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“Wecan’t,”Dallaspoints out instantly.Hekeeps an iron grip on our budget so we don’t end up living in the streets. “Butimprovisation is free.”
Avintage red and white sign by the road announces theMoonlightDriveIn.Underneath, someone spelled out the movie names with little plastic letters.ThrowbackNight:IronManandGalaxyQuest.I’venever seen either one before.
Insteadof pulling into the line of cars, we keep driving a mile on to a dirt road blocked by a sagging metal gate.Scoutmurmurs something inRoman’sear, and he scrambles out to check.Sureenough, someone cut the chain a million years ago and just draped it over the lock for show.Hethrows it in the dirt and swings the gate wide enough for theCivicto creep through, then shuts it behind us.
“MybrotherJacksontold me he and his friends used to come up here,”Scoutexplains whileRomancatches up with the car.Gravelpops under our tires as we follow a winding path through the low hills, until he cuts the engine on a wide overlook a mile or so above the drive-in.Thesky is turning purple and hazy as tiny guys in orange vests direct the cars into rows in front of the screen.
Iget out and stretch, uncut grass tickling my ankles.It’sdead quiet up here.Wewon’t be able to hear the movies, so technically this is worse than just streaming them at home.Butit smells nice, and whenIturn aroundDallasis pulling blankets and pillows out of the hatchback whileTubbsbounds down and starts sniffing everyone’s feet.Witha bag of popcorn tucked under each arm, he turns around and offers me a bottle ofJackDaniel’swith a crooked smile. “Atoast to you.”
Ihave to shove my hands in my pockets asIstop in front of him, to hide how jumpy and awkward this makes me feel. “Why?”
“You’vegone to five whole meetings.”Hepeers up into my face, his brown eyes solemn. “We’reall so proud of you,Beck.Iknow it’s not easy.”
Imeet his stare, just for a second.Thisclose, between the two of us, he almost pulls the truth out of me.Butright whenIopen my mouth,Romanlaughs loudly andDalbounds away to finish setting up whatever movie-viewing throne he has in his head.
Scoutappears at my elbow and steals the whiskey.Theamber liquid sloshes as he takes a gulp, then taps the bottle against my shoulder. “Here’sto making it.”
“Whateverthat means,”Imumble.EversinceImet him as a dirty little kid,Scout’sdream has been tomake it.Wemade it out ofParadise, sure, but he wants more than that.Inhis perfect world, we can eat our fill and sleep safe at night.Wearen’t treated like trash the rest of the world throws out behind the dumpster.AndI’mnot in a gang.Hewon’t rest until every piece of his vision comes true.
“Maybewe should make resolutions,” he rambles like he’s already drunk, gesturing at the view.Histhroat bobs as he chugs another mouthful. “Everyyear we can measure how much has changed.”
Sometwisted part of me misses the old way.Paradisewas a hellhole, butIfitthere.Icould be wild and unchained, without the constant knowledge thatI’mnot good enough.Ibecame a man in that place.Iwatched my dad die and met all my best friends.Igot drunk and got stabbed and got laid there.Outhere,Idon’t know whatIam.
“Youthink too much, man.”Takingthe whiskey back,Idrink until the numb feeling starts.Scoutopens his mouth to protest, because that boy never stops pushing, but a whistle fromRomanhas him spinning around to watch his boyfriend’s hands as he waves us over.
Thetwo of them flop down withTubbsin the middle ofDallas’ blanket fort.Asthe darkness thickens into something silky and cool,Iprop my shoulder againstRoman’ssturdy back, whileDallassnuggles up on the far side ofScout.Thisfeels right.We’refour parts that make a whole, no matter what.
Themovie screen lights up, and we all whoop and whistle.Itplays some cartoon with dancing hot dogs and popcorn buckets, then jumps intoIronMan.Evenwithout sound, the plot is easy to follow.Duringthe long talking parts, we discuss whichMarvelcharacters we’d want to fuck.EveryonethinksI’dbe into someone snarky likeStar-Lord, butI’mtorn betweenBruceBanner’ssweet nerd energy andLoki, because his hair reminds me ofDallas’.Idon’t say the last part, though.
ScoutwantsTonyStarkas his mouthy sugar daddy, andRomandoes someGooglingbefore holding up a picture ofBlackWidow.Iraise an eyebrow at him, andDallasgiggles. “Hateto break it to you, pup,”Scoutteases, nuzzling his shoulder. “ButIthink you’re gay.”
Idon’t care,Rometypes emphatically into our group text chat.She’sway better than those other losers.Shedoesn’t even need powers.
“Fair.”Dallasshivers a little, pulling a blanket over his legs. “I’llgo withThor,Iguess.I’dlift his hammer any damn day.”Theboy hasn’t even had a sip of whiskey yet, but he cracks himself up and flops over into the pillows, snickering like he’s the funniest man alive.
Romanarranges an open bag of popcorn in his lap where we can all reach, and feeds half his pieces to the dog.Ihaven’t had so much salty-buttery goodness in such a long time, andIcan’t stop licking my fingers.Thewhiskey gets passed up and down the line until it’s empty and we’re all just the right amount of loose and tipsy.
Duringthe end credits of the first movie,Irealize thatScout,Roman, andTubbsare all asleep in a tangle of blankets and limbs.Dallaslooks across at me and grins.Iraise my eyebrows at him, pouring the rest of the popcorn straight into my mouth.
Ittakes the employees about ten minutes to change reels.GalaxyQuestis a lot harder to understand without voices, but it must be funny as shit because we can hear people laughing all the way up here.
Dallasyawns and stands up to stretch, arching his back and curling his bare toes into the blankets.Whenhe catches me watching him, he smiles and steps carefully overRoman’sbulk. “Boredof the movie?”Hedrops cross-legged next to me, right whereIwanted him in the first place.
“Ijust have no clue what’s going on.They’reat a space geek convention or something, but then there’s real aliens.”
Heshrugs. “Noidea.”
“Really?”Itoy with his soft, frizzy bun. “Youdidn’t memorize all the scripts so you could narrate for me?You’reslipping,Dal.”
“Hey.”Hischin tilts up until our eyes meet, our noses almost touching. “You’rea dick.”
“Iknow.”Imust be drunker than him, becauseI’mthe one who cracks up first this time.Theground is swaying a little, now thatIthink about it.Idrop my head against his shoulder to try and stabilize everything.
Themain character shoves his alien-head buddy into the wall as they argue, andDallaspipes up in a screechy, pissed-off voice.“Getthe fuck out of here,Bob.Ican’t fuck that blonde when she’s only hot for your nasty purple alien head.Howdo you do it?”
Grinning,Ivoice other guy with a sexy growl.“Maybeyou’re hot for the purple alien head,George.I’veseen you looking at me all day.Youwant me to invade your galaxy, huh?”
“I’llexplore every fucking black hole you have,”Dallaspurrs as the guys’ faces get closer and closer together. “Wait, are they actually gonna kiss?”
