Chapter Fifteen “A Very Official Date”

fifteen

" A Very Official Date "

Saturdays in community theater have always been a marathon. On weekdays the cast can only rehearse at night and on Sundays we can't rehearse at all because everyone goes to one of the fifty-three thousand churches in town. So Saturday is where everyone buckles down and hopes to make great strides.

Since we're going to attempt to run the whole enchilada, I try to give an inspiring little speech before we begin.

"So, I don't think you guys really understand just how fucking good you're getting. You've actually made me forget about the Broadway cast. And we had three Tony Award winners! The way you're connecting to your characters and to one another is just…well, it's kind of breathtaking. Your family and friends are going to be blown away. Get prepared to sign some autographs on opening night."

The cast laughs, but I double down.

"I'm not kidding. You're going to sign so many autographs you're going to get carpal tunnel syndrome. Now, let's keep the good momentum going. Let's work like gangbusters to get as far as we can through the whole show. Let's just plow through like total wildebeests. We can go back and polish up any mistakes later. Let's focus on quantity now and worry about quality another day. Are you with me, people?"

The cast roars and the tempo in the theater goes into overdrive as Luke yells out his now standard, "Places!"

To everyone's amazement, we almost make it through the entire show. We get as far as Lear and Cordelia's duet "The Mystery of Things" before we have to stop. That means we have all next week to polish and fine-tune. I've been so consumed with the run-through that I realize I haven't thought about my date with Luke all day. He comes up to me as I'm going over some musical notes with Mrs. Henson. And in a snap, I'm nervous and clumsy.

"So, is seven o'clock good?"

I force my voice not to go up an octave. "Yep. Twenty-three Walnut Street."

That smile of his again. It's so intense it's probably blinding people as far away as Europe.

"Good. See ya." And with that, he's gone.

Mrs. Henson gives me a sly look. Surprising. She doesn't usually do sly. I glare at her. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. He's just a very fine man, that Luke Carter. He had it pretty rough as a kid, but it's almost impossible to find him without a smile on his face. That says a lot about a person."

"Do you think…do you think I should go home and change? I should probably change clothes, right?"

"I don't think it will matter to Luke, but if it'll make you feel better."

So now I'm asking my high school lit teacher what to wear on a first date. And I'm almost thirty years old. Super.

After agonizing over the very few outfits I brought to town, I go with a navy Tom Ford shirt and a pair of jeans looped with my favorite Paul Smith belt. I'm going for "I'm casual, but I still care." My insecurities are like a game of Whac-A-Mole, popping up all over the place. And I'm very bad at whacking moles. Or any carnival games that include skill or hand-eye coordination.

When I knock on Luke's door, he opens it and he's wearing a tie. And not just a tie; he's wearing a plaid collared shirt, khakis, and dress shoes.

I look down at my clothes, immediately self-conscious . "I feel a little underdressed. I thought you said we were having burgers, but you're wearing a tie."

"But it's still a date." Apparently date equals tie in Luke's mind. Not sure why he feels that way, but he does look ridiculously handsome.

"Right. An official date. A very official date. We probably should have signed some paperwork or something." I pause and give his tie a small tug. "I feel kind of bad. I don't have any ties on me. And clearly we're wearing ties. Do you have one I can borrow?"

Luke loosens his tie and puts it around my neck.

Instead of mauling him right there, I simply say, "We are such problem solvers."

I hand him a bottle of shiraz. "I brought a red. Apparently the tannins go with hamburgers. I'll admit, I googled that."

A fluffy mutt of a dog squeezes between Luke's legs and starts trying to climb me like I'm a mountain.

"Bosco, get down!"

I kneel down to pet the dog and he immediately rolls over onto his back for me and I scratch his stomach. His little right leg kicks frantically at something invisible in the air.

Luke seems surprised. "Wow! He likes you."

"He's got good taste. Where'd you get him?"

"He used to belong to Mrs. Holland. I would go over and mow her lawn on weekends and Bosco and me always got along. She gave him to me when she had to go into a nursing home. She said I was the only one she would trust him with. She named him Bosco after the chocolate syrup. I guess because of his coloring. I still take him to see her at the home. She loves it. Well, they both do, I guess."

He takes in stranded dogs and visits old women in nursing homes. This is never going to work.

Luke gives Bosco a hearty pat on the stomach. "All right, Bosco, go make your business."

Bosco rolls to his feet and runs out into the yard.

We stand there awkwardly in the doorway for a second.

I finally can't take it anymore and say, "I'm kind of like a vampire, Luke. You have to invite me in."

Luke laughs. "Sorry. I…I'm kinda nervous. Come in."

The first thing I see in Luke's living room are a couple of football trophies on his fireplace mantel. I go to inspect them and Luke brushes them off, embarrassed. "Those are just—"

"Proof you're a show-off?"

