My Summer of Firsts

Chapter 8 - Burgers and Bonding

After picking up burgers and fries from the cafe, I headed out in search of Elian's house. I tried St. John Court first. Not a single blue house.

Rolling down St. James at a snail's pace, I kept my eyes peeled for a blue house. The sky was still in the midst of going from that soft shade of violet—after all the oranges and pinks had vanished—to the inky blackness of nighttime.

I looked to the other side of the street just in time to spot a mailbox with the name Greene on it. I slammed on the brake, throwing out the soccer mom armbar to protect the food.

I backed up a bit and pulled into the driveway in front of the blue house. Half the windows were glowing with warm yellow light.

As soon as I killed the engine, it struck me that this might be a terrible idea. My heart started pounding as I imagined all the ways this could go wrong. Maybe he broke our date because he didn't actually want to see me right now. He could've used a household emergency as an excuse to get some alone time.

What if he thought I was a stalker for doing this? I mean, he never told me where he lived. I only knew because of what Mrs. Hill said. Only a psycho would file away that kind of detail to use later.

One thing was for sure: I'd never find out by sitting here.

With trembling hands, I grabbed the bag of food and pulled on the door handle. The ancient hinges squealed in protest as I stepped out and pushed the door shut behind me. I shuffled to the front door to face whatever awaited me.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pressed the doorbell. The wonky chime reminded me of a piano in need of tuning. I took some deep breaths to calm my nerves, but that was shot the moment I heard hurried footsteps approaching the door.

The door swung open. Elian stood there, drenched from head to toe. His face was a mask of shock—wide eyes, a slack jaw—as he looked me over. "What are you doing here?" He didn't sound upset. So, yay. I guess.

I raised the bag. "I wanted to bring you dinner."

His laugh of astonishment morphed into a warm smile. "That's so sweet. I would kiss you for that, but—" He gestured to his soaked clothing and hair. That explained the whoosh of rushing water I heard coming from somewhere inside the house. "Know anything about plumbing?"

"Um, not really." I shook my head. "What's the problem?"

"A pipe burst under the kitchen sink. Water just keeps pumping out and I can't stop it."

"Did you try turning off the water valve?" I asked. That was about the extent of my knowledge.

He blinked a few times. "The what?"

"There should be a thing under the sink that looks like a handle. You just twist that until the water stops."

He looked at me like I'd just solved some impossible math equation. Without a word, he immediately whirled around and sprinted down the hall. He slipped on the wet floor, but caught himself on the wall before he fell.

I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I felt like an idiot just standing at the front door, examining the doorframe, imagining myself a vampire unable to cross the threshold without invitation.

While I waited for his return, I studied the living room. The decor was quite old-fashioned with many of the pieces straight out of the seventies. Clutter covered most every surface, along with a thick layer of dust, explaining Elian's need for those allergy pills. The only thing hanging on any of the walls that I could see was a painting of a lake with a small rowboat sitting in the middle; a man and a child fished off the side.

Elian walked around the corner, his shoulders relaxed, the tension gone from his face. He flashed a bright smile at me. "Steven, you are a lifesaver."

"I always thought of myself as more of a SweetTart."

Elian laughed, shaking his head like he didn't want to be. I understood his conflict. It was a stupid joke.

"Are you gonna come in?" he asked.

I nodded, finally stepping inside, having earned my invitation.

"So, what's in the bag?" he asked.

"Burgers."

"Thank God!" He slapped his hands together. "I'm starving."

"I got yours with everything on the side. Since I don't know what you like."

"That was very thoughtful of you. I don't think I would've thought about something like that."

I shrugged, feeling the flicker of the flames rising in my cheeks.

Elian looked around. "The dining table is loaded with crap. And the kitchen is underwater. So, let's just set up at the coffee table. I already threw out all the newspapers my grandpa had piled on it."

I followed him over to the sofa. I placed the bag on the table and sat.

Just as he was about to sink down beside me, he stopped and straightened up. He looked at me. "Can you give me five minutes? I should probably get out of these clothes."

The mental image of him stripping down to nothing right there in the living room made the embers in my cheeks turn into full-fledged forest fires.

He didn't wait for my answer. He jogged out of the room, leaving a trail of tiny puddles in his wake.

It didn't even take him five minutes. I turned when I heard his bare feet padding down the hall. I caught a brief glimpse of his toned torso as he pulled his t-shirt on. He had a small tattoo on his right hip, but it was too small for me to see it properly from this distance.

Dear Lord, help me. I prayed to get through this night without having a coronary.

He came over and sat beside me, much closer than necessary, though I appreciated every time his arm brushed against mine as he fixed his hamburger the way he liked it. He put everything on it except the onions. I didn't know if it was because he didn't like them, or because he had ideas that onion breath would ruin. That's why I'd ordered mine without them.

Before he started eating, he slid off the edge of the couch to sit on the floor, stretching his legs out beneath the table. He looked up at me and patted the spot next to him. "Join me. All the cool kids are doing it."

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced, though I was glad he wanted me to be next to him. It worked out much better than I could have anticipated because he used this as an opportunity to brush his foot against my leg the entire time we were eating.

I was glad he didn't get up after we finished because I was in no condition to be standing up. The napkin I placed in my lap was my only cover for how turned on I was from all the touching—our shoulders, our arms, our legs. It didn't help that I was a virgin who'd never had physical contact with someone who had the potential to be more than just a friend before. That was the most intense moment of my life.

And the night was just getting started.