Silver (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 8

Justin blushed and picked up our glasses, carrying the popcorn under his arm. “Come on. The movie is starting.”

I slurped my coke noisily and skipped into the theater after Justin, who followed Jordan into the middle sections of the theater.

Jordan put his feet up on the empty chair in front of him, and I copied him. Only problem was, Mr. Rightyfoot hit someone’s ear, and was met with a quite rather deafening roar.

“I’M SORRY IT WAS MY FOOT’S FAULT!” I hide my face in my sweatshirt sleeves. “Ohgodpleasedon’tkillmeI’MTOOYOUNGTODIEYOUCAN’TKILLMEIAMZELDAIAMINDESTRUCTABLE!”

“Shhhh!” The whole movie theater hissed as Justyduck’s hand finds its way over my mouth.

“Sorry,” I squeak, slipping my tongue in between Justin’s fingers. He screeched and wiped his hand continually on the leg of his jeans, saying something along the lines of “Ick ick ick ick ick ick!” over and over and over again.

Eventually, we manage to stay quiet, and what comes next— I think will scar me for life.

Justin’s POV

I am so fucking nervous.

I can feel pools of sweat under my arms, and I’m actually aware of how close my arm is to Blaire’s. I can feel his bubbly heat radiating from his face, and it scares me how much control he has over me.

I look at his hand, dipping into the popcorn bucket now as he stares at the screen. I’m mesmerized by how long his eyelashes look— he’s made me gay. For sure.

Or maybe, as Blaire would put it, I’m “Blairesexual.”

I bring my hand into the popcorn bucket absentmindedly, and I immediately feel the heat of Blaire’s fingers in there.

“Oops, sorry,” Blaire brushes off some popcorn and look back at the screen.

Those hands. They’re sitting on the armrest, just…resting. So pale. So soft looking.

Now I sound like a chick. See what Blaire does to me?

Slowly, I reach out and touch his fingers. He doesn’t flinch, but I can feel his eyes slide down to where our fingers meet.

What are you doing, Justin? Are you trying to hold hands with…with a guy?

When I’m sure that Blaire’s not going to pull away, I turn his hand over so that our palms meet, and slowly, finger by finger, I clasp his hand and…

Sweet mother of Jesus. Justin, what the hell are you doing?!

Surprisingly, though, Blaire twines his fingers so they’re linked together with mine, and a little trigger goes off in my head.

You’re holding hands with a guy. Not a girl.

A guy.

I stare nervously at Blaire, who turns to me and offers a sweet little smile, bringing his eyes down so he’s staring at our hands.

Oh my god my god my god Justin you’re such an idiot…

I rapidly pry my hands off of his and stuff them in my pockets, staring at the screen. I know that my face must be super-red right now. My blush always gives me away. Just ask anyone.

I feel a hand on my arm, and I can see that Blaire’s grinning at me with such a goofy look, I have to smile. And before I know it, my lips are on his own.

It’s different kissing a guy than kissing a girl. Maybe it’s just me, but Blaire’s really cautious about how we move together.

And our moment is ruined by Jordan, who suddenly squeals and starts fangirling over us.

“OHMYSWEETBABYJESUSIKNEWITYOUTWOAREEEEEEEEEKKKKK!” is what comes out of his mouth.

I flip him off and stare back at the screen, crossing my arms and avoiding Blaire’s eyes.

What have I done?

Blaire’s POV

Justin’s avoiding me as we leave the theater, and I don’t blame him.

He stalks ahead four feet from us and begins to mutter to himself, while Jordan looks between us two like we’re two crazy unicorns high up on dope.

“What’s up with you?” Jordan frowns, poking my stomach. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

Did I?

I sighed and turned to look into that dopey hotel on the corner, and something dark and silvery catches my eye.

“Go on for a second,” I tell Jordan, keeping my eye on the figure. “I’ll catch up.”

Jordan shrugs and runs to catch up with Justin, and I stare through the hotel lobby like I’m some little kid on Christmas Eve, wanting that particular toy.

Grayson’s decked out in some drag-looking silver and black uniform with weird gloves on his hands, and he looks so…sad. Exhausted, really, as he hauls a bucket around with him. He takes a moment to rest on the counter, leaning his elbows on it, and I know that he’s been here all day, working, while we were at school.

He looks up suddenly and catches my eye.

We stare at each other for a bit, and he doesn’t make any rude gestures. No mean sayings. Nothing.

So I take the plunge. I open the door and go inside.

____

My writing is getting shittier and shittier by the day.

I apologize.

:c