"Uh, I think I remember Mrs. Henson giving out trophies every year for the school musical."

"Yeah, instead of calling them ‘Tonys' she called them ‘Phonies.' She can be a real wordsmith when she wants to."

Wordsmith? Why am I using words like "wordsmith"?

Nervous, nervous, nervous.

Luke laughs to himself. "Can I show you something really embarrassing?"

"I wish you would."

He leads me to his surprisingly tidy bedroom. Aren't straight-acting guys supposed to be slobs? Not Luke, I guess. Everything's very masculine and very buttoned-up. He reaches into his dresser drawer and pulls out a faded program and hands it to me.

"You have a program from Anything Goes ?"

He looks sheepishly at the floor. "I told you it was embarrassing. I saved it."

"You were there? You saw me doing gay Jerry Lewis in real time? Luke Carter went to see musicals when he was in high school?"

"Well, I didn't advertise it, because my friends would have been assholes about it. But I wanted to see it. For you. I didn't know you could tap dance. It was very impressive. And kind of sexy."

"Tap dancing is the complete opposite of sexy, Luke."

"Not when you were doing it. I remember you danced with your hands in your pockets. Like you were too cool for school. And you had a pouty little smirk on your face."

"I could teach you a step or two," I offer. "Maybe a simple ‘Shuffle off to Buffalo.'?"

Luke explodes into laughter. "There's no way I could ever tap dance! And why is it called that? ‘Shuffle off to Buffalo'?"

"I don't know. I guess people used to think that just walking off to Buffalo wasn't fancy enough."

"I liked the show so much I even bought the soundtrack."

"Cast album."

"I liked the show so much I even bought the cast album."

"Do you ever listen to it?"

"Honestly? Not really. I was kind of surprised when I figured out that one song was kind of sexual."

"Which one?"

In a surprisingly good baritone, Luke sings, " You're the top, you're the coliseum… "

"Hey, wait a second? You can sing?"

Luke blushes, which is endearing and hot at the same time. "No, I can't."

"You can sing better than me. Anytime I have to present a song to producers, I hire vocalists if I can afford it. If I sing, they'll think lesser of the song."

"But all that ‘top,' ‘coliseum' stuff. He's talking about gay sex stuff, right?"

"Oh, Cole Porter was a big old queen. And I doubt very much he was the coliseum in any relationship, if you know what I mean."

We're lost for words for a minute, so I look around the room and find something completely unexpected. "You have a copy of E. E. Cummings poetry?"

"Well, you and Mrs. Henson would talk about him forever and I figured I had to check him out."

"And?"

"I mean, some of it just seems like gibberish."

"That's because it is. It's gobbledygook."

"But some of it…like that one poem that's called ‘anyone lived in a pretty how town.' When the guy dies and the poem says ‘and noone stooped to kiss his face.' That's just kind of devastating."

Luke quoting poetry is so mind-shatteringly hot that I can't trust my knees and I actually have to sit down.

Feigning a newfound interest in the dog-eared book, I park myself on the bed and start to leaf through the pages. Luke slowly joins me and our thighs collide just like the first night we got drunk together. He turns his head until his face is so close to my throat that his breath starts raising the tiny hairs on my neck.

And then he whispers softly into my ear in a voice that immediately makes my bone marrow liquefy, "I know what you're doing."

Holy shit.

I don't know this version of Luke. I only know ambiguously flirting Luke. But if he wants to play this game he sure as hell doesn't have to ask me twice.

I consider my next move and then decide to lie back on the bed, still perusing the book and answer as nonchalantly as possible, "I'm just boning up on my twentieth-century American poets."

Luke gives a low, suggestive laugh before he reclines next to me. "Is that what you're doing? Boning up?"

I casually toss the book on the floor and turn my face to his. "You have no idea."

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to devour him right there. Not to "jump his bones" as the saying goes in Plainview. But the yearning in his eyes is so intense that I kind of want it to linger a little more. So we float for a moment in a state of mutual questioning until Luke's head makes the tiniest movement toward mine. It's almost imperceptible. But he nudges slightly closer to me, just within definite kissing range. He's so close that his gorgeous face is blurred and my heart is knocking at my chest cavity.

And then a timer goes off somewhere in the house. Luke rolls off the bed and onto his feet. "Cornbread's done."

I heave a frustrated sigh. "Fucking cornbread."

He grabs my arm and pulls me off the bed. Apparently the boning up will have to wait. Luke heads to the kitchen and I linger in the hallway to reorganize the situation in my jeans. I mean, you can't whisper things into my ear and not expect me to do some stage management in my boxer briefs.

Luke calls out, "So how do you take your burgers?"

"Chef's choice," I reply.

