“Good, good. I knew Uncle Leon ran a business when I was little, but my parents always referred to it as an ‘adult eatery,’ so naturally I begged to be taken any chance we went out for dinner to prove I was an adult. I just assumed by an ‘adult eatery,’ they meant the place only served, like, salads and Brussels sprouts and other stuff kids hate. Being a middle child is such a burden.” His eye roll is fantastically over the top. “On my eighteenth birthday, my older brothers, David and Dale, brought me here for the first time to ogle the waitresses and fill in the family-business blanks I’d been missing.” He hesitates, then adds, “Obviously that’s when I was still letting people assume I was straight.”
“I know that feeling. Always being on the defensive. Thinking it’s easier to just let people project onto you rather than make any hasty declarations of your own.” I don’t even know where this is coming from. Maybe it’s my current insecurities over my sexuality, but Derick’s vigorous nod tells me he knows exactly what I mean.
The wings arrive in steaming paper-lined baskets. Leon sets down silverware, a pitcher of water, and wet wipes for when we’re done. Lastly, he places before us a wooden platter with the largest stalk of celery I’ve ever seen and what appears to be a freshly sharpened butcher’s knife on it.
“Eat up, champs.” Leon gives us a wink before leaving.
I’m certain my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t quite find the hinges to hike it up. Derick has his phone out and is snapping a pic. He sends it in a group chat with his brothers, chuckling all the while. The goofy GIFs roll in right away.
“Classic, Uncle Leon,” Derick mumbles before getting his hands down and dirty in the dry rub. He picks up the plumpest wing in the mix. It’s animalistic the way he devours it down to the bone in four bites.
Hunger overtaking me, I claim one with my fork and use the nearby knife to start cutting it up.
Derick places a hand on mine to stop me. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t like eating certain foods with my hands. Too messy,” I say, evidenced by how he’s got wing juice all over his fingers and lips. As if he can hear my thoughts, he runs his tongue across his prominent, pink Cupid’s bow.
“Oh, right. I forgot that about you.” He puzzles over it. “What about pizza?”
I hold up the knife and fork in answer.
“Tacos?”
I do jazz hands, the utensils like mini disco balls in the red-tinted light.
He shakes his head, grabs another wing, and decimates it in three bites this time. A new record. I busy my mouth to avoid the inescapable. There’s a reason we’re here, and we’re circling it like the gorgeous bartender around her section, making sure no drink is ever empty. I wipe my mouth with a scratchy napkin before taking a big breath.
“You wanted to talk,” I say, getting us back on a more comfortable track. We’ve been so easy, breezy casual so far tonight that it almost feels like senior year again. I can’t go back to that mental place.
“Hold up a finger field-goal first.”
Confused, I do what I’m asked and connect the tips of my thumbs. He closes one eye, lines up his shot, and flicks a paper football through my hands. The pointed corner hits my chin, slight pain cropping up at the site.
“Whoops! My bad.” The tops of his cheeks turn Swedish Fish red. “See? I told you paper was dangerous.”
I glower at him. He takes the hint and softens into something resembling sweetness. “Okay.” Two cats are quarreling inside my stomach, while I wait for him to say more.
“I fucked up. Those We Love Leo movie-marathon plans—the ones to watchInceptionfor me,Romeo + Julietfor you, andTitanicfor us were…a lot for me back then.”
“A lot for you? You weren’t the one trying to findInceptionon VHS to keep with the vintage theme. It was one of the final films to ever be released in that format and only in South Korea. It’s basically a collector’s item at this point.” I’m surprised my computer didn’t get overrun by a virus due to how many sketchy websites I had to sort through to procure one.
“Wait, we were going to watch the movie in Korean? Neither of us speaks Korean.”
“Whatever. You’ve seen the movie, like, six hundred times. You probably know the lines by heart. We would’ve gotten the gist.” Also, my commitment to a unified viewing aesthetic was more important than the logistics. We could’ve just pretended it was a foreign film sans subtitles for all I cared. All I wanted was to be with him for one perfectly planned night.
Then it all blew up in my face.
“Okay,” he says, stretching theaout for way too long. “Let me rephrase, then. It was emotionally a lot for me. Not logistically a lot. If that makes sense.”
Not any more sense than us watchingInceptionin Korean now that I’m really considering it. The things we do for our secret crushes…
“I knew you liked me.”
My chest tightens. “What? You knew I liked you?” Guess it wasn’t such a secret after all.
He nods thoughtfully and lets out a gentle “I had a pretty strong gut feeling, yeah.”
That’s the thing about queer longing. In high school, you think you’re hiding it so well, until you come out and everyone says they saw you slogging through it but didn’t think it was their place to bring it up. If only he’d let me down easy then, maybe I wouldn’t have kept these feelings so close.
