I show up at the Reverb fashionably late and glance around. There’s usually a punk rock band that plays covers of old bands on stage. Tonight they’re playing Three Dog Night -- badly. I can barely recognize Joy to the World.
Stokely and Stan are out on the dance floor, oblivious to everything and everyone but each other. Typical of late for those two.
And Casey? He’s seated at a round table toward the back of the room, away from the band, drinking a soda and eating ice. The straw in his soda is pretty well gnarled, with perfectly indented teeth marks marring the plastic.
I try to push the thought out of my head that the kid needs to get laid as I light up a smoke. A regular one. I’m really trying to do fewer drugs, since I’ve determined they’re making me insane.
And gay.
Exhaling a large cloud of smoke, I approach Casey’s table. If my suspicions are correct, tonight is going to get really weird.
"Hey." I say, nodding as well, since he probably can’t hear me worth shit.
Casey glances up and blinks at me, his eyes wide. "Hi!" he yells over the band.
Then he looks awkward, digs around in his glass and pulls out an ice cube, pops it in his mouth and begins crunching it between his teeth.
I wince at the way it makes his jaw shudder. The guy’s a collection of nervous habits. Why haven’t I noticed this before?
I sit down without further comment. I don’t ask permission. It’s just not part of my deal.
"This band fucking sucks!" I call over the bad music and crunching ice.
He pauses in the ice crunching and grins. "I know!" he yells back. "Stokely loves ‘em though! Too loud for me!"
He pops another ice cube in his mouth, though this time he sucks at it instead of immediately crunching it.
"Too loud?!" I respond, frowning. "Nah, they’re just lame, that’s all."
Does he have to suck things in my presence? Fucking tease.
Casey shrugs and goes back to sucking on his ice cube.
"So why’d you come?" he asks. He blushes then. "Here, I mean. Did you really have nothing better to do?"
It’s my turn to shrug.
"Nothing that wouldn’t kill brain cells." I say. "I did start reading that Macbeth book. Then I decided it was too fucked up to read sober. Made me nervous."
I wordlessly offer him the cigarette. Peace offering, you know?
He takes the cigarette, puts it to his mouth and takes a drag. He only coughs a little as he passes it back to me.
Then he drums his fingers on the tabletop nervously. "So." he says, nodding.
The band stops playing suddenly, apparently having ended the song. Stokely and Stan make their way over to the table, both grinning and sweaty.
"Hey Zeke, you made it!" Stokely says, grinning as she sits down beside Casey. She picks up his drink and takes a big gulp. He just raises his eyebrows.
"Yeah, figured I’d be a fourth wheel." I counter, wondering why the hell she’s mooching off of Casey. "Why do you sound surprised? Hey Stan."
"Hey Zeke." Stan says, rolling his eyes at Stokely. "I’m gonna go get some drinks, want something?"
"A coke, babe." Stokely says, winking at him. "And one for Casey, since I drank the last bit." She glances at me, smirking. "Casey didn’t think you’d show."
Casey blushes, looking like he wants to crawl under a table and hide.
I shoot Casey a questioning look.
"Didn’t think, or hoped I didn’t?" I asked pointedly. Okay, I’m a bit offended. There. I admitted it. At least to myself.
"Um," he says, his eyes darting around the room before returning back to me, "a little of both?"
"I fucking asked if you wanted me to come, didn’t I?" I snap before I can catch myself. "Shit, why didn’t you tell me to fuck off then!?"
"I don’t know!" he cries. "I did want you to come! And then. . .I dunno. . ."
"He chickened out." Stokely says simply.
Casey glares at her. "I can speak for myself, you know."
"Right." Stokely says seriously, nodding. "Because you’ve been doing such a good job of late."
"Fuck you, Stokely." he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chin against his chest.
I laugh in spite of myself. Yes! There’s that fire!
"I don’t care which one of you talks." I insist. "As long as someone tells me what the fuck is going on. People start acting strange and I start getting freaked out. Last time that started happening, aliens were involved."
Stokely looks at Casey pointedly. He raises his head, catches her glance and groans.
"Guess I’m elected." he grumbles. He sighs, looking at me. "Okay, so first I’ve got to know. Is there any truth to any of the shit that Stokely’s been saying about you?"
One of my eyebrows arches questioningly.
"That depends on what she’s been saying." I respond.
Glare at Stokely. Glare glare glare.
Stokely smirks.
Casey blushes. "That, um, you like me. . .you know."
Stan raises his eyebrows, looking from me to Casey to Stokely and back. Stokely nudges him.
"Thought you were going to get drinks." she says.
"Oh." he says. "Right." He nods and heads off to the bar, glancing back at us curiously a few times.
"Fuck off, Stokely." I say, my tone businesslike. "Only person I’ve got anything to say to right now is Casey."
Great. Just fucking great. What kind of crap has she filled this kid’s head with?
Stokely rolls her eyes. "Fine." she says, sighing dramatically as she gets to her feet. "I’ll go help Stan."
She heads off to the bar, leaving Casey staring at me, licking his lips nervously.
"Just for the record," he says softly, "I don’t really believe all that she’s said. I mean, if any of it’s true, that’s cool, but I want to hear it from you."
