| Aaron does not seem like the sort of person who holds seasons tickets to the Opera. A once-hefty, now-lean Junior at Bucky High, Aaron approaches the table where Erik and I are eating some synthetic approximation of lunch. Aaron’s silverware rattles as his tray is dumped carelessly on the table, and Aaron slides slickly into a plastic chair. “Ey-oh!” He says, cocking one bushy eyebrow.
“So I hear you had an interesting Christmas break out in California,” Erik begins unceremoniously. “Heard you got laid. That right?”
Aaron stiffens in his plastic chair. “Eh, things happened, how are you?” comes the reply. Aaron’s lips keep moving after all sound has ended. This often happens; he always claims ignorance of what his lips say in these cases, or why.
“Ohh hoooo!” whoops Erik. “Dude, that’s sick. How long did you know the chick? Like, two days? Shit, I’ve got to go to class – catch you later.” Erik tosses his dyed blond hair and is gone. Aaron and I are alone. He smiles broadly, sending deep lines through the baby fat lingering in his cheeks.
I hesitate. Aaron hesitates. We’ve confided various crushes to each other on and off since middle school, but neither of us ever really got anywhere. Until now, it seems. “So, you player, you just used and abused, eh?” I say uncertainly, reeling.
Aaron scowls and leans backward, his shadowed eyes betraying pain and anger. Then he comes forward and mutters quickly, his large mouth barely moving, “I expected that kind of bullshit from a piece of shit like Erik. But not from you.” For once, his lips stop moving and we sit in silence, never to speak of this again.
| Aaron does not seem like the sort of person who holds seasons tickets to the Opera. A once-hefty, now-lean Junior at Bucky High, Aaron approaches the table where Erik and I are eating some synthetic approximation of lunch. Aaron’s silverware rattles as his tray is dumped carelessly on the table, and Aaron slides slickly into a plastic chair. “Ey-oh!” He says, cocking one bushy eyebrow.
“So I hear you had an interesting Christmas break out in California,” Erik begins unceremoniously. “Heard you got laid. That right?”
Aaron stiffens in his plastic chair. “Eh, things happened, how are you?” comes the reply. Aaron’s lips keep moving after all sound has ended. This often happens; he always claims ignorance of what his lips say in these cases, or why.
“Ohh hoooo!” whoops Erik. “Dude, that’s sick. How long did you know the chick? Like, two days? Shit, I’ve got to go to class – catch you later.” Erik tosses his dyed blond hair and is gone. Aaron and I are alone. He smiles broadly, sending deep lines through the baby fat lingering in his cheeks.
I hesitate. Aaron hesitates. We’ve confided various crushes to each other on and off since middle school, but neither of us ever really got anywhere. Until now, it seems. “So, you player, you just used and abused, eh?” I say uncertainly, reeling.
Aaron scowls and leans backward, his shadowed eyes betraying pain and anger. Then he comes forward and mutters quickly, his large mouth barely moving, “I expected that kind of bullshit from a piece of shit like Erik. But not from you.” For once, his lips stop moving and we sit in silence, never to speak of this again.