“I look like a jackass,” I observe, tilting my head to the side.
“Yeah, you do,” Corey agrees. I elbow him in the ribs.
“Shut up. At least I’m wearing a costume. You just pussied out and threw together normal clothes,” I say.
“They’re not normal clothes. I’m Kurt Cobain,” he says. He gestures emphatically to his baggy jeans and flannel button down.
“You don’t have the hair,” I say.
“I’ve got a wig downstairs,” he says, waving his hand toward his bedroom door. “Where’s your face?”
“You mean ‘mask’?” I say, holding up the white plastic. I put it on and turn to face the mirror. Corey stands just behind me, also checking out my reflection.
“You look like a fucking geek with your hair all slicked back like that,” he says.
“And you’re gonna look like a heroin addict with your hair the way you’re gonna have it. So fuck you,” I say. I shove my cell phone in the pocket of my black dress pants and pull my cape a little tighter around me.
“What’s Nicole going as?” Corey asks.
“I don’t know. Something slutty, probably. Remember last year’s costume?” I say. He grins.
“The nurse thing? Yeah. Fondly,” he says. I shove him. “What’s Blaire going as?”
“Christine,” I say flatly. Corey bursts out laughing. I glare at him until he manages to gain control of himself, then I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him out of the room and down the hall to the front door.
“Are we picking up Faye and Miles?” I ask, tossing him his keys.
“No, they’re both gonna meet us there. I think Faye and Nicole both went early to help Blaire set up,” he says. “Sorry. Help Christine set up.”
I shove him out the door and follow him to the car. He starts the engine, pulls out, glances at me, smirking.
“You wanna pick the tunage?” he asks. He does every time we’re in the car together. His feelings about me not listening to music are similar to Garen’s, except he won’t do anything to try to make me change. This time, though, I grab my backpack out of the backseat and pull out a CD from the front pocket.
“Yeah, actually, I brought a CD,” I say. I grin exaggeratedly at him as I load the CD into the stereo. He blinks, then laughs.
“Well, fuck me, you finally started listening to music, you spazz,” he says. “What is it, anyway?”
Almost in response, the CD starts up. Corey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when do you listen to The Rasmus?”
“It’s called having layers, Cor. Most people are accustomed to it,” I say. In all honesty, I borrowed the CD from Garen yesterday. He was so ecstatic about me asking him to lend me a CD that he offered to let me borrow any CD from his entire collection. When I asked him to pick out something he thought I’d like, he was practically orgasmic. I left his room with at least a dozen.
We get to the party a little late. At least, later than people expected. The second I’m in the door, Faye appears in front of me, latching onto my arm and dragging me inside.
“Travis! Oh my god, what took you guys so long? Blaire thought you weren’t going to show,” she says.
“Why’s she flipping out so bad?” I ask. She gives me a look, and I shrug.
“Whatever. She’s in the kitchen.”
True to what Faye said, Blaire looks vaguely panicked when I come into the kitchen. She’s wringing her hands and trying not to let her brow furrow. When she sees me, the panic melts away and she grins brightly.
“Travis! You’re here!” she says. I feel like a dick, even though it was only ten minutes late.
“Yeah. Hey. Sorry I’m late,” I say. I see Nicole staring pointedly at me, so I duck down and kiss Blaire quickly on the cheek. She glows.
“It’s okay. No biggie,” she says. Bullshit. I don’t say anything to that, just try to sink into the swing of things.
It’s always weird hanging out in big groups like this. I barely know Blaire, and she won’t get off me. Every time Miles tosses off one of his usual one-liners or Corey says something stupid, Blaire giggles and leans back against my chest. I have had what… three conversations with her in my life? Suddenly it’s like she’s my girlfriend. I try to meet Nicole’s eyes to see if that’s what she’s been going for. When she finally catches my eye, she smiles innocently, then winks. God.
