Page 10 of Josh’s Play

“Feel better,” Diane called after us, and I turned to see both her and Noah flashing goofy smiles my way. They reigned it in a little when they turned back to look at each other shyly.

We could barely move through the kitchen, there were so many people, so I grabbed Josh by his good wrist as he clung to his beer and fought my way to a cooler on the floor, my cooler as it turned out. I grabbed two more beers, depositing our empty bottles in the recycling bin, then I led him through to the living room, clinging to his hand.

All of our furniture had been pushed up along the walls, and people sat or leaned on every piece. The center of the room was packed with people dancing as if they were one throbbing mass. The hallway was a bit less crowded, so we stood near the entrance to the living room, watching the crowd move. A beat later, I realized I was still holding Josh’s hand, and I dropped it quickly and with a little force. Not my smoothest move.

He looked down at the spot as if the ghost of our touch was still there. When he looked up, whatever he had been thinking about holding my hand, or me basically throwing his away, was no longer written on his face.

He had to lean in close to be heard over the music and the crowd. “Did I mess that up for you?”

I gave him a questioning look. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the music changed, and a group of girls screamed in excitement and ran past us. I began chugging my beer before saying, “Fuck this,” and reaching for his hand again.

He followed me willingly as I led us up the stairs, dodging our way past people every few steps. I’d locked my door and had to drop his hand to fish out the key. When I opened the door, I kept hold of the knob but didn’t enter, gesturing for Josh to go first. With my hand on the doorknob, Josh had to squeeze past me to get into the room. I could smell beer and that rustic smell that came from being outdoors in the summertime, but beneath that a lemony scent that evoked vibrant colors and bright, sunny days.

My room was sparse, just a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a desk. I’d barely unpacked, my clothes spilling out of two suitcases, one atop the dresser and one on the floor. There were a few cardboard boxes stacked up. I’d only opened the one that held my laptop and a few pictures.

Josh went right to my desk to look at them, picking up a framed shot of my brothers and me from a few years ago.

“My parents make us take a picture every year for their Christmas card.”

“These are your little brothers, then?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged.

“That setting is amazing. How did you find it?”

I walked up to him, placed the two beers on the desk, and took the photo from him, our fingers brushing.

“That’s the little pond at our farm.”

“Wow, it must be beautiful there.”

It was, but was that something a guy would just say to another guy? I said nothing instead.

Josh took the picture from my hands and set it down.

I pointed to the beer, stating the obvious. “I grabbed another one for you.” We looked from the beer to each other as we stood face-to-face.

“I know you invited Diane tonight, but I thought I was reading the signals right? That you were okay with her and Noah flirting?”

“I’m okay with it.”

“Did he ask you to invite her? It seemed like they just met.”

“No, I invited her. For me, I guess.”

“You invited me too.” I didn’t know what to say, and he let the comment hang in the air between us. I tore myself away from him and sat on the bed, looking for the bullshit answer that would get me out of the conversation.

“I guess I’m just friendly, you know, inviting everyone. I almost invited your PT.”

“Nurse Ratched? She was like, fifty,” Josh joked, but then his face got serious, and he looked at me with sympathy, like he knew that my words were lies and like he understood exactly what my anxious tone had meant.

He took my desk chair and rolled it so that he was right in front of me. I continued prattling nonsense to him.

“I thought about inviting your brother, too, until you told me he was in high school. And your roommate; if he was here, he could have come. The more the merrier!” His sparkling eyes held so much empathy. Like he could see right through me, like he understood it all.

“Cam?” His tone was kind and questioning. Asking for permission, asking for the truth. He was so close our knees almost touched. He leaned in, and I could see the speckles of his eyes, tiny dots of navy against the practically white-blue background.

“Please don’t, Josh.” He may have been able to see it, but I couldn’t say it. I looked at his good hand, the hand I’d held without thought as if it were nothing, as if I could just hold hands with a guy. I watched as that hand moved toward one of mine, grasping it and squeezing.