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Click here for Part One, headers and warnings
Friday rolled around again, and so did Intro to Photography. Last week’s class felt like it had happened ages ago, but at the same time, Spencer had that weird feeling that the week had gone by remarkably fast.
Spencer had his assignment ready to go, printout in hand. He showed up to class early to make sure he could get a seat toward the back. He sure as hell wasn’t sitting up front again.
Jon walked into the room right at six, his bag slung over his shoulder, wearing the same button-down-with-rolled-sleeves look he’d had on earlier in the week. He looked disheveled in a really appealing way.
“Hey, everyone,” Jon said, smiling and setting down his bag on a chair. “Let me just get set up here and we’ll get started.”
For the next two hours, Jon talked at length about depth of field, and Spencer realized he just liked listening to Jon’s voice. He had a deep voice, although not too deep, with a little bit of a Chicago accent. The part of Spencer that decided it wasn’t going to pay attention to his “don’t think about Jon” mandate thought Jon’s voice was hot. And wouldn’t be opposed to hearing that voice say certain things in his ear.
At the end of class – it was over an hour early – everyone dropped off his or her assignment on a table at the front of the room so Jon could collect them. As Spencer set his on top of the pile, Jon whispered, “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Spencer looked behind him; the last student put his photo on the table, and Jon said, “Bye! Have a nice weekend.” The guy mumbled a “Bye” and left, and Spencer turned back to Jon.
“I hope this is class-related,” Spencer said, straightening his shoulders.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the party.”
Spencer stepped back, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”
“It was a fun night, but I think as long as you’re in this class, it shouldn’t happen again.” Jon started to gather and straighten the pile of pictures on the table. He gave a little half-smile. “Even if I’m still technically a student, I’m also your teacher, so.”
“Well. I agree with you,” Spencer said. “And I’m sorry for calling you an ass.”
Jon slipped the photos into a folder that he put in his bag. He looked up and said, “I was probably being one and deserved it.”
“You said something like, ‘Just let me remind you I’m responsible for one of your grades.’”
Jon’s cheeks turned pink, and he winced. “Did I?”
“Yes. That’s what sent me over the edge.”
“I’d had a few drinks,” Jon said, reaching to get his computer, his arm brushing against Spencer’s in the process. That small amount of contact set off a little spark along Spencer’s skin, just enough to make him bite his bottom lip. And then to notice Jon looking at his mouth.
Spencer released his lip, and Jon looked away. “I – anyway. I think we can agree we both weren’t exactly on our best behavior that night, so we can just forget it,” Spencer said.
Jon nodded. “Right. And trust me, it won’t affect anything here.” He gestured at the room. Quickly, he added, “Not that it ever would. I’m just saying.”
“Well, thanks,” Spencer said. “I’m glad we got this out of the way.”
“Me, too.” Jon picked up his bag. “I’ll walk with you outside.” At Spencer’s wary look, he said, amused, “Just in a friendly way.”
They left the classroom, Jon making sure on the way out that the door locked behind them. After a few minutes filled with just their footsteps and the chatter of some nearby students, Jon said, “I had fun talking to you the other night. This doesn’t extend to us not talking, does it?”
Spencer wanted to groan because seriously? He made progress on this whole Jon thing and now Jon wanted them to talk. About what was anybody’s guess, though.
“Um, no,” Spencer said.
“Because if we run into each other outside of class – and we probably will – I don’t want it to be a situation where you avoid me, or think you can’t say hi.” Jon zipped up his hoodie and glanced over at Spencer.
Spencer thought about Monday, about how he’d escaped to the back stairwell just so he wouldn’t have to walk past Jon. It was almost like Jon knew.
Jon slowed down, and Spencer realized they’d arrived at his motorcycle. Fuck, that was right, he drove a motorcycle. Looking at him, he didn’t look like a motorcycle sort of guy. He looked more likely to drive a Prius.
“This is me,” Jon announced.
Spencer stared at the bike, at the black leather and shiny chrome. “When did you start riding a motorcycle?”
“Oh, a long time ago,” Jon said, waving his hand like it was nothing, like it was just something he happened to pick up. “My dad taught me.”
“You just don’t look like a typical biker dude, you know,” Spencer said, laughing.
Jon laughed with him and said, “I know, but I love it. Riding around the city at night is one of my favorite things.” He paused and said, rubbing a hand over his beard, “Although, if you’re going by typical biker dude appearance, I have the beard. And last week, I had the leather jacket.” He grinned, and Spencer grinned back.
“You lack a certain badass quality,” Spencer said.
“Hey! I can totally do badass.”
“Keep telling that to yourself.”
“Oh, burn,” Jon said.
Spencer snorted. “Did you just say ‘oh, burn’?”
“Yep.” Jon stuck his bag in the case on the back of the bike. “Because you wounded me.”
“Sure.” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jon strap on his helmet and get on the motorcycle.
“Someday I’ll have to take you for a ride,” Jon said. “I only have a couple more months before the weather gets shitty.”
Spencer’s throat went completely dry, first at the terror of imagining himself on the back of a motorcycle, and then at the thought of being pressed up against Jon with his arms around him.
“Are you sure that isn’t violating the guidelines of appropriate behavior?”
“We’ll make an exception,” Jon replied, revving the engine. “Anyway, it’s just a motorcycle ride.” In a second, Spencer saw the idea form in Jon’s head just by the expression on his face, in the way his eyes got bigger and he smiled. “Do you live nearby? I could give you a ride home, if you want.”
“You mean … now?” Spencer looked at him with a degree of incredulousness he used to reserve only for some of Ryan’s more out-there ideas when they were teenagers.
Jon laughed. “Yeah. You live close?”
“Off of Michigan,” Spencer said, but instinctively he stepped away from the motorcycle. “I’m not going to get on that without a helmet.”
“Use mine.” Jon took off his helmet and tossed it at Spencer, who caught it.
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Yeah, and I promise to put it back on after I drop you off.”
Spencer took a deep breath and put on the helmet, making sure it was secure before he moved hesitantly toward the back of the bike.
“Hop on. I promise not to kill you,” Jon said, and something in his voice made Spencer believe him.
“Making a lot of promises, huh?” Spencer said under his breath, swinging one leg over the side and getting on.
“I’m not going to bite; you can put your arms around me,” Jon said with mild annoyance. Gingerly, Spencer put his arms around Jon’s midsection, and Jon added, “You might want to move a little bit closer, too. Don’t want you to fall off.”
Spencer did what Jon said, moving until his chest was nearly flush with Jon’s back and he had that same feeling he’d had in the classroom, the sparks along his skin, only this time his stomach was in knots, too.
Jon looked over his shoulder. “Some quick directions?”
Spencer rattled them off, and Jon instructed him to hold on. He did, and they were off. Jon was careful; he wasn’t one of those daring motorcyclists who zipped through traffic, around cars and in between lanes. Judging from the way he handled the bike, Spencer guessed that Jon wasn’t driving that way only because Spencer was along for the ride.
It was almost like nothing Spencer had ever experienced before; the closest comparison he could make was a really fast amusement park ride, the kind that made his stomach bottom out. But unlike an amusement park ride, on the motorcycle, he knew he was on the ground, not up in the air. And he had Jon against him.
Jon wasn’t big, but he was solid, and Spencer could feel the muscles in his back and in his stomach. As the city whooshed past, a blur of lights, buildings, street signs, and cars, he considered what Jon would be like underneath those clothes, how his skin would feel, what the muscle and bone would be like beneath Spencer’s fingertips. Spencer closed his eyes and felt the wind whip through his clothes, and he didn’t open his eyes again until Jon came to a stop.
“Here we are,” Jon said, and Spencer opened his eyes, startled.
“Oh.” Spencer blinked a few times and realized it was time for him to get off the bike. He took off the helmet and handed it to Jon, then got off. His legs were liquid, and he steadied himself by holding onto Jon’s shoulder.
Jon looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
Spencer nodded and let go of his grip. “Just a little dizzy, and my legs feel weird.”
“That’s normal. It starts to go away after a few times,” Jon said. His eyes still hadn’t left Spencer’s.
“Thanks for the ride,” Spencer said, and he patted his pockets for his keys.
“You’re welcome. I hope you liked it?” Jon was still looking at him, still unnerving him. He was good at that.
“I did. Kind of takes some getting used to, but I liked it.”
“Good.” Jon smiled. He opened his mouth, but then he hesitated and bit his lip before he spoke again. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”
Spencer sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but we have an agreement. One that we just discussed, actually.”
Jon tilted his head to the side and a grin slowly spread over his face. “Did you think I was just asking you out there?”
“Yes.” Spencer made a face. “What else would you have been doing?”
“I don’t know,” Jon replied. “Maybe just inquiring about your plans?”
“Oh my god,” Spencer muttered in disbelief. He walked toward his building. “You are unbelievable.”
Jon smirked. “Really, I was just asking what you were doing. Wouldn’t want to run into you at another party.”
“I have no plans for this weekend. You want to know what my plans are?”
“I thought you just said you didn’t have any.”
Ignoring him, Spencer continued, “My plans involve writing an article for my magazine writing class, sleeping, and not thinking about you.”
“You can think about me in a strictly professional sense,” Jon said.
“Thank you for the consideration,” Spencer said, “and thanks again for the ride.” He pulled out his keys. “I’ll see you in class.”
Jon put on the helmet and gave Spencer a little wave before he pulled away from the curb.
The whole situation was ten different kinds of inappropriate, but the thing was, Spencer didn’t care. Still, he needed to set some boundaries. Like no more rides on the back of Jon’s motorcycle while thinking about having sex with him. Or thinking about having sex with Jon at all.
Spencer watched Jon ride down the street until he couldn’t see him anymore.
*
“You should come get coffee with me,” Brendon said from his spot on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Dude, what time is it? Is it still morning?”
Spencer was looking through the cabinets for food that was actually suitable for human consumption. So far, he’d found some saltine crackers, a package of chocolate chip cookies, and a bag of candy. They should probably go grocery shopping sometime.
He glanced at the clock. “Twelve-thirty. And we don’t have any food.”
“Well, the place I have in mind has amazing pastries.” Brendon grinned and scrambled to his feet. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”
Forty-five minutes later, Spencer was standing face-to-face with Jon in a coffee shop called The Daily Grind.
“Hey,” Jon greeted them from behind the counter, smiling the slow, lazy smile that made Spencer warm all over.
Spencer looked down at his feet and tried to make his face not turn pink. He was too old for this shit, for this kind of crush.
“Haven’t seen you here in a while, Brendon,” Jon said, adding, “but I remember your order.”
“Awesome. Spencer, what do you want?” Brendon asked.
Spencer managed to look up long enough to say, “Vanilla latte.”
