40. Jeremy

This was unlike Jeremy. He was not the one in the group who made plans ahead of time (that was Emmy), or could plan elaborate surprises (that was Foster), or could rally a group of people to try something new (that was Phoebe). Jeremy went along for the ride, preferring his own company if no one suggested anything. Something about Davis made him want to go above and beyond, to plan dates and show up at his house with wildflowers.

You love him, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, sounding annoyingly like a combination of all of his friends’ voices at once.

“Where are we headed?” Davis asked as Jeremy took the exit ramp off I-70 and merged onto 6th Avenue.

“Remember that morning that you were looking through the art book in my house?” Jeremy said softly.

“You mean the first morning, we, uh—” Davis blushed, and Jeremy wanted to pull to the side of the road and kiss him senseless.

“Yeah, that morning, baby,” Jeremy muttered. “This museum is full of his art. And there’s a special exhibition on art restoration and,” his voice trailed off, “I just really think you’ll like it.”

“Oh,” Davis said.

“Oh, in that you’re excited, or oh, in that you’re not excited?” Jeremy asked, willing to throw out all the plans and do literally anything Davis wanted to make him happy today.

Maybe not skydiving, but most things.

“Oh meaning I’m excited, but I don’t know how to go to an art museum,” Davis said, looking out the window, a sure tell that he was embarrassed. Jeremy knew that he had a lucky upbringing just by virtue of living in New York City. Most museums were free and strangely accepting of letting pre-teens wander through them, as long as they didn’t cause much trouble. He vaguely remembered a meeting, not long after the history museum and the science museum had merged, where Emmy and Phoebe had taken umbrage with a science outreach coordinator’s suggestion that part of their curriculum should be to teach kids how to act in a museum.

Jeremy parked, having scored a parking pass from an old coworker from Vanberg University who now worked in donor relations at the museum, and they exited the car. Davis studied the museum building, a boxy building of patterned concrete that was more complex than it looked on an initial viewing.

“This doesn’t look like the museums I saw growing up,” Davis said as they walked toward the building. “I mean, it was mostly small, old buildings and covered bridges, but in sixth grade, we took a bus to DC, and once, in high school, we all went to Pittsburgh on a big trip.” Davis grinned. “I liked the dinosaurs. Thought it would be cool to play in the dirt all the time.”

Jeremy laughed. “Don’t tell Ryan that. He’ll never let it go.”

“I didn’t really go on the big field trips in high school, like how the French club went to Montreal or the Spanish club went to Mexico City,” Davis explained as they waited in line to purchase their tickets. “I was bad at languages, and I never had the energy to sell enough chocolate bars to go on some of them, so I just didn’t go. Plus, the trips were all far, and I preferred to save that money for new baseball gear.”

“What was your hometown like?” Jeremy asked, sensing that Davis was in a good state to answer more questions.

“Small. But friendly. But alienating,” Davis laughed. “Probably just imagine the exact opposite of anything you experienced growing up, and that’s accurate. Like, what was your first job?”

They settled into the queue for tickets. Jeremy had considered purchasing them ahead of time but didn’t want to add on the special exhibition if Davis wasn’t interested. “I worked at an after-school art program that my mom ran,” Jeremy answered. “And then, in college, I worked as a figure model. Then I was a waiter for three minutes before I realized that I didn’t like having people boss me around. Mostly, I’ve been an exhibit designer or an artist.”

“My first job was cleaning out the chicken fryer at the gas station,” Davis said. “I did shifts at my friend’s dad’s farm, and for a while, I was a janitor, because it was easy to do hours for that around community college classes.” He smiled. “Look at you, slumming it with me. I’m surprised they even let me in the museum.”

Jeremy never wanted Davis to feel like that, never wanted Davis to feel like he didn’t deserve to take up space anywhere he wanted to be. “Baby,” he said, turning Davis by the shoulders so he faced him. Davis’s eyes instinctively left Jeremy’s face and scanned over his shoulder, a quick look around him before looking pointedly at Jeremy’s hands on his shoulders. Jeremy quickly removed his hands and let them hang by his side.

“Yeah?” Davis said after a moment.

“You good?” Jeremy asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

It took Davis another moment, another scan of the room, then Jeremy saw his shoulders relax, just a millimeter. A flash of something over his face, something Jeremy might call determination, then Davis reached out and took Jeremy’s hands in his own. “Sorry I’m like this. I don’t know how to, well…” He let the sentence linger.

“Baby, I’m lucky as hell to be with you.” Jeremy leaned down and placed a light kiss across Davis’s lips to remind him that he was valued and desired, but also so Jeremy could see the little blush that bloomed on his cheeks. It was similar to the way he blushed during sex, and Jeremy loved that little reminder of what they shared. “And if anyone tries to prevent you from getting into this museum, I will fight them off with my bare hands.”

“Jeremy, you’re a doll, but those hands are soft as hell. Unless you’re talking about the callus where you hold your pencil,” Davis laughed. “I appreciate it. Now, show me some art.”