Page 2 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

I stupidly attempted to gesture with the hand that was holding my coffee. It sloshed, nearly spilling everywhere, and I fumbled my bags.

Nathan lunged forward and grabbed them before I dropped everything. His hand brushed mine. "Jesus." He was laughing. "You're gonna destroy that record before we even get it home."

My face burned. "Shut up."

"I'm gonna start keeping a log. Saturday, 4:10 PM. Huck cracks brand new fifty-dollar Cocteau Twins import."

“It's not an import. And it wasn’t that much.” I rolled my eyes, but I liked it when he teased me. It was familiar. Comfortable. Like we'd known each other for years.

"Anyway," I continued, being careful with my coffee now. "I have this blousy pirate shirt. White, with an open collar. Very Adam Ant. You're gonna look so fucking hot."

The word landed between us.

Nathan just grinned. "You're really into it.” For a second something shifted in his expression—his eyes went soft and focused entirely on me. But then he looked away, like he'd caught himself.

"I mean—yeah. It's Halloween. And it's Anne Rice." I tried to play it cool. "You don't think it's too much, do you? I mean, people are probably gonna read it a certain way."

He just shrugged. "Let them. I love Interview with the Vampire. We should go to New Orleans together for Mardi Gras.”

Together.

He said it like there was an "us" that extended into the future without question.

I managed to say, “That’d be cool.” I took a sip of my mocha to hide my face. It was too sweet, syrupy and lukewarm now, but I drank it anyway.

I'd suggested the Louis and Lestat costumes earlier in the week. Tentatively. I'd been worried he would realize how obviously gay it was. I'd been ready for him to back out. But he'd been eager. He'd immediately said he wanted to be Louis. Like there wasn't even another option.

Maybe he was just being naive. I wasn't going to talk him out of it.

We walked in silence for a bit. Just our shoes scuffing through fallen leaves—my granddad's wingtips and his Tretorns. Someone shouting across the quad. A university bus rumbling by on the perimeter road.

My mind drifted back to the record store.

The guy working there—an older guy in a Pixies t-shirt—had looked me up and down when he rang me up. Like he was testing me, he'd said, "Have you heard this?"

"Yeah, it’s incredible. I only had it on cassette though. I've been looking for the vinyl."

He handed me the paper bag and smirked. "Your boyfriend's gonna love it."

"Roommate,” I’d corrected him.

The guy had just shrugged. "Sure." Like he didn't believe me.

Blood had rushed to my face. I'd glanced over at Nathan to see if he'd heard.

He had. He'd just smiled.

Not embarrassed. Not defensive. Just... unbothered. Like he didn't mind at all if people thought we were together.

We were passing the Fine Arts building when I saw these two guys walking toward us, holding hands. Just swinging them back and forth and laughing about something. When they passed us, one of them gave me a knowing smile. It was the kind that said I see you.

Nathan was talking, but I hadn't been listening. The two guys went by, and I reminded myself to breathe.

His shoulder bumped mine again. He repeated his question about the show tonight. "Who else is going?"

“Um… Alex and Kelly,” I said. “Clint and Brian. The usual crowd."

The guy at the record store. The couple holding hands.