Page 127 of The Friend Scheme
The poster shows two buff guys in front of a steel-blue background. Maybe fittingly, they’re both are totally blue steel–ing it. It sinks in that this is a gay movie, so people could assume that Jason and I are on a date. I think we pass as friends normally, but here, maybe not.
We enter the theater, and see that the trailers have already started. It’s playing one starring a straight white dude in his midforties who’s a secret agent or something. I dunno, it’s one of the dozens they make that are basically the same each year. One of the ones that might as well be calledTESTOSTERONE. We make our way up the steps and sit in the very back row, a little to the side. The theater is maybe three-quarters full. The roof has this cool golden pattern on it, and the walls are red and black. There’s a reason I suggested this cinema; it’s by far the coolest in the city.
I open the Junior Mints and offer them to him, rattling them. He takes the box and tries a handful, then smiles.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“You’re right,” he says. “These are, like, way too good. Totally not just for grandpas.”
Success!
“Right?”
He pulls them away, so I have to reach over and grab the box to take them back. We wrestle for a second, then we remember we’re in public and settle, both smiling.
The movie is about this guy who interns at a new tech company, only to discover that the people he’s working for are incredibly evil.
The main actor is really cute, an ex-Disney star I think, and there’s a weird number of shots of him stressing about his life in a futuristic shower. The camera lingers on his newly crafted abs multiple times, which I appreciate. But I’m sitting next to Jason, and I’ve got a massive sugar high from the Junior Mints, so it’s hard to focus on the movie.
I turn and look at him. His profile is lit up by the screen. He looks like the lead from an old classic, like the ones who had to keep who they liked a secret to be leading men.
Jason catches me looking, then his hand brushes the back of my palm.
He moves a little, close enough that his leg is as close to mine as it can be without actually touching. Still staring forward, he offers his hand to me.
I take it.
The movie was great.
Under different circumstances, it might’ve even become a new favorite. But I straight-up don’t have the space to obsess oversomething new right now. We’re out of the theater now, on the street. It’s humid as hell, and the air is thick. Around us, people hurry by, trying to get back to air-conditioning as fast as possible.
I watch as a sleek black Mercedes drives past us.
Its windows are so dark I can’t see inside.
“Are you hungry?” asks Jason, pulling me back to earth.
“I mean, always.”
He smiles. “Me too. What do you feel like?”
I can’t help but think about that car. What if I know them? What if, right now, word about who I’m with is getting back to Dad?
“Waffle fries?” I suggest.
“Yes! Oh my God, we’re so doing this.”
His smile is infectious and makes my spiraling brain shut up. It’ll be fine.
He pulls out his phone and starts looking up restaurants.
“There’s one a five-minute walk away.”
“Perfect.”
He sets off down the street. I follow after him.
He turns his hand, and offers it to me.