“It’s nice seeing you, too, Spencer,” Jon said. He grabbed their cups and a Sharpie to mark them. “Considering it’s been so long.” And there was that grin again.
“Yeah, I know,” Spencer said, not even trying to hide his irritation. He looked around the place; it had a worn-in feel, a vibe like it was a spot for people in the neighborhood to hang out reading and using the free wi-fi while sitting in big, oversized chairs in mismatched colors.
After they paid for their drinks and a couple of cookies, Spencer hissed in Brendon’s ear, “Did you come here on purpose?”
Brendon gave him his best “I’m innocent, I swear” look and said, “Yes, if you mean did I come here on purpose because they have awesome coffee and delicious treats?”
He was such a terrible actor.
Spencer just rolled his eyes and wandered over to the newspaper rack and grabbed a copy of the Chicago Reader. He flipped through the pages while they waited for their drinks.
The barista making their drinks – Spencer vaguely recognized her before he realized she was the woman with the blonde hair Jon and Ryan were with the other day – was chatting up Brendon about some class.
Spencer found a free chair and flopped into it with his newspaper, not really reading anything, too jittery from seeing Jon to concentrate on much of anything. He’d never been this – he didn’t even know the word for it – distracted by someone. Wound up. Attracted. Of course he’d been attracted to other people; he’d even slept with a few of them. But they’d all been casual hookups, and he hadn’t had any real connection with them. And whatever he felt about them was nothing like he’d been feeling toward Jon, like he was rattled simply by being in Jon’s presence.
“Hey, drinks!” Brendon announced, waving Spencer’s latte in front of his face.
Spencer grabbed the drink. “Thanks.” He took a sip; it was too hot, and it burned the tip of his tongue. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, you should let it cool down a bit.” Brendon stretched out in the chair across from Spencer, kicking up his feet on the table between them. At Spencer’s look, Brendon said, “They encourage people to put their feet on the furniture.”
Spencer laughed. “Okay, if you say so.” He tossed the paper on the table. “Who’s the girl you were talking to?”
“Greta. I have a theory class with her,” Brendon said. “She’s friends with Jon. I mean, they work together, but they’re friends, used to play in bands that did shows together and stuff.”
“Everyone’s friends with Jon, huh?” Spencer asked. He took the lid off his coffee and blew on the hot liquid.
“Well, he’s super awesome,” Brendon said enthusiastically, reaching for Spencer’s discarded copy of the Reader.
Spencer rolled his eyes; he was getting tired of hearing how “super awesome” Jon was. He’d overheard a few people from his class talking about how “interesting” Jon’s class was. It wasn’t that great.
Because Spencer needed to get it out there, he said, “He gave me a ride home on his motorcycle last night.”
“See, now you know of his awesomeness firsthand.”
“I think it’s inappropriate,” Spencer said. “He teaches my photography class, and – you know.” Spencer was far away enough from the front of the store that he could look over at Jon without his knowing. Jon was happily talking to a customer, pointing out various items in the pastry case. He was wearing a tight-fitting, although flattering, dark blue t-shirt and jeans. It was impossible for him to ever look anything less than good.
“I know what?”
Spencer leaned in. “I made out with him at Ryan and Z’s party.”
Brendon tilted his head back and said, “Haaaaa!” really loudly.
“Dude! What the fuck?” Spencer smacked Brendon’s foot; a few people sitting near them had turned their heads briefly to look.
“Sorry. This is too good.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.”
Spencer sighed.
“I knew you liked him. I knew it. Why did you think I made us come here?” Brendon smiled at him.
“I thought it was because of the ‘awesome coffee and delicious treats,’” Spencer said sardonically.
“No, it’s because I decided to be a matchmaker,” Brendon said, still smiling. He ripped the cardboard sleeve off his cup and started to tear it into little pieces. He knitted his eyebrows together and concentrated on the piece of cardboard in his hands. “I think I could have a serious career in matchmaking if I weren’t so invested in music.”
“You’re evil,” Spencer said without malice. “You come across as a very nice, likeable person, but underneath, you’re just an evil genius.”
“So you willing admit that I’m a genius,” Brendon said, looking up and beaming. “Thank you.”
Spencer frowned and picked up his coffee to see if he could drink it now without burning his tongue again. “This is really good coffee,” he said after he’d swallowed.
Brendon got a smug look on his face. “I know.”
“Then why haven’t you been here in forever?”
“Starbucks was closer. But we might have to start coming here more often.”
“’We’?” Spencer said. “I think you mean to use the singular, not plural.”
“Well, of course you can come on your own to visit your boyfr— excuse me, teacher.”
“Asshole,” Spencer muttered.
“I’m doing you a great service here,” Brendon said, gesturing with his coffee cup in what Spencer knew Brendon thought was a very theatrical manner. “I’m trying to get you laid.”
Spencer reached across the table to snatch his newspaper back and started to read it in earnest. “I appreciate the effort,” he said, opening to the first page, “but it’s not going to happen.”
*
Spencer didn’t mean to go there, but he ended up back at The Daily Grind on Monday morning, only to be disappointed – and god, he was irritated with himself for being disappointed – that Jon wasn’t working. Instead, a serious-looking guy with messy, dark blonde hair and a five o’clock shadow (at nine in the morning) took his order.
He got the coffee to go and headed to campus. It was a longer walk since the coffee shop was out of his way, but he didn’t mind. It was a gorgeous, bright day in mid-September; he had coffee and music; and he found himself smiling for no reason.
He made it through his shift in the office and went to class that evening, and on his way home he decided to stop by the shop again. Not because he thought he’d see Jon. He had to stay up late to do some work, and caffeine was an absolute necessity.
When he walked in, the place was nearly empty. It was around 9:30 on a Monday night, so it wasn’t exactly surprising.
Jon was the only person behind the counter, and as soon as he saw Spencer, his face lit up, sending a nervous feeling right to Spencer’s stomach.
“Hey,” Jon said. “Nice to see you back. Tom said you were here this morning.”
“Tom?” Then Spencer remembered the guy with the messy hair and stubble. Who was, apparently, on Spencer-watch for his friend.
“Yeah, the guy who waited on you this morning. Anyway.” Jon grabbed a medium cup. “Vanilla latte, right?”
“Sure.” Spencer watched Jon make the drink, and as he watched, Jon talked.
“See, this isn’t so weird, talking outside of class.” Jon said, pulling the shots of espresso. “You’re even coming here to visit me.”
Spencer spluttered out, “I’m – I’m not coming to visit you; I’m here for my coffee.”
“It is really good coffee,” Jon said. “I’m just an added bonus.”
“You’re not an added anything,” Spencer muttered, knowing that was a lie. Jon was a nice bonus, especially after a long day, especially when he was dressed in another t-shirt that showed off his arms. He looked a little tired, too, but not in a bad way. The sleepiness softened his eyes and made his voice rougher.
Jon laughed. “I’m totally the best part of your day; don’t lie.”
“You’re really confident that you have some huge place in my life, and I barely even know you,” Spencer said, trying for irritated but instead coming off as amused.
“Well, you could change that pretty easily. The barely knowing me part.” Jon said the last part quietly, mostly to himself.
Spencer didn’t know what to say to that, so he just listened to the music playing in the store. Vampire Weekend. Not too bad, but going by appearances, he expected this place to play something a little more obscure.
Jon finished off Spencer’s drink by spooning some foam on top. He came back to the cash register and pushed the drink across the counter toward Spencer.
“How much do I owe?” Spencer asked, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbed through a few ones and pulled out four.
“Nothing,” Jon replied, waving off the money when Spencer tried to hand it to him. Actually, Spencer tried to force the money into his hand, saying, “Take it,” and their hands touched for a moment – just barely – and Spencer looked in Jon’s eyes. Jon looked like he was about to laugh, his mouth twisted up from the effort of trying not to.
“I told you, you don’t owe anything.”
“But –“ Spencer started to say.
Jon placed a hand on the counter and gave Spencer a pointed look. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Um. Thanks.” Spencer took the coffee, and damn it, he could feel the heat in his face.
“No problem.”
When Jon turned away, Spencer put all four dollars in the tip jar.
*
It was hard to disconnect the Jon that Spencer saw in class with the Jon from the coffee shop or the Jon who had taken him home on the back of his motorcycle (or, for that matter, the Jon who had drunkenly made out with him). He had to keep forcing himself to think of Jon as a teacher, as the person who was responsible for his grade in a class.
A class he was doing pretty well in, actually. After his guilt over turning in that first assignment without really doing it, Spencer had been diligent about going out every week to take photographs for class. Mostly he’d find time in the mornings on his walk to campus, or in the apartment late at night, but he finished his work on time and had gotten at least a B on everything so far. Sometimes he wondered if Jon was favoring him over other students – the last thing Spencer wanted was a conflict of interest – but he knew his work was good. Maybe not the best, but he was turning out to be a solid photographer, and he was slowly learning his way around the settings on the fancy digital SLR he’d rented from the department.
A slow Thursday afternoon in the graduate liberal arts office found him flicking through the photos on his camera, trying to decide which one to use for the lesson on exposures. He’d taken a shot with a long exposure out the window of Ryan and Z’s apartment, the same view he’d loved so much the night of the party. Ryan had seen it earlier, before he’d left to teach his section of Core English (he was such a disgruntled, cranky professor, and Spencer loved it), and he’d pointed at it and said, “That one.”
Glancing at the clock, Spencer decided he could probably sneak out early. It was around 3:30, and the office was dead. He didn’t have class that night, and he wanted to have enough time to relax and get some writing done before he and Brendon settled in for a night of TV-watching.
He had time to swing by the coffee shop. Over the past week and a half, he’d managed to figure out Jon’s schedule. That made him feel only slightly creepy, but Tom had readily volunteered the information one afternoon when Spencer came in.
“Mostly late afternoons and evenings,” Tom had said. “He’s off on Fridays and Saturdays.”
Spencer wasn’t sure what it said about him that the reason he was coming to the shop so often wasn’t entirely coffee-related. And that it was plain for everyone to see.
When Spencer walked in around four, Jon was busy making drinks, but he definitely noticed when Spencer walked in the door. He straightened up and made eye contact, which Spencer returned with a smile and a nod.
After the line had thinned out, Jon came over to where Spencer was standing and waiting for his drink.
“You’ve become quite the regular,” Jon said, looking up from the espresso machine and grinning.
Spencer shrugged. “I guess so.”
“What keeps you coming back? The delicious coffee? The atmosphere? Or the extremely attractive team of baristas?” Jon said, still grinning.
Greta snorted next to him. “Flirt harder, Jon.”
Spencer hadn’t seen Jon blush that often – he remembered seeing him do it at the party – but Jon’s cheeks went red. “I’m not,” he muttered.
