Night Beats: Ghost in the Vending Machine

Chapter 17: The Hard Way

The clock on the dashboard read eight twenty seven, and though it felt like no time had passed since they left the brewery, Fynn knew it was nine thirty. It was completely on brand for Derrick to never adjust the clock, and were it not nearly daylight savings time again, they would fix it. Though it was cold outside, Fynn cracked the window, venting the heat from the cabin and allowing the smell of autumn leaves and the occasional wood fire to filter in.

Six turns later and a near collision with an indecisive raccoon, they were pulling up in front of Fynn's house. It was a tri level, half brick, half old lap siding, the right side tinged green from living beneath an ancient oak. The driveway remained empty which meant their roommate would be staying out until morning.

"You know, this really isn't all that out of my way." Derrick lowered the volume of the stereo using a button on the steering wheel. "If I had known you lived so close to the expressway, I would have offered to take you home earlier."

"It's no big deal to take a bus."

"Maybe, but it's probably a hassle."

"I try not to leave during the rush, so it's not that bad."

"Still. If you ever want to save thirty minutes, I'm happy to drop you off." Derrick shifted the car into park and let the engine idle. "Especially in the winter. Waiting for a bus in the cold sucks. I had to take public transit to work for over a month when my transmission died, and I could only afford to have my roommate help me fix it. I was working a lot of nights, and it can get pretty gnarly out there, especially when you're—alone." A distinct crease formed between his messy eyebrows.

Unlike Cassius, nothing about Derrick was well maintained. On occasion he would forget to shave, or let his hair dry funny while he slept, and more often than not, he was covered in bruises and bandages. Derrick accumulated injuries and scars like unlocked achievements of a life well lived, and over time, Fynn had learned the stories behind all of them.

Even still, the one too many beers they'd drank couldn't change the immutable facts.

"I'll think about it. I don't want to take advantage, especially when gas is so expensive."

"Pfft." Derrick tapped their shoulder. "I wouldn't offer it if I thought it'd be a pain in my ass. It's a long drive home, so I wouldn't mind the company."

The little voice in their ear finally won, and Fynn agreed. "Sure. There's a couple good places to eat on the way here; I can at least spring for food sometimes." Fynn was absolutely certain they meant to offer gas money.

Derrick grinned, the right side of his lips curling upwards towards his eyes while the left reached for his ear. "You're gonna regret that offer, I've been told I'm a bottomless pit." His face shifted gears again, and Fynn always found Derrick was most attractive in full motion rather than still. "You don't have to pay me back, but I never argue being fed. If you want, we can make it a thing, take-out and a movie. I don't usually do anything after work on Fridays. Do you have a blu-ray player? I have a stupid number of old movies that are collecting dust."

"Yeah, Warren hooked up a massive TV to our computer." Fynn took a second to process the statement and found it far too ambiguous. "Warren's my roommate." They clarified with an embarrassing amount of fervor.

"That's cool. He's welcome to come."

"He's usually out with his girlfriend on Fridays." Fynn could feel the awkward turn in the conversation burning away the rest of the alcohol.

"Either way. Wanna do it next week? It'll be cool to hang out for real, rather than the hour you spend peeling off adhesive, or get dye off my teeth." He stuck out his gray tongue, slurring his next words. "Are you sure this is going to come off?" His eyes crossed as he tried to look at it, then turned away to glance in the rearview mirror.

"Totally."

Derrick reeled his tongue back in. "To Friday or my tongue?"

"Both?"

"Awesome. I'll pick three movies and we'll choose one. Do you have a burger place on the way?"

"I do. They give you way too many fries in the bag."

"Perfect."

The briefest silence fell and Fynn was sure they would drown in it. "Well, I'll let you get going. Have fun on your hike, and try not to fall off any mountains."

Derrick tsked their comment. "I'll have you know I have the footing of a goat."

Fynn laughed and shook their head. "That's not what that sling says." They gestured to the backseat where it now lay unused.

"Wow, you're hilarious. Get out," Derrick said with a smile.

"I'm going. Thanks again for the ride."

"Anytime. Seriously, just ask, especially with it getting colder and darker earlier," he added, but as they turned to grab the door handle, he spoke again. "Hey, Fynn?"

"Yeah?" They turned back and met Derrick's eyes, the brown a little more blue in the light from the dash. His eyebrows stitched upwards, and he inhaled as if to speak. Their attention flicked from his fingers sliding across the steering wheel, then to the edge of his lip as it caught on his teeth. Fynn's stomach tensed as Derrick drifted closer.

Their brain processed the situation in a mix of fast and slow motion, and the data refused to collate. Before all the pieces fell into place, Fynn leaned forward until a slow burn of chemicals trickled into their blood. Derrick's mouth had a softness they didn't expect, though it was rougher in one spot where he'd cut it earlier in the week. They could almost swear it left a hint of sharpness behind from when Derrick had smiled and cracked it open again.

Fynn could feel Derrick take a slow and uneasy breath before he pulled away. His expression was different than anything they'd seen before. Their brain scrambled for a meaning to ascribe to the slight wrinkle between his lifted brow and the fact that his jovial grin was gone. Fynn's eyes tracked towards his right hand where it had been straining to reach a bag tucked away in the backseat.

"Oh shit. Oh my god." Their hand fumbled for the door handle. The light finally cut on and Derrick winced as the cabin became shockingly bright. "I gotta go."

"Fynn, it's-"

"I'm sorry." They catapulted themselves into the cold air and shut the door.

"Fynn, your bag." They could hear Derrick's muffled voice call through the glass as they made a beeline for the door. Derrick didn't get out to follow, but he waited a good minute to make certain they weren't coming back out to collect their things. Fortunately, there was nothing in that bag worth the embarrassment of facing such an egregious error in judgment.

Derrick finally drove off, and Fynn melted against the door.

Full sobriety hit by the time they were staring at the darkened ceiling, waiting for the melatonin they had taken to kick in. Their thoughts spiraled tighter with each rotation, reliving the mistake of kissing a man who was clearly straight. Everything had been fine the way it was, their relationship perfectly cordoned off in the friendzone. But now, there was no telling where they would land.

They could feel their eyes prickling as they catastrophized the situation until they were convinced Derrick would never speak to them again. The darkness faltered to a pale blue glow as their phone vibrated against the nightstand. Fynn groaned and picked it up, the green box declaring it was a text from Derrick.

"Great." They considered leaving it unread, but the phone caught a glimpse of their face, and decided they needed closure.

'You wanna do a space opera, kung fu, or spaghetti western?' he asked, and Fynn wasn't sure whether he was ignoring the problem or simply didn't see it as one.

'Space opera?' They decided to ignore the issue in hopes it would go away.

Three dots appeared, and Derrick didn't hesitate to send a text without fretting it first. 'Sweet. Need me to drop off your bag, or just bring it in on Monday?'

Fynn chewed on the fact that they would prefer not to have left it at all. 'Monday.'

Derrick sent a thumbs up and Fynn spent several minutes analyzing the meaning before giving in to the melatonin and setting the phone aside. Though they immensely regretted their mistake, it plagued them in more ways than just being a humiliating miscalculation.