“Who is that?” Faye interrupts. In unison, we all turn to follow her eyes. I find myself looking at a guy dancing in a large group. He doesn’t seem to be wearing a costume, just black jeans, a black sweatshirt half-unzipped to show a dark grey t-shirt, and black boots. But the more I look, the more I notice; black gloves, a black mask covering his eyes. There’s a black nose and whiskers painted on, and tiny fake ears poking up through his dark brown curly hair. He turns to face someone, and I see the tail.
“What is that?” Miles asks.
“He’s a raccoon,” I say.
“That’s… okay, not going to lie here. That costume is worse than mine,” Corey says.
“Corey, no costume is worse than yours,” I sat. I don’t realize I’m moving towards the raccoon guy until Blaire snags my arm, gazing up at me with wide blue eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asks. I twist my arm gently from her hands.
“To get a drink. You want anything?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“No thanks. Come back soon, my costume looks stupid alone,” she says with a smile. The doorbell rings, and Blaire spins around, going off to answer it. The group trails slowly back to the front hall. I spin back around and head back across the living room. Raccoon Guy is still dancing with his friends, his back towards me. I swallow thickly and adjust my mask to make sure it covers my face properly. I lean forward so my mouth is next to his ear and place my hands on his hips.
“Nice tail,” I whisper. I feel him move against me, but I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be towards me or away from me. I yank my hands back before I can tell, and push through the crowd to the back door, throwing it open, slamming it shut behind me, and slumping against the wall next to it. I press my hands to my face.
I can’t believe I just did that. To a guy. Maybe Faye was right. Maybe that’s why Garen acts with me the way he does. He knows, sees it in me. Gaydar. If there’s even any gay to have gaydar pick up on. No. Not possible. I’ve dated girls, I’ve kissed girls. And I’ve liked it. I can’t be--
The door next to me opens suddenly, and I jump, slapping my hands down to my sides. Raccoon Guy takes four steps out onto the porch, pauses, then turns around to look at me. Shit. I straighten up and cough, open my mouth in hopes it will help me find some way to explain it. But Raccoon Guy reaches behind himself and brings forth his tail, waving the end of it as though in greeting. He cocks his head to the side and smiles. Familiar. He’s gotta be in one of my classes. Microbiology? Calc? I shove my hands in my pockets and stare down at the ground. Now what? I just hit on some guy I don’t know, and now everyone’s going to find out. I shouldn’t have done it to begin with, not with some guy I almost definitely go to school with. Not with any guy at all. I should apologize, explain, something.
And then Raccoon Guy stoops down so we’re level and kisses me. I back up against the wall, but then I realize that my hands went to his hips the second he touches me, so I’m dragging him with me. I quickly yank my hands away, but he catches them, laces his fingers through mine, and pins my arms to the wall above my head.
It’s so wildly different from kissing a girl that they barely even seem like the same action. Girls don’t press you against a wall like this. Girls don’t flatten themselves against you this hard. Girls don’t shock you to the point of immobility when their mouth opens against yours and you realize that’s their fucking tongue.
Raccoon Guy untangles one hand from mine and reaches for my mask, starting to slide it off. I panic and grab his hand.
“Don’t,” I say. Raccoon Guy steps quickly backward, his eyes widening. His head snaps down, avoiding my gaze.
“What?” I ask warily. A hand flies up to his hair and he hesitated for a second before raking his fingers through the curls. I reach out towards him, but he pushes past me, back inside the house. I stay where I am, stunned. What the fuck was that? That’s not what was supposed to happen. Okay, I don’t know what was supposed to happen, but it’s not what I wanted to happen. I wanted to kiss him. Him. Kiss him. I run a finger over my lips. Did that really just happen? It had to have. No way could I have made that up.
“Travis? Are you out here?” I look at the doorway next to me, where Blaire just appeared. I straighten up, pull my mask off.
“Yeah. Sorry, I wanted some air,” I say. “You know what? I’ve got a headache. I think I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”
Blaire visibly deflates, but nods.
“Okay. Thanks for coming,” she says. She raises herself up on her toes, tilting her face up to me expectantly. I pull her forward into a short, awkward hug.
