Chapter 10

(Unedited)

The epitome of Christian's vigilante mask falling as he tells me I'm cute when I blush now reveals an opposite storyline that calls out a long-forgotten shoutout to things I wanted to hear from friends and family. I try to balance my impregnated thoughts while I remain silent.

A warm voice welcomes us as we enter the cinnamon-scented house. I recognised her from the last time we were here. This time, there's no phone to her ear. A Korean drama plays on mute in the background as she wraps Christian in a warm motherly embrace. "Who is this handsome fellow?" she enquiries as she winks at Christian. The smirk on her face reveals where his positive attitude comes from.

"Aunt Linda, this is Luke," Christian inclusively introduced me as he showed that infamous smirk of his. I'm glad when he ends the introduction there, as I figured that there had been nothing else to include, as neither one of us rushed to add anything. We weren't going to let anyone, including his family, decide what we were, or so it seemed.

"A handsome boy like this, Tia will scoop him up when she gets home for Thanksgiving break," Linda announces to Christian as it looks as though he had wanted to hear anything besides what this Tia was up to, as his face turns to the crimson colour of embarrassment.

"Tia's in college. She doesn't have time for dating. Hookups maybe, but not dating," Christian tells his aunt as he lightly chuckles, showing that his aunt is like this. Though, she is possibly not used to her nephew bringing someone home for the first time. The atmosphere was different from when he was at my house. He had a caring guardian, who he could talk to about crushes and dates, as I was still lurking in my head that I was doomed until I moved out, leaving me to figure the pieces out by myself.

When Christian's warm hand brushes up against mine, I'm taken aback into another world. Only to be placed in an unexpected awkward position a moment later. I stand there as I try to figure out how I could be included in this family moment, as it reminds me of how I wished my parents would reprehend the act.

"You two look old enough to know how human anatomy works. I can't stop you," Linda is halfway through the beginning of a lecture when Christian seems embarrassed that his aunt would even think about his sex life. Honestly, I wouldn't blame him. I could imagine it turning the other way around if it were my parents. Without a doubt, I was confident they would throw the Lord's name into it somehow and attempt to convince me I would be destined for hell, as most Catholics are supposedly against pre-marriageable sex.

"Oh my god," Christian exclaimed at his aunt, probably saving me from an awkward conversation or a situation that I wouldn't even feel comfortable in. "I'm. Wow. I don't know what to say," he held a shocked expression on his face. I bite my cracked lip again as I start to feel bleeding from how many times I had done it.

My feeling of discomfort rises as I respond, "It's not like that. We're friends." Was it expected of family members to make such intrusions into your life? The unfamiliar tang of family social movements had not yet been logged on the awkwardness chart.

***

"I didn't know my aunt was going to say that," Christian tells me as he sits beside his bed, his arms around his legs, showing the checkered slip-on vans once more. I finally sat down beside him. "You're the first friend I've brought home," he explains, getting off the bed then laying down on the floor, his head perfectly tucked in his hoodie, a piece of his curls peaking out.

"You're a s'more, Christian Day," I tell him metaphorically as I lay down in the opposite direction, so our heads touch ideally, both of us now looking at the ceiling. The most considerable layer of Christian, now unlabeled between us. His bravery and his confidence have become manifest between us.

"Why a s'more?" he's drawn his smooth fingertips around the contours of my face, releasing a liquidation of feeling that I don't recall feeling before. Why was this such a never-ending confusing game with Christian? I was confident we were just friends, and friends don't experience such emotions. I thought I would have figured out the repeated cycle by now.

"They're sticky, messy, and layered," I whisper as I grab hold of his fingers to stop him from tracing any further. "You take no notice of what people think of you, as I stand here with flaws in every direction," I declare as we meet eyes for a brief moment as I wonder if I should have said that.

"It's life. People are always going to talk," Christian tells me in a semi comforting tone as we continue to lay there on the floor as his iPod plays Spanish music. Thus now mismatches the classic Hollywood theme he had, giving another detailed version of himself. "You're just going to have to expect it," he adds cheerfully, as his smile parts his bow and arrow-shaped lips.

"You know, your aunt is downstairs wondering what the hell we're doing," I tell him when we prop ourselves back to back with each other as we had in the field that day; a warm distant memory now, as I lay my head on his shoulder, he doesn't bother moving. His warmth, giving me

a million butterflies more than what there seemed to have been.

"After you leave, she'll go into parent mode and flood me with questions," Christian tells me, not knowing how unaware I'm dreading those questions, especially any of the clichéd are you a couple of questions. Those questions had always irked me. Why would anyone need to know you're dating until you're ready to reveal it or even label it? Another piece of societal issues that needed mending for the reasoning of being judged.

"Let's not worry about that now. It'd ruin your bad self," Christian says, breaking off the warmth he had provided. Thinking he had already moved, I stood up; before I could register my balance, I found myself falling into him. "You certainly have a habit of falling around me," he added in his usual snarky tone, leaving me speechless yet wanting more moments like that.

