by Talya Andor
*~*~*
Twin beams of light cut a swath through October darkness as a silver Lexus coasted to a stop in the middle of the block and pulled over to the curb and crouched there. Soren unbuckled his seatbelt and sat for a second, then shook himself, glancing over at Lucas. "I feel like if I let you out of my sight you'll change your mind."
"What are you talking about?"
"This," Soren replied, leaning through the space between and catching Lucas by surprise. Lucas's mouth tasted as he remembered, perhaps given a bit more flavor from the stir fry at dinner but captivating nonetheless. Then his lips parted, and time slowed.
When Soren finally pulled back, Lucas was gripping his shoulder.
"Mm," Lucas hummed, opening his eyes. "You don't have anything to worry about, you know." He grinned.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait," Lucas called, his grip sliding from Soren's shoulder to his hand as Soren began to exit the car.
"Hmm…?"
"Look…" Lucas paused. "You really, truly don't have anything to worry about. Now that I can appreciate what I can have with you, I want to…I want to be with you. Okay?" He bit his lip, expression somewhere between worried and pleading.
Soren regarded him for a moment, then squeezed his fingers and let go. "Okay. Goodnight." He shut the door.
Lucas's words kept an incredulous smile on his face clear up the drive and into the house. And then his mother's words rang sharp and loud clear from the kitchen as Soren entered the side door of his house. "Where have you been?"
Soren's head jerked around. It wasn't often that his mother used a tone like that; she tended to reserve it for major transgressions.
He blinked when she flipped the overhead kitchen lights on and they dazzled him. "I told you," he said, bewildered. "I was out having dinner at a friend's house. I'm twenty years old and I even called to let you know—"
"Don't give me that line. If you weren't having dinner with Sloane, then where were you?"
That took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Soren nearly laughed aloud. "I was out with a friend," he said, annoyed. "You think I don't have other friends?"
Claire opened her mouth, took a breath, then visibly hauled herself short. Soren stepped into the kitchen, hefting his bag and giving her a wary once-over. She was gripping the kitchen table hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. "Why are you so upset?" he asked.
"I…nothing. So where were you?"
"Out." Soren saw Claire's eyes flash at the evasion. Wait, it isn't any big secret. "Someone from work. Lucas. Okay?"
Claire nodded and swiped at the straggling dark hairs that had escaped from her bun. "Call Sloane," she said, pushing up away from the table.
"I'm going to see her tomorrow, anyway."
Claire all but snorted fire. "A girl likes to be called," she said, and left him with that. In the distance, the chatter and hum of the TV droned on, underscored by the patter of a laugh track. Claire paused in the doorway to the family room, her face unreadable.
"Whatever, Mom," Soren sighed, hitching his bag up again. Why had he brought so many books to work? Right…he had intended to study after his last class, before Lucas had suggested they meet.
Footsteps dogged him through the darkened house and creaked up the stairs behind him. It was clear he was being followed. Soren paused at the door to his corner room, and cast a glance over his shoulder. "Morgan," he said with exasperation. "Make it count."
"I will, I will!" Morgan, the youngest Wilkenson girl, was a pert and pretty copy of Claire. Her long black hair was twisted back in a chignon with wispy strands escaping it to frame her face. Her eyes, like their father's, were a keen and discerning brown. At fourteen she was leggy but hadn't quite outgrown her baby fat, although everyone expected that to melt away the more her track team's practices picked up.
Soren kicked open his door and dumped his bag on the floor. He wasn't tired, exactly, but his head was swimming-full from the day and everything that had occurred. He had a boyfriend. The smile was never going to leave his face.
Morgan hovered on the threshold, clinging to the doorframe with an uncertain look. "Soren, what's going on?"
Scraping hair away from his face and searching his pockets for his hair tie, Soren quickly glanced at her. "What do you mean, what's going on?" Of all his sisters, he was closest to Morgan; she had always been bright and creative, with more follow-through than he possessed. He was protective of her. If Claire tried to push her into accounting or business, he'd have a few things to say about it.
