title screen, Simon felt something brush the back of his head. He peeked and saw Dirk’s arm stretched up and over the back of his seat; when he looked the other way, he saw Dirk’s fingertips brushing Haley’s shoulder — she had shifted to lean a little closer, though her eyes were still focused on the screen.
Something about it, how utterly and artlessly casual it was, made Simon’s throat lock up again; it reminded him too much of earlier that morning, sitting alone in his shower. He could feel himself being slowly squeezed out, even though he was in the middle of the two of them, and that nagged and ached like a sore tooth. He scowled down at the mound of popcorn. In the middle of his sulk, in the lull as the movie began properly, he heard Dirk shift, and from the corner of one eye he watched Dirk shift in his seat, leaning closer, so he could grab popcorn with his free hand.
As he did, Simon shifted to bump his knee against Dirk’s. It was a small gesture, one that could be easily mistaken as adjusting his own weight in his seat. Watching Dirk’s face sidelong, he didn’t even see recognition of the contact register.
It was annoying. It nagged worse now, an unreachable itch. Simon sank just a little lower in his chair, but didn’t move just yet. He kept his eyes on the screen, watching as the generically handsome lead swung his way through the plans for some heist or other — Simon would be the first to admit he wasn’t paying attention — counting the seconds until an opportunity presented itself.
As the lead actress made her first appearance onscreen, Dirk reached to grab more popcorn. Simon moved at the same time, bumping their legs together again and reaching into the box as well, so that their knuckles touched. He saw Dirk blink and glance at him, but he kept his own expression neutral, pretending to be engrossed with the action on the screen. (If you could even call it that. For a movie that was supposed to be action, there was an awful lot of talking about things Simon had lost track of long ago.)
Somewhere during the next couple of scenes, as the two leads met at a fancy dinner party and flirted with each other, Simon felt something brushing the back of his neck again. He glanced at Haley and saw that Dirk’s hand was no longer touching her, and his stomach did a nervous little flipflop. He’d never felt Dirk’s arm move away, either, which meant …
Something tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. Simon bit the inside of his cheek and deliberately pushed back against the touch. The movement made his leg brush against Dirk’s again, more firmly than before, but he was focused on the fingers against his neck. They were warmer than he expected, especially in the chill of the theater, and he had to admit, on some small embarrassed level, that it felt rather good. No one had ever touched him like this, not even Haley, who was more given to petting his hair when he caught her in an affectionate mood.
A night scene came up, leaving the theater fractionally darker. Simon took the opportunity to openly look at Dirk sidelong, though he was careful to not turn his head. After a moment of thought, greatly daring, he stretched in his seat — pushing against Dirk’s hand once more — and let his hand dangle off the arm of his theater seat, so his fingers were just above the curve of Dirk’s thigh in the chair. His heart was pounding in his chest. All he had to do was stretch just a little further, and they’d be touching …
And then Dirk himself moved, his leg coming up to bump against Simon’s fingers. He almost yelped aloud, but instead sucked in a quick hiccuping breath. Haley leaned forwards him, her face concerned in the illumination from the movie. Simon waved a hand, gesturing weakly at the popcorn in his lap. She rolled her eyes but smiled, pressing her cup into his hand and giving him an expectant look. He ducked his head briefly, taking just the tip of the straw in his mouth and sucking a quick sip. Part of him wanted to believe he could taste something more than the too-sweet cola even as he handed it back to her and settled into his seat again. Once he was, he glanced at Dirk again, and caught the movement of Dirk’s head turning away. It was impossible to tell in the dimness, but Simon half-wondered if he was blushing.
More importantly, though, Dirk’s leg was still raised, pressing lightly against Simon’s fingers. He pushed back just a little, once and then twice, the cautious tiny gestures of a cat kneading. In profile, Dirk’s expression never changed, but his leg pushed back, as if in encouragement.
Something onscreen was exploding. Simon shifted just a little closer towards Dirk, inching his hand out bit by small bit, until the top ridge of
his palm hit the top of Dirk’s thigh, and his fingers curled inwards. He bit his lip, trying to keep his breathing steady. All he could feel was denim, but it was warm, too — almost hot, in fact, more than he would have expected just from touching another person. His face also burned — but Dirk’s expression never changed, so he struggled to do the same with his own.