“You’re kind of ridiculous, you know,” Spencer said. “What happened to maintaining your professional boundaries?”
“When I mentioned the extremely attractive baristas, I was referring to Greta and Tom,” Jon said. He raised his hands. “Anyway, I just like to know what our loyal customers like.”
“I like the coffee,” Spencer said, “and the music. You’re always playing good music.”
At that moment, the new Arcade Fire album was playing. Over the past few weeks, he’d heard everything from Arcade Fire to the Beach Boys to Sam Cooke and even some late ‘90s alt-rock. Spencer had to admit he had a soft spot for Third Eye Blind and Semisonic. And he knew Jon did, too, because he was always the only person in the store when those bands were playing.
Jon smiled to himself. “Good. I’m glad you like the music.”
“Yeah, so.” Spencer grabbed his coffee. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“Bye. Have a good night.” Jon waved, and Spencer said thanks, wished him the same, and left.
*
The next day, Jon announced that they, as a class, would be taking a photo walk around the neighborhood.
“You can go off on your own if you’d like,” Jon said, “but we’re going to meet back here by eight o’clock.”
Jon was in full-on teacher mode that day, even wearing a tie. He looked good in a tie. And no, Spencer was not thinking about tugging him close by that tie to pull him in for a kiss. Or thinking of the tie as having any other purpose than something that went around Jon’s neck when he was wearing a dress shirt.
The class straggled out of the room, heavy cameras around their necks, led by an enthusiastic and happy Jon, who was holding his own camera. Spencer thought that they must have been a sight for all the passersby, this random group of tired-looking twenty-somethings, all with these huge cameras.
Spencer fell into step at the back of the group, stopping to take shots of some of the buildings. Downtown Chicago had some cool architecture, and Spencer had always been into the design of buildings, in an abstract sort of way.
Gradually, the group of students began to split off from each other. Spencer was glad for the alone time. It was the middle of fall, the leaves were changing, and there was a crisp feel to the October air. It wasn’t too hot or too cold, but it was cool enough that he needed a jacket. This kind of weather was his favorite.
He wandered up a side street that was lined with trees, taking shots of the leaves on the branches and on the ground.
“You’re pretty good, you know,” Jon said from behind him, and Spencer jumped a little. Thankfully it didn’t happen in the middle of a shot.
Spencer shifted the camera to his other hand and popped the lens cap back on. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jon looked up at the leaves, and a breeze blew past, shaking some from the tree, swirling the leaves around their heads and feet.
“I love this time of year,” Jon said. He lifted his camera to his eye and snapped a quick shot. Of what, Spencer didn’t know.
“Me, too.”
“Before we know it, the semester will be over,” Jon said. He looked down and played with some of the settings on his camera. “I actually graduate in December.”
“Really? In December?” Spencer’s heart started to beat faster, and he wasn’t sure why.
“Yeah, but I’m sticking around. They offered me work as an adjunct, which only pays slightly more than the graduate assistantship. But the important thing is I’ll still be employed.”
Spencer nodded, and his heartbeat slowed. “I’m done in May. I’m only kind of freaked out.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I’m just worried,” Spencer admitted. “It’s not like I have anything to fall back on after this.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jon said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“No, that’s the thing, I don’t know if I’ll be fine. I’ll lose my job in the liberal arts office in May because I won’t be a student anymore. I won’t be in school. I don’t know how I’ll afford to pay rent. I might have to move back in with my parents, and trust me, after living here for the past five years, that’s the last thing I want to do.”
“I know,” Jon said. “I’ve been there. I’m kind of there right now, too, with the worrying about what comes next.”
“It would be nice to just know that things will be fine.” Spencer pulled the camera strap over his head; the weight of the camera was starting to hurt his neck. “Instead, I’m wondering if I’ll have somewhere to live.”
Jon frowned. “You’d have to go back to Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, that would suck, especially if you like it here.” Jon tilted his head to the side and lightened his tone. “You do like it here, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good, because I don’t need people hating on my city.”
Spencer laughed, and it felt good. “I love your city, Jon. Part of the reason I’m so freaked out is because I don’t want to leave.”
“I can’t imagine going anywhere else. I couldn’t leave my family like that.”
Spencer nearly said “Aww” aloud but held it in. “What if you had to go somewhere else, though?”
“I wouldn’t,” Jon said, and it was the surest Spencer had ever heard him sound.
They were both quiet, and then Jon said, “We should probably head back” and they walked through the streets of Jon’s city – of their city – in the cool autumn air, their arms brushing every so often as they walked, and despite the uncertainty of the future, Spencer hadn’t felt that content in a while.
*
Little by little, Spencer started to change his routine. He saw Jon more often at the coffee shop. Most of the time, Jon was busy, but he always smiled and said hi whenever he saw Spencer stop by. From time to time, they ran into each other in the hallways on campus, and Spencer didn’t avoid him.
He didn’t want to avoid him.
*
Ryan was sitting across from Spencer in the office, bitching about his class of freshman.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Ryan said. “And I can’t fucking stand The Turn of the Screw. I never want to teach it ever again.”
“I don’t think I’ve read that.”
“Well, don’t ever read it, because it sucks.” Ryan looked at his phone. “And I have to go talk about it in twenty minutes. You know I got a paper the other day that used emoticons?”
Spencer couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“Everyone else I know in the department has these amazing students. Z is always talking about how her students are so thoughtful and have interesting discussions. My students are checking Facebook and writing papers with fucking smiley faces in the titles.” Ryan frowned and reached for his coffee. “I like teaching. I just don’t like freshman.”
Ryan sighed. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? I feel like I never see you anymore.” It was true; Ryan had changed his schedule in the office, and their time there hardly ever seemed to match up anymore.
Spencer shrugged. “Just going to class. Coming here. That’s about it.”
“Jon says he’s being seeing a lot of you lately.” Ryan smirked over the rim of his coffee cup. He took a drink, sighing deeply. Spencer loved coffee, but Ryan loved it.
“So? We’re friendly outside of class. That’s it,” Spencer said, and he sounded way too defensive, even to himself. “I don’t understand why everyone’s trying to force me to like him.”
“We don’t have to force anything! Everyone already knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Spencer, you’re a very smart person. You don’t need to be asking that question.”
“Everyone is suddenly obsessed with my social life, what the fuck.”
“We’re not. I just think it’s obvious that you need to … um. De-stress. Somehow. In a way that Jon could help you with.”
“Ryan, that is disgusting and I don’t want to hear you ever make a reference to me having sex ever again. Thank you.”
“You just seem really on-edge lately. More than normal. Remember when you actually used to go out and do things and have fun?”
“That was before I decided to get a master’s degree,” Spencer said, sitting up straighter in his chair. Something about saying “master’s degree” always made him feel important. Not that he was ever going to be one of those assholes who bragged about his degrees or made a big deal about them. He just liked saying the words. They made him feel more grown-up than twenty-three.
“Besides,” Spencer continued, “your life has changed, too. We’re not nineteen anymore, dude.”
“Yeah, but. I just miss hanging out.” Ryan said this while staring down sadly at his coffee, and Spencer had to admit it tugged on his heartstrings. Just a little bit, but not enough.
Nevertheless, Spencer still felt guilty. He’d been so wrapped up in class and schoolwork that he was forgetting he had friends.
Spencer stifled a yawn; he really should have stopped for his caffeine fix that morning, but he’d overslept and didn’t have time. “I’m not being a neglectful friend on purpose, I swear,” he said. “We should make plans to do something.”
Before Spencer could even get out the last syllable of his sentence, Ryan asked, “How do you feel about bowling?”
“Bowling?” Spencer gave Ryan his best you’ve got to be kidding me look. “Since when do you bowl?”
“I don’t know! It was the first thing I thought of. You have to understand that Henry James and those fucking freshman have destroyed any of my remaining brain cells.” Ryan gestured with his coffee cup, and a little bit spilled out the side. “Damn it,” he said under his breath.
“Yes, I’ll go bowling with you, if that’s what you want.”
“Can Z come?”
“I’d actually prefer if she did.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I think we should go on Saturday. There’s two-for-one beers between eight and ten.”
“Sounds great,” Spencer said.
*
It was not great.
On Saturday around 7:45, Spencer had just gotten off the L when he received a text from Ryan that said, hey jon’s here okay see you soon!
He texted back, WHAT? and Ryan responded with hm? Spencer was not going to have this conversation via text message, so he called Ryan. By now he was standing in front of the bowling alley, but he wasn’t going to go inside and bitch at him in front of Jon and Z.
“I don’t need you to help me find a date,” Spencer said in his most irritable voice. He was pacing in front of the door.
“Hello to you, too. Where are you?”
“If you set this up to be some sort of double date thing, I’m going to be pissed.”
Ryan sighed into the phone. “Why?”
“Because I don’t need the help, and also, when have you ever been this organized or this conniving?”
“I am not conniving.”
“Ryan, listen. I’m not going to be an asshole and not show up, but just know that I’m not in the best mood right now because all of my friends insist on playing matchmaker between me and Jon.”
“I’m not playing matchmaker. That’s Brendon’s thing.”
“Does Jon know this is some sort of date?”
“It’s not a date,” Ryan said, like the conversation was boring him. “He knows you’re coming, though. I figured for it to be even for teams, I’d invite someone else, and Jon is the first person I thought of.”
Spencer said, “Fine, I’m coming in.”
“Are you standing outside?” Ryan started to laugh. “Also, you need to chill out. This is what I meant when I said he could help you. Like, when was the last time you did something that wasn’t school-related? Or the last time you got –“
Spencer ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket before walking inside. The place was a total dive, the exact sort of place in which Ryan would find some sort of redeeming quality. And Jon was there – Spencer could see him when he walked in – slouching in a chair, laughing and talking with Z. Spencer took in the image of him: white V-neck shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. The shirt wasn’t a deep V, but it still showed off the base of Jon’s throat and part of his collarbone.
He looked hot, and he got even hotter as Spencer walked closer. Jon instantly sat up and smiled when he saw Spencer.
“Hey! Long time no see.” He looked up at Spencer and gave him a half-wave.
“I know, it’s been a long time since class last night.” Spencer took off his jacket and set it down on the bench.
Ryan wandered over holding a pair of two-for-one beers that looked absolutely disgusting. “Oh, look who showed up,” he said drily in Spencer’s direction. Ryan passed off one of the beers to Z.
“Please be nice,” Z said. She took the beer, made a face at it briefly, and took a sip. “This is terrible.”
“Yeah, but can you argue with two-for-one beers? You can’t,” Ryan said. “I need to be drunker to be on my bowling game.”
Z snorted. “You don’t have a bowling game.”
“Well, you’ll just be surprised when I totally kick your ass at this.”