"You and Mom have been fighting a lot."
"Not really. Not any more than usual."
"And…" Morgan hesitated, kicking one foot over the floor back and forth, heel, heel-toe, toe-heel. "You seem different."
Soren, distracted by her kicking, dragged his eyes back up to her face, honestly confused. He fished his tie out and gathered his hair back. "What are you talking about, Morgan?" He leaned over and flipped his computer on while he waited for her answer.
"Well…right now?" She scrunched her face up. "You seem happier, Soren. Today, anyhow. Happier than I've seen you in a long time."
Soren pressed his lips together, ducking his head so that Morgan couldn't see his expression. The kind of revelation he'd had wasn't one his parents would appreciate him sharing.
"I've got a lot of homework, squirt," he said finally, typing in his password. "What are you guys doing downstairs, watching a movie?"
"No…just TV." Suddenly, Morgan put on a forlorn puppy look.
Soren laughed. "No, I'm not buying it, squirt. I really do have papers to finish." Especially if he was going to be able to see Lucas as much as he wanted after work the next day.
"Fine," Morgan said, making a face at him, "but you're no fun!" Bringing down her foot in one last dramatic stomp, she turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Soren smiled and opened his internet browser, thinking briefly of Sloane. He probably should have called. If she came over, even so late in the evening, he'd be about ten times more productive because she was so fierce whenever she heard chat program noises coming from his speakers.
True to expectation, as soon as he'd pulled up his College Writing paper, a soft chime let him know he had a message waiting. Flushed with happiness, he toggled over to it.
TruBishounen: Now, I've left you all of ten minutes, and you abandon me for the internet.
Soren couldn't help it, he laughed aloud.
Dawntreader: Nothing personal, but you know, the lure of writing a paper was too great to resist.
TruBishounen: Miss you.
Soren hesitated. That was the kind of honesty he had trouble with, even with respect to his own responses. But it was true, wasn't it? They'd been apart maybe a quarter of an hour, a little more if that, and…
Dawntreader: Miss you too.
TruBishounen: If you lived in the dorms you could still be here. *poke*
Dawntreader: Ha, like Lisa.
TruBishounen: Yeah, she's pretty much the fifth member of our pack.
Soren's closed College Writing syllabus and notes were by his elbow, and he reluctantly flipped them open. Lucas was his incentive to actually finish the thing, not linger over and ultimately ignore it.
First, though, there was something he wanted to tell Lucas, and he didn't know if he had the courage just yet to say it out loud. It was easier when it was only words on the screen.
Dawntreader: Look, I'm a coward.
TruBishounen: Huh? What? Why?
Dawntreader: This afternoon I wanted to go further, you know.
TruBishounen: Don't worry about it.
Dawntreader: I do. I can't help it. I worry…I mean, I want to be enough for you. All of it.
TruBishounen: I already told you, you'll be worth the wait. *lecherous leer*
Dawntreader: Ha, think you're going to scare me?
TruBishounen: That's exactly what I want to avoid…Look, it's better not to rush it.
TruBishounen: The sexual chemistry is definitely there.
Soren turned away from the monitor, smiling faintly.
Dawntreader: Thank you, gentleman pervert.
TruBishounen: I'll remember you called me that.
TruBishounen: How exactly would one dress up as that for Halloween?
Six
The apartment was quiet, and a single light burned in Lucas's room. His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, pausing occasionally as he chewed his lip over a particular turn of phrase. He had tied his hair at his nape, and a Marketing Strategies text lay open beside him on the desk as he hunched over his laptop.
"Knock, knock," Brandon called from the threshold of Lucas's open bedroom door. "Burning the midnight oil, aren't you?"
Lucas looked up from his computer. "You should take Applied Rhetoric. Learn to stop using clichés."
"Ha ha, you're funny like a brain tumor," Brandon drawled, entering uninvited.
"What's up?" Lucas spun his chair toward Brandon and crossed his arms.
Brandon hesitated just inside the room, his eyes flickering around.
