"It's true. As a quarterback it's my job to give out orders. It's how plays are made. I guess it's rubbed off into my everyday life."
"You think?" I said, arching an eyebrow at him as our drinks were set on the counter. I smirked when I saw his name had been spelled as Brenda on his cup. My own was right with of course the wrong spelling. At least they'd gotten the cat part right.
"So we find a table together," he said, leading me through the busy coffeehouse as we searched for an empty seat. After several minutes of looking around, and short of using intimidation to get a table we were SOL.
Maybe it was a good thing. We'd made it ten minutes without hitting any of the taboo subjects, but should we tempt fate? "I'll take you back to your car," I suggested.
"What are you talking about? There's plenty of seats outside."
"That's because it's the seventh ring of hell outside. No one wants to swelter."
He shot me a look that could only be conveyed as judgy. "It's not even ninety out and besides, the sun is already going down." He pushed open the door that led to the patio seating.
I gave his backside a skeptical look before shrugging. We wouldn't be out there long. I could handle it if he could.
He picked a table beneath an oversized green umbrella, and I had to grudgingly admit it wasn't that bad. Not that I told him that. I expected our conversation to be stilt
ed and repetitive as we circled around my out-of-bounds subjects, but Brian surprised me again by being easy to talk to. Our topics bounced frequently from one subject to another as we both added our two cents on things. Time ticked by and the coffeehouse began to empty out inside, but we kept our spot outside.
Only when the sun had set and the outside lights clicked on did we pause in our talking. I stretched but was shocked to discover I wasn't anxious to have our time together end. It was still painful to be with him, but it was almost a good painful. It'd been a long time since I talked to someone so freely.
It was Brian who finally called our gab session to a halt. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. No one wore watches anymore. Cell phones made it unnecessary. Dad was the only one I knew who still wore one, but he was from a different generation.
"We better head back," Brian said, standing up and tossing our cups in the trash can.
"Yeah," I said, looking at my phone as if I had pressing plans. Lame.
"This was nice," he said, slinging an arm across my shoulders as we headed for the patio exit. My initial reaction was to stiffen up, but he was being brotherly again. I could handle brotherly.
Senior Prom
"May I have this dance, my lady?"
I turned in my seat, grinning at the poor impersonation of an English lord. I lowered my soda so I could get a better look at Dan's brother, Brian, who was technically gate crashing our senior prom. A low whistle escaped between my lips as I took him in. The last time I'd seen him dressed in formal wear was nine years ago at his aunt Trudy's third wedding. Of course, that day his face had been set in a serious scowl. He'd been forced into the tedious task of being the ring bearer. As the youngest male in the family, the duty had landed squarely on his shoulders. It was a technicality that all of us had found great entertainment in, especially Dan, who spent endless hours teasing him. Brian tried balking at the idea of being a ring bearer, claiming he was too old. His pleas and even flat-out tantrums had fallen on deaf ears though, and on a hot, humid day in July, he was forced to march down the aisle dressed in a light blue tuxedo, carrying a small heart-shaped pillow, much to all of our amusement. I distinctly remember the tuxedo being more green than blue by the end of the reception after Brian got done with it. Needless to say, he had a point to prove and he spent rest of the afternoon roughhousing with anyone who dared tease him over his attire.
"You clean up nice," I teased, eyeing him in his all-black suit. "I sorta miss the light blue though," I added with sparkling eyes.
His own eyes narrowed but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he plucked my Coke from my hand and set it on the empty table. Pulling on my hand he dragged me to my feet and led me toward the dance floor.
"Wait, your brother," I protested, trying to put the brakes on. My ballet flats refused to find traction on the polished gym floor that had been converted to a dance floor for prom. It was one of the many pitfalls of having our prom in a gymnasium. Instead of having our prom at the Hyatt as previous graduating classes had, our class opted to spend the brunt of our prom money on a relief fund for Haiti. Once the vote went through, it had fallen on the shoulders of the art department to change our plain gymnasium into a voyage undersea. The overall effect had turned out better than any of us could have anticipated, and bright fishes and coral may have covered the plain walls, but they couldn’t disguise the sweaty gym smell of the building. That would take a match and some kerosene.
"He's busy with the band and you know there's no way he's getting out here on the dance floor," Brian said, nodding toward the stage where Dan was in a deep conversation with the drummer of Liquid Fire, the indie band we'd voted on to play at prom. Dan had been talking about it nonstop since all the votes had been tallied. He was hoping to take over for the drummer, who was being shipped off to Iran in three weeks. Dan had been waiting years for an opportunity like this to present itself. "He'd want you to have at least one dance at your senior prom," Brian added as Liquid Fire started playing one of their slower songs.
He tugged me close, placing his hands on my waist. My arms looped naturally around his shoulders as I shot one more look in Dan's direction. Dan's back was to me though. He was busy mimicking the drummer on stage.
"Is that why you decided to crash our prom?" I teased, swaying my hips to the music.
"Who says I'm crashing it? I'm on the decorating committee," he said with a straight face.
A giggle bubbled up my throat. Dan might hate dancing, but it was common knowledge Brian's artistic abilities were confined to stick figures. "Admit it, you felt sorry for me."
"You got me. I knew if I didn’t show up in this dashing suit you would be forced to drown your sorrows in endless cans of Coke while my knucklehead brother plays with the band."
We both laughed thinking about the can of Coke I'd just abandoned.
"So, are you excited about graduation next month?" Brian asked.
I glanced up at him, noticing for the first time that his jaw had lost the boyish look I was so used to seeing. "You have no idea," I answered as Brian moved me effortlessly around the dance floor. I wasn't aware he was such a good dancer. Contrary to Jessica's date, Clint Bass. Even though she was several couples away from us, I could hear her yelp of pain when Clint stepped on her foot. I laughed as she shoved at him to dislodge him from her foot.