He chewed at his bottom lip, watching as Rowan leaned over to turn on the radio. “I hope you don’t mind,” Rowan said. Kasen was pleased to discover that the instrumental playlist he’d pre-set up was playing on the radio, something he did every night so that everyone could rest better instead of focusing on lyrics. So Rowan really did like listening to his station. He smiled stupidly so, giving a small shrug.
“No, of course not,” He nodded. “That’s entirely fine by me,” His face was heating up with a blush, and he was glad that Rowan couldn’t see that.
They drove in silence for a few moments, the heat from the vents warming Kasen’s chilled fingers and cheeks as he became more relaxed. He glanced over at Rowan occasionally, who was one hundred percent focused on the road. He licked his lips as he finally spoke. “So, this is a really nice car.”
“You think so?” Rowan asked with a grin. It was that same damn grin from earlier. It made Kasen feel like he couldn’t move. It was as if it magically paralyzed him.
“Yeah,” Kasen replied with a nod. “I like it a lot. Of course, my dream car is a jeep. I don’t know why, I’ve just always wanted one.”
“Jeeps are good,” Rowan nodded, stopping at the stop sign and then looking both ways before he shot across and continued on his way. “My cousin lives in Mississippi. He likes to take his ‘muddin’, as he calls it,” He chuckled lightly.
“Oh yeah. A lot of guys do that here, too,” Kasen replied. He liked that chuckle. But he had to be careful, because he couldn’t be hitting on someone who had potential to be a friend. They got along, didn’t they? And Kasen really wouldn’t complain if he could make a friend.
It was quiet for a few more moments as Rowan drove down Main Street, their sleepy little town dark and abandoned until the sun would come up. Rowan stopped at a stop light and then looked over at Kasen again. “So where do you live?”
“I live off of Davenport Street,” Kasen nodded. “It’s still a good ways from here though.”
Rowan lifted a brow, “And you walk that every night to work?”
Kasen bit his lip, “Nah. I normally just get a ride from the small taxi service offered around here,” Even though it wasn’t even a taxi service. It was more like Old Man Parker and his mini-van. But he was cheap and he didn’t mind the hours in which Kasen needed him.
“Well, at least you don’t have to walk it,” Rowan nodded. They were headed down the road again when Rowan suddenly spoke. “Would you like to get breakfast with me?” He asked.
Kasen laughed a bit, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t any places open this time of night.”
Rowan smiled a little, glancing at him again before putting his eyes back on the road, “Who said it had to be here?”
Kasen lifted a brow. Where else would they go? He didn’t question Rowan as he headed towards the interstate. Kasen was simply along for the ride at this point, and he wasn’t complaining.
---------------------
Was he really doing this? Had he really just suggested that they get breakfast together? He wasn’t even sure that Kasen would be hungry considering he’d brought him a plate full of food only a few hours before. But it had been a little over five hours since the last time Rowan ate, and he was hungry. Maybe the boy was only agreeing to come along because he wanted to be polite. But maybe..
No. Don’t be ridiculous. He thought to himself. But what if it were true? What if Kasen was enjoying spending time with him, too?
Rowan exited off the ramp and they entered an equally small town called Enterprise. It amused Rowan, because he was a huge Star Trek fan, and from the smile on Kasen’s face, he wondered if they had that in common. He remembered passing by a Waffle House when he’d stopped here for a bathroom break before making it into Chartreuse.
When they pulled into the parking lot, he put the car into park and then he turned to glance at Kasen. “So you’ve never been here before?” He asked.
Kasen shook his head slowly, “No, I can’t say that I have. Or maybe my mom used to take me places when I was little, but I honestly can’t remember.”
Rowan smiled, “Well, here you are now. The Mighty Waffle House,” He chuckled.
Kasen looked up at the bright yellow sign before he tilted his head a bit, “I’ve never been to one before.” He admitted.
Rowan quirked a brow. Just how sheltered had this kid been? He turned off the car before he got out, waiting for Kasen to do the same before he locked it up and tucked his keys into his pocket. He held open the door for the other male and allowed him to enter first before he followed in behind him.