What if he let his hand move up just a little more? he wondered. Was there any way he could pretend to casually run his fingers along the inner seam of Dirk’s jeans, unsure of what he’d find at the end of it — hardness? Or nothing?
Torn by the indecision, he found himself unable to move, even to take his hand away, staying like that for the rest of the movie, through more explosions and shouting fights, until the lead swept his assigned lady into a dramatic kiss and another wide panoramic shot and voiceover before the credits began to roll. As he started to move, though, Dirk caught his wrist with a surprisingly firm grip. He paused, finally looking directly at him.
“There’s usually stuff after the credits too,” Dirk said. He smiled, but there was something edged in that; his thumb was pressed against the soft skin of Simon’s inner arm, and it moved in a wide sweep. “We should stay for that.”
“It doesn’t take that long,” Haley agreed, and Simon was embarrassed at how surprised he was at the sound of her voice. “We’ll also avoid the bigger crowd this way.” She stretched after, and Simon watched her, the way the neckline of her sundress rode up, then down, briefly showing the line of her bra. “Grocery after this, right?”
“I think that’s the plan.” Dirk leaned toward her, in front of Simon, and his shoulder brushed against Simon’s chest, hard and solid. He put his hand on her knee, squeezing it, so that she jerked it away with a squeak, swatting lightly at his hand. “And then I’ll show you spoiled rich kids what sort of good home cooking you’ve been missing.”
Simon drew himself up, but Haley just smacked Dirk’s hand again, light as before. “You like us ‘spoiled rich kids,’” she said. “Don’t even pretend you don’t.”
He caught her hand and tugged it up. With Simon still caught behind their arms, Dirk brought her hand up and kissed the back of her hand, smiling as he did. “You’re not going to be too rich for me, are you, baby?”
The lights began to come on around them, and Simon could see Haley’s blush. She shifted in her chair, but didn’t actually try to pull her hand away from Dirk’s grasp. “If you don’t think I am already,” she said with a sniff, projecting all her dignity, “then I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Dirk laughed and stood, pulling her up with him before he looked down at Simon. He arched an eyebrow, still grinning. “What about you, pretty boy?”
Simon fisted his hands against the side of his chair. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from actually pouting, using the small flash of pain to scowl instead. “My name is Simon.”
“Close enough!” Dirk tugged Haley closer to him, then began to make his way down the narrow aisle, leaving Simon to scramble to his feet and follow.
Once outside, the bright sun made him recoil a little, instinctively, shielding his eyes with one hand. For a moment he could only see the vague outlines of both Dirk and Haley, as if they were briefly too far away to touch. Scowling again, he shook off the gloomy thought and nearly launched himself forward, grabbing Haley’s other hand as he did. She looked at him automatically, and he saw an instant of surprise pass across her face and fade.
“So,” Simon said, drawing himself up again, trying to radiate as much cool confidence as he could, “what are you going to make for dinner?”
“Depends on what we buy,” Dirk said. He didn’t let go of Haley’s hand either, though he did slow his pace, so that he was no longer leading, but she was still neatly between them. “It’s summer, so maybe something with vegetables.”
“You should make a steak.”
“Is that a hint? You’ve got to pay if that’s the case.”
Simon pursed his lips. “If you’re the one offering, you should be able to handle requests.”
“Steaks are expensive,” Dirk said. “I was thinking something simpler, anyway—”
“I’ll pay,” Haley cut in, before Simon could protest again; she squeezed his hand hard. “Though maybe we could look if there’s something that sounds better than steak. Okay?”
Dirk paused and half-swung around, kissing Haley’s temple. “If you want, babe,” he said, but his eyes were open, staring straight at Simon.
“It’s better than arguing,” she insisted, but there was a smile in her voice. “Stop that, we’re in public.”
“Not in front of the children?” He continued to look at Simon, waggling his eyebrows suggestively now. Haley tried to shove him, and when he wouldn’t let go of her hand, she stepped on his foot instead.
