After Hours (boyxboy) | ✓

Chapter Seven

“You’re so weird,” he said.

“Then why did you take me here?” I snapped.

He laughed and leaned against the armrest, causing CDs to fall everywhere. “Oops. I’m sorry.” He leaned over and picked them up, bumping his head against the dashboard several times. I grabbed a few and we stacked them on the armrest. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. Eel is really fucking weird, but that’s fine. I’m also weird.”

I frowned dramatically. “Eel isn’t weird. Tons of people like eel.”

“Not really,” he laughed.

“So I’m just weird?”

“It’s charming.” This made me blush. He dropped the subject and took my order, then called the place. We’d have to wait fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Alone. In a car.

He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. We sat there, our silence filled by the hum of the rain outside. For some reason, this was louder than talking. But I liked it. We didn’t have to talk. I didn’t even find the silence awkward, for some reason. I questioned if he did. 

“So… How was your lunch? With your dad?” I asked.

“Oh, it was fine. He took us to this huge restaurant and I said I’d pay, so he ordered the most expensive steak on the menu. And so did his wife.” He laughed. “They did make me pay for it. I thought it was a joke but they were serious.”

I laughed at this. It sounded like something my dad would do. But he would be joking. I wondered if Brendon’s dad was a mean guy. He sounded like a jerk so far. “How much was the steak?”

“Forty-one dollars each,” he answered, “I had a tiny salad. Even that was like, twenty, I think.”

“Damn,” I said, “My dad wouldn’t even look at a place like that.”

“Yeah, my dad’s a little… Extra.” He laughed.

“Is your mom too?”

“Yeah, but not as much,” he said. “I think my step-mom is rubbing off on him.”

“Oh. What’s it like? I mean, having a step-mom.”

I was genuinely curious. I didn’t know if or when my parents would ever remarry, and I couldn’t even imagine a guy I didn’t know living with me and my mom. The thought scared me. I didn’t want some random guy entering my life. Bad enough my dad wouldn’t be there. I didn’t need a replacement.

“It’s weird,” he said, thinking about the subject, “I didn’t even meet her before the wedding. My dad kind of kept her a secret for a while. But she makes him happy, so I can’t complain. I barely even see her.” 

I guess it’d be easier for my dad to remarry. I wouldn’t even have to see her. If my mom did, I’d be living with them. Although I guess I wouldn’t be for long, since I was going to college next summer.

“Enough about me!” he said, changing the subject. “What about you?”

“What about me?” I asked.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Didn’t we talk about this last week?” I asked. Last Thursday, we spent the night discussing the color green. I don’t remember why, but we were.

“No, we were talking about green.”

“Right…” I said with a sigh. “I like blue.”

“Ooh, fun.” 

“Not really. It’s kind of a boring color.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Why?”

“Everyone likes blue.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it boring. Do you like Beyonce?”

I laughed at his comparison. “Yes—”

“And so does the rest of the world. And she’s not boring at all.”

“I guess not…” I smiled. “What’s your favorite?”

“I thought we were done talking about me,” he complained. I didn’t think I could ever be done talking about him. “I like all the colors.”

“But which is your favorite?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe red?”

“Red?”

“What’s wrong with red?”

“Nothing…”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

***

Brendon returned with our food. He was soaking wet (luckily he changed into his old shirt before leaving), but the food was intact. It came in a large paper bag. On the top, scrawled in black marker, was the name Brandon.

“I know, they got it wrong. Everyone does that.” He presented me with a plastic box and a package of chopsticks.

I opened the box and admired the neat little rolls. “Everyone? How often do people mess it up?”

“Like, every time I go out to eat. You don’t need a fork, right?” he asked. 

I squinted at him as he changed back into his dry shirt. “Why would I? It’s sushi.”

“My mom uses a fork,” he answered. He tossed the wet shirt into the back seat and opened his container. 

“Can I pay you back?”

“My treat.” He smiled and opened his chopsticks.

I began to eat, stopping briefly between bites to chat with Brendon. “Do you do this often?”

“What, go on dates?” He winked. Blush crept across my face. “Or sushi in general?”

I took my time chewing, trying to think of the right words to say. Deciding to dismiss the topic of dates, I said, “Sushi.”

“Oh,” he said, “Yeah, me and my mom order from here like, every other week.” I envied him. My mom didn’t like any of the food I did (aside from pizza and basic things like that). Suddenly, he spoke again, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Anyways, I have a question.” My heart beat accelerated. 

“What’s the question?”

“Do you have plans for the Fourth of July?”

A/N- I decided to do a double update today since chapter six is so short. Seven is one of my favorites! We all love Beyonce, right? Anywho, thanks for reading, and make sure to vote and comment if you enjoyed!