It wasn’t that the place was even busy, because it wasn’t. There wasn’t a soul in sight except for the cook who was lazily leaned against the counter, and two waitresses who were conversing while refilling the syrup dispensers. Rowan slid into a booth, taking up a menu as he watched Kasen slide down across from him.
“Get anything you want,” Rowan offered. “This is my treat, okay?”
Kasen blinked, biting his lip before he nodded, “Yeah, thanks. I’ll pay you back though.”
“Not necessary,” Rowan reassured him as one of the waitresses approached them.
“I’m Nikki. What can I get for ya’ll today?”
Rowan would never –not- be amused by that word. He chuckled a little as he looked up at her, “I’d like to get a glass of Cola, please, add a bit of cherry flavor into it,” Then he looked to Kasen. “What would you like to drink?”
“Oh, um,” Kasen quickly looked back down at the menu. “Just some milk, thanks.”
As the waitress went to get their drinks, Rowan’s eyes were back on Kasen, watching him as he went over the menu. “The hash browns are really good here,” He offered. “So are the waffles. Almost everything is good at the Waffle House,” He gave a crooked grin, Kasen’s eyes meeting his as the boy looked up from the menu.
“Thanks.” Kasen nodded. “I think I will try some hash browns. Maybe with some cheese on them? It sounds pretty good.”
Rowan nodded in agreement, “Absolutely,” He replied. “That’s one of my favorite things to get here. Of course, some people like to go over the top with getting everything on their hash browns, but not me. I prefer the cheese and maybe some onions every now and then. Don’t forget the ketchup though,” He chuckled and mentally kicked himself. Why was he talking so much? He never spoke this much around others. At least not about food. Christ.
“And I think I’ll have a pecan waffle,” Kasen added, closing his menu. “I’ve never had a pecan waffle. I think my mother fixed me a blueberry one once,” He seemed to be thinking hard on that one, and Rowan was curious as to if Kasen and his mother had gotten along in his childhood.
Hopefully she wasn’t anything like his own mother. She could probably care less if Rowan lived or died. They had lost communication over the last few years, especially after she’d discovered his homosexuality.
Rowan smiled at him, despite his own thoughts as he put his own menu on top of Kasen’s as their drinks arrived.
“Are ya’ll ready to order?” Nikki asked.
Rowan nodded, “That we are,” He replied, scratching at the side of his scruffy cheek. “We’ll take two orders of hash browns with cheese and ketchup, as well as two pecan waffles, please.”
He watched as she scribbled on her note pad before she nodded back to him, “I’ll have it out to you in a few minutes,” With that, she turned and left.
Rowan’s attention was immediately turned back to Kasen, watching as he chewed at his thumbnail. Was he nervous? That thought alone suddenly made Rowan pretty nervous, too. He moved his hands to rest against his lap as he leaned down for a sip of his cherry cola. Then he swallowed, clearing his throat.
“So you’ve never been anywhere outside of Chartreuse?” He asked.
“I know it’s sort of pathetic, huh?” Kasen asked. “I always wanted to go somewhere else. I begged my mother to take me to Disneyland as a child. But of course that didn�
��t happen. I doubt it ever will. It’s not like I could tolerate all of the people there anyway.”
“And why’s that?” Rowan asked, curiously, hoping he wasn’t being too nosey.
“I just really don’t like being around lots of people at once,” Kasen said with a small shrug. He picked up his glass of milk for a drink before his eyes met Rowan’s again. “I know that probably makes me weird, but it’s the truth. I sometimes have panic attacks if I’m around large crowds. It’s why I prefer my little solitary job at the radio station.”
Rowan smiled gently, shaking his head, “That doesn’t make you weird,” He replied. “It’s pretty much why I prefer working with animals myself. They’re better than most people,” He could see the look of relief on Kasen’s face as he gave him another smile, picking up his glass for a drink.
