Page 6 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

The song shifted. Suddenly soared. The guitars opened up and her voice climbed higher, and it sounded like she was singing now we are angels, even though I knew the words weren't real words at all.

It gave me chills. I didn't let myself tear up this time, but I could have.

I looked over at Nathan to see if he felt it too.

He was grinning like someone who'd witnessed a magic trick for the hundredth time and still couldn't believe it.

I was smiling the same way.

He turned his head on the pillow and caught me watching. Our faces were close. Closer than they'd ever been.

He didn't look away.

His mouth was slightly open. He had a faint crease in his bottom lip. Even in the gloom between the bunks his hazel eyes glowed with their own light.

We lay there, not moving, barely breathing. The smoke from the cigarette still hung in the air above us.

I thought about the first time I'd met him. How disappointed I'd been that my randomly assigned roommate was wearing a rugby shirt. How I'd been ready to tolerate him at best.

And then I'd realized he was listening to Love and Rockets. And I'd seen the stereo—that beautiful, expensive tower on the dresser—and I'd thought Okay. Maybe this won't be so bad.

I'd brought my own turntable—a shitty little bookshelf stereo that sounded tinny as hell—but after hearing Nathan's system, I'd left mine in the closet. I'd take it home at Thanksgiving.

I'd learned later that he’d worked a construction job all summer to buy it. His mom had been furious. She’d wanted him to save the money for his college expenses. But he’d bought it anyway.

It was the one thing he'd chosen entirely for himself.

Nathan had been cool with me putting up my giant Smiths poster. I'd pointed out that we now had a shirtless man taking up half the wall, but he didn't blink.

He said, "I like The Smiths.”

A straight boy who at least liked Love and Rockets and The Smiths. I could deal with that.

That first weekend, we'd gone out with my new friend Alexandria and her roommate Kelly to a dance club downtown called 527. The girls had been asking about our dating histories, and I'd just… blurted it out. That I was gay. Nathan had flushed, but he'd acted nonchalant. And when Alex had asked him if he’d dated anyone in high school, he'd said no. Never. Not once.

I'd gotten the feeling he was a virgin, and that he probably wouldn't want the girls digging for more about that.

So I'd changed the subject.

Since then, he and I had become… something. Best friends, I guessed. We talked about music constantly. He knew bands I'd never expected him to know—Dead Can Dance, The Creatures, This Mortal Coil. Seriously goth shit. And he had books I loved, too—Anne Rice, especially. We’d obsessed over Lestat for hours when we first met.

It was the first time I realized his taste went deeper than whatever he was wearing.

Three weeks ago, we'd driven down to Athens with a bunch of friends to see Throwing Muses at Uptown Lounge. The car had been packed, and I'd ended up sitting on Nathan's lap—his thighs solid beneath me, his breath warm against my neck when he laughed at something someone said. He hadn't complained or acted weird about it at all. And we’d spent the return trip in the same position without question or comment.

He was impossible to read. He liked bands that frat boys were usually blasting—R.E.M., INXS, The Cult—but he also knew obscure 4AD stuff. He never did that bullshit locker-room talk that guys usually did, even the ones who were supposed to be "alternative."

But he'd also never given me a reason to think he wasn't straight.

I'd promised myself a long time ago I'd never crush on a straight guy. I'd watched a friend in high school do that over and over—falling for guys he couldn't have, demeaning himself, getting his heart broken by the type who might make out with you when he's wasted enough.

I'd vowed I'd never be that pathetic.

And I didn't want to be somebody's experiment. I'd been that already—three different guys in our friend group, all obviously gay, all still closeted, had drunkenly messed around with me in the first few weeks of school. I was tired of being these boys' first time.

I wanted to actually date someone. Someone who was out. I wanted to hold hands walking across campus. Be a couple.

I'd said as much to Nathan a few weeks ago.