“Not in public period,” she said firmly, and then she began to pick up her own pace, pulling ahead of them both and dragging them along behind her. Simon was tempted to drag his feet, sullen at the implied insult, but he glanced at Dirk and found himself being watched — outright stared at, really — and that was unnerving enough that he found himself walking faster, trying to keep Haley between them like a shield. She was still familiar no matter what, and comforting in that familiarity; when he squeezed her hand himself, testing, she glanced at him with a smile that was both automatic and genuine. It helped to calm him a little.
The grocery trip also passed in something of a blur. Simon didn’t like grocery stores that much: they were too cold and often too crowded, the shelves bursting with things he didn’t recognize and didn’t care about. The housekeepers did most of the shopping for his family, though now and then, his mother was struck with some bizarre nostalgia for the “simple life” she’d never had, and she’d make him come with her, to try and pick special things for the family’s meal. Even if her interest lasted through the whole shopping trip, she never did the cooking herself, so what was the point in caring? An Oakley didn’t have to do anything if he or she didn’t want to. He ended up trailing a few feet behind Dirk and Haley as they debated and discussed and occasionally argued over this vegetable or this cut of meat. He only moved when he saw them move, out of the corner of his eye, keeping his vision mostly focused on the floor.
What if he just grabbed one of them and refused to let go? he wondered. What if he took Haley’s hand and dragged her out of the store, into some back alley (surely there had to be a back alley; that seemed to be the sort of thing that would exist everywhere), and pushed her against the wall to kiss her? What if he picked a proper fight with Dirk, so that he would be the one pinned and pretending to say no?
What if, he thought, and ran straight into Dirk’s back. He stumbled back with an insulted yelp, tripping over his own feet. Before he fell, though, he felt a strong hand grab his wrist, dragging him up and forward; a moment later he found himself pressed against Dirk’s chest instead, his other hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Shit, careful,” Dirk said. “You all right?”
“I, um,” Simon said, and swallowed hard. Up close, physically touching, Dirk was not nearly as bulky as he appeared to be from a distance — which even then, was not terribly much, though more than Simon himself — but his entire body was hard and solid, like the whole length of it was pure muscle. He smelled dusty almost, a little like soap and sweat and the artificial salt of the popcorn. Through his shirt he was fantastically warm. Simon had to swallow a few times to get his voice to work. “I’m fine, yes. Sorry. I was a little distracted.”
“More than a little,” Haley said, with a small huff. She came over and reached to put her hand on his forehead, cool and soft. “You’re a little warm, but you’re not feverish, at least. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been acting weird since this morning.” She crossed her arms, setting her jaw a little. “I know you weren’t that interested in the movie, but if you were really feeling badly, you
didn’t have to come.”
Simon blinked a few times. “I’m feeling fine,” he said. “I just tripped, okay? I was distracted, that happens sometimes.”
“But you were just—”
“Hey, you two,” Dirk said, and Simon realized with a small start that he could feel the rumble of Dirk’s words in his chest, “how about we just go ahead and pay and go back? The sooner we do, then it doesn’t matter who’s feeling what, at least we’ll be home, and not blocking a line.” He squeezed Simon’s shoulders, as if to remind him of where he was. “There’d be more privacy, at least.”
Simon flushed and pulled away, biting his lip. It was disconcerting to realize how comfortable he’d actually been, leaning against Dirk, with Haley’s hand on his face. “I really am fine,” he mumbled, sullen. “I was just tired. It’s not a big deal.”
Haley drew in a breath like she was going to say something, but Dirk reached to put a hand on her shoulder and she cut herself off. The look she gave Simon was searching, though, as if she still didn’t believe his excuses. (And really, he knew, she wasn’t wrong, but that was the last thing he wanted to admit to, especially in front of Dirk, but even more than that, especially in public, where anyone might see or hear.)
The walk back home was agonizingly slow. It felt as if someone had maliciously doubled the distance it had been to walk there, each block twice as long — maybe even three times! — as they should have been. Simon let himself lag behind, staring at Dirk and Haley, walking shoulder-to-shoulder before him. Every now and then Haley would glance back, as if to make sure he hadn’t been left behind, but the look on her face just made him feel worse. It wasn’t hard to read the concern on her face, especially when he knew her so well. The last thing he’d wanted was to actually worry her.
