Something vulnerable touched his face—a shift in our dynamic. I, the powerful one for once, while he was caught in longing. “And I’ve noticed.”
Against all reason, I stirred a little closer, close enough for him to hear me whisper, “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop what?”
“Noticing.”
A hint of a smile, his eyes on my lips. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He went to get us some food while I was left with the daunting task of finding us somewhere to sit. Wading through the crowd, overwarm under the colorful fluorescence of several coin-operated games and loud kiddie rides, I finally spotted an empty bench next to the claw machines no one was lining up for.
Moments later, Kai, a head taller than everyone else, scanned the place for me, and I waved my hands back and forth to catch his attention. When he finally spotted me, he came over and set out on the bench our picnic of hot dogs, fries, ice cream sandwiches, and cherry-flavored sodas.
“They were out of the popsicles, sorry,” he said as he unbuttoned his coat. “I got you some ice cream instead. Hope that’s alright.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I chuckled, patting through my bag for my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“No,” was all he said, settling down on the other side of the bench.
“Kai,” I persisted.
“No, I’m not taking your money. I asked you out.”
“Yes, but it’s not a date.”
He popped one of the soda cans open and held it out for me. “So what? Friends cannot treat friends?”
Flattered by his generosity, I dropped my wallet back into my bag and accepted the soda. “Fine. But next time, I’m definitely treating you. Hopefully they’ll have the popsicles too.”
“Are you planning on making me eat like this again?”
“Only if you let me.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m doomed, then.”
Yes, Kai exercised and cooked and watched his diet. I’d seen his polished cooking pans dangling over the stove that day at his apartment. I’d seen his CDs and the black-blue bottle of his cologne on the nightstand. I’d seen his unmade bed and his fresh laundry swaying in the wind. What an odd pleasure I found in knowing these things, in knowing him in a way that perhaps others didn’t.
After we were finished eating, Kai went to discard the empty plates and napkins in one of the trashcans and returned with a new pack of cigarettes, slim and unflavored, the kind I liked to smoke. Neither of us reached for them, though. With nothing on the bench between us, we found ourselves sitting closer, so close that for several moments I stopped producing coherent thoughts. I could only feel him, the measure of his breathing and the radiating heat of his body making me all tender and weak. Every time I moved, my shoulder brushed his arm, and every time I took a breath, I was able to smell the fragrance of his cologne. Fresh. Masculine.
“You know,” he rasped, breaking at last the tension of our silence, “there was an arcade like this in my old neighborhood too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I used to go in with my friends all the time. Sometimes right after school. It drove my mother crazy.”
At the mention of his mother, a sprout of unease flourished in my chest. Warily, like sailing upon a sheet of frost, I asked, “Are you close with your parents?”
A divot carved between his brows as he too came to realize the unpleasant turn this conversation could take. “Yeah, but we don’t have to talk about that.”
“No, I’m interested to know,” I claimed, constrained in my response.
He looked at me, unconvinced. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well,” he exhaled, “my dad is a kindergarten teacher, and my mom has a shop over at Green Street. She sells jewelry. They live close by, so I see them a lot, especially on the weekends.”