“I get that,” Kasen said, nodding his head. “I like animals. I enjoy having Houston around. He’s a good dog.”
“He seems to be,” Rowan replied, “Napoleon’s a good dog, too. They truly are man’s best friend.”
“Here’s your food,” Nikki said, sliding each plate onto the table carefully.
“Thanks,” Rowan said as he pulled his plates over to himself, pouring ketchup onto his hash browns as he watched Kasen eye his own food. It was like the boy had never been to a restaurant before, and if that was the case; they had bigger issues to deal with.
“This looks great,” Kasen said excitedly as he picked up his fork to dig into the hash browns. He took a bite, sighing and nodding. “Definitely great.”
Rowan chuckled, glad to see he was having a good time. That’s what mattered most. Rowan found that he was enjoying this time with Kasen, and he was pretty sure the reason he’d invited him out to breakfast at three in the morning was easy enough; he didn’t really want to say goodbye yet.
This is dangerous. His mind told him. You’re going to get hurt, is what you’re going to do. Just wait until you find out he’s straight. He blinked. But what if he’s not straight? He licked his lips, taking another bite of his food as he looked up to Kasen occasionally.
Kasen seemed to be enjoying himself, finishing up his hash browns before he poured syrup over his waffle. He took a big fork full into his mouth, blue eyes lighting up as he hummed in approval.
Rowan couldn’t help but to chuckle from that reaction. It was like watching a child discovering ice cream for the first time.
“How old are you?” Rowan finally asked.
Kasen seemed to be caught off guard with the question, but he swallowed quickly, licking at his lips before answering, “I’m nineteen,” He replied.
Whoa. Rowan really needed to get better at guessing ages. He had guessed twenty one initially. But it was easy to tell that Kasen was quite young. At least he’s not under eighteen…
“How about you?” Kasen asked, taking another bite of food.
Rowan couldn’t help but to chuckle as he shook his head. “I’m twenty six,” He admitted.
Kasen just nodded, going back to eating his waffle.
Well, he could have reacted to that a lot worse than he had, right? Rowan took that as a good sign as he continued eating his meal. Waffle House food always made him happy. It was no Denny’s, but it was the second best thing he could get in this part of Alabama. That’s what he got for trading in his old life.
Chapter Eight
Kasen wasn’t even sure how this had all happened. How had he ended up in a Waffle House with Rowan at three in the morning? Though he wasn’t going to question it; Rowan seemed to enjoy his company just as much as he enjoyed Rowan’s.
He reckoned that’s what mattered most. Not to mention the fact he was out of Chartreuse for the first time in his life. That was a pretty big feat in itself. He could’ve gone to France with his senior class had his mother given him the money to do so.
“That’s a waste of money.” She’d said. “I work too hard for my money for you to go blowing it on bullshit, Kasen.”
He pushed those thoughts from his mind as he shook his head, taking the last bite of his waffle before pushing the plate aside. He was more full than he had been an hour ago, and the last bit of milk was going into his stomach right at that second as he sighed. He smiled at Rowan, who smiled back and Kasen could feel his stomach going into a fit of flutters. He was pretty sure he couldn’t blame that on the food.
He tapped his fingers against the table top nervously as he chewed at his lip, blue eyes moving to focus on the napkin dispenser as he listened to the tunes currently playing. Dear lord, why on earth were they playing the Backstreet Boys? Not that Kasen had anything against them, because he didn’t, he just preferred something a little more mellow at the moment. It was weird how music could affect his mood. He licked his lips, glancing up to find that Rowan was staring at him.
He felt his cheeks heating up as he lowered his gaze again, chewing hard at his bottom lip. The flesh was helpless against the pressure his front teeth were providing. He finally cleared his throat and smiled, looking up again to see that Rowan was taking a drink of his coke.
“So I hope Chartreuse is being good to you so far,” He said, his voice cracking a bit. What the hell was that?
