Kit
Saturday
On the bus, he almost fell asleep, his head lolling on his shoulder in the black crew-neck. Our shared wired earphones playing AFI had fallen out of his ears a long time ago.
The only way I would've been allowed stay out that late was if I was sleeping in someone's house. I told mom it was Marlowe's. It was Frank's.
'Frank,' I murmured, nudging him gently once we we got to Trenton. 'We're here.'
He regained some of his energy and walked with me down the stairs of the bus and out the door. My phone was dead and tucked away in my bag;I could only assume time was after midnight. The sky was blackish-blue and there wasn't a lot of people around.
"I've never been out this late." I thought out loud, leaning up against the wall.
Frank was still rubbing his eyes and stretching, making funny groaning noises and scrunching up his nose. The walk to his house would be another twenty minutes, or a ten minute bus. The last bus to Belleville was at 11:30, we'd missed it. That was fine by me, I was enjoying the idea of going for a late night walk, because it was something I never got to do, but I would've understood if a sleepy Frank would've liked to got the bus.
He didn't though. He wanted to walk.
He stayed on the outside of the pavement, chivalrous, I thought. He didn't sit on the outside on the bus though. He wanted to look out the window at the lights on all the buildings, which he did for about five minutes before falling asleep.
"Are you not cold?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked me up and down.
"Not really." I shrugged. "There's a breeze, but it's light."
He tutted and shook his head. "Your outfit is a bit...revealing though, no?" He asked, and I knew by his face that he regretted saying that the second it came out of his mouth. "No, no-I just.. I meant that like.. y'know-Fuck."
I giggled at him. His cheeks were going red.
"I know what you mean, don't worry." I nudged him.
My outfit was a bit revealing. I opted for no tights that night with my patch denim shorts and my blue Descendents tank top. Frank, more cozily wore a black sweatshirt and jeans. He took off the sweatshirt at the gig in NYC, and I'm surprised he got it back at the end of the night.
"Did you enjoy the show?" He kicked a rock that was in his way. It seemed like he had been doing everything to avoid my eye contact that night.
"Yeah. I really like that band. A lot. I wish I could do it." I said the latter half of the sentence quietly, because I knew already that Frank was going to give me some kind of pep talk on how of course I can start a band if I want to, even if I've never picked up an instrument.
"You should do it. I would go and see your band." He said, once again looking anywhere but at me.
I ignored Frank's statement and kept walking, listening to the sound of our sneakers hitting the ground. The dim glow of streetlights illuminated our path, casting long shadows across the pavement. It was quite a beautiful night, even if it was Jersey.
"I really like your song. Yesterday." I said, my voice weak and small.
Frank finally met my eyes. There was smile on his face. His teeth were really white and the streetlights shone off them. He had changed his lip ring from black to silver, and I preferred how that looked on him.
"I didn't think you'd remember any specific ones." He looked very proud of himself in that moment, not the only time I'd seen him have that look. "I wrote that one."
He told me all about it. How it was his favourite song that he'd ever written, and how it was kind of a new one. After that, we talked more about the Lunachicks gig and he let me tell him all about the Riot Grrl movement, which he admitted to knowing nothing about.
Despite the late hour and the chilly breeze, I felt warm inside. We reached Frank's house super quickly and I frowned at first, almost forgetting that I too was staying there. His house was painted red, and was average sized, perhaps a bit smaller than mine.
It felt weird stepping into Frank's home, I bet it was weird for him to see, too. I knew if I saw him step in to my battered front door, it would probably feel surreal.
"It's a nice house." I slouched against the cold radiator in his hall and looked around the walls while he locked the door with his keys.
He had told me over text the night before that it would just be us, he said his parents were away and that he was an only child.
He led me upstairs and into his bedroom. If you asked me to match a line up of boys to a line up of bedrooms, you would without a doubt pick this one for Frank.
The room smelled strongly of cigarettes and body spray, just like Frank did. The floors were hard wood and the walls and ceilings were covered in posters, not an inch of the wall underneath could be seen. He had two guitars stood up on metal racks and a TV on a table at the end of the room, facing his black quilted double bed. His bush portable CD player was left on his pillow, which he quickly took off. His small wooden closet was adjacent to his bed, closed shut and decorated with a plethora of band and political stickers.
I dropped my bag beside his bed. "I really like your room. It's super cool."
Frank scratched the back of his neck and thanked me awkwardly. I guessed I'd be similar. How do you even accept a compliment about your bedroom?
"Um, thanks. I'm just gonna have a shower and get changed" He bent down and grabbed some pyjamas from the drawers underneath his wardrobe. "You can lay down or get changed or.. whatever. I won't be long."
His voice was small and awkward, I started to think that he didn't even want me there. I had to remind myself that he was the one who invited me to stay. My brain was being overactive, as per usual and I frantically debated the idea of having sex with him, with myself. I wondered if Frank was that type, to bring over girls and have one night stands with them. I shook myself out of it; We'd been hanging out almost every day since the Waffle House, and he hadn't kissed me once. I guessed the romance side of things was done for him.
I changed into my big maroon Slipknot t-shirt, and paired it with my white pyjama shorts. I worried that Frank would think I had no pants on, so I tucked a small piece of the t-shirt in to the shorts so they were somewhat visible. I shoved my daytime clothes back into my bag and decided to have a nose around Frank's room.
I walked around to the other side of his bed and looked down at his guitars. They looked expensive. One of them was the white one I've seen him play, and the other one was red and more round. I found a stuffed dragon hidden behind the guitar and I laughed. I picked him up and petted him before dropping him and hopping up on Frank's freshly made bed. I didn't climb under the covers, I just sat on top.
He knocked three times on the door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah!"
He opened the door and shut it once he was inside the room. His hair was damp and stringy, he looked physically cleaner. He wore a black t-shirt and red plaid pyjama pants.
"Slipknot? Seriously?" He pointed at my t-shirt, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Hey, come on. We were all 12 once."
Frank tsked. "When I was 12 I liked cool stuff." He walked over to the bed and sat next to me. It was a strange feeling for me, I'm sure it was for him too. I could tell by the way he tried to sandwich it in between talking. "I was really into The Ramones." He continued.
Whenever someone mentioned The Ramones, I always told them the exact same thing.
"I hate The Ramones"
Frank's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint as he leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, if you're not a fan of The Ramones, it's only because you haven't listened to them properly yet. I'm going to change that."
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. "Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?"
He flashed me a playful smirk before rummaging through his drawer, emerging triumphantly with a battered CD case. "With this, of course."
I watched with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as he popped the CD into his CD player, the familiar whirring sound filling the room. He skipped a few tracks before deciding on one. Within moments, the opening chords of "She's the One" filled the room.
A content smile tugged at the corners of Frank's mouth, and I started to cockily consider that Frank specifically picked this song to send me a message or something. I crawled underneath the bedsheets and Frank did the same. I looked over at him and he looked back. He smiled. His lips looked especially pink in his dim bedroom light. I really wanted to kiss him. Badly.
I slept, and my kiss did not come.