Barcode Boy

Seven

(CW: Sexual themes)

When Thursday finally came, it took ages for me to even leave Carter's room. His parents were in the kitchen cooking and Carter had to drag me down the stairs and through his house. These weren't even my parents and I was already anxious.

The blond moseyed into the kitchen and his family showered him with love and affection in the other room. I leaned against the couch in the living room outside of their view. They were talking forever, and I considered leaving the house. My car was still at my house—I just had to sneak in and get my keys.

Then I could go wherever I wanted.

And then Carter went: "I also brought a guest!" And ran out the room, dragging me into the kitchen.

I awkwardly clung to his arm as his parents lost their marbles. They two screamed in unison, and his dad even dropped an empty pot he was in the middle of cleaning. His mom tackled me with a hug.

"Asher!!" She beamed, squeezing the hell out of me.

"H-Hey Mrs. Hughes," I stammered out of embarrassment, unsure of what to say.

Mr. Hughes looked me over at least a hundred times. "Shouldn't you be in—how did—what?! Has it really been that long already?!"

His wife laughed. "No way! That means Carter would be practically thirty—I refuse to believe it!"

"I figured you'd be bringing a girlfriend home or something! Not...Asher? Are you supposed to be here?"

Carter and I glanced at each other, starting to stutter and trip over our words, but we settled on, "It's a long story," to which his parents just sighed in response.

"We're planning to tell everyone at dinner." The blond added.

Mrs. Hughes combed her fingers through her tousled blond hair and exhaled. "Asher, your mother is going to freak."

All I could really muster up was a nod.

Carter started helping with their kitchen duties since it would be a while until dinner. This year they were making a ton of sides since no extra relatives were coming along. I mainly stood to the side, washing the dishes since despite always being tasked with it back home, I was terrible at cooking.

I didn't want to be in the way, but I didn't wanna stand around doing nothing. Nonetheless, I enjoyed watching Carter go to and fro flaunting his legitimate cooking skills. For a while in middle school, I thought he was gonna grow up to be a chef.

"How was your trip?" His mom asked the two of us.

"Pretty good." The blond replied, opening the spice cabinet.

She chuckled. "Just pretty good? You're with Asher again—some notable stuff must've happened right?" She glanced at me, and I shrugged.

"I mean, we just stayed in his apartment for the most part but yeah, we did some catching up and joked around. As usual."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Well, that's good to hear."

The closer it got to the evening, the more anxious I got. Eventually, Carter and I went upstairs and took out our clothes after taking a shower. I sat shirtless on the bed, watching while he ironed our button-downs. He tossed me mine after a few minutes while I continued to stare at his muscles. That and the fact that despite nothing happening, his shoulders were red. Then again, his dad almost always looked the same way, so I think Carter got it from him.

"You look like you're freaking out." The blond glanced at me, shifting his light blue shirt on the ironing board.

"Huh? Uh, I'm fine."