Page 1 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

ONE

Saturday, October 31, 1987

4:00 PM

It killed me that Nathan would have been perfectly happy with the watery drip coffee they served at the dining hall, so I'd dragged him downtown.

He was the picture of a classic preppy catalog model. All clean-cut. Easy, square-jawed handsomeness. But he had this hair—this foppish, long-on-top cut with these heavy bangs that were already starting to grow out shaggy. It was the only part of him that didn't look premed. It gave him this soft, slightly rumpled edge.

We pushed through the café doors into the golden afternoon light. I was carrying shopping bags with the few small crucial things we needed for our costumes.

Downtown Edgewood was draped in fake webs. Giant black spiders clung to the lampposts. I couldn’t decide if the city planners were being intentionally campy or if they just had bad taste.

It didn’t matter. It was Halloween on a Saturday. Grey Cravens was going solo for the first time tonight at the Majestic, and his face was everywhere. Flyers papered on every single telephone pole and shop window we passed. The rumor was his new sound was moving toward something Southern Goth. Less jangly rock, more Peter Murphy.

I couldn't wait to hear it.

The tables outside on the square were packed with the "cool" people—the ones who camped out all day in rotating shifts so a seat never opened up. Posing, smoking, talking about bands nobody else had heard of yet. Usually, I’d be right there with them, calculating how to edge my way into the circle. But today, I glanced at them and felt nothing. No envy, no desperate urgency to claim a spot.

I wanted to get back to our room and dress Nathan in my lavender velvet jacket. It was my favorite piece. It made me feel totally invincible. I couldn't wait to see him in it. He was going to look so cool.

I also couldn’t wait to play him the Cocteau Twins EP I'd just bought—Love's Easy Tears, on vinyl, finally.

I’d had it on cassette since it came out—a miracle find in my hometown—but I'd lent it to this townie musician guy I had a pathetic crush on at the beginning of the semester. The usual type I always went for—dark eyes, vintage leather jacket, played guitar in a band I'd seen at the Echo Room.

He lived in that falling-down house on Poplar Street that everybody called the commune. It was always packed with random people coming and going to buy acid or weed. It reeked of stale bong water and cigarettes.

After he’d borrowed the tape he just completely vanished.

I'd walked past his house twice a day for a week before I finally caught him at home. I had to practically hold him at gun point to get him to dig around in his trash pile of a room and find my tape. And when he handed it back, it was unspooled and crinkled. The one piece of music that mattered more to me than any other—destroyed.

He’d barely even apologized, just mumbled, “Sorry, man.”

So when I'd spotted the vinyl today, it was like Charlie finally glimpsing that corner of gold peeking from the candy wrapper. Trumpets. It had cost thirty bucks, but I didn't think twice. I needed it. Nathan's first time hearing it was going to be the best version possible. And this time I'd get to share it with someone who'd actually give a shit.

Nathan took a slow sip of his cappuccino, watching me juggle the bags. “Huck, are you sure you have all the right stuff for our costumes?"

I grinned at him over the lid of my cup. "Trust me. I have exactly what we need."

The vintage store had been a total bust. It was picked over and overpriced, but we'd managed to snag the last couple of pairs of vampire teeth. That was enough to solidify the Louis and Lestat plan. I could handle the rest from my own wardrobe.

Honestly, the thought of dressing Nathan—the idea of putting my clothes on his body—buttoning that white pirate shirt over his chest, adjusting the velvet jacket on his shoulders…

We crossed the street onto Old Campus and the world shifted. One minute we were in the middle of all that Halloween kitsch and café posing. The next, everything was quiet and gold. The sidewalks cut through the grass like paths made of milk. Leaves were blown back into thick, rust-colored drifts. The sky was so blue it looked like a Technicolor postcard someone had oversaturated on purpose. The white antebellum buildings rose up around us like bone palaces. Impossibly beautiful in that slanted light.

Nathan walked close beside me, our shoulders bumping every few steps. He’d positioned himself on the outside when we crossed the street, the way guys did with their girlfriends.

I wondered if people thought we were a couple. We probably looked like one.

His eyelashes were so much darker than his blond hair suggested they should be. They cast shadows on his cheeks when he blinked.

I looked away.

He wasn't my type. He was too wholesome and earnest. Too unscuffed. And he would've come out by now if he was going to.

What was with these guys, though? I knew at least two or three others in our circle who were definitely gay. I’d thought everybody used college as a chance to start over. To finally be themselves. I couldn't wait to get here and be out. Where was everybody else?

“Here's what I'm thinking for Louis. You can wear your black dress pants. And I have this smoky lavender-gray velvet jacket that’ll be perfect. It's a little big on me but it'll fit you better⁠—"