“Ryan, we’re on the same team,” Z said. “Unless you want to partner with Spencer, and I’ll be with Jon.” She nudged Jon’s knee with hers. “What do you say?”
Jon looked back and forth between Ryan and Z. “I kind of wanted to be Spencer’s partner, no offense.”
If Spencer had been drinking any of that beer, he would have choked on it.
“None taken!” Z said, getting to her feet, which were covered in a pair of rented bowling shoes that looked like they’d seen better days. She added, in a stage-whisper, “Ryan doesn’t want to admit it, but he needs me so he can win.”
“Hey!” Ryan said, all mock-hurt. “I don’t.”
Z kissed the top of his head and messed up his hair. She walked over to enter their names on the ancient computer to keep score.
Jon turned to Spencer, leaning in to be heard over the loud pop music. His arm was draped over the back of Spencer’s seat. You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream! Katy Perry sang, and Spencer hated how much he enjoyed that song.
“I hope you’re good at this game, because I suck,” Jon said. His breath was warm on Spencer’s ear. “I’m the king of gutter balls.”
“The last time I did this, I was pretty decent, so you’re in luck,” Spencer said.
He was slightly lightheaded from the closeness, and because Jon smelled really good, like soap and laundry and coffee. His pulse was hammering away, and his throat was dry just from sitting there and wanting him.
“Then it’s a good thing that we’re teammates,” Jon said.
“Uh, I’m going to go get something to drink, but I’m thinking bottled water instead of beer. Want anything?”
“Water’s fine.” Jon smiled, and Spencer felt his eyes on him as he walked over to get their waters. By the time he came back a couple of minutes later, he was just in time to see Ryan walk up to the lane and roll a gutter ball.
“I’m up next,” Jon said as Spencer sat down next to him and handed off a bottle.
Spencer looked down at Jon’s feet. “Are you bowling in flip-flops?”
“Of course. You think I’d put my feet in those shoes? It’s not like you’re wearing bowling shoes, either.” He poked Spencer’s foot with one of his toes.
“I’m not.” Spencer glanced at his shiny black loafers. “I should probably rent some, though.”
Ryan stared sadly at his bowling ball traveling down the gutter, and walked back to the bench. “It’s Jon’s turn,” he announced, and Jon pushed himself up.
“Good luck,” Spencer called after him.
Jon turned around and gave him a thumbs-up, which was possibly one of the dorkiest things Spencer had seen in a long time. He enjoyed it anyway.
And then Jon bowled a strike. All of the pins fell down, making a satisfying sound as they hit the wood. He turned around, looked at Spencer with a huge grin on his face, and raised his arms. His shirt rode up, exposing a strip of skin and the tops of his hipbones.
Spencer sucked in some air and tried not to look.
“High five!” Jon said, coming back over to the bench, and Spencer slapped Jon’s palm.
“For being the king of gutter balls, that was pretty decent,” Spencer said.
“I know. And it’s your turn.”
Spencer reluctantly got up. He also, by some miracle, bowled a strike. Jon let out a loud “Yeah!”
When he sat down again, Jon said in his ear – over Rihanna singing about how she wanted to feel like the only girl in the world – “Nice job.”
“Thanks.” Spencer wiped his palms on his thighs; he wasn’t sure when they’d started to sweat. Or when he became a person who got sweaty palms.
“We could be a force to be reckoned with,” Jon said. “Ryan and Z have no idea what they’re in for.” He smiled goofily. “Although getting a strike could be some sort of fluke for me, I don’t know.”
“You could secretly be the greatest bowler who ever lived, and you don’t even know it.”
“I doubt it.” Jon crossed one leg over the other and hummed along to Rihanna. “But if I am, I’m going to be in those competitions on ESPN. Just wait and see.”
“You’d give up your life as a graduate teaching assistant, student, and barista for the glory of bowling championships?” Spencer shook his head. “Jon, I’m shocked.”
“You forgot to add ‘photographer’ in there. And ‘musician.’ I’m a multi-hyphenate.”
“Your talents are legen–wait for it–dary.”
“Did you just make a How I Met Your Mother reference?”
They smiled at each other and they must have looked like a couple of idiots, sitting there just staring at each other with identical expressions on their faces.
It would be really easy to fall in love with Jon.
But he wasn’t going to.
*
It turned out that Jon wasn’t as bad at bowling as he thought, and Spencer wasn’t as good as he remembered. They still beat Ryan and Z because, despite Z’s decent bowling skills, Ryan never managed to hit more than two pins at once.
As they parted ways outside, Jon said to Spencer, “I’ll walk you to the L.”
“You don’t have to,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”
“But I want to,” Jon said. He zipped up his hoodie and put his hands in the pockets.
Spencer shrugged. “Okay.” They started to walk in the direction of the station. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did.” Jon pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt. “I think I did pretty well for someone who hasn’t bowled in forever. So did you.”
“We were the winning team,” Spencer said. “Maybe we should join a bowling league.”
“If we do, you think we can wear those matching bowling shirts with our names embroidered on them?”
“Would we even consider joining a bowling league that didn’t wear those shirts?”
“No. Because only the best bowling leagues wear them.”
Spencer laughed. “Right.” They approached the L station, and he said, “I’m glad I came tonight. I had a good time.”
“Yeah, so did I,” Jon said. His cheeks were flushed from the slight chill in the air, and he looked cute in the hoodie. If Spencer reached out and tilted Jon’s chin up, he could kiss him.
Spencer stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Honestly, when I found out you were going to be there – which was as I was walking up to the bowling alley – I got kind of pissed.” Spencer looked away guiltily.
Jon raised his eyebrows, and Spencer continued, “I thought Ryan was setting us up.”
“Oh.” Jon took his hands out of his pockets.
“I mean, because the two of us going out a date probably wouldn’t be a good idea, considering … you know.”
“No, I know.” Jon said it in a way that Spencer knew meant he was trying not to act hurt or offended when he actually was.
“But I did have a really good time tonight,” Spencer said quickly, trying to recover. God, why did he have to open his mouth and say such stupid things? It was a perfectly nice moment; they could have said good night and ended it there, but he had to blurt out idiotic confessions.
“I did, too, and you’re right, about it not being a good idea.” Jon pulled his hood tighter on his head, and didn’t look at Spencer until he said, “And I don’t think he was setting us up.”
“Really?” Spencer sounded dubious.
“Yeah. He just invited me along, said it was going to be fun, and when I heard you’d be there, I figured it would be.” Jon looked him right in the eyes. “Also, for what it’s worth, I don’t think being set up with you on a date would be the worst thing in the world.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I’m just saying.”
Spencer’s stomach twisted. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t pissed about seeing you. I was pissed about what I thought was Ryan – I don’t know, ‘meddling’ seems like the wrong word – getting involved.”
“I know you’d never get pissed about seeing me. Would you really be coming to get coffee from me four days a week if you didn’t?” He smirked. “Unless you have a thing for Tom that I don’t know about.”
“No, no, god no,” Spencer said, laughing. It’s you I have the thing for, he wanted to say, but that was pretty obvious. He knew, and he knew that Jon knew, too.
“Hey, you work Monday, right?” Spencer asked.
“Yep. I’ll have your coffee waiting for you.” Jon started to take a few steps backward. “Anyway, I’ll let you go; don’t want you to miss the train.”
“Yeah, um. Thanks for walking me here.”
“No problem. Have a good night.” Jon waved and turned around.
Spencer waved goodbye to Jon’s back and walked up the stairs to the platform. They’d seemed to end on a positive note, but he still felt like a massive asshole.
When he came home, there was a note from Brendon saying that he’d gone out. Spencer wasn’t even seeing much of his roommate anymore, either. He was just a shitty person who said shitty things and forgot to spend time with his friends.
He moped around the apartment for a while, watching part of Saturday Night Live while catching up on some research for an article he was writing for class. He wished he had Jon’s number; he should have asked for it that night but he forgot, and besides, it might have seemed too forward, a crossing of the limits they’d set. He figured if Jon wanted him to have it, he would have given it to him by now. It was just really strange knowing someone without being able to text him, but Spencer kind of liked the old-schoolness of it, of having to rely on seeing Jon in person to talk to him.
Brendon came in around 2 a.m. and flopped down on the couch next to Spencer, putting his head on Spencer’s shoulder. He was cold and smelled a little bit like alcohol, but that was okay. Spencer just liked having him there; it made him feel less alone.
“How was bowling?” Brendon asked.
“Jon and I won,” Spencer said. He closed his MacBook.
Brendon lifted his head so he could look in Spencer’s eyes. “Jon was there?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“It was last minute. Ryan invited him.”
“And?”
“I got pretty pissed about it, even though that wore off. But we had a really good time.”
“That’s good.” Brendon yawned into his hand.
“No, it’s not, because at the end of the night I told him I’d been annoyed at first because I thought Ryan was setting us up on a date.”
“How’d he take that?”
“I think I hurt his feelings, but whatever, he seemed to forgive me.” Spencer didn’t want to rehash it, but he continued, “Then he said going on a date with me wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Brendon mumbled, “Just fuck him already and get it over with.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Spencer fidgeted. He was not going to talk about it anymore. “How’d your night go?”
“Booze,” Brendon said, closing his eyes.
Spencer patted Brendon’s hand. “Okay.”
He let Brendon sleep on him for a while, until Spencer started to get sore from sitting there for so long. He shut down his computer and carefully moved Brendon off his shoulder and onto one of the pillows on the couch.
Maybe Brendon was right, but it wasn’t just about wanting to have sex with Jon anymore. Spencer actually liked him, and it was terrifying. Equally terrifying was the fact that he knew Jon liked him back. He’d never experienced that before, not like this. He felt too old to still be having firsts, but Jon was the first guy who had ever reciprocated Spencer’s feelings – or had initiated the flirting.
And of course he taught Spencer’s class. Because that’s the way things always went: whenever something good happened, there was always a catch to it.
*
Spencer came by The Daily Grind on Monday after class. As promised, Jon was there, and he said, “I started making your drink as soon as I saw you walking up to the door.”
“Thank you.” Spencer got out money to pay; he couldn’t expect Jon to keep him in free coffee forever. But Jon waved the money off again.
“You know, I could take advantage of this pretty easily,” Spencer said.
“You only get free coffee when I’m here. You always pay otherwise, and you’ve become one of our best customers. They’re thinking of dedicating a chair to you and putting a plaque on it.”
“Ha, ha.”
“The Spencer Smith Memorial Chair.”
“Aren’t memorials for dead people?”
“Okay, then, the Spencer Smith Chair. Is that better?”
“Yes. And I want the plaque to be in twenty-four carat gold.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Jon said, talking over the noise of the espresso machine. Once the noise stopped, he added in his regular voice, “It’ll be a reserved seat. No other customer can sit in it, even when we’re packed. It’s just for you.”
