Heteroflexible

Bobby’s face wrinkles up. “Say what?”

“You got your job back if you want it,” Anthony explains. “I’m outta there. And Jimmy, you aren’t banned from the theater any longer. I took the blame, which I shoulda done in the first place.” He bows his head even more, nearly showing us just the top of his messy head of hair. “And I’m sorry.”

Bobby and I share a confused look. We don’t say anything, our eyes doing all the talking.

Anthony glances up at us, as if to check if we’re still there. Then a look of confusion clouds his face, too. “Wait. D-Didn’t Mr. Lemon call you? He said he’d call you and offer you your job back.”

Bobby bites his lip, then shoots a glance at me. “Actually, uh … I kinda have been ignoring all my calls.”

My eyes narrow.

Okay, that’s fair, I reason with a shrug.

“Anyway,” Anthony goes on, “I kinda realized, like, maybe the movie theater isn’t for me, anyway. It was kinda holdin’ me back from lookin’ for a serious job I can advance in, you know?”

Bobby shrugs. “Well, you could have kept it up and run your own theater someday.”

“Actually, I kinda always wanted to be a veterinarian. I saved up some money from the theater. So maybe I’ll, like, go to school in the fall. I’ve been lookin’ up programs.” Anthony smiles with a faint glimmer of hope. “So, uh … I guess also I, uh … kinda want to thank you two as well. I’m sorry, and also thank you.”

Bobby, to my surprise, is the first to extend a hand to Anthony Myers. His face is flat and emotionless, showing strength. “I accept your apology, Anthony, and I wish you well.”

Anthony looks as stunned as I am right now when he accepts Bobby’s hand, shaking it cautiously. “Thanks, man.”

Then he faces me, a nervous glint in his eyes.

I smirk smartly, then extend my hand toward him. “You treat my man right, then you’re alright with me.”

Relief washes over Anthony’s face so fast, I might’ve thought he just let loose a gallon of pee down his leg that he’s been holding this whole time. “Thank you, Jimmy,” he exclaims, taking my hand and shaking it.

“Actually, I ought to thank you, really,” I throw back.

Anthony’s face freezes. “Why?”

“Because if it wasn’t for you stealin’ my prom date, I’d never have found the real one I should’ve taken all along.” I give Bobby a smart look, which warms his face at once.

Anthony tries to find that funny. The laugh he makes falters quickly, and then he hastily adds, “Your dancing was incredible. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You. Bobby. Really, an inspiration.”

“He’s the inspiration,” I say, turning my face to Bobby and giving my man a wink.

Bobby’s face brightens with accomplishment.

And just like that, everything in my world is right again.

We spend the better part of another hour greeting people, thanking people, listening to congratulations and compliments, and holding each other’s hands proudly. I’ve never in my life been more happy to have someone at my side than I am right now with Bobby Parker in front of the world of Spruce.

"And right there in the most silent part of the movie, the guy farted so dang loud,” my brother’s in the middle of saying when we approach, “it sounded like applause! Like … quick, staccato applause. I literally stopped what I was doin’ and looked around to see if someone had performed a dance or made a toast."

I don’t know what that’s in reference to, but after a burst of laughter from his crowd of former football buddies and new ones, my brother Tanner faces me for the first time since the dance, and his eyes are alight with pride. The pride turns into emotion. And then he’s nearly in tears when the big brute hugs me tight.

“Bro, if I’d known …”

“Known what?” I blurt, muffled against his shoulder. “That I was in love with my best friend? Hell, I didn’t even know until my heart near burst to flame when I kissed him this summer.”

Tanner pulls away and gives me a teary-eyed look that could be him crying or laughing hysterically, I can’t tell. “Nah, bro. I meant I would have given you the name of a better gay bar instead of the crappy one I sent you both to.” Then he guffaws heartily and slams me back into him for a hug. “G’damn, and to think of all the boobs Mama found on your phone over the years …”

“Tanner, you’re suffocatin’ me,” I groan against him, red-faced.

He lets go of me, fusses with my hair, then goes in for a much gentler hug with Bobby. “Take care of him, will ya?” he tells him loud enough for me to hear. “My little brother Jimmy here’s the most high-maintenance guy I know—” “Am not!” I interject feebly. “—and I happen to know a lot of high-maintenance guys, so you’ve got your work cut out for ya.”