I lean forward across the table, so we can hear each other better. He has a tendency to drop his voice when he’s nervous, and if he talks into his chest like usual, I won’t be able to read his lips.
Shit. His eyes look giant when he stares. I look down at the table to keep from staring back.
"I. . ." I begin, then realize I have no way to explain what’s going on in my head. "Ever just think really weird shit that you can’t explain?"
"Yeah. . ." he says slowly. "What’s that got to do with me? Stokely made it sound like it was a big deal."
I look at him suspiciously, feeling torn. Part of me wants to just lay everything on the table, but another part is afraid Stokely’s inflated this so much that it’ll hurt him, and I. . .I don’t know if I can do that. Delilah. Fragile. Yeah.
"I thought about you once when I was whacking off." I blurt out, and just leave it at that. That’s KIND of complimentary.
Casey blushes brightly. "Oh." he says.
He’s silent for a few moments, his eyes shifting around the room before settling back on me. "Why?"
He blinks, stares at me intently, like he’s trying to figure me out.
I shrug and shake my head helplessly.
"I don’t know." I insist, a little defensively, but mostly just confused. "Because you’re not full of shit like everyone else? Because I wish I knew you better? Because we almost fucking died together? I’m totally fucked up by this."
He nods, suddenly quiet, chewing his lip.
"Well," he says finally, "that makes two of us that are confused. And I don’t think Stokely’s making things any easier to figure out with her attempts at matchmaking."
He continues to chew his lip, staring at me contemplatively. "I think I like you." he mutters. "But I don’t know. . .Delilah. . .she kind of scared me off crushes and relationships and all that stuff. At least for a while."
I just stare at him. Blinking slowly. That was a pretty blunt admission for someone that’s supposed to be shy.
He blinks, staring back. "What?" he says self-consciously. "You said you wanted to know what was going on. So I told you."
He reaches for his glass, probably to grab another ice cube, but ends up knocking it with his hand, which tips the glass over, spilling the ice out on the table.
"Shit." he mumbles, blushing as he starts to scoop up the ice and drop it back in his glass.
I reach out quickly and grab his wrist, my stare intensifying.
"Just leave it, Casey." I insist sternly. "Shit, why can’t you relax around me? What did I do?"
He gulps, flinching slightly. "Nothing." he mutters. "I don’t know. I just. . .you’re Zeke. You’re the resident bad-ass of Herrington High."
"You’re a smart guy, Casey. You should be able to see past that." I insist, then frown, noticing the way he flinched. Oh. Right. He’s been beat up a lot.
I let go of him.
"For the record, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?" I insist, holding up my hands defensively.
He stares at me suspiciously, one eyebrow raising. "Okay." he says, relaxing slightly.
He starts to drum his fingers on the tabletop, realizes what he’s doing and presses his hand flat against the surface. "Sorry." he mutters. "Nervous habit."
He sighs. "Look, this whole mess is my fault." he mumbles. "I never should’ve told Stokely. . .well, I just never should’ve."
"When did you tell Stokely?" I ask. "Because she seemed to know I was into you before I did."
Ohhhhhhhhhh shit. I didn’t just tell him I was into him. It’s the eyes. They’re girl eyes. They confuse my penis. Argh.
"Um, a couple months ago." Casey says, shrugging. "We were talking about the alien attack and I told her how impressed I was with the way you handled everything. You were awesome."
He clears his throat, blushing. "And I, uh, told her. . .um. . .I like your eyes."
"You like MY eyes!? Have you looked in a mirror lately?!" I exclaim before I can catch myself. Damned girly eyes.
He blinks. "They’re blue. So what?"
"They’re more than blue, Case." I insist. "They’re. . . Fuck, you really don’t know, do you?"
That’s. . .that’s just fucked up.
He looks at me curiously. "No, I don’t." he says.
He continues to look at me, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, how do I say this and not sound really gay?" I ask out loud, rubbing the palms of my hands together thoughtfully. "If you were a girl, I’d be all over you and those eyes. Did that sound gay?"
Yup. It sounded REALLY gay.
He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Thanks. . .I think."
"So. . .because I’m not a girl. . .you won’t be all over me and my eyes." he mumbles. "Okay. . .so. . .that solves that problem."
He frowns. "How exactly does someone be all over somebody else’s eyes anyway?"
"You take things way too literally, Case." I mutter, shaking my head. The noise and music in this place is suddenly starting to annoy the fuck out of me.
"You wanna get out of here?" I ask suddenly.
He blinks, looking startled. "Um. . .okay."
"What?" I ask harshly, rolling my eyes. Fuck, he IS like a girl.
Wait. . .why am I going into my standard ‘get chick naked’ MO?
"Nothing!" he insists. "So where are we gonna go?"
"I dunno. My place?" I suggest. "You can get a real drink there."
Stop it, Zeke. Stop it. It hasn’t been THAT long.
But I can’t help it. His interest in me is really playing to my ego, and I get the feeling it would be so easy. So. . . easy. . .
Damn those eyes.
"Okay." he says, shrugging. "You’re not afraid of more rumors getting started?"
"Unless the chess club is planning on trying to kick my ass, I can’t see how it’s going to get any worse." I point out with a shrug. "Unless you want to wait ten minutes, then follow me out."
He grins. "Nah. That would look even more suspicious. Too clichéd. Let’s just go."
