Under Pressure

Part 13

"Jeremy, what are you doing? You need to count the steps."

They were standing barefoot in the sand, Jeremy clinging to Squip as he tripped over his own feet, trying to remember when he was supposed to step back or to the side. Learning the Viennese Waltz was a lot more complicated than he thought it'd be.

"Okay, you're counting from one-two-three to two-two-three. And then three-two-three? It's confusing."

"You're overthinking it." Squip stepped forward and Jeremy almost forgot to move back. They had to make a box with their feet or something? This was weird. He'd never been good at this kind of thing.

"That's your right foot. You're supposed to step back with your left."

"Oh, right. Right. I knew that."

Squip rolled his eyes, but there was a faint, amused smirk to his lips.

"Do we have to go over the basics again? Do you not know your right from your left, is that the problem?"

Jeremy made a face, a slight scowl, concentrating on where his feet were going and where they needed to be.

"Are we, uh, supposed to be doing this in sand?"

"No, but there isn't nearly enough room inside."

It was dark out now. There was a strong breeze coming off the ocean, threatening to smother the flames from the firepit next to them. Jeremy glanced at it, trying not to overthink or whatever, letting Squip lead the whole thing. Back, side, turn, forward, side, turn, back... This wasn't so bad. Maybe he was getting it after all? The flames leaped up into the air, embers swirling in the breeze, almost like it was dancing along with them.

"You're stepping on my foot."

Jeremy paused, then looked down. He'd misstepped, again, and his foot had stomped down on Squip's toes. He was staring at him in annoyance and Jeremy smiled apologetically.

"Shit. Sorry."

"You're hopeless."

"I'm not! This is just, you know, hard."

"We'll try again later." Squip leaned in, gently kissing him, then let him go. He sat down, near the fire, and Jeremy dropped down next to him. "With music next time, I think."

When Jeremy's phone started to ring e shifted a little where he sat and pulled it out of his pocket. Why was Michael calling?

"Hey, Michael. Why're you calling so late?"

"When're you planning on coming home?"

"Uh, I don't know. Soon, I guess?"

"Okay, because, just in case you forgot, the semester starts in two weeks."

Jeremy went silent. Shit, did it really? Had he and Squip really been here at this beach house for practically a month? It couldn't really have been that long. It didn't nearly feel that long.

"Shit, are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Also, your dad keeps coming by and I have to make up excuses about where you are. I'm pretty sure he knows I'm lying now."

"Fuck, sorry, man. I'll, uh. I'll be back soon."

"With Silas."

"...Yeah. With Silas."

"Just checking. Does your dad know about him yet?"

"No..." A moment ago Jeremy had been thinking about spending the next whenever trying to learn to waltz in the sand and remembering they needed to do laundry, and what they were going to do for dinner tomorrow, and nothing else mattered. Suddenly the weight of reality came crashing down on his head, all at once. He had to go home. He had to buy his textbooks. He still had to unpack his things, probably, and figure out a way to introduce Squip to his dad without making it weird. He had to go to work (if he even still had a job after all this, he'd completely blanked on that one). At least his mom had included a credit card in the envelope she'd given them. He could still buy things even if he was jobless. Suddenly Jeremy's stomach was clenching, anxiety buzzing through him. Damn it. Shit. Fuck.