After Hours (boyxboy) | ✓

Chapter Seven

The rain tapped against the side of the building, drumming a repetitive pattern. I counted the meter of the song, trying to figure out if they were really following a specific sequence. I stood in the break room. The TV buzzed with trivial news. The mysterious camera from last week still sat on the coffee table, untouched. 

My shift was over after four hours of sitting inside and doing nothing. I held my sweatshirt under one arm. My phone was in the other hand. I had biked to work today, before the rain started. I wished I had paid more attention to the forecast. Now, I texted my mom, asking if she could give me a ride.

The door swung open, letting in a rush of rainwater. Brendon slammed it almost as soon as it had opened.

“Oh, hi,” he said. I nodded and looked back at my phone, praying for a quick response. I watched his shoes walk around the room, stopping at the TV. It showed rain for tomorrow, too. It was too bad that it wouldn’t rain on the Fourth. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to attend any parties. 

“Man, this thing’s still here?” He picked up the camera, examining it (probably searching for a name). After a moment of looking, he walked away from the TV. He grabbed his hoodie, his arm bushing my shoulder.

My mom didn’t reply. I glared at my phone, then went to text Amy. 

“Do you, uh…” he took his sunglasses off, putting them in his bag with his sweatshirt. “Need a ride?” He looked at me with hope in his eyes. We hadn’t really talked since yesterday. I didn't want things to be weird. He tried to start conversations a few times, but I was too awkward to continue them. I think he thought I was giving up on him.

“I guess so,” I mumbled. His eyes lit up. I texted my mom, then followed him outside. The rain wasn’t so kind this time. It didn’t slow down. In fact, I think it sped up. We ran across the club, greeting our coworkers as we passed them. They were running too. I wished I had brought an umbrella this time. 

My bike sat in the rack, dripping with rainwater. I unlocked it, then pushed it through the empty parking lot. Brendon took it when we got to the car, and told me to go inside. I didn't argue and he lifted the bike into the trunk.

I was met with the scent of lavenders once again as I entered the car. New CDs were piled on top of the old ones. A cardboard box and an old shirt laid on the back seats. Brendon got into the car with a long sigh. 

“Welp. I’m soaked.” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. I looked away as he took it off. “You can watch…” he teased. I heard him open his backpack and take out his sweatshirt. 

“Maybe I don’t want to,” I mumbled. 

“Do you want a dry shirt?” he asked, offering his sweatshirt. I felt my heart jump into my throat. “I have another one in the back. You can have this one.”

I reluctantly took the sweatshirt. He reached behind my seat to grab his shirt. As he leaned back, I discovered that he too smelled like lavender. I glanced at his shoulder. He was so self-conscious about them. But I couldn't see why. 

“Don’t look at my—”

“Shoulders?” I asked. He furrowed his brows and returned to his seat, pulling the shirt over his head. His golden-brown hair flopped onto his face, almost covering his eyes. “Why not?”

“I don’t like ‘em. You gonna put that on?” He gestured to the sweatshirt. 

I peeled my soaked shirt off. He watched me closely, his eyes tracing my skin. Now uncomfortable, I crossed my arms. “Can you not watch me?”