“You really know how to give me the royal treatment.”
“Only the best for you.” Jon put a lid on Spencer’s drink and passed it over the counter. “Vanilla latte.”
“Thank you.” There wasn’t a line, so Spencer wasn’t holding anything up by standing there and talking. “Hey, um. I don’t know it’s stupid to bring up again, but I’m sorry about the other night.”
Jon busied himself by cleaning up. “It’s fine.” He looked up from wiping a rag over some spilled coffee. “It’s over and done with. Anyway, it was fun. It’s nice to see you outside of class. I feel more like we’re friends now instead of you being a student. I don’t think of any of my students as students, actually, because we’re around the same age.” Jon spoke too quickly, sounding nervous. Then he shrugged and refilled a pitcher of milk.
Friends. Well, yeah. Spencer guessed that they were friends, but something about the word stung.
In an attempt to change the subject, Spencer said, “I like your class, by the way. I didn’t think I would, because I’ve never been into photography, but … you’re a good teacher. You changed my mind.”
Jon smiled. “Yeah? That’s good to hear. You’re doing nice work, by the way.”
“Oh.” Spencer took the lid off his drink and blew on it to cool it off before he drank any of it. “Thank you.”
“Really, it’s good.”
“Thanks. And … I’d like to see your stuff sometime, if you ever feel like sharing it. Remember you mentioned once those pictures of the city at night? I’d love to see them.”
“I can e-mail them to you tonight,” Jon said. “What’s your e-mail?”
“Um. I’ll write it down for you. Do you have any paper?”
Jon grabbed a stack of Post-Its and handed it to Spencer, along with a pen. Spencer wrote down his e-mail address and gave it to Jon, who stuck it in his back pocket.
“I’ll make sure to send them tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Hold on a second, it looks like I have a customer.” Another barista had just returned from her break and took the customer’s order, and Jon started to make the drink.
“If you want to go sit in the Spencer Smith Chair, I go on break in five minutes.” Jon pointed at the big, comfy purple armchair that Spencer always sat in.
“Okay.” Spencer returned his smile and went to sit in his chair and drink his coffee, maybe catch up on a few e-mails on his phone.
As soon as Jon finished making a few more drinks – the shop always got a few stragglers around 10:00 – he came over and sat down in the chair across from Spencer’s.
“Hi,” Spencer said.
“Hi.”
“Are you sure you want to spend your break with me?”
“It’s just fifteen minutes. I think I can put up with you for that long.” Jon smirked and crossed his legs. He wiggled his foot to the beat of the music that was playing.
“You’ve put up with me for much longer than that before.” Spencer rolled his eyes at Jon, but it was full of affection.
“Actually, you’re the best part of my night. I’ve been here since three, and after this, I have to go home and do a bunch of bullshit assignments for this graphic design class – it was an elective – so, my day has and will continue to suck.”
“I’m the only bright spot, huh?”
“Yep.”
“You’re pretty high up there on my list, too.” There was a tight feeling in Spencer’s stomach when Jon smiled at him. Spencer loved Jon’s smile. His whole face opened up when he did it, and his grin reached all the way up to his eyes.
“Good to know.”
If he could – if they weren’t in public, if it wasn’t off limits – Spencer would have kissed him right then and there.
He drank some of his coffee to keep himself from saying or doing anything idiotic.
“Hey, so,” Jon said, “Tom’s band is doing a show on Thursday night, if you want to come.”
“Where?”
“Subterranean. It starts at nine.”
“I should be able to make it.”
“I can pick you up if you want,” Jon said.
“You expect me to get on that motorcycle again? Fuck no. I’ll pick you up.”
Jon laughed. “I thought you liked it.”
“It was okay, but kind of scary.”
Was this a date? No, it couldn’t be. Jon was just inviting him to see his friend’s band. That’s all.
“Fine, you get your way. You can pick me up at eight-thirty.”
Spencer pulled out his phone and added it to his calendar. “Eight-thirty. Will that leave enough time?”
“Empires – that’s Tom’s band – probably won’t go on until a little after nine, so we should be okay on time. I don’t want to get there too early.” Jon glanced over his shoulder. “We have a few people in line, so I should get back. I’ll see you Wednesday?”
“Yes.” Spencer put his phone back in his pocket. “You can meet me in front of your building.”
“Okay. See you then.”
*
“It’s definitely a date,” Brendon said, watching Spencer pull out a hoodie from his closet. It was the night of the show, and he had to pick up Jon in twenty minutes.
“It’s not. We’re just going to see Tom’s band.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Brendon patted Spencer’s shoulder and walked out of the room.
*
The show wasn’t that crowded. Almost everyone there seemed to know each other, and Spencer felt like the odd man out as Jon introduced him to his friends. Jon knew everyone there. If he didn’t walk up to someone to say hi, he was waving to them.
“How do you know all of these people?” Spencer asked. They were standing at the bar, drinks in hand, waiting for the show to start.
“Bands I played in a long time ago. I don’t keep in touch with everyone anymore, but if we see each other out, I always say hi.”
“How many bands were you in?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Four? But during my senior year of high school, I had a band that got semi-popular out in the suburbs. You know, playing a lot of high school auditoriums and VFW halls.” Jon sighed wistfully, but then he laughed at himself. “It was fun. Now I just play guitar mostly for myself.”
“I think the last time I played drums was last Christmas when I was home.”
“Wow.”
“It was kind of hard to bring a drum set halfway across the country. And I’m too busy to play, anyway, which is really sad, but it’s true.”
“Maybe you can play again soon? Christmas is right around the corner.”
“The second week of November does not mean Christmas is coming soon.”
“For me, it does. I start planning around this time. Gifts, decorations, all that stuff.” Jon looked excited just talking about it. “I’m really into Christmas.”
Spencer pictured Jon decorating a Christmas tree and singing Christmas carols at work and passing out candy canes to his customers. He couldn’t help it; those were the images that popped into his head.
“I think that’s cute,” he said.
Jon ducked his head and took a long drink.
The lights dimmed even more, and the show started. As the band came on stage and started their first song, Jon was nodding his head to the music, and he kept glancing over at Spencer.
“Do you like it?” he asked between songs.
“Yes!” Spencer said. It was a challenge to hear Jon and be heard back, even when there wasn’t any music and the place was filled with just crowd noise.
The music was good – loud, fast rock music with big choruses. Spencer was glad he came. And no matter what Brendon said, it wasn’t a date.
The band played a short set – they were opening for another, bigger local band – and afterward Jon turned to him and said, “Do you maybe want to grab something to eat?”
Not a date not a date not a date.
“Sure. What do you feel like?”
“They have food here.” Jon took some menus off the bar and passed one to Spencer, who was grateful that they could just stay where they were. It’d been a long day, and he could feel himself getting sleepy. He didn’t want to have to go anywhere else.
They each paid their own way. It was definitely not a date, although for a second Spencer considered offering to pay for Jon to make up for all the free coffee.
He drove Jon home at the end of the night, and before Jon got out of the car, they looked at each other and a warmth spread all over Spencer’s body. It was driving him crazy, being this close to Jon and not being able to touch him or kiss him. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever, and here was this gorgeous, funny guy sitting right there and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.
“Thanks for coming,” Jon said, his hand on the door. “And for the ride.”
“I enjoyed it. Thanks for inviting me.” Spencer gripped the steering wheel; it was the only thing that could keep him from just going for it.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Spencer smiled weakly. “Six to nine p.m.”
“It’s a lecture on lighting techniques! I bet you’re pumped.” Jon lightly punched Spencer’s arm. He added, in a whisper, “There’s a quiz, too. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, professor.”
Jon made a face. “Don’t call me that. I’m a T.A., not technically a professor. That makes me sound old and more important that I actually am.”
“You are important. You’re responsible for shaping the minds of graduate students.” Spencer grinned.
“Oh, shut up,” Jon said, but he was smiling back. “I don’t think I’m shaping minds. I feel more like someone who’s just up there in front of a bunch of people sharing what he loves.”
“I can tell.”
They were quiet, and the lack of any other noise in the car became obvious. Spencer held onto the steering wheel even tighter. His hands were starting to go numb.
“So, I’m – I’m going to –“ Jon opened the door. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good night.”
As he drove away, he smacked his forehead with his palm and muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Part Three
Friday rolled around again, and so did Intro to Photography. Last week’s class felt like it had happened ages ago, but at the same time, Spencer had that weird feeling that the week had gone by remarkably fast.
Spencer had his assignment ready to go, printout in hand. He showed up to class early to make sure he could get a seat toward the back. He sure as hell wasn’t sitting up front again.
Jon walked into the room right at six, his bag slung over his shoulder, wearing the same button-down-with-rolled-sleeves look he’d had on earlier in the week. He looked disheveled in a really appealing way.
“Hey, everyone,” Jon said, smiling and setting down his bag on a chair. “Let me just get set up here and we’ll get started.”
For the next two hours, Jon talked at length about depth of field, and Spencer realized he just liked listening to Jon’s voice. He had a deep voice, although not too deep, with a little bit of a Chicago accent. The part of Spencer that decided it wasn’t going to pay attention to his “don’t think about Jon” mandate thought Jon’s voice was hot. And wouldn’t be opposed to hearing that voice say certain things in his ear.
At the end of class – it was over an hour early – everyone dropped off his or her assignment on a table at the front of the room so Jon could collect them. As Spencer set his on top of the pile, Jon whispered, “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Spencer looked behind him; the last student put his photo on the table, and Jon said, “Bye! Have a nice weekend.” The guy mumbled a “Bye” and left, and Spencer turned back to Jon.
“I hope this is class-related,” Spencer said, straightening his shoulders.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the party.”
Spencer stepped back, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”
“It was a fun night, but I think as long as you’re in this class, it shouldn’t happen again.” Jon started to gather and straighten the pile of pictures on the table. He gave a little half-smile. “Even if I’m still technically a student, I’m also your teacher, so.”
“Well. I agree with you,” Spencer said. “And I’m sorry for calling you an ass.”
Jon slipped the photos into a folder that he put in his bag. He looked up and said, “I was probably being one and deserved it.”
“You said something like, ‘Just let me remind you I’m responsible for one of your grades.’”
Jon’s cheeks turned pink, and he winced. “Did I?”
“Yes. That’s what sent me over the edge.”
“I’d had a few drinks,” Jon said, reaching to get his computer, his arm brushing against Spencer’s in the process. That small amount of contact set off a little spark along Spencer’s skin, just enough to make him bite his bottom lip. And then to notice Jon looking at his mouth.
Spencer released his lip, and Jon looked away. “I – anyway. I think we can agree we both weren’t exactly on our best behavior that night, so we can just forget it,” Spencer said.
