Slow Beat to the Rhythm

Who Do You Like?

IT'S SO obvious, and for that, Michael is half grateful. The other half is pure embarrassment.

"So, Chance," Sergio presses, glancing at Michael. "You like any girls? Guys?"

"Uh, no? Why?" Chance looks uncomfortable, wondering what is going on.

Michael wants to smack Sergio, but that may look suspicious. Besides, all five of In Real Life are sitting in a restaurant. There's quiet chatter among tables, and it's well known that any sense of drama will immediately draw an audience.

"Why did we have to go to a fancy place?" Drew wonders. The question is kind of rhetorical, because to get more publicity or whatever, the management wants the band to be exposed to the media. Sitting in some restaurant where there is other celebrities, there'll be some unfortunate person taking photos for a magazine company. It almost sounds creepy in a way, but Michael pretends to act casual.

Yep, totally don't see that dude in sunglasses crouching by the fake plants.

Brady agrees with Drew. "And the food takes way too long! We should've went to Chick-fil-A." He fiddles with his tie, which took a while to do. "I think I'm suffocating in this suit."

"Ahem, your food is here." The waitress who took their orders earlier before returns, and Brady blushes, hoping that his comment wasn't heard.

"Who has the four-cheese pizza?"

Brady raises his hand like he's in class, almost afraid.

After setting it down, the waitress hands a plate with two burgers each for Michael and Sergio, spaghetti for Drew, and then clears her throat. "Who's the macaroni for?" It's obvious who didn't get their food yet, and Michael has a weird look appearing across his face. The waitress is pretty, with long brown hair tied into a braid and tanned skin. He tries to find flaws—nails look too long and fake, or make-up smudged—but there's none.

"Me," Chance says, flashing a smile. "Thank you."

"Well aren't you a polite one?" The waitress giggles. "Any tip?"

Drew has to hold in his laugh for the hilarious scene unraveling. Chance is obviously not interested.

"No? I, uhm, don't know. Do we have to pay right now?"

"I have my number." The lady whips out a sticky notepad and jots down her number before pressing it against the plate and setting it in front of Chance. "Enjoy." With a wink, she walks off.

Chance awkwardly laughs. "That was weird."

"It's your personality that makes people like you," Drew says. "You're the polite one."

"Also looks like a future Calvin Klein model," Brady adds, before looking down at his food thoughtfully. "Do you think I could ask for extra parmesan on this pizza?"

Michael begins to eat mechanically at his burger. He isn't that hungry. Thoughts are running through his head, concerning around Chance. Does he even like guys? Why can't he just be mine? At the possessiveness in the thought, Michael stops and discreetly looks at the person making him worry.

Chance stares back, almost in a shy sort of way. "Are you okay?" he mouths, since they're sitting across from each other.

Michael wonders if him and Chance are okay, because after their 'fight' they didn't confront it. It seems all good, though. He nods his head.

"Wait, do you guys want to tell us something?" Sergio asks, noticing the silent exchange.

Michael grits his teeth, giving his very best you're-ruining-the-moment look.

Sergio doesn't get the hint, or chooses not to. "So Chance, did you like that waitress? Kind of pushy right? You should make a pact to never date women. Speaking of which, if you're throwing that number out, can I have it?"

Chance laughs, making Michael think how unfair it is; how adorable it sounds. "Aren't you dating someone?"

"Yeah, but . . ." Sergio shrugs. "Maybe she can follow our instagram!"

"No, dude. I'm keeping it."

Michael feels his heart ache painfully, and he abruptly stands up. "I need to go to the washroom." The tears are already forming in his eyes, and he quickly makes it into a stall. Don't cry, he tells himself. He rarely cries, so mostly it's an uncomfortable situation. If people see him, he immediately hides it.

I hate Chance. Why do I have to like him this way? It's just . . . messed up. I can't like him. I shouldn't.

Michael barely has time to unlock the stall before he hears a person running in.

"Dude, are you okay?"

". . ."  Michael wonders if it's Sergio. It's hard to tell, because the bathroom has a strange echo effect. Maybe it has to do with the high dome ceiling.

"Come on, is something wrong? Please tell me, Michael."

Michael finally goes outside. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Chance looks concerned, eyebrows drawn together.

"No."

"Oh, well. Do you . . . need a hug?"

It's difficult at that moment. This is the person that makes Michael happy, hurt, and frustrated at the same time. Being one of the oldest of the band, Chance is like a fatherly figure. He often is affectionate with each of the band members, so it's not really his fault for messing with Michael's emotions.

The hug is totally platonic, and Michael tries not to get too lost into the scent of Chance, the feeling that makes his stomach flutter and heart ache painfully. "I love you."

"Love you too." Chance pulls away, smiling. "You okay now?"

"Not yet." As Chance tilts his head in confusion, like a lost puppy, Michael gently pushes Chance against the sink. The older boy licks his lips, looking up. His brown eyes look sparkling underneath the light. There's no resistance, but curiosity.

And when they lock gazes, Michael finally kisses the person he has a crush on for over fifteen months. Chance responds back almost immediately, making a soft moan that has Michael smirking.

Michael wraps his arms around Chance's waist, bringing their bodies closer. He's not sure if it's his' or Chance's heartbeat that's racing. Maybe both. They slowly part, chests rising up and down, almost in sync.

"Michael?" Chance says breathlessly. "Can we try that again?"

-

By the time they exit the bathroom, the bill is taken care of and the rest of their friends give questioning looks.

"You all right?" Drew asks. He stole some macaroni from Chance's plate, but it's not like he's going to mention that. Besides, at the moment he's trying to decipher what bothered Michael.

"Yep," Michael replies, trying so hard not to glance at Chance. They have to look normal, although Chance has a huge smile across his face. It looks suspicious, but really cute.

"We're going to head back to the hotel. Unless you guys want to be alone?" Sergio says.

"Oh," Drew mumbles, realising something. His eyes dart between Michael and Chance.

Brady stares at his friends, not catching on. "Why are we all acting strange? Is there something wrong?"

"No." Michael coughs. "We're all going back together as a band. And stop looking weird. There's photographers around this place."

So they leave, Brady protesting, Michael and Chance acting like giggly dorks, Sergio smugly smiling, and Drew trailing behind. As for the waitresses' number, it's still attached to the plate, with writing added on the bottom that says #Michance.