Plaid Nights Anthology

by Torquere Press LLC

  But then, Eric spent an entire hour running into people in this guy’s class, until Rob literally took him by the hand and led him through it. Hopefully that means luck is on his side.

  He stops worrying when the music starts up and Rob starts to dance. He’d been good in class, at least as far as Eric had been able to tell, but he’s clearly in his element here, and he shines.

  The music is lively, the mood of the crowd is bright, and aside from his growing apprehension at completely not having a plan, Eric’s having fun. He ends up grinning and tapping his feet along to the beat which is all well and good until Rob, looking out over the crowd as he weaves successfully through a reel, catches his eye.

  His face registers no reaction—not surprise, or pleasure, or displeasure—at seeing Eric there. Clearly he has his dance-game-face on, and Eric’s not even sure Rob recognizes him. He could just be making eye contact with everyone in the crowd.

  Except, Rob’s eyes keep coming back to him and unlike Eric, he seems totally able to split his attention between what his feet are doing, and what he’s staring at. As the group he’s performing with moves onto their second and third pieces it becomes increasingly clear to Eric that yes, Rob really is looking right back at him.

  Still, he attempts to corroborate this with Amara because confirmation bias is a real thing, but she’s busy staring at Megan.

  “New target?” he murmurs to her.

  “Mmmmmhmm.”

  When the set is over, Eric applauds enthusiastically along with the rest of the crowd. He still doesn’t have a plan, which is rapidly becoming a more acute issue. Rob, and the rest of his group, move off the stage. As far as Eric knows this is all the dancing Rob is doing today, and he’s about to go home. And although Eric could, theoretically, table this until another day, going to another dance class seems likely to test the good graces of his fellow students beyond what is prudent.

  But no matter what he does, he has very little to lose. So Eric gets to his feet and skirts around the edge of the audience to the area behind the stage. He means to hang at the margins of the little group of people milling around backstage, and perhaps catch Rob’s eye from across the crowd. What he manages to do instead is to run smack into Rob as he’s bent over adjusting a garter.

  Eric apologizes, tripping over the words, while Rob straightens up. Eric had forgotten just how tall he was.

  “It’s okay,” Rob says with a smile. “Not the first time you’ve crashed into me.”

  “At least now I’m limiting my collateral damage?”

  Rob chuckles and, to Eric’s absolute delight, puts his hand on Eric’s back to steer him out of the gaggle of people.

  “What are you doing here?” Rob asks, clearly vastly amused. “This doesn’t strike me as your scene.”

  “Wellllll,” Eric says. “I, um. Was hoping to see you.”

  “I left that much of an impression?” Rob says with a grin.

  “And you were staring at me for half the set!” Before Eric can lose his nerve, he says, “I mean, I realize I kinda stalked you here and that’s a bit weird, and so like it’s probably in my best interests to play it really safe right now, but I make decisions impulsively and can I just buy you a cup of coffee over at the coffee tent food thingy?” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of a concession stand.

  ***

  Somehow, despite Eric’s pathetic awkwardness, they wind up in crappy plastic folding chairs that sink into the soft grass. Every couple of minutes one of them has to shift their seat around in an attempt to find a more solid bit of ground. The coffee is weak, but it’s hot, which Eric appreciates especially since the day has clouded over and a breeze has started to pick up.

  He forgets the spring chill in the air, though, when he and Rob start to talk.

  Eric had been worried that they’d have nothing to actually talk about, and that after the first thrill of sitting down across from Rob things would be totally silent and completely awkward. But then Rob asks him about his coursework.

  In the end, they barely even talk about Scottish dance at all. Instead, they talk about coding and programming, and tell each other hilarious stories about the people they work with and the completely inappropriate notes they leave in their code. Even if Eric had never danced with Rob he’d be delighted by the conversation; Rob is funny, quick, and asks all the questions Eric wishes people would ask him about his work.

  Eric also learns that Rob is not married, and is definitely gay, or at least bi. He mentions a guy in his department he dated once, and makes a couple of references to “Megan’s mother” that Eric doesn’t feel quite bold enough to follow up on. Maybe on their second date. And yes, he’s totally counting this conversation as their first.

  “So we’ve established why you’re here today. What brought you to the Scottish Country Dance doorstep in the first place?” Rob asks as he swirls the dregs of his coffee around in his cup.

  “See, if you don’t ask me that question, I don’t have to look like a really pathetic kid.”

  “You showed up at my Highland games with the avowed purpose of stalking me. You can’t dig yourself deeper.” Rob is smiling, though.

  “Fine. You know Amara?”

  “The girl you came to the class with?”

  “Yeah. She has a crush on Elizabeth.”

  “Oh is that what that was all about?” Rob asks, like everything that had gone sideways with his dance class suddenly makes sense.

  Eric nods. “She hauled me along to wingman. Which I. Ah. Kind of completely failed to do.”

