Page 148 of Hockey Bois
Together.
They were late back to the house for fireworks, but their friends graciously didn’t mention it.
*
“This place has beer?” Brady was eyeing the bar at the far end of the lobby while they stood in line for popcorn. “Why has no one told me movie theaters have beer now?”
Brady had looked exhausted the past few days, more quiet than usual, his clothes adorably rumpled. Something about allergies, he’d said. Brady hadn’t wanted to go out, but Nick had talked him into going out for a movie for a change of pace. He’d perked up when they arrived, and he realized the theater was underground; when he’d taken in the lobby, the last of his sullen mood had slipped away.
“Most don’t?” Nick narrowed his eyes. “Do you not go to movies?”
Brady shrugged. “Not really? I just stream stuff when it comes out if I want to see it. I’m not much of a movie person.”
“I believe you,” Nick said. “I’ve seen your queue. It’s all documentaries and old TV shows.”
“What’s wrong with old TV shows?”
“Nothing. If you’re old.”
Brady rolled his eyes. “Get some candy, would ya? I’m gonna check out the beer.”
They barely got to their seats in time for previews, the theater lights going dark as they found their row but before they’d found their seats. They were in the back row right beneath the projector, and it hummed loud enough that Nick could hear it over the audio.
Once they were out of the bright lobby, he noticed a change in proximity. They hadn’t exactly beendistant, but now that they’d settled in their seats, Brady’s leg was slung over his, and they were elbow-to-elbow on the armrest. It was like, as soon as he was sure no one could see them, Brady sought even the smallest bit of contact.
Nick ignored it. Plenty of people weren’t into PDA. It didn’t mean anything.
“You like weird movies,” Brady whispered after the first preview. “Like I guess I knew that from hanging out at your place, but still.”
“I’ve seen everything currently playing in regular theaters,” he said. He kept his voice low even though the nearest group to them was three rows down and several seats to the right. “Sometimes you gotta go to places like this to find something new.”
“You’re a hipster,” Brady shot back. “You don’t like mainstream movies so you brought me to a fancy theater with obscure foreign shit. And beer. So good choice.”
“Shhh. The movie’s starting.”
Nick could hardly concentrate. Yeah, he watched the movie, but more often than not, his eyes drifted to Brady. He liked seeing his expression light up at the dramatic moments, hearing his surprised laughter at the jokes, watching his unimpressed look at the “big reveal” at the end. Every single reaction was beautiful, way better than the movie Nick was barely following.
At one point Brady caught him staring. He did a double take, gave him a questioning look, then leaned over to kiss him. “Watch the movie,” he whispered and squeezed his hand gently before turning back to the screen.
After the credits, Nick couldn’t say with any certainty what had happened, but he knew Brady had liked the movie. That was enough for it to be one of his favorites, honestly.
“You grew up around here, right?” Brady asked casually as they tossed their empty popcorn bags and beer cans into the trash and left the cool theater for a humid parking lot.
“Not really. Like forty-fifty minutes north of here. Why?”
“That’s too bad,” Brady teased. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, so close it’d be easy to put his arm around Brady’s waist or his shoulder. Instead he buried his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation. He was perfectly capable of being a gentleman and respecting Brady’s boundaries. And then he jerked when Brady slipped a hand over his shoulder and pulled him closer, pressed his mouth right to Nick’s ear, and whispered, “Thought you’d know all the best make-out spots.”
Nick shuddered and gulped. “I might know a few. If you don’t mind a drive.”
“I don’t mind at all. If we go quick, we can catch the sunset.” A kiss to his temple and Brady pulled away, jogging to the car.
He stood there a moment, staring after him with his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding. Then he smiled and ran after him. “Wait up!”
*
Nick steered them toward a lake closer to where he grew up. The whole drive over, Nick nervously babbled about the movie, the theater, the director, the actors; Brady let him, occasionally humming in agreement or chuckling at a joke.
Nearly an hour later, Nick pulled into a spot by the path that led around the water. Before he’d even cut the ignition, Brady’s hand was on the back of his neck, thumb tickling at the hair there. “Wanna go for a walk?”