“Bye,” I say, and I shove my way back through the house and out the front door. I should’ve found Corey first and told him I was leaving, I realize when I’m halfway home. Blaire will tell them though. Probably bitch about it, cry, whatever. I can’t worry about that now. I’m too busy with the am-I-am-I-not debate that’s been going on in my head since I left the backyard. It keeps up the rest of the walk too, all the way up the driveway, into the house. Garen’s car is parked out front. Great. Just what I need. My mom’s boyfriend’s son hitting on me to confuse me more. It’s inevitable, though.
“I can’t believe you didn’t go to the party. You’re the one who told me to go,” I call once I reach the top of the stairs. I push open my bedroom door and toss the mask onto my desk. I unknot the tie on the cape, waiting for a response. It doesn’t come. I fold the cape over the back of my desk chair.
“It sucked anyway, I guess. I mean… I don’t know. I guess you didn’t really miss much,” I continue. I untuck my shirt and undo the top button. Still no reply. I sigh and head across the hall, pushing open Garen’s door.
“Are you deaf or just ignoring—”
I stop. I have to, because my throat just closed up and now I can’t breathe. Garen slowly spins his desk chair to face me, his face completely blank. We stare at each other for at least a minute before he pulls his sleeve down over his hand and drags it across his face, smearing off the whiskers and nose. His mask and tail are lying abandoned on his bed, and, still watching me, he pulls off his gloves and unclips the ears. I say the only thing I can think to say.
“Your hair.” I know already. I’ve seen the vast multitude of shit he has in the bathroom. Flat irons, wax, pomade. He does as much to his hair as Bree does to hers.
“I straighten it. But uh… you couldn’t see the ears through the spikes when I tried that,” he says quietly. I have no idea what to say. No idea at all. Thirty seconds later, though, I do.
“What the fuck?” I say. It comes out loud and harsh, and Garen flinches.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“So you knew? You knew it was me and you still did it? Were you ever going to tell me it was you?” I demand.
“No!” he says quickly, then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I mean, no, I didn’t know it was you. I only figured that out when you started talking outside. I, I barely heard you in the house, and then it was so dark outside and I’m sorry—”
“Shut up,” I order, and Garen stands up.
“Travis, I swear I didn’t know until after it happened—”
“Shut up!” I yell. And then before I can stop myself, “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me there?”
“What would you have done if I had? It would’ve been this exact conversation, only at the party. Would you really want that?” Garen demands.
“I didn’t want any of this!” I snap.
“Bullshit. You didn’t want it when you put your hands on my hips, when you came onto me? You initiated this, Travis, so don’t pretend I took advantage of you,” he says.
“Since when have I been the one who initiates things between us?” I ask.
“Since tonight. You think curly hair and a pair of ears means I’m not me? You can pretend all you want, but you didn’t do what you did at the party because of anything I said or did. You did it because you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” He swallows, then corrects himself. “Want. As much as I want you.”
“Garen.” I don’t know what to continue with, so I just close my mouth instead. Luckily – unluckily? – Garen knows how to fill the silence. He crosses the room in three steps and wraps an arm around my waist.
“Garen,” I repeat, grabbing his hands to untangle myself from him. His eyes flutter shut and his head lolls forward so our foreheads touch.
“Travis, I know the circumstance, okay? I’ve known since I met you, only in case you haven’t noticed, they haven’t really stopped me from anything. So just…” He sighs, his breath ghosting across my lips as he does so. “Can’t you just forget about all that shit? Just for tonight?”
The rules and restrictions and am-I-am-I-not debates and reasons why not are blasting in my skull. Story of my life. Always talking myself down from what I want in favor of what I’m supposed to need. Avoiding anything that can disrupt my schoolwork, my job, my psychotherapy and with it, my return to sanity I’m not sure I ever lost to begin with. My entire life is centered around walking on eggshells for my own safety. Fuck it. Not now. Not tonight.
