“See you soon, kid. Don’t be a stranger.”
“See you around, Paulie.” Oscar walked out of the grocery store and turned right, heading home.
By the time he arrived, he’d amassed a number of interesting answers, among which were sunflowers, Highland cows, andThe Picture of Dorian Gray. Oscar wiggled the key in the lock and pushed the door open, glad to finally scent his own living room.
Maybe being out of the house was a little overrated, especially when home meant Luigi curling around his ankles and purring. Oscar pushed the door shut before Lu could run out.
“Luigi says hi,” he murmured into the phone, realizing only after that he’d used his Luigi voice.
“Sayhi,” Aaron replied.
Oscar imagined him with pink cheeks, sitting on his knit blanket, looking beautiful.
“One question left, Cowboy,” Oscar said. He should have used one of his own to ask about the username. Lessons learned, he supposed. He’d have to coerce Aaron into playing another round at some point. “Don’t waste it,” he taunted.
“Oh, I won’t,” Aaron replied, and Oscar couldhearthe smile. No. Thesmirk.
The line fell silent, not a breath, nothing but the buzz of their connection. And boy, what a buzz. Oscar stood behind his door, frozen, waiting for Aaron to speak. It felt monumental. Imagine if Aaron asked something ridiculous like what color shoes Oscar was wearing.
But Aaron didn’t.
“How’s tomorrow looking?” Aaron asked.
“Cloudy with a chance of meatballs. I’m not the weather boy,” Oscar replied.
“I meant…how’syourtomorrow looking?” Aaron paused.
The silence felt somehow heavier. Oscar’s chest was a conservatory, and his heart was a flutter of butterflies, turning his body into spring.
“I was hoping we’d get those pancakes you promised at the clinic,” Aaron said. “I’m sure I dreamed about the syrup under anesthesia. So…pancakes?”
Oscar bloomed into summer.
4
COFFEE AND PANCAKES
As indecisive as Oscar could be at times, jeanshad never been much of an issue before. Even as a teenager, he’d always known which clothes he liked and which he didn’t. It wasn’t that hard. Some clothes looked good, others looked bad, and others made him want to choke on his own vomit.
Oscar no longer owned any of those clothes. He’d left them new and unworn in the closet his mother had wished he’d occupy his entire life.
But wow, had it been difficult to pick an outfit. He’d changed three times, swapping jeans and T-shirts, tugging at his overgrown hair, tying and untying bracelets from around his wrist.
The blue jeans he now wore fit okay and didn’t look like trying-too-hard, nor did the Nirvana T-shirt he’d convinced himself to wear because it was the only thing he owned with a spot of yellow on it.
Oscar glanced at his phone, willing his bouncing leg to still, the water in his glass untouched since the waitress had brought it after he’d insisted, for the second time, that he was waiting for somebody else. But Oscar had been waiting fornearly half an hour, and there hadn’t been a peep from Aaron all morning.
He could have texted, could have confirmed, could have asked. But Oscar didn’t want that. The thought of phrasing a question that opened the door for Aaron to cancel filled him with dread, so Oscar had instead resolved to risk being stood up. At least he’d be at the coffee house, where he could get a double stack of pancakes and drown himself in syrup.
Luke SkyRacer: How’s your date going? :P
Spikey: I swear I’ll never tell you anything else.
Spikey: He’s not here yet. Maybe he changed his mind.
Luke SkyRacer: He’s the one who asked you out. Be patient.
Spikey: No.