"You might be exaggerating a bit," I tell him timidly as I swallow the bit of saliva I have to consume in my throat. Though, he could also have been telling the truth, an honest reprise that may not have been in my favour of something I wasn't sure that I would have wanted.

"My aunt is downstairs. We're in my bedroom doing what's supposed to be homework. Hemsworth, my dear boy, you need to learn to go with the flow," he tells me as he starts digging makeup out of his makeup box. Eyeliner and other various pieces of makeup filled the bench in front of him as he marvelled at what would match the vibe, then placed one of his pink and white plaid button-up shirts towards me.

"May I wear this?" I ask as I hold up in front of my school blazer, burying the school crest of two goats standing on their hind legs towards each other behind the pink and white. Something I was sure that if my parents had seen, they'd throw a fit over. Pink was never ideal for males to wear in the eyes of my father. Another God obeying rule my mother seemed to have followed. A ridiculous protocol Christian wouldn't understand as he nodded approval before I removed my school's blazer to reveal a skeletal frame with a slender four-pack as goosebumps appeared lightly upon my skin. The idea that Christian was still in the room made me slide the shirt on faster before he could see the goosebumps now forming around my nipples.

"You look cute in plaid," he tells me happily as I place my blazer on his bed, knowing that I would have to swap Christian's shirt for my own before we leave to take me home later. Something I wish that I wouldn't have to do. I was finding comfort in his vanilla cupcake scented shirt, or maybe it had been a reaction or afterthought of someone else letting me wear something that had belonged to them and not myself. Before I can think of a response, I hear the shutter sound from his phone going off.

"I changed my answer. I don't see you killing the Emmys or something," I tell him as my brain rushes to figure out what to say. I was starting to figure out I liked him, but I didn't want to damper the status of our friendship. Instead, each increment of thought wants to detest anything else, as he looks as though he wants to say something else but waits patiently to declare what I had started. "I think you'd kill it in fashion or makeup design," I tell him as we stand opposite sides of the bed.

"You think so?" Christian asks as he picks out a glittered midnight purple nail polish, as depressing song lyrics now play on speakers somewhere in his room. The song fills the abolishing mood neither one of us wants to speak of, as we find the lyrics fitting. "I could see that," he added in agreement as he placed the nail polish beside his fingers to see if they matched his vibe.

"After you graduate, you'll be in New York City," I begin and then stop at the now over-used Lifetime movie plot. Instead of being wooed by Netflix Originals with unrealistic plots, a plotline desired that my mother would be proud of my redundant knowledge.

"What happens next?" Christian asks seeming, curious as he places the nail polish back down, more likely a change in the vibes as he picks up a glitter navy blue colour. He was vibing the glittered midnight purple more. As though he had decided on a final decision, he unscrews the handle and dabs a tiny drop on his left thumbnail.

"After you graduate in four years, you get down on one knee in the middle of Central Park," I tell him as I mentally picture this overdone fantasy. He remains silent as he plays along as I pretend he won't squash my dream. He remains silent as though he's thinking of something. "Everyone will have their phones out, pretending this doesn't happen every day. Your girlfriend says yes, of course, because you're so beautiful. Everyone claps because she said yes," I add, finally finishing my overplayed Lifetime fantasy.

"Then two years later, as life is just becoming normal, or what they claim is normal, I find out she's cheating on me. Maybe she never loved me; it was just a requited love," Christian tells me, his voice cracking as he finishes his nails. "I fall into a deep depression. Instead of wasting away with drugs or alcohol, I show up in Boston, where I attend my first drag show. After some time, I find love again," Christian adds as though he's trying to avoid the parts with broken pieces, as I wonder if he's talking about the future or the past.

"I'd support you," I tell Christian as I walk over towards him, where he has his makeup ready for action. His fascination with glitter makeup makes me crack a smile, as for the first time, I imagine myself wearing some, something that once again went full circle as to when I was a child being told what was wrong and what was right.

"We'll collaborate," Christian tells me happily as though an idea is forming in his head. Something that he knew would get me to say something in the form of changing how this depressing topic had turned out to be. "I mean, we still have to do homework," he mentions as he holds two shades out for me to pick for him to use as I randomly pick one.

A few moments later, Christian smudges glitter down my cheek, knowing it would get a reaction to how he had done it. "Is this part of the homework? The glittering of being me?" I ask, trying to find the words I wanted to say, as I doubted it was part of the homework. It was Christian, and you never knew what to expect.

"I said earlier I was going to do your makeup," Christian tells me as though he had wished I would let him take action in doing so. I should explain to him, as I think it through with silent consent between us. "I figured I'd start with glitter," he added as he grabbed one of the liners he had held a few moments ago.

"The glitter was a nice touch," I tell him as I feel a soft smile approach my cheeks. It must be an eccentric colour like his, with his soft hands brushing against my face as he traced out the outline of my almond-shaped eyes. I had no idea what colour he was using, but his warmth gave me imaginary thoughts I was sure would never be approved of with his face and wrist right there in front of me.

After finishing, he places his warm hands on my cheeks. Our heads almost joined together as they had been earlier. Being certain we'd close in for the romantic kiss I had seen many times on TV, what happened was a knock at the door, breaking us apart.