"You sure? Because I like them pretty rare."

"Is it strange to take care of cows all day and then come home and eat them at night?"

Luke sighs. "I'm not going to get a lecture, am I?"

"Oh, no. I charge for lectures and my fees are ambitiously high."

We head out to the backyard where a charcoal grill is already happily smoking away. I make myself stop for a second to take it all in. It's a perfect backyard. The smell of freshly cut grass and a fading magnolia tree. Dog-day cicadas chatter. A couple of hummingbirds do-si-do around a feeder filled with water colored an artificial candy apple red. I notice a table set with metal army green plates that I'm assuming Luke uses for camping. He's extra masculine even down to the flatware.

Luke gets busy grilling, while I open the wine to show that I'm handy. Of course it's a screw top, but even so.

Bosco comes tearing around the side of the house with a tattered tennis ball in his mouth and we play fetch until dinner is served.

Luke and I sit at the table in silence for a second until I say, "This is my favorite song."

Luke gives me a confused look because there's no music playing, then gets it. "Oh, right." He pulls out his iPhone and plops it into a portable speaker. "What kind of music do you like? I'm guessing country is out."

"You're correct, unless it's Patsy Cline."

"It's not."

"How about top forty? Can we agree on that?"

"We can."

Luke's hamburgers are downright amazing. I shake my head and think, "He Can Cook, too!"

Luke gives me a questioning glance and I quickly sing his praises. "These are great. They have a little kick to them."

"Cayenne pepper."

I finally can't take it anymore. "I'm sorry, but I've got to be blunt—"

Luke grins. "Really? That doesn't sound like you."

"So, are you gay? Bi? Don't like labels?"

He chuckles and looks toward the sky. "I knew this would come up. I tried for years to deny it, to push it away, but it was too depressing. I should have known a couple years after high school when I couldn't get it up for Melissa Fazio."

"That poor girl. I tried to finger her once and it apparently felt like she was being poked in her vagina by Edward Scissorhands."

Luke lets out a loud bark of a laugh and Bosco follows suit. "He does that sometimes. He thinks I'm barking and joins in."

"Cute."

"Anyway, you have no idea how many times I pretended to be too drunk to hook up after proms or homecoming dances, and then later after just really terrible dates. I got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore, you know? So, as a gift to myself on my twenty-fifth birthday, I finally came out to my mom and she couldn't have been cooler about it. She told me I was her son and she loved me just the same and it didn't change a damn thing. Then I told Eddie and some friends and that was a longer adjustment period. We just don't talk about it, really. I don't think it bothers any of them, they just don't know what to say."

Luke pauses. "I think that's why when they were harassing you in high school, it upset me so much. Because deep down I knew I was just like you. So, I stopped all that bullshit for you, but I also stopped it for me, too. That makes me less of a hero, I guess."

I laugh. "Well, it had to be easier for you. You were a lot more successful at hiding the whole gay thing, that's for sure. I didn't stand a chance. I was such a little queen. I should have just walked down the hallway in a gold lamé thong, twirling rainbow flags and coughing up glitter."

"You were cute as hell and you know it," Luke says.

"Your lies burn like fire, but I appreciate the effort," I say. "I guess the good news about those days is that both of our mothers didn't freak out about the gay thing. Dad was typical Dad, which means he just shook his head and says, ‘Well, you're still an Adams.' I remember thinking, ‘Was there a possibility I'd have to change my name, that he would actually disown me for being gay?' It was such a bizarre thing to say. It wasn't the beginning of the gulf between us, but it was definitely a low point in our journey to polite distance."

"At least you had a dad to come out to."

"That's true. Although when the kids in the neighborhood would make fun of me, I always wanted Dad to stick up for me, you know? But Dad's a very ‘fight your own fight' kind of guy. But maybe he did the right thing. It certainly toughened me up. Those kids making fun of me was nothing compared to seeing my shows trashed in black and white in review after review. Maybe it was all just the cosmos training me to man up and take my medicine. Still, the occasional ‘I love you' from Dad would have been nice."

"I get that. Believe me. So, how about you?" Luke asks. "How did you know you were gay?"

I say quickly in one breath, "Chad Michael Murray as Lucas Scott in the WB drama series One Tree Hill ."

Luke laughs so hard he snorts wine.

I take it as a win. "I made you snort wine!"

He coughs a little between laughing. "I just…man, that was specific."

"The teenage heart wants what it wants and mine wanted Chad Michael Murray as Lucas Scott in the WB drama series One Tree Hill ."

"I'll give you this, you've always got a snappy comeback at the ready."

"Spend enough time with me and you'll soon realize that's all I am. A collection of snappy comebacks and cute sweaters."