Jon nodded. “Right. And trust me, it won’t affect anything here.” He gestured at the room. Quickly, he added, “Not that it ever would. I’m just saying.”
“Well, thanks,” Spencer said. “I’m glad we got this out of the way.”
“Me, too.” Jon picked up his bag. “I’ll walk with you outside.” At Spencer’s wary look, he said, amused, “Just in a friendly way.”
They left the classroom, Jon making sure on the way out that the door locked behind them. After a few minutes filled with just their footsteps and the chatter of some nearby students, Jon said, “I had fun talking to you the other night. This doesn’t extend to us not talking, does it?”
Spencer wanted to groan because seriously? He made progress on this whole Jon thing and now Jon wanted them to talk. About what was anybody’s guess, though.
“Um, no,” Spencer said.
“Because if we run into each other outside of class – and we probably will – I don’t want it to be a situation where you avoid me, or think you can’t say hi.” Jon zipped up his hoodie and glanced over at Spencer.
Spencer thought about Monday, about how he’d escaped to the back stairwell just so he wouldn’t have to walk past Jon. It was almost like Jon knew.
Jon slowed down, and Spencer realized they’d arrived at his motorcycle. Fuck, that was right, he drove a motorcycle. Looking at him, he didn’t look like a motorcycle sort of guy. He looked more likely to drive a Prius.
“This is me,” Jon announced.
Spencer stared at the bike, at the black leather and shiny chrome. “When did you start riding a motorcycle?”
“Oh, a long time ago,” Jon said, waving his hand like it was nothing, like it was just something he happened to pick up. “My dad taught me.”
“You just don’t look like a typical biker dude, you know,” Spencer said, laughing.
Jon laughed with him and said, “I know, but I love it. Riding around the city at night is one of my favorite things.” He paused and said, rubbing a hand over his beard, “Although, if you’re going by typical biker dude appearance, I have the beard. And last week, I had the leather jacket.” He grinned, and Spencer grinned back.
“You lack a certain badass quality,” Spencer said.
“Hey! I can totally do badass.”
“Keep telling that to yourself.”
“Oh, burn,” Jon said.
Spencer snorted. “Did you just say ‘oh, burn’?”
“Yep.” Jon stuck his bag in the case on the back of the bike. “Because you wounded me.”
“Sure.” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jon strap on his helmet and get on the motorcycle.
“Someday I’ll have to take you for a ride,” Jon said. “I only have a couple more months before the weather gets shitty.”
Spencer’s throat went completely dry, first at the terror of imagining himself on the back of a motorcycle, and then at the thought of being pressed up against Jon with his arms around him.
“Are you sure that isn’t violating the guidelines of appropriate behavior?”
“We’ll make an exception,” Jon replied, revving the engine. “Anyway, it’s just a motorcycle ride.” In a second, Spencer saw the idea form in Jon’s head just by the expression on his face, in the way his eyes got bigger and he smiled. “Do you live nearby? I could give you a ride home, if you want.”
“You mean … now?” Spencer looked at him with a degree of incredulousness he used to reserve only for some of Ryan’s more out-there ideas when they were teenagers.
Jon laughed. “Yeah. You live close?”
“Off of Michigan,” Spencer said, but instinctively he stepped away from the motorcycle. “I’m not going to get on that without a helmet.”
“Use mine.” Jon took off his helmet and tossed it at Spencer, who caught it.
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Yeah, and I promise to put it back on after I drop you off.”
Spencer took a deep breath and put on the helmet, making sure it was secure before he moved hesitantly toward the back of the bike.
“Hop on. I promise not to kill you,” Jon said, and something in his voice made Spencer believe him.
“Making a lot of promises, huh?” Spencer said under his breath, swinging one leg over the side and getting on.
“I’m not going to bite; you can put your arms around me,” Jon said with mild annoyance. Gingerly, Spencer put his arms around Jon’s midsection, and Jon added, “You might want to move a little bit closer, too. Don’t want you to fall off.”
Spencer did what Jon said, moving until his chest was nearly flush with Jon’s back and he had that same feeling he’d had in the classroom, the sparks along his skin, only this time his stomach was in knots, too.
Jon looked over his shoulder. “Some quick directions?”
Spencer rattled them off, and Jon instructed him to hold on. He did, and they were off. Jon was careful; he wasn’t one of those daring motorcyclists who zipped through traffic, around cars and in between lanes. Judging from the way he handled the bike, Spencer guessed that Jon wasn’t driving that way only because Spencer was along for the ride.
It was almost like nothing Spencer had ever experienced before; the closest comparison he could make was a really fast amusement park ride, the kind that made his stomach bottom out. But unlike an amusement park ride, on the motorcycle, he knew he was on the ground, not up in the air. And he had Jon against him.
Jon wasn’t big, but he was solid, and Spencer could feel the muscles in his back and in his stomach. As the city whooshed past, a blur of lights, buildings, street signs, and cars, he considered what Jon would be like underneath those clothes, how his skin would feel, what the muscle and bone would be like beneath Spencer’s fingertips. Spencer closed his eyes and felt the wind whip through his clothes, and he didn’t open his eyes again until Jon came to a stop.
“Here we are,” Jon said, and Spencer opened his eyes, startled.
“Oh.” Spencer blinked a few times and realized it was time for him to get off the bike. He took off the helmet and handed it to Jon, then got off. His legs were liquid, and he steadied himself by holding onto Jon’s shoulder.
Jon looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
Spencer nodded and let go of his grip. “Just a little dizzy, and my legs feel weird.”
“That’s normal. It starts to go away after a few times,” Jon said. His eyes still hadn’t left Spencer’s.
“Thanks for the ride,” Spencer said, and he patted his pockets for his keys.
“You’re welcome. I hope you liked it?” Jon was still looking at him, still unnerving him. He was good at that.
“I did. Kind of takes some getting used to, but I liked it.”
“Good.” Jon smiled. He opened his mouth, but then he hesitated and bit his lip before he spoke again. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”
Spencer sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but we have an agreement. One that we just discussed, actually.”
Jon tilted his head to the side and a grin slowly spread over his face. “Did you think I was just asking you out there?”
“Yes.” Spencer made a face. “What else would you have been doing?”
“I don’t know,” Jon replied. “Maybe just inquiring about your plans?”
“Oh my god,” Spencer muttered in disbelief. He walked toward his building. “You are unbelievable.”
Jon smirked. “Really, I was just asking what you were doing. Wouldn’t want to run into you at another party.”
“I have no plans for this weekend. You want to know what my plans are?”
“I thought you just said you didn’t have any.”
Ignoring him, Spencer continued, “My plans involve writing an article for my magazine writing class, sleeping, and not thinking about you.”
“You can think about me in a strictly professional sense,” Jon said.
“Thank you for the consideration,” Spencer said, “and thanks again for the ride.” He pulled out his keys. “I’ll see you in class.”
Jon put on the helmet and gave Spencer a little wave before he pulled away from the curb.
The whole situation was ten different kinds of inappropriate, but the thing was, Spencer didn’t care. Still, he needed to set some boundaries. Like no more rides on the back of Jon’s motorcycle while thinking about having sex with him. Or thinking about having sex with Jon at all.
Spencer watched Jon ride down the street until he couldn’t see him anymore.
*
“You should come get coffee with me,” Brendon said from his spot on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Dude, what time is it? Is it still morning?”
Spencer was looking through the cabinets for food that was actually suitable for human consumption. So far, he’d found some saltine crackers, a package of chocolate chip cookies, and a bag of candy. They should probably go grocery shopping sometime.
He glanced at the clock. “Twelve-thirty. And we don’t have any food.”
“Well, the place I have in mind has amazing pastries.” Brendon grinned and scrambled to his feet. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”
Forty-five minutes later, Spencer was standing face-to-face with Jon in a coffee shop called The Daily Grind.
“Hey,” Jon greeted them from behind the counter, smiling the slow, lazy smile that made Spencer warm all over.
Spencer looked down at his feet and tried to make his face not turn pink. He was too old for this shit, for this kind of crush.
“Haven’t seen you here in a while, Brendon,” Jon said, adding, “but I remember your order.”
“Awesome. Spencer, what do you want?” Brendon asked.
Spencer managed to look up long enough to say, “Vanilla latte.”
“It’s nice seeing you, too, Spencer,” Jon said. He grabbed their cups and a Sharpie to mark them. “Considering it’s been so long.” And there was that grin again.
“Yeah, I know,” Spencer said, not even trying to hide his irritation. He looked around the place; it had a worn-in feel, a vibe like it was a spot for people in the neighborhood to hang out reading and using the free wi-fi while sitting in big, oversized chairs in mismatched colors.
After they paid for their drinks and a couple of cookies, Spencer hissed in Brendon’s ear, “Did you come here on purpose?”
Brendon gave him his best “I’m innocent, I swear” look and said, “Yes, if you mean did I come here on purpose because they have awesome coffee and delicious treats?”
He was such a terrible actor.
Spencer just rolled his eyes and wandered over to the newspaper rack and grabbed a copy of the Chicago Reader. He flipped through the pages while they waited for their drinks.
The barista making their drinks – Spencer vaguely recognized her before he realized she was the woman with the blonde hair Jon and Ryan were with the other day – was chatting up Brendon about some class.
Spencer found a free chair and flopped into it with his newspaper, not really reading anything, too jittery from seeing Jon to concentrate on much of anything. He’d never been this – he didn’t even know the word for it – distracted by someone. Wound up. Attracted. Of course he’d been attracted to other people; he’d even slept with a few of them. But they’d all been casual hookups, and he hadn’t had any real connection with them. And whatever he felt about them was nothing like he’d been feeling toward Jon, like he was rattled simply by being in Jon’s presence.
“Hey, drinks!” Brendon announced, waving Spencer’s latte in front of his face.
Spencer grabbed the drink. “Thanks.” He took a sip; it was too hot, and it burned the tip of his tongue. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, you should let it cool down a bit.” Brendon stretched out in the chair across from Spencer, kicking up his feet on the table between them. At Spencer’s look, Brendon said, “They encourage people to put their feet on the furniture.”
Spencer laughed. “Okay, if you say so.” He tossed the paper on the table. “Who’s the girl you were talking to?”
“Greta. I have a theory class with her,” Brendon said. “She’s friends with Jon. I mean, they work together, but they’re friends, used to play in bands that did shows together and stuff.”
“Everyone’s friends with Jon, huh?” Spencer asked. He took the lid off his coffee and blew on the hot liquid.
“Well, he’s super awesome,” Brendon said enthusiastically, reaching for Spencer’s discarded copy of the Reader.
Spencer rolled his eyes; he was getting tired of hearing how “super awesome” Jon was. He’d overheard a few people from his class talking about how “interesting” Jon’s class was. It wasn’t that great.
