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“Don’t worry about it,” Liz whispers. “The first dates are all practice. You’re allowed to stumble and search to get to the way it’s supposed to be.”
“What are those…voices?” Dennis intones.
“It’s only us!” Avery calls, stepping forward.
—
Ryan and Averydon’t get to talk much that night. The reality of exam week is kicking in for Avery, and Ryan, whose exams are a different week, understands. They both wish they were in the same classes, in the same place.
Ryan swears to Avery that at leastsomestudying would get done. But maybe not a lot.
—
Saturday arrives. Averymakes sure his studying is conspicuous, so his parents don’t give him any grief when it’s time for him to take off for dinner. He and Ryan talked about dressing up for the date, since it’s a Saturday night and all, so he’s got on a jacket and tie. (The jacket is forest green; the tie, Fanta orange.)
There’s some traffic, but Avery still gets there first. They’ve chosen a Greek place called Parthenon, mostly because there’s a dish on the menu described as “flaming cheese.”
The waitress is a woman with witch-black hair and magenta earrings. Seeing Avery’s tie, she asks, “Special occasion?”
“A date,” he replies.
“First date?”
“Seventh.”
She smiles. “Still counting them and still dressing up, eh? Bodes well.”
The time for the date arrives and passes. Avery checks his phone. After ten minutes of checking, he sees the waitress giving him pitying looks. He texts Ryan to make sure he’s okay. Ryan answers by walking in the door.
He’s not wearing a jacket or a tie, just a button-down shirt.
There’s also something different about his hair. Avery can’t figure it out at first. Then he realizes: bluer.
“I’m so sorry,” Ryan says as he sits down. “It was a total shit show. My parents didn’t want me to come. I told them that being ungrounded wasn’t a conditional thing, and that once they told me I wasn’t grounded, that meant I could make plans. I won’t give you all the details, but basically it ended with me shouting something like ‘You don’t know me at all!’ and then driving away. It’s so stupid.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t been here long,” Avery assures him.
“It’s not okay. But thanks for saying it is.” Ryan reaches into his back pocket and pulls something out. A wrapped-up gift? No, a rolled-up tie.
“I swear, I was going to wear this,” Ryan says. “I tried putting it on, like, five different times at five different stoplights. I’m just not very good at it.”
As if to prove his point, he tries to loop it around and make it take a proper shape. It ends up looking like two hands of a clock frozen at four-forty.
“Goddammit,” Ryan says, and Avery can see where this is going. The fluster will only accelerate, feed on itself. So instead of sitting there watching Ryan curse and try again, he stands up and says, “Here, let me.” He walks behind Ryan, puts his hands on his shoulders, squeezing a greeting, then leans over and undoes the clock hands. He’s never done this before on anyone else, so he pretends it’s his body, his tie. He lets the head of the tie dangle lower than the tail, then begins its sinuous dance, around, around. Thenhe lifts it to Ryan’s neck, feels how Ryan holds his breath, smells Ryan’s shampoo. The dance pulls in, becomes a knot. Gently, Avery guides the tie along Ryan’s buttons. Then he tightens the grip.
There.
He folds Ryan’s collar back over. Taps him on the shoulder again, all done.
Ryan remembers to breathe.
Avery thinks about reaching out to touch Ryan’s hair, but it looks so inky, he feels his fingers may come away blue if they make contact. He sits back down and admires his handiwork. Ryan thanks him, and Avery waves the thanks away.
“You look nice,” Avery says.
“You look spectacular,” Ryan says.
The waitress, who’s been watching it all with a smile, waits for a pause before bringing the menus.