Rowan nodded, putting his glass back down, “Oh yeah, the people are great here. It’s not something you find in Boston, really. There are the nice people, but they’re not nearly as hospitable as the folks I’ve found here,” Rowan’s smile returned, just as warm and friendly as before, and Kasen swore his heart dropped into his stomach, drifting on top of undigested waffle and pecans.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Kasen nodded. He dug his nails into his palms as he let his hands rest against his lap. He’d talked to people before, why was he finding right now to be so difficult? He let his tongue dart out over his lips again as he watched Nikki return once again.
“Can I get you boys anything else?” She asked. She looked tired. But certainly, a woman who worked this late at night would feel tired, wouldn’t she?
“Do you want anything else?” Rowan inquired, to which Kasen shook his head. Rowan glanced back to Nikki, shaking his head, “I think that will be all. We’re ready for our check now.”
As Nikki walked away, Rowan glanced down at his watch and let out a low whistle. “I didn’t realize it was already four thirty,” He said. “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you out past your bedtime.”
Kasen was quick to shake his head. “Oh no, it’s fine. I always stay up late.”
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Boston wasn’t like Alabama. Not even a little bit. No strangers greet you in Boston or strike up spontaneous conversations with you while you pump gas. To him the streets had been lined with hard faces whose first inclination was apathy and second, dislike. Camaraderie there was earned by lineage or years of residency, and in his case innumerable pointless fights and getting thrown out of the townie bars enough times to finally establish himself as a fixture, as one of those who belonged inside.
Boston was a proud town which had suffered through much over the years. Its residents had endured decades of drought for the Sox, Pats, and B’s (and they were not so much teams as ways of life in Boston), so that the city’s inhabitants had come to accept defeat a priori, vowed never let hope sneak in, and when they occasionally forgot their vow and that hope was undoubtedly crushed, they knew it would be that way all along, of course. Then victory upon victory finally came and they were well-deserved and savored like a child’s first taste of beer from his father’s tallboy of ‘gansett – cherished as shining memory but slightly bitter. Those that had lived in the city their whole lives ignored the waves of tourists in duck boats every summer, taking photos of every banal attraction or building, and so what if some of those photos proudly starred them providing a proper, nonverbal Boston greeting? Bostonians silently hated the hapless flocks of college students every September, with their giddiness that had yet to be dulled by the harshness of cold and weight of years, with their drunkenness tuned too high for a city that
kept its alcoholism ever present but just under the skin. Yet of all the things to be suffered through, the weather was the worst of it.
Winter doesn’t exist to those who live in Boston – isn’t spoken of, isn’t even considered as a possibility – until suddenly they are surprised to find that it does exist and has descended upon the city for another year, once again too early. At that point winter defines everything about Boston and its people, who trudge through the days as time seems to slow down (unlike the mass holes on I-93 or 95 who persist in the belief that inclement conditions are a figment of their imagination), darkness is ever-present, and the heater never seems to go high enough. The slop of daily wintry mix hardens atop the drifts of snow from the last major storm with hasty cuts continually being shoveled out for cars and then adorned with an array of space-savers to mark ownership (and God help you if you ignored those signs of ownership). It is an annual ordeal, a yearly battle that Bostonians fight and hold as a grudging tradition, deeper seated in their hearts than the memories of the Revolution and the otherwise long history of the city. It is more half of who they are.
Then just as suddenly, the winter is gone and spring finds the streets awash with the accumulated weight of October through March, too much for the drainage system of the city to bear, so that the water from blackened snow piles translates itself into a filthy stagnancy along the side of every street. That is of no matter though as the restaurants pull up their shutters for the season, the smell of seafood and beer wafts about the mismatched cobblestones of Faneuil Hall, and summer finds the city opening like a flower or an eager college girl. No place appreciates the summer like Boston, because Boston knows in its bones what the alternative is.
Alabama seemed to take its warm days for granted, and he found that he was slowly beginning to do so, too. But when he had lived in Boston he had made every one of them count. Cracking open lobsters at Elliott’s on the waterfront during a sweltering day in July, watching the street performers draw awed crowds, his laughing and then daintily sipping his lemonade through a straw.
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