“Wait, you’ve seenthis?”
A bone-chilling screamtore through the air as blood and alien gore splattered across thebig screen. All thoughts flew out of Caleb’s head, except for theone that struggled to keep down his nachos.
When the movie was finallyover, Caleb followed Franco outside, blinking at the bright lights.Maybe now, they’d do something exciting, he thought. Instead,Franco turned to him and yawned in his face.
“Sorry.” Franco rubbed hiseyes. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”
Up close, Caleb could seethe dark circles under his eyes. “Oh,” Caleb said, battlingdisappointment. “Maybe you should go home and get somerest.”
“Nah.” Franco gave him asmile—but it looked worn, as if it had been used too much today.“Let’s grab some dinner.”
Outside the mall, theybreezed through the row of restaurants until Franco stopped infront of a blinking neon sign of a frothy beer mug. “Happy hour.”He tossed Caleb a grin as he pushed the door open.
Inside, R&B musicblasted from the speakers, while a huge flatscreen TV flashed abasketball game.
“I’ll have the buffalowings rice meal, please.” Caleb turned the menu over and scannedthrough the list of drinks. “And pineapple juice.” The menu wasimmediately yanked off his fingers.
“You’ve got to be kiddingme,” Franco moaned. “No one orders pineapple juice in a bar.” Heturned to the server, whose pen was poised over his notepad. “Twobeers”—he gave Caleb a saucy wink—“for starters.”
“B-but I don’t drink,”Caleb stammered out. Something about this whole thing, aboutFranco, was off. Yes, he was still the impulsive, sweet guy Calebknew, but today, his spontaneity felt reckless.
“Live a little.” Under thetable, Franco nudged Caleb’s knee with his own. When the server hadplunked down the drinks, he raised his bottle.
“To newbeginnings,” he announced.
Reluctantly, Calebfollowed his lead. After they had clinked their bottles, he took asip and made a face. Franco laughed as Caleb chased down the tastewith water.
When their food arrived,Caleb’s eyes widened at the sight of Franco’s tacos, each roughlythe size of a human face.
“Wow.” He shook his headin amusement. “You really have a thing for Mexican food,huh?”
To his surprise, Francoput down his bottle with a thud, clutched at his temples and bowedhis head.
Alarmed, Caleb’s arm shotout. “Franco, are you okay?”
When Franco finally lookedup, Caleb almost didn’t recognize him. His face had crumpledinto—desperation? Sadness? Whatever it was, it broke Caleb’s heart.In a flash, Franco had covered it up with another grin.
“Tonewfound freedom.” He raised his bottle again. “Being free hasnever tasted this fuckinggood.”
Caleb raised his bottle,but Franco had already downed his beer. As the dinner crowd pouredin, the music transitioned into something faster, the beatsrepetitive and mechanical. With all the noise, it was impossible tostage a conversation. Caleb kept tipping back his bottle, finishingthe bitter liquid.
“Another one?” Francoasked. When Caleb shook his head, Franco merely shrugged andmotioned to a server.
By the time happy hour wasover, darkness had fallen. Outside, Franco stopped before asidewalk vendor.
“Do you mind?” Franco hadinserted a cigarette between his lips. With his other hand, heflicked on the lighter, its flame licking at the cigarette’stip.
Fascinated, Caleb watchedhim inhale deeply, the cigarette’s embers lighting up. “I didn’tknow you smoked.”
“Ididn’t know either,” Franco quipped as he waved the smoke away fromCaleb’s face. “Actually, I stopped when I joined the team. Justpicked it up again last night.”
They stayed like that fora while—Caleb feeling the buzz of alcohol in his veins as hesearched the sky for a star to wish upon. Beside him, Francoinhaled and exhaled in a steady rhythm. The music from the barswelled every time someone opened the door.
“But I do knowwhy.”
“Hmm?”Caleb turned, feeling that he had just gotten down from a Ferriswheel. So this was how it felt to be tipsy. Dizzy and a bitdisoriented, but not too bad.
“I know why I startedsmoking again.” Franco rubbed his forehead. “I wanted to fill myhead with smoke, like create a literal smoke screen. This way, Iwouldn’t have to remember things so clearly.”
Caleb watched him warily.“What do you mean?”
After taking a long dragof his cigarette, Franco exhaled a gray cloud of smoke. He lookedlike a brooding hero from an action flick, contemplating his fightagainst evil. “Drew and I broke up last night.”
“What?” Caleb gaped athim. A horrible thought entered his mind. “Was it because we . . .I mean you . . . and I . . . ?”
Franco shook his head.“You had nothing to do with it.”
The words were meant toreassure, but somehow, they stung. Caleb gulped down his selfishthoughts. “I’m sorry. Sure you’re okay?”
“Obvs.” Franco threw downthe cigarette, and ground it with his heel. “You ready togo?”
The ride home was a vacuumof silence. At first, Caleb fidgeted in his seat, nervous aboutFranco driving after drinking. But the ride proceeded smoothly.When they pulled up in front of his house, Caleb unbuckled hisseatbelt. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m here if you need to talkor whatever.”
Franco shook his head.“You helped me a lot just by going out with me today.” For thefirst time since they got in the car, he met Caleb’s eyes. “Thankyou.”
“No problem.”
Franco hesitated. “Do youthink you can tolerate me for a few more days? I could use thecompany.”
“Sure.” Caleb smiled backand stifled a yawn. His hand was on the door handle, when Calebheard a click. He turned to see Franco undoing hisseatbelt.
“Thanks again,” Francowhispered before swooping in, his lips brushing against Caleb’s.Softly. Briefly. A gentle meeting of lips that happened so fast,Caleb wasn’t even sure it really happened.
But something washappening inside Caleb. An unleashing of a fierce roar of need.Instead of repressing it like he usually did, Caleb allowed it totake over him. Later on, he would probably blame it on the alcohol,reasoning that it made him act out of character. But maybe thealcohol simply gave him the courage to do what he’d always wantedto do.
He leaned toward Franco,intending to replicate the quiet, tender kiss. But Franco was readyfor him, mouth open, palms cupping his jaw to steer him to theright direction.
Caleb drowned in thecomplicated taste of him—a medley of cilantro and tomatoes, beerand smoke. None of which was a taste he particularly liked, butwith Franco thrown
