Page 35 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

His hair was standing up in all directions, and it was thrilling for Jesse to see. He was thrilled every time Oliver looked at him, every time he spoke, every quip and comment. He was in free fall each time he saw Oliver’s dimples as he smiled.

Jesse knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was something happening between them, and today was the day he was going to do something about it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

“Fuck!” Oliver spun around, obviously not expecting to be seen, and the sight of him nearly knocked Jesse out.

Jesse’s mouth ran dry. The man standing in front of him, milk clutched to his chest, was the grown up version of the boy Jesse remembered. Finally.

The Oasis shirt on his back had to have been the same one he had been wearing the very first day they met, judging by the state of it. The color had faded, more grey than black, with a myriad of holes peppering along the hem. Jesse smiled, remembering that day—he’d brushed up on the band since then.

Green and black plaid pajama pants sat low on his hips, and through the rip at the hem of his shirt, he caught a flash of bare skin. He thanked the universe he had just finished a run, or he had no idea how he’d be able to play off how affected he was. Maybe he didn’t want to.

Maybe he wanted Oliver to know.

But it was seeing Oliver in his glasses that had his heart beating erratically. After three weeks at the estate, he wasn’t sure he’d get the chance to see them again, and he didn’t realize just how desperately he had missed them. He’d been curious about the switch to contacts, but always stopped himself before he could ask.

Sometimes, it seemed like they held little secrets between each other, and he didn’t know when it was appropriate to bring up parts of their past. Jesse looked at Oliver and wanted to remind him that he was in love with him once, with the boy who wore glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet,” Oliver said, his bare toes crossing over each other like he was either cold or trying desperately to hide them.

Jesse grinned and unabashedly looked him up and down, loving this moment where he had caught him off guard. “So you’ve been avoiding me in the mornings, have you?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“I’ve been here for three weeks, and this is the first time I’ve seen you down here. Want to explain how that’s possible?”

Oliver shook his head. “Nope.”

Jesse reveled in the pink tinge on Oliver’s cheeks, and decided that he was tired of pretending he wasn’t interested.

He moved across the kitchen until he was right in front of Oliver, who was still clutching the bottle of milk like a lifeline while blocking the refrigerator. Jesse gently put a hand on his waist, making sure his thumb was placed right at the tear in the seam of his shirt. “Mind if I get in there?”

Oliver blinked rapidly at Jesse, but slowly nodded and moved out of the way. Jesse smirked as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

When he turned around, Oliver was standing in front of the kettle, unmoving, staring ahead at the wall. Jesse figured he’d better do something while he could, while Oliver was lost in thought. “Oliver?”

Oliver hummed, seemingly coming back into his body to fill the mug already sitting on the counter.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” The pouring stopped, and a tiny shred of doubt began to burrow in his stomach. Maybe he had read it all wrong, and Oliver was just being friendly, that he wasn’t interested. Dignity on the line, he decided to double down. “I was going to go into the village later to grab a few things, and I’d like to make you dinner.”

The kettle was slowly set down, but Oliver didn’t turn to face him. “Is this a date?”

Jesse stared at Oliver’s back, willing him to turn around. “Yes. It’s a date.”

Finally, Oliver turned around. He leaned against the counter top, his hands gripping the edges at his sides. Their eyes met, and Jesse could tell Oliver was appraising him. Trying to establish whether or not he was sincere. Jesse held his gaze. He was sincere. He wanted Oliver.

“Okay.”

Jesse beamed. “Okay? Yes! Okay! I’ll see you tonight. Or later. I’ll see you whenever you want to be seen. And Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve missed the glasses.”

Water bottle in hand, Jesse went to leave the kitchen to shower and get dressed for the day, but he spun around just before he reached the swinging door. In three long strides, he was standing back in front of Oliver who hadn’t yet returned to the kettle, and quickly bent to kiss him on the cheek. It was rushed and frantic, a split decision, the memories of soft, youthful skin replaced by light morning stubble. It was perfect.

Oliver’s eyes were wide, and Jesse watched in real time as a pink flush rapidly spread across Oliver’s cheeks and down his neck. He lifted a hand to brush the backs of his knuckles against the reddened skin, and Oliver’s breath hitched. He added one more thing to the column of things that hadn’t changed: he still loved how Oliver responded to his touch.