Page 19 of Down My Chimney

“I don’t have to,” Henry said, “and I’m not going to.” He threw a quick, tight smile in my direction, but he still didn’t explain.

“Dude, are you insane?” Chelle said. “Four months of traveling around Europe, focusing on theater and soaking up all that history? I’m not thrilled about Vernon being gone that long, but I completely understand why he wants to go. It sounds amazing.”

My heart skipped a beat. I still wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it sounded very far away from California. And four months was a long time.

“When would you go?” I asked Henry quietly.

“This fall.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But I’m not going, so it’s a non-issue. What weshouldbe talking about is how many children were traumatized by Allyson’s six-foot-tall tube-sock monstrosities. I saw a five-year-old in the audience. Fifty bucks says that kid is still talking about tonight in therapy twenty years from now.”

“Great art is always challenging,” Allyson said airily.

“Don’t they use puppets in children’s therapy sometimes?” Vernon asked. “You’ve gone and knee-capped one of the best weapons in their arsenal.”

Henry squeezed my hand again, and the conversation moved on, but I couldn’t help feeling like there was something he wasn’t telling me. And I wanted to know why.

5

Henry

Ikissed Blake the second we walked through the door to Fliss’s apartment.

It was intoxicating, hanging out with my friendswithBlake. I wondered if it was a little gross, the urge I had to show him off, before deciding I didn’t care. I’d spent so much of my life feeling like the ugly duckling. The fact that someone like Blake wanted me?

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

We stumbled into the bedroom, our clothes coming off in a whirlwind. The bed squeaked when we flopped onto it, then thumped against the wall as Blake pushed me up against the headboard. I couldn’t help laughing, remembering how quiet we’d had to be in Blake’s apartment. I could only hope Fliss’s place had thick walls.

I pulled him down, biting his lower lip as my hand traveled to his cock. We were both hard, and the only thing standing between us was our underwear. I stroked Blake over his boxers, and he moaned into my mouth. But when I slid my fingers underneath his waistband, he put a hand on my wrist.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the kiss and pulling back to give me a searching look. His eyes were a deep, rich brown. “Can we talk for a second?”

My heart thumped. It was never good when someone started a conversation like that. Had I done something wrong? Did I touch him too much at the diner? Or had my friends offended him?

“Sure.” I swallowed. Blake sat back on his heels, and I slid upwards, leaning against the pillows. I felt much more exposed than I had five seconds ago. “What’s up?”

He stared at me for a second, then nodded. “Listen, at the diner—”

“I’m sorry,” I burst out. “I shouldn’t have made us go to the play. Or out afterwards. You said you were tired, and I pushed, and I should have just—”

“No, no, Henry.” Blake took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Don’t apologize. That’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Okay?”

I scanned his face for clues. He shifted so he was sitting cross-legged and pulled his hand free, but only so he could play with my fingers, tugging them one at a time. He looked down at my nails like he was inspecting my cuticles.

“That thing Vernon was talking about. That application, that you said you weren’t going to do. What’s it for?”

“That?” My whole body sagged with relief. That wasnotwhat I thought he was going to say. “It’s just a study abroad program for TFT majors. Theater, film, and television,” I added when Blake’s brow furrowed.

“And you get to go to Europe?” he said, looking up. “Travel around and see different countries?”

“I mean, only three.” I shrugged. “England, Italy, and Greece.”

“And you’d go this fall? Why wouldn’t you want to do that? That sounds awesome.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, feeling awkward. “I’m sure it would be awesome. But it just doesn’t make sense with my schedule. I’d probably have to graduate a semester or two late if I did that. And it’s expensive, too. I couldn’t work during it, and my financial aid wouldn’t cover it.”

“Couldn’t you get a summer job?” he asked.

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