St. Peter's Church

3

Almost immediately after exiting the church, Paul started to sweat from the hot summer heat. He assumed it was affecting John the same; he rolled up his sleeves.

Paul didn't know what to think of John so far. Well, he's rather nice, I suppose, he said to himself mentally.

John got on the stage, picking up an acoustic guitar and adjusting the mic. On the stage were two other young lads, each with their own instruments.

Paul kept his eyes on John, who gave some quick eye contact and a toothless grin in response when he noticed.

Paul watched eagerly to see what John could do, as he was intrigued by his ability to play guitar. He, himself, could play, as his father had bought him a guitar a year prior.

By the end of it all, when John bowed and stepped off stage, his hair was wet with sweat. "Good thing we have locker rooms, eh, Macca?" said John as he walked by. "Macca?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Answered John, "Your last name? McCartney? It's too long, son. I shortened it."

Paul thought for a minute before deciding to follow John to the locker rooms, seeing several showers and the walls of pure tile--

The showers didn't have curtains. It was one big, singular, wide-open shower.

John started to strip almost automatically, and Paul's jaw clenched as he tried his hardest to keep his intrusive thoughts from making him look in all the wrong places.

"Join me, Macca; you should see yourself, you're drenched in sweat. Come on."

Paul swallowed and his face reddened from his comment, and John being in the nude made it worse.

He'd showered and bathed with his little brother Michael before, but that was years ago. It had been a long time since this.

It was alright, though, yes? They were both boys; there was nothing weird about it.

Then why did it feel so strange?

With shaky hands, Paul stripped, stepping into the hot water with John, who was already washing himself.

"What do you do in your free time?" asked John, making eye contact. Paul grabbed the soap, starting on his pale body. "I'm not very interesting," he said. John furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"I study a lot, John. I focus on school. I keep straight A's, or else I get grounded. I mean, I play guitar when-"

"You play guitar?"

"Well, yeah."

"For how long?"

"Since my mum died."

"Oh," replied John, his eyebrows drooping in sympathy. "I-I'm sorry mate." "No, it's all right," Paul responded, quickly looking away to focus on washing himself so John could change the subject.

"What else do you like?" John asked after a painful 10 seconds of silence. "What do you mean?" asked Paul.

"I mean- what do you like?"

Paul furrowed his brows in confusion. "I don't think I understand."

John's face turned a lively shade of pink. "Nevermind."

As soon as the shower was over, Paul changed back into the clothes he was originally wearing, and John changed back into his leather. "Want to trade?" asked Paul, deciding he should try and take this meeting further. "Yes, that's fine," replied John, who pulled a pen out of his pocket.

He grabbed Paul's hand, scribbling his number onto it. "Call after school hours; my aunt is usually home while I'm at school," he said while writing. Once he was done, he handed the pen to Paul, who did the same in exchange.

"Speaking of school," Paul said, "where do you go?" "Quarry Bank," responded John. A smile lit Paul's face. "I do, as well," he said coolly. John smiled, staring into Paul's hazel eyes. "You should sit with me and my mates during lunch tomorrow. There's plenty of room."

Paul's heart raced a bit. He felt a connection to John, even though he had only known him for a few hours. Something deep down told him this awkward encounter might be the beginning of something big.