Because Spencer needed to get it out there, he said, “He gave me a ride home on his motorcycle last night.”
“See, now you know of his awesomeness firsthand.”
“I think it’s inappropriate,” Spencer said. “He teaches my photography class, and – you know.” Spencer was far away enough from the front of the store that he could look over at Jon without his knowing. Jon was happily talking to a customer, pointing out various items in the pastry case. He was wearing a tight-fitting, although flattering, dark blue t-shirt and jeans. It was impossible for him to ever look anything less than good.
“I know what?”
Spencer leaned in. “I made out with him at Ryan and Z’s party.”
Brendon tilted his head back and said, “Haaaaa!” really loudly.
“Dude! What the fuck?” Spencer smacked Brendon’s foot; a few people sitting near them had turned their heads briefly to look.
“Sorry. This is too good.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.”
Spencer sighed.
“I knew you liked him. I knew it. Why did you think I made us come here?” Brendon smiled at him.
“I thought it was because of the ‘awesome coffee and delicious treats,’” Spencer said sardonically.
“No, it’s because I decided to be a matchmaker,” Brendon said, still smiling. He ripped the cardboard sleeve off his cup and started to tear it into little pieces. He knitted his eyebrows together and concentrated on the piece of cardboard in his hands. “I think I could have a serious career in matchmaking if I weren’t so invested in music.”
“You’re evil,” Spencer said without malice. “You come across as a very nice, likeable person, but underneath, you’re just an evil genius.”
“So you willing admit that I’m a genius,” Brendon said, looking up and beaming. “Thank you.”
Spencer frowned and picked up his coffee to see if he could drink it now without burning his tongue again. “This is really good coffee,” he said after he’d swallowed.
Brendon got a smug look on his face. “I know.”
“Then why haven’t you been here in forever?”
“Starbucks was closer. But we might have to start coming here more often.”
“’We’?” Spencer said. “I think you mean to use the singular, not plural.”
“Well, of course you can come on your own to visit your boyfr— excuse me, teacher.”
“Asshole,” Spencer muttered.
“I’m doing you a great service here,” Brendon said, gesturing with his coffee cup in what Spencer knew Brendon thought was a very theatrical manner. “I’m trying to get you laid.”
Spencer reached across the table to snatch his newspaper back and started to read it in earnest. “I appreciate the effort,” he said, opening to the first page, “but it’s not going to happen.”
*
Spencer didn’t mean to go there, but he ended up back at The Daily Grind on Monday morning, only to be disappointed – and god, he was irritated with himself for being disappointed – that Jon wasn’t working. Instead, a serious-looking guy with messy, dark blonde hair and a five o’clock shadow (at nine in the morning) took his order.
He got the coffee to go and headed to campus. It was a longer walk since the coffee shop was out of his way, but he didn’t mind. It was a gorgeous, bright day in mid-September; he had coffee and music; and he found himself smiling for no reason.
He made it through his shift in the office and went to class that evening, and on his way home he decided to stop by the shop again. Not because he thought he’d see Jon. He had to stay up late to do some work, and caffeine was an absolute necessity.
When he walked in, the place was nearly empty. It was around 9:30 on a Monday night, so it wasn’t exactly surprising.
Jon was the only person behind the counter, and as soon as he saw Spencer, his face lit up, sending a nervous feeling right to Spencer’s stomach.
“Hey,” Jon said. “Nice to see you back. Tom said you were here this morning.”
“Tom?” Then Spencer remembered the guy with the messy hair and stubble. Who was, apparently, on Spencer-watch for his friend.
“Yeah, the guy who waited on you this morning. Anyway.” Jon grabbed a medium cup. “Vanilla latte, right?”
“Sure.” Spencer watched Jon make the drink, and as he watched, Jon talked.
“See, this isn’t so weird, talking outside of class.” Jon said, pulling the shots of espresso. “You’re even coming here to visit me.”
Spencer spluttered out, “I’m – I’m not coming to visit you; I’m here for my coffee.”
“It is really good coffee,” Jon said. “I’m just an added bonus.”
“You’re not an added anything,” Spencer muttered, knowing that was a lie. Jon was a nice bonus, especially after a long day, especially when he was dressed in another t-shirt that showed off his arms. He looked a little tired, too, but not in a bad way. The sleepiness softened his eyes and made his voice rougher.
Jon laughed. “I’m totally the best part of your day; don’t lie.”
“You’re really confident that you have some huge place in my life, and I barely even know you,” Spencer said, trying for irritated but instead coming off as amused.
“Well, you could change that pretty easily. The barely knowing me part.” Jon said the last part quietly, mostly to himself.
Spencer didn’t know what to say to that, so he just listened to the music playing in the store. Vampire Weekend. Not too bad, but going by appearances, he expected this place to play something a little more obscure.
Jon finished off Spencer’s drink by spooning some foam on top. He came back to the cash register and pushed the drink across the counter toward Spencer.
“How much do I owe?” Spencer asked, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbed through a few ones and pulled out four.
“Nothing,” Jon replied, waving off the money when Spencer tried to hand it to him. Actually, Spencer tried to force the money into his hand, saying, “Take it,” and their hands touched for a moment – just barely – and Spencer looked in Jon’s eyes. Jon looked like he was about to laugh, his mouth twisted up from the effort of trying not to.
“I told you, you don’t owe anything.”
“But –“ Spencer started to say.
Jon placed a hand on the counter and gave Spencer a pointed look. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Um. Thanks.” Spencer took the coffee, and damn it, he could feel the heat in his face.
“No problem.”
When Jon turned away, Spencer put all four dollars in the tip jar.
*
It was hard to disconnect the Jon that Spencer saw in class with the Jon from the coffee shop or the Jon who had taken him home on the back of his motorcycle (or, for that matter, the Jon who had drunkenly made out with him). He had to keep forcing himself to think of Jon as a teacher, as the person who was responsible for his grade in a class.
A class he was doing pretty well in, actually. After his guilt over turning in that first assignment without really doing it, Spencer had been diligent about going out every week to take photographs for class. Mostly he’d find time in the mornings on his walk to campus, or in the apartment late at night, but he finished his work on time and had gotten at least a B on everything so far. Sometimes he wondered if Jon was favoring him over other students – the last thing Spencer wanted was a conflict of interest – but he knew his work was good. Maybe not the best, but he was turning out to be a solid photographer, and he was slowly learning his way around the settings on the fancy digital SLR he’d rented from the department.
A slow Thursday afternoon in the graduate liberal arts office found him flicking through the photos on his camera, trying to decide which one to use for the lesson on exposures. He’d taken a shot with a long exposure out the window of Ryan and Z’s apartment, the same view he’d loved so much the night of the party. Ryan had seen it earlier, before he’d left to teach his section of Core English (he was such a disgruntled, cranky professor, and Spencer loved it), and he’d pointed at it and said, “That one.”
Glancing at the clock, Spencer decided he could probably sneak out early. It was around 3:30, and the office was dead. He didn’t have class that night, and he wanted to have enough time to relax and get some writing done before he and Brendon settled in for a night of TV-watching.
He had time to swing by the coffee shop. Over the past week and a half, he’d managed to figure out Jon’s schedule. That made him feel only slightly creepy, but Tom had readily volunteered the information one afternoon when Spencer came in.
“Mostly late afternoons and evenings,” Tom had said. “He’s off on Fridays and Saturdays.”
Spencer wasn’t sure what it said about him that the reason he was coming to the shop so often wasn’t entirely coffee-related. And that it was plain for everyone to see.
When Spencer walked in around four, Jon was busy making drinks, but he definitely noticed when Spencer walked in the door. He straightened up and made eye contact, which Spencer returned with a smile and a nod.
After the line had thinned out, Jon came over to where Spencer was standing and waiting for his drink.
“You’ve become quite the regular,” Jon said, looking up from the espresso machine and grinning.
Spencer shrugged. “I guess so.”
“What keeps you coming back? The delicious coffee? The atmosphere? Or the extremely attractive team of baristas?” Jon said, still grinning.
Greta snorted next to him. “Flirt harder, Jon.”
Spencer hadn’t seen Jon blush that often – he remembered seeing him do it at the party – but Jon’s cheeks went red. “I’m not,” he muttered.
“You’re kind of ridiculous, you know,” Spencer said. “What happened to maintaining your professional boundaries?”
“When I mentioned the extremely attractive baristas, I was referring to Greta and Tom,” Jon said. He raised his hands. “Anyway, I just like to know what our loyal customers like.”
“I like the coffee,” Spencer said, “and the music. You’re always playing good music.”
At that moment, the new Arcade Fire album was playing. Over the past few weeks, he’d heard everything from Arcade Fire to the Beach Boys to Sam Cooke and even some late ‘90s alt-rock. Spencer had to admit he had a soft spot for Third Eye Blind and Semisonic. And he knew Jon did, too, because he was always the only person in the store when those bands were playing.
Jon smiled to himself. “Good. I’m glad you like the music.”
“Yeah, so.” Spencer grabbed his coffee. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“Bye. Have a good night.” Jon waved, and Spencer said thanks, wished him the same, and left.
*
The next day, Jon announced that they, as a class, would be taking a photo walk around the neighborhood.
“You can go off on your own if you’d like,” Jon said, “but we’re going to meet back here by eight o’clock.”
Jon was in full-on teacher mode that day, even wearing a tie. He looked good in a tie. And no, Spencer was not thinking about tugging him close by that tie to pull him in for a kiss. Or thinking of the tie as having any other purpose than something that went around Jon’s neck when he was wearing a dress shirt.
The class straggled out of the room, heavy cameras around their necks, led by an enthusiastic and happy Jon, who was holding his own camera. Spencer thought that they must have been a sight for all the passersby, this random group of tired-looking twenty-somethings, all with these huge cameras.
Spencer fell into step at the back of the group, stopping to take shots of some of the buildings. Downtown Chicago had some cool architecture, and Spencer had always been into the design of buildings, in an abstract sort of way.
Gradually, the group of students began to split off from each other. Spencer was glad for the alone time. It was the middle of fall, the leaves were changing, and there was a crisp feel to the October air. It wasn’t too hot or too cold, but it was cool enough that he needed a jacket. This kind of weather was his favorite.
He wandered up a side street that was lined with trees, taking shots of the leaves on the branches and on the ground.
“You’re pretty good, you know,” Jon said from behind him, and Spencer jumped a little. Thankfully it didn’t happen in the middle of a shot.
Spencer shifted the camera to his other hand and popped the lens cap back on. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jon looked up at the leaves, and a breeze blew past, shaking some from the tree, swirling the leaves around their heads and feet.
“I love this time of year,” Jon said. He lifted his camera to his eye and snapped a quick shot. Of what, Spencer didn’t know.
“Me, too.”