Slowly, I nod.
“Yeah, you do,” Corey agrees. I elbow him in the ribs.
“Shut up. At least I’m wearing a costume. You just pussied out and threw together normal clothes,” I say.
“They’re not normal clothes. I’m Kurt Cobain,” he says. He gestures emphatically to his baggy jeans and flannel button down.
“You don’t have the hair,” I say.
“I’ve got a wig downstairs,” he says, waving his hand toward his bedroom door. “Where’s your face?”
“You mean ‘mask’?” I say, holding up the white plastic. I put it on and turn to face the mirror. Corey stands just behind me, also checking out my reflection.
“You look like a fucking geek with your hair all slicked back like that,” he says.
“And you’re gonna look like a heroin addict with your hair the way you’re gonna have it. So fuck you,” I say. I shove my cell phone in the pocket of my black dress pants and pull my cape a little tighter around me.
“What’s Nicole going as?” Corey asks.
“I don’t know. Something slutty, probably. Remember last year’s costume?” I say. He grins.
“The nurse thing? Yeah. Fondly,” he says. I shove him. “What’s Blaire going as?”
“Christine,” I say flatly. Corey bursts out laughing. I glare at him until he manages to gain control of himself, then I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him out of the room and down the hall to the front door.
“Are we picking up Faye and Miles?” I ask, tossing him his keys.
“No, they’re both gonna meet us there. I think Faye and Nicole both went early to help Blaire set up,” he says. “Sorry. Help Christine set up.”
I shove him out the door and follow him to the car. He starts the engine, pulls out, glances at me, smirking.
“You wanna pick the tunage?” he asks. He does every time we’re in the car together. His feelings about me not listening to music are similar to Garen’s, except he won’t do anything to try to make me change. This time, though, I grab my backpack out of the backseat and pull out a CD from the front pocket.
“Yeah, actually, I brought a CD,” I say. I grin exaggeratedly at him as I load the CD into the stereo. He blinks, then laughs.
“Well, fuck me, you finally started listening to music, you spazz,” he says. “What is it, anyway?”
Almost in response, the CD starts up. Corey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when do you listen to The Rasmus?”
“It’s called having layers, Cor. Most people are accustomed to it,” I say. In all honesty, I borrowed the CD from Garen yesterday. He was so ecstatic about me asking him to lend me a CD that he offered to let me borrow any CD from his entire collection. When I asked him to pick out something he thought I’d like, he was practically orgasmic. I left his room with at least a dozen.
We get to the party a little late. At least, later than people expected. The second I’m in the door, Faye appears in front of me, latching onto my arm and dragging me inside.
“Travis! Oh my god, what took you guys so long? Blaire thought you weren’t going to show,” she says.
“Why’s she flipping out so bad?” I ask. She gives me a look, and I shrug.
“Whatever. She’s in the kitchen.”
True to what Faye said, Blaire looks vaguely panicked when I come into the kitchen. She’s wringing her hands and trying not to let her brow furrow. When she sees me, the panic melts away and she grins brightly.
“Travis! You’re here!” she says. I feel like a dick, even though it was only ten minutes late.
“Yeah. Hey. Sorry I’m late,” I say. I see Nicole staring pointedly at me, so I duck down and kiss Blaire quickly on the cheek. She glows.
“It’s okay. No biggie,” she says. Bullshit. I don’t say anything to that, just try to sink into the swing of things.
It’s always weird hanging out in big groups like this. I barely know Blaire, and she won’t get off me. Every time Miles tosses off one of his usual one-liners or Corey says something stupid, Blaire giggles and leans back against my chest. I have had what… three conversations with her in my life? Suddenly it’s like she’s my girlfriend. I try to meet Nicole’s eyes to see if that’s what she’s been going for. When she finally catches my eye, she smiles innocently, then winks. God.