His voice softens. "You're much more than that, Noah." I watch his eyes glisten beneath the perfect night sky and wonder how I say something witty. I finally give up and just watch him tear into his burger with unabashed gusto. When he's done, Luke gives the last piece to Bosco and then hops up to clear the table.

I jump up, too. "I can help, you know."

Luke shakes his head. "I got it."

While he takes the plates and silverware inside, I stand in the backyard wondering what comes next. Fireflies amble leisurely through the air and the sky gets pleasantly dark.

Shit. Insecure Noah is back.

Do I thank him and go?

Do I stand around like an idiot?

It's been almost two years of being only with Chase and I worry I'm rusty at this dating thing. Obviously Luke likes me. He not only wore a tie, which is adorable, but also put it around my neck. He let me pet his dog and made me hamburgers. And then we had that mind melting moment on his bed. Why would I walk away from that? Things are going fine, Noah. You're just out of practice. Jesus. How am I a grown adult and a fumbling adolescent at the same time?

Maybe I should just go. Take this whole thing slowly. I can ask him out on a date next time. In some strange way, it'll make me the one in control.

The slam of the back screen door snaps me out of my mental spiral. Luke has refreshed our wine glasses. "One more?"

"Uh…sure."

He hands me a glass and rekindles a fire pit that I didn't even notice was there. A couple of wicker chairs and a couch surround it and Luke takes his place on the couch with a sigh. Unsure what to do, I take a chair and we both stare into the dancing fire.

"Hey, Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"You're awfully far away."

Oh, boy. Aaaaand we're back.

My stomach does a couple of chaotic somersaults, but I walk slowly over to the couch and consider what to say. I sit next to Luke and feel the heat of his body and try not to get dizzy. We stare into the flames as they send sparks swirling up into the night sky.

I decide it's time to do away with any frothy wordplay and just move things along already. "Luke?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"Could I put my arm around you?"

He laughs and says, "I wish you would."

I shoot my arm up into the air and somehow he settles his massive frame snuggly into my side. I lower my arm around his sturdy shoulder and sigh. "What the hell is actually happening here?"

He laughs again and the weight of him against me makes me lightheaded. I wrap my arm more tightly around him like I'm his protector. And that's exactly what I want to be. I want to protect him from any and all marauders.

Nothing's gonna harm him, not while I'm around.

Luke slowly shifts his body until his head is in my lap. His head is actually in my quickly-growing-crowded lap and he's staring up at me. I reach down and dare to run my fingers through his incredibly soft, floppy golden hair.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?" I ask.

"Noah. You don't have to ask."

"Well, in this day and age—"

Luke cuts me off. "I consent to everything. You can do whatever you want to me."

Gulp.

"Uh…would you please stop making my head explode? I need it. Especially when I want to wear hats."

With a smirk, Luke jumps up and instead of unbuttoning his shirt, rips it over his head and stands in front of me shirtless. Talk about moving things along. That torso. He's like a statue come to life. My eyes quickly take it all in. The muscular chest, the veins snaking through his forearms, the ridiculously etched abs. I mean, I'm in pretty good shape, but this is some next-level shit.

I try desperately to negotiate the waves of lust rolling through my body. Steady there, Noah. Find your sea legs.

Luke approaches me and grabs the tie dangling loosely around my neck. Slowly, he tightens it so much I can hardly breathe. "What are you doing?"

He bends over and whispers softly into my ear, "Putting you on a leash."

Is this really happening?

I manage to get to my feet and our eyes lock. Then he gives me a deep kiss that tastes like very warm heaven. When he finally pulls away and stands there, boldly shirtless in front of the crackling fire pit, I find myself saying, "Lead the way."

He pulls on the tie and I follow him into the house, somehow impossibly still talking. "Do you want to go back and get your shirt? What if it rains? It looked like it might have been dry-clean only."

When we get to his bedroom, he lets go of the tie and turns to me with a hungry expression on his face. Blood is pounding in my brain, the tempo increasing.

"Look, Noah, if this is all too soon, I totally get it. But I hope it's not. And if it isn't too soon, well, I was wondering…"

And then he stops himself. He just shamelessly ripped his shirt off and then walked me on a makeshift leash to his bedroom, but now he's turning shy?

"What's wrong, Luke?"

He hesitates. "Just a couple of things…"

"Hey, not to sound overconfident, but I'm pretty sure this is one area of my life where I don't need notes."

"It's just that…I've only done this a couple of times with some random guys on Grindr. So, can we…go slowly, please?"

I try not to swoon at his sudden vulnerability and quickly reassure him. "Oh, yeah. I can do that. Absolutely. Anything else?"

Luke hesitates again. "Um…some eye contact would be nice."

I take his head in my hands and stare as deeply as possible into those gorgeous green, brown, hazel eyes and whisper lowly, "Oh, fuck yeah."