  Rob nods sympathetically, though a smile teases at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t seem to regret that particular turn of events.”

  “No. Not really, no.”

  “Me neither.”

  “So why did you say yes to coffee with the crazy creepy stalker kid?” Eric asks.

  “You’re lovely to dance with. And the following me to a performance was new. I wanted to see what you would do.”

  ***

  Eric looks up at the sky when he feels the first drops of rain. Somehow in the time they’ve been talking the clouds have become low, dark, and threatening. Activity picks up around the field, where people are gathering up blankets and coolers and migrating under tents and trees.

  “I should probably get Amara,” Eric says regretfully. “She’ll really never forgive me if I leave her out in the rain.”

  “Can I walk you back?” Rob asks, a distinct note of hope in his voice.

  “Yeah. Of course.” Eric grins.

  Eric sends Amara a text—Mission successful, meet me at the car so we don’t melt?—while Rob tosses out their empty Styrofoam cups.

  He doesn’t get a reply, but doesn’t really mind. The longer Amara takes to find him, the longer he has with Rob.

  They keep talking as they make their way back to the parking lot, making a detour to a little tent where Rob left his stuff, so he can change from dance shoes into proper sneakers for the rather wet walk. Eric’s pleased when he does not change out of his kilt.

  At the car, there’s no sign of Amara. Eric considers texting her again, but she can’t possibly have gotten lost and also, he doesn’t want to hasten the end of this not-quite-a-date-but-totally-a-date with Rob. However, it’s raining now in earnest, and he doesn’t actually want to get absolutely soaked.

  So he opens the hatchback of his car, drops down on the tailgate, and pats the spot next to him.

  “Out of the rain?” he offers. “Or like, if you have to go do other stuff?”

  “No, no, this is good,” Rob says, and sits down next to him.

  It’s not a big car and there’s not that much room. Eric can feel the warmth of him and the occasional scratch of Rob’s kilt when it brushes against his leg. They talk more, but quietly now, occasionally pausing just to listen to the rain or for approaching footsteps. Eric still wonders when Amara is going to show up. Probably at an extremely inopportune time.

  Rob has been receptive to his
initiative before—not to mention his brazenness—so Eric finally gives up on holding back and slides his hand into Rob’s.

  It’s hardly the first time they’ve held hands; after all, they spent the better part of an hour dancing together in class. But this is different and without excuse. Rob’s touch is firm and sure.

  Rob laughs when Eric first leans in, which might not be the best sign, but then, they’re sitting in his hatchback in the rain in a parking lot in the middle of Mumford. It’s absurd. Eric laughs, too, and kisses him.

  Rob runs his hand up Eric’s arm and into his hair, and they’ve now officially gone from absurdly kissing in basically the trunk of Eric’s car, to making out in it. Intensely. Even with the back of the car open, Eric suspects they’re going to steam the windows.

  It gets out of hand quickly, except, there’s nowhere it can particularly go. They just fit well together, and the chemistry they’d had even in that one incredibly awkward dance class is very much in play. Rob guides Eric, with his hands and mouth and little wordless murmurs, exactly where he wants him to go. Which is how Eric ends up crowded against the inside of his car, with Rob’s hands in his hair, wondering vaguely how far it’s reasonable and practical to take this.

  He gropes for the collar of Rob’s shirt, just to see, and manages to get his fingers caught in his hatchback’s weird trunk netting he’s never been sure how to use. Trying to shake them loose only gets them more tangled. Somehow in the process he slips and bangs his head on the side of the car.

  “Are you okay?” Rob is instantly all concern, and he runs his hand over the back of Eric’s head as if checking for a lump. All Eric can do, though, is laugh, and Rob soon joins in. The whole situation is just way too ridiculous.

  Before Eric can either gather up his composure or jump Rob again, he hears the crunch of gravel as someone walks toward the car. He jerks his head up—managing to whack it on the window this time—and sees Amara, walking side by side with Megan.

  Rob, following Eric’s gaze, turns to look over his shoulder. At the sight of not only Eric’s friend but his own daughter, he whips his head back around and scrambles to sit upright. Eric starts laughing and can’t make himself stop. Amara and Megan freeze, staring at them—or rather, Amara is staring at them. Megan is staring anywhere but them.

  “Hey, Mar?” Eric finally manages to say.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes.”

  “But you’re already at the car.”

  “Five! Minutes!”

  “Okayyyyy,” Amara says, but she certainly looks happy enough to grab Megan’s hand and pull her away again.

  As soon as they’re out of sight, Eric sits up and faces Rob, who looks equal parts horrified and amused. “So. We’re not going to talk about any of that right now, but before she comes back let’s make actual plans. So I don’t have to stalk you again.”

  Rob laughs, and leans forward to kiss him again, softly. “Dinner next weekend?” he asks against Eric’s mouth. “And dancing, if you want, but that is entirely up to you.”

  The End

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