“Who is that?” Faye interrupts. In unison, we all turn to follow her eyes. I find myself looking at a guy dancing in a large group. He doesn’t seem to be wearing a costume, just black jeans, a black sweatshirt half-unzipped to show a dark grey t-shirt, and black boots. But the more I look, the more I notice; black gloves, a black mask covering his eyes. There’s a black nose and whiskers painted on, and tiny fake ears poking up through his dark brown curly hair. He turns to face someone, and I see the tail.
“What is that?” Miles asks.
“He’s a raccoon,” I say.
“That’s… okay, not going to lie here. That costume is worse than mine,” Corey says.
“Corey, no costume is worse than yours,” I sat. I don’t realize I’m moving towards the raccoon guy until Blaire snags my arm, gazing up at me with wide blue eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asks. I twist my arm gently from her hands.
“To get a drink. You want anything?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“No thanks. Come back soon, my costume looks stupid alone,” she says with a smile. The doorbell rings, and Blaire spins around, going off to answer it. The group trails slowly back to the front hall. I spin back around and head back across the living room. Raccoon Guy is still dancing with his friends, his back towards me. I swallow thickly and adjust my mask to make sure it covers my face properly. I lean forward so my mouth is next to his ear and place my hands on his hips.
“Nice tail,” I whisper. I feel him move against me, but I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be towards me or away from me. I yank my hands back before I can tell, and push through the crowd to the back door, throwing it open, slamming it shut behind me, and slumping against the wall next to it. I press my hands to my face.
I can’t believe I just did that. To a guy. Maybe Faye was right. Maybe that’s why Garen acts with me the way he does. He knows, sees it in me. Gaydar. If there’s even any gay to have gaydar pick up on. No. Not possible. I’ve dated girls, I’ve kissed girls. And I’ve liked it. I can’t be--
The door next to me opens suddenly, and I jump, slapping my hands down to my sides. Raccoon Guy takes four steps out onto the porch, pauses, then turns around to look at me. Shit. I straighten up and cough, open my mouth in hopes it will help me find some way to explain it. But Raccoon Guy reaches behind himself and brings forth his tail, waving the end of it as though in greeting. He cocks his head to the side and smiles. Familiar. He’s gotta be in one of my classes. Microbiology? Calc? I shove my hands in my pockets and stare down at the ground. Now what? I just hit on some guy I don’t know, and now everyone’s going to find out. I shouldn’t have done it to begin with, not with some guy I almost definitely go to school with. Not with any guy at all. I should apologize, explain, something.
And then Raccoon Guy stoops down so we’re level and kisses me. I back up against the wall, but then I realize that my hands went to his hips the second he touches me, so I’m dragging him with me. I quickly yank my hands away, but he catches them, laces his fingers through mine, and pins my arms to the wall above my head.
It’s so wildly different from kissing a girl that they barely even seem like the same action. Girls don’t press you against a wall like this. Girls don’t flatten themselves against you this hard. Girls don’t shock you to the point of immobility when their mouth opens against yours and you realize that’s their fucking tongue.
Raccoon Guy untangles one hand from mine and reaches for my mask, starting to slide it off. I panic and grab his hand.
“Don’t,” I say. Raccoon Guy steps quickly backward, his eyes widening. His head snaps down, avoiding my gaze.
“What?” I ask warily. A hand flies up to his hair and he hesitated for a second before raking his fingers through the curls. I reach out towards him, but he pushes past me, back inside the house. I stay where I am, stunned. What the fuck was that? That’s not what was supposed to happen. Okay, I don’t know what was supposed to happen, but it’s not what I wanted to happen. I wanted to kiss him. Him. Kiss him. I run a finger over my lips. Did that really just happen? It had to have. No way could I have made that up.
“Travis? Are you out here?” I look at the doorway next to me, where Blaire just appeared. I straighten up, pull my mask off.
“Yeah. Sorry, I wanted some air,” I say. “You know what? I’ve got a headache. I think I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”
Blaire visibly deflates, but nods.
“Okay. Thanks for coming,” she says. She raises herself up on her toes, tilting her face up to me expectantly. I pull her forward into a short, awkward hug.