Lucas observed him for a moment, guessing that Brandon didn't know whether to sit or stand. His step-mother's painstaking coordination hadn't allowed for many places to sit, and Lucas kept his books on the room's recliner instead of storing them on his computer desk hutch. When Brandon shifted from one foot to the other, he took pity. At least his friend had come to talk, rather than stewing over it by himself.
"Sit," Lucas said, pointing to the bed with his pen.
Brandon sighed. "Fine." As he took a seat on the edge of the bed, Lucas swiveled his chair all the way around from his desk to face him. "About today…"
Lucas narrowed his eyes. "I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true."
Brandon frowned. "What?"
"You're not really okay with it, are you? You were just being polite because Soren was there, and you were caught off-guard."
Brandon laughed, and Lucas glared at him. "Naw, man, if anything, being caught off-guard makes me angry. You already saw angry." He tucked a leg up beneath him, shaking his head. Lucas continued to frown. "That's why I came—I just wanted to make sure you knew it doesn't change anything. Ass. You think I'm that bad?"
Lucas let his tension dissipate, and dropped his arms, resting his hands on his thighs. Relief flooded him. "I figured. I mean, no, I don't think you're that bad." Hoped you weren't. He was gratified. There was no knowing, not for sure, until the subject came up like it had today.
"Right, you figured," Brandon said wryly. "Bit of a shock, you know? First to hear it from the resident Jack-Ass, then to see you walk into the kitchen hand in hand with another guy."
Lucas shook his head. "I know. That's the problem with being bisexual. Hardly anyone understands it, straight or gay. Both camps think you've got to be one or the other."
"Is Soren okay with it?"
"I think so." Lucas frowned. It had come up, briefly enough for Lucas to assure Soren he was monogamous, and Soren hadn't quizzed him on the subject. "He seems to be."
Brandon paused. "What about your parents?"
Lucas shook his head. "They're Catholic. Nominally, at least. You know what that means. It's not that they don't know or suspect. It's that they won't let themselves realize."
"They don't want to deal with it."
"Got it in one."
"So we're okay?" Brandon asked, gesturing across the space between them. "You and me."
Lucas raised his brows. "I thought that was my question." He didn't have an issue with Brandon; he'd only worried his friend might hold it against him, not having divulged his secret sooner.
Brandon shook his head with a chuckle. "It's none of my business who you date—but you already know that. You being with Soren isn't going to change my mind about our friendship, man. If anything, actually…I think he should be good for you." He clapped his hands on his thighs and stood.
Lucas leaned back in his chair. "Yeah…hope he gives me the chance to find out."
Brandon laughed and headed for the door. "Now, that's all up to you."
*~*~*
In the late hours when the only sound on the second floor was the clack of keys and the only light was cast by a single desk lamp, a knock sounded on Soren's door. Before he even had time to lift his head, the door creaked open behind him.
"Mom," Soren said, exasperated. "Can't you pause for an answer before you come in?"
Claire opened the door wider and clicked on Soren's floor lamp. "Don't you give me lip, young man." Her mouth was still tight, and it was as if they'd never left off the argument from earlier.
"No, I mean it," Soren said, swiveling in his chair to face her. It had bothered him before, but he'd never spoken up. "The only reason I haven't moved out is because I give Dad all my extra money to help with college, because you're paying my tuition. I'd appreciate my privacy. After all, you never know what you'll walk in on." His mouth quirked as he wondered what she'd think if he had Lucas over with the door shut.
She would probably think they were studying hard. Unlike with Sloane.
Claire regarded him for a moment, then nodded. In that instant, in the light of the floor lamp that stood by Soren's door, he could see the worry lines in her face. "I'll try to remember," she said, then gestured toward the bed. "Can I sit?"
"I guess."
Claire sat with a sigh. "You know, we used to talk a lot more when you were in high school."
"Things were different in high school," Soren said, not without a pang. Back then, it had been harder for him in a lot of ways, and he had crowded close to his mother as an antidote for the things he hadn't wanted to deal with.
"I came to ask if you want to go with us on the family trip," Claire said, crossing her legs neatly beneath her patterned house dress and folding her hands over her knee. "It's coming up in a couple of months, and you still haven't given us an answer."
"Disneyland?" Soren tried not to make a face, but Claire smiled at him, and he knew he had. "Are you sure even Ricky wants to go?"
"Yes, and I think this is our last chance to take him. Next year, he'll grow out of cartoons and start on…oh, I don't know, monster trucks or something."
"Some people never grow out of cartoons." Soren smiled and shook his head slightly. "No, thanks. I thought I would stay home, catch up on homework. And I think they'll need me at the store. Practically all the other college kids are going on trips."
"With that wonderful work ethic, all you need is some focus," Claire commented, tilting her head to give him a meaningful look.
"Argh, Mom, don't start. It's late, and I still have an assignment to finish."
Claire sighed. "You can't put off career planning forever, Soren. Just think about it, okay?"
"I will. I told you I will," Soren said, and gestured at his pile of folders, splayed in disarray. "There's a career packet in there. It's kind of hard to find time in between school, schoolwork, and actual work, you know."
"Just don't use it as an excuse to not really consider your future. This is important."
Soren decided it was time for a different tactic. "Anyhow, I'm probably going to do some stuff with my friends over the break."
"With Sloane?" Claire looked positively girlish over the prospect.
Soren shifted uncomfortably. "I have other friends…" he began, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well, I haven't seen them," Claire said with some asperity. "That's another thing, Soren, that's changed since high school: you had a good circle of friends back then. I hate to see you so alone."
"It's different in college," Soren said slowly, mulling over how much to tell her just yet. He was surprised his earlier happiness hadn't manifested itself outwardly like some sort of all-encompassing glow. Morgan had certainly seemed to pick up on it. "I…I'm happy, Mom. I think I'm finally finding my footing. Besides…" He hesitated. Lucas was all he could think about. Serendipity. It was unreal and amazing.
/> "Soren?"
"Lucas…" Soren swallowed. He and his mother had been close, so close that he already knew what she would think—to a degree, already knew what she might say. His happiness retracted deep within, shriveling from the prospect. "Lucas from work…he's becoming a really good friend."
Claire studied his face. "That's good to hear."
*~*~*
The hiss of steaming milk and the ticking steady churn of the espresso bar dominated the morning clatter of the St. Johns store, underlaid by the bustle of people crowding into line and shuffling at the end of the bar for drink pick-up. Through it all came the steady calls, a female voice rising over the din to announce drinks: the lattes, the mochas, the grande frappuccinos, or someone's tongue-twisting custom beverage. Lucas scanned the store over with a critical eye; it looked sloppy, papers discarded across half the empty tables on the floor, empty cups and plates perched precariously on table-edges, waiting for an elbow to bring them crashing down. It had all the earmarks of a busy morning. Behind the bar, Sloane worked with an intent look on her pretty heart-shaped face, her bobbed hair pulled back with clips and barrettes.
Lucas caught sight of Aaron behind the register, talking to the next customer in line, and grimaced. That was not what he'd hoped for the day's shift. At that moment, Aaron smiled, saying something undoubtedly flip and charming, and Lucas shook his head as he skirted the line for the employee entrance to the service island. Aaron could be great to people he didn't know.
Lucas moved nimbly past Monica as she bagged pastries for a customer and gave her a token hello that she did not return. So it was going to be that kind of morning.
It was hot in the back room, and Lucas passed the whirring dishwasher as he headed for the apron nook, letting his bag slide off his shoulder and into his hand. Soren was beside the aprons and slipping one over his head, dark hair already pulled back at his nape.
"Good morning," Lucas murmured, creeping up and snaking his arms around Soren from behind.
Soren started violently with a yelp. The back of his head clacked against Lucas's jaw.
"Sorry!" The next thing Lucas saw after the stars was Soren peering up at him anxiously, hands on his shoulders. "You scared the shit out of me, Lucas. Make some noise next time!"