“Bye,” I say, and I shove my way back through the house and out the front door. I should’ve found Corey first and told him I was leaving, I realize when I’m halfway home. Blaire will tell them though. Probably bitch about it, cry, whatever. I can’t worry about that now. I’m too busy with the am-I-am-I-not debate that’s been going on in my head since I left the backyard. It keeps up the rest of the walk too, all the way up the driveway, into the house. Garen’s car is parked out front. Great. Just what I need. My mom’s boyfriend’s son hitting on me to confuse me more. It’s inevitable, though.
“I can’t believe you didn’t go to the party. You’re the one who told me to go,” I call once I reach the top of the stairs. I push open my bedroom door and toss the mask onto my desk. I unknot the tie on the cape, waiting for a response. It doesn’t come. I fold the cape over the back of my desk chair.
“It sucked anyway, I guess. I mean… I don’t know. I guess you didn’t really miss much,” I continue. I untuck my shirt and undo the top button. Still no reply. I sigh and head across the hall, pushing open Garen’s door.
“Are you deaf or just ignoring—”
I stop. I have to, because my throat just closed up and now I can’t breathe. Garen slowly spins his desk chair to face me, his face completely blank. We stare at each other for at least a minute before he pulls his sleeve down over his hand and drags it across his face, smearing off the whiskers and nose. His mask and tail are lying abandoned on his bed, and, still watching me, he pulls off his gloves and unclips the ears. I say the only thing I can think to say.
“Your hair.” I know already. I’ve seen the vast multitude of shit he has in the bathroom. Flat irons, wax, pomade. He does as much to his hair as Bree does to hers.
“I straighten it. But uh… you couldn’t see the ears through the spikes when I tried that,” he says quietly. I have no idea what to say. No idea at all. Thirty seconds later, though, I do.
“What the fuck?” I say. It comes out loud and harsh, and Garen flinches.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“So you knew? You knew it was me and you still did it? Were you ever going to tell me it was you?” I demand.
“No!” he says quickly, then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I mean, no, I didn’t know it was you. I only figured that out when you started talking outside. I, I barely heard you in the house, and then it was so dark outside and I’m sorry—”
“Shut up,” I order, and Garen stands up.
“Travis, I swear I didn’t know until after it happened—”
“Shut up!” I yell. And then before I can stop myself, “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me there?”
“What would you have done if I had? It would’ve been this exact conversation, only at the party. Would you really want that?” Garen demands.
“I didn’t want any of this!” I snap.
“Bullshit. You didn’t want it when you put your hands on my hips, when you came onto me? You initiated this, Travis, so don’t pretend I took advantage of you,” he says.
“Since when have I been the one who initiates things between us?” I ask.
“Since tonight. You think curly hair and a pair of ears means I’m not me? You can pretend all you want, but you didn’t do what you did at the party because of anything I said or did. You did it because you wanted me as much as I wanted you.” He swallows, then corrects himself. “Want. As much as I want you.”
“Garen.” I don’t know what to continue with, so I just close my mouth instead. Luckily – unluckily? – Garen knows how to fill the silence. He crosses the room in three steps and wraps an arm around my waist.
“Garen,” I repeat, grabbing his hands to untangle myself from him. His eyes flutter shut and his head lolls forward so our foreheads touch.
“Travis, I know the circumstance, okay? I’ve known since I met you, only in case you haven’t noticed, they haven’t really stopped me from anything. So just…” He sighs, his breath ghosting across my lips as he does so. “Can’t you just forget about all that shit? Just for tonight?”
The rules and restrictions and am-I-am-I-not debates and reasons why not are blasting in my skull. Story of my life. Always talking myself down from what I want in favor of what I’m supposed to need. Avoiding anything that can disrupt my schoolwork, my job, my psychotherapy and with it, my return to sanity I’m not sure I ever lost to begin with. My entire life is centered around walking on eggshells for my own safety. Fuck it. Not now. Not tonight.
Slowly, I nod.