“Before we know it, the semester will be over,” Jon said. He looked down and played with some of the settings on his camera. “I actually graduate in December.”
“Really? In December?” Spencer’s heart started to beat faster, and he wasn’t sure why.
“Yeah, but I’m sticking around. They offered me work as an adjunct, which only pays slightly more than the graduate assistantship. But the important thing is I’ll still be employed.”
Spencer nodded, and his heartbeat slowed. “I’m done in May. I’m only kind of freaked out.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I’m just worried,” Spencer admitted. “It’s not like I have anything to fall back on after this.”
“You’ll be fine,” Jon said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“No, that’s the thing, I don’t know if I’ll be fine. I’ll lose my job in the liberal arts office in May because I won’t be a student anymore. I won’t be in school. I don’t know how I’ll afford to pay rent. I might have to move back in with my parents, and trust me, after living here for the past five years, that’s the last thing I want to do.”
“I know,” Jon said. “I’ve been there. I’m kind of there right now, too, with the worrying about what comes next.”
“It would be nice to just know that things will be fine.” Spencer pulled the camera strap over his head; the weight of the camera was starting to hurt his neck. “Instead, I’m wondering if I’ll have somewhere to live.”
Jon frowned. “You’d have to go back to Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, that would suck, especially if you like it here.” Jon tilted his head to the side and lightened his tone. “You do like it here, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good, because I don’t need people hating on my city.”
Spencer laughed, and it felt good. “I love your city, Jon. Part of the reason I’m so freaked out is because I don’t want to leave.”
“I can’t imagine going anywhere else. I couldn’t leave my family like that.”
Spencer nearly said “Aww” aloud but held it in. “What if you had to go somewhere else, though?”
“I wouldn’t,” Jon said, and it was the surest Spencer had ever heard him sound.
They were both quiet, and then Jon said, “We should probably head back” and they walked through the streets of Jon’s city – of their city – in the cool autumn air, their arms brushing every so often as they walked, and despite the uncertainty of the future, Spencer hadn’t felt that content in a while.
*
Little by little, Spencer started to change his routine. He saw Jon more often at the coffee shop. Most of the time, Jon was busy, but he always smiled and said hi whenever he saw Spencer stop by. From time to time, they ran into each other in the hallways on campus, and Spencer didn’t avoid him.
He didn’t want to avoid him.
*
Ryan was sitting across from Spencer in the office, bitching about his class of freshman.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Ryan said. “And I can’t fucking stand The Turn of the Screw. I never want to teach it ever again.”
“I don’t think I’ve read that.”
“Well, don’t ever read it, because it sucks.” Ryan looked at his phone. “And I have to go talk about it in twenty minutes. You know I got a paper the other day that used emoticons?”
Spencer couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“Everyone else I know in the department has these amazing students. Z is always talking about how her students are so thoughtful and have interesting discussions. My students are checking Facebook and writing papers with fucking smiley faces in the titles.” Ryan frowned and reached for his coffee. “I like teaching. I just don’t like freshman.”
Ryan sighed. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? I feel like I never see you anymore.” It was true; Ryan had changed his schedule in the office, and their time there hardly ever seemed to match up anymore.
Spencer shrugged. “Just going to class. Coming here. That’s about it.”
“Jon says he’s being seeing a lot of you lately.” Ryan smirked over the rim of his coffee cup. He took a drink, sighing deeply. Spencer loved coffee, but Ryan loved it.
“So? We’re friendly outside of class. That’s it,” Spencer said, and he sounded way too defensive, even to himself. “I don’t understand why everyone’s trying to force me to like him.”
“We don’t have to force anything! Everyone already knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Spencer, you’re a very smart person. You don’t need to be asking that question.”
“Everyone is suddenly obsessed with my social life, what the fuck.”
“We’re not. I just think it’s obvious that you need to … um. De-stress. Somehow. In a way that Jon could help you with.”
“Ryan, that is disgusting and I don’t want to hear you ever make a reference to me having sex ever again. Thank you.”
“You just seem really on-edge lately. More than normal. Remember when you actually used to go out and do things and have fun?”
“That was before I decided to get a master’s degree,” Spencer said, sitting up straighter in his chair. Something about saying “master’s degree” always made him feel important. Not that he was ever going to be one of those assholes who bragged about his degrees or made a big deal about them. He just liked saying the words. They made him feel more grown-up than twenty-three.
“Besides,” Spencer continued, “your life has changed, too. We’re not nineteen anymore, dude.”
“Yeah, but. I just miss hanging out.” Ryan said this while staring down sadly at his coffee, and Spencer had to admit it tugged on his heartstrings. Just a little bit, but not enough.
Nevertheless, Spencer still felt guilty. He’d been so wrapped up in class and schoolwork that he was forgetting he had friends.
Spencer stifled a yawn; he really should have stopped for his caffeine fix that morning, but he’d overslept and didn’t have time. “I’m not being a neglectful friend on purpose, I swear,” he said. “We should make plans to do something.”
Before Spencer could even get out the last syllable of his sentence, Ryan asked, “How do you feel about bowling?”
“Bowling?” Spencer gave Ryan his best you’ve got to be kidding me look. “Since when do you bowl?”
“I don’t know! It was the first thing I thought of. You have to understand that Henry James and those fucking freshman have destroyed any of my remaining brain cells.” Ryan gestured with his coffee cup, and a little bit spilled out the side. “Damn it,” he said under his breath.
“Yes, I’ll go bowling with you, if that’s what you want.”
“Can Z come?”
“I’d actually prefer if she did.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I think we should go on Saturday. There’s two-for-one beers between eight and ten.”
“Sounds great,” Spencer said.
*
It was not great.
On Saturday around 7:45, Spencer had just gotten off the L when he received a text from Ryan that said, hey jon’s here okay see you soon!
He texted back, WHAT? and Ryan responded with hm? Spencer was not going to have this conversation via text message, so he called Ryan. By now he was standing in front of the bowling alley, but he wasn’t going to go inside and bitch at him in front of Jon and Z.
“I don’t need you to help me find a date,” Spencer said in his most irritable voice. He was pacing in front of the door.
“Hello to you, too. Where are you?”
“If you set this up to be some sort of double date thing, I’m going to be pissed.”
Ryan sighed into the phone. “Why?”
“Because I don’t need the help, and also, when have you ever been this organized or this conniving?”
“I am not conniving.”
“Ryan, listen. I’m not going to be an asshole and not show up, but just know that I’m not in the best mood right now because all of my friends insist on playing matchmaker between me and Jon.”
“I’m not playing matchmaker. That’s Brendon’s thing.”
“Does Jon know this is some sort of date?”
“It’s not a date,” Ryan said, like the conversation was boring him. “He knows you’re coming, though. I figured for it to be even for teams, I’d invite someone else, and Jon is the first person I thought of.”
Spencer said, “Fine, I’m coming in.”
“Are you standing outside?” Ryan started to laugh. “Also, you need to chill out. This is what I meant when I said he could help you. Like, when was the last time you did something that wasn’t school-related? Or the last time you got –“
Spencer ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket before walking inside. The place was a total dive, the exact sort of place in which Ryan would find some sort of redeeming quality. And Jon was there – Spencer could see him when he walked in – slouching in a chair, laughing and talking with Z. Spencer took in the image of him: white V-neck shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. The shirt wasn’t a deep V, but it still showed off the base of Jon’s throat and part of his collarbone.
He looked hot, and he got even hotter as Spencer walked closer. Jon instantly sat up and smiled when he saw Spencer.
“Hey! Long time no see.” He looked up at Spencer and gave him a half-wave.
“I know, it’s been a long time since class last night.” Spencer took off his jacket and set it down on the bench.
Ryan wandered over holding a pair of two-for-one beers that looked absolutely disgusting. “Oh, look who showed up,” he said drily in Spencer’s direction. Ryan passed off one of the beers to Z.
“Please be nice,” Z said. She took the beer, made a face at it briefly, and took a sip. “This is terrible.”
“Yeah, but can you argue with two-for-one beers? You can’t,” Ryan said. “I need to be drunker to be on my bowling game.”
Z snorted. “You don’t have a bowling game.”
“Well, you’ll just be surprised when I totally kick your ass at this.”
“Ryan, we’re on the same team,” Z said. “Unless you want to partner with Spencer, and I’ll be with Jon.” She nudged Jon’s knee with hers. “What do you say?”
Jon looked back and forth between Ryan and Z. “I kind of wanted to be Spencer’s partner, no offense.”
If Spencer had been drinking any of that beer, he would have choked on it.
“None taken!” Z said, getting to her feet, which were covered in a pair of rented bowling shoes that looked like they’d seen better days. She added, in a stage-whisper, “Ryan doesn’t want to admit it, but he needs me so he can win.”
“Hey!” Ryan said, all mock-hurt. “I don’t.”
Z kissed the top of his head and messed up his hair. She walked over to enter their names on the ancient computer to keep score.
Jon turned to Spencer, leaning in to be heard over the loud pop music. His arm was draped over the back of Spencer’s seat. You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream! Katy Perry sang, and Spencer hated how much he enjoyed that song.
“I hope you’re good at this game, because I suck,” Jon said. His breath was warm on Spencer’s ear. “I’m the king of gutter balls.”
“The last time I did this, I was pretty decent, so you’re in luck,” Spencer said.
He was slightly lightheaded from the closeness, and because Jon smelled really good, like soap and laundry and coffee. His pulse was hammering away, and his throat was dry just from sitting there and wanting him.
“Then it’s a good thing that we’re teammates,” Jon said.
“Uh, I’m going to go get something to drink, but I’m thinking bottled water instead of beer. Want anything?”
“Water’s fine.” Jon smiled, and Spencer felt his eyes on him as he walked over to get their waters. By the time he came back a couple of minutes later, he was just in time to see Ryan walk up to the lane and roll a gutter ball.
“I’m up next,” Jon said as Spencer sat down next to him and handed off a bottle.
Spencer looked down at Jon’s feet. “Are you bowling in flip-flops?”
“Of course. You think I’d put my feet in those shoes? It’s not like you’re wearing bowling shoes, either.” He poked Spencer’s foot with one of his toes.
“I’m not.” Spencer glanced at his shiny black loafers. “I should probably rent some, though.”
Ryan stared sadly at his bowling ball traveling down the gutter, and walked back to the bench. “It’s Jon’s turn,” he announced, and Jon pushed himself up.
“Good luck,” Spencer called after him.
Jon turned around and gave him a thumbs-up, which was possibly one of the dorkiest things Spencer had seen in a long time. He enjoyed it anyway.
And then Jon bowled a strike. All of the pins fell down, making a satisfying sound as they hit the wood. He turned around, looked at Spencer with a huge grin on his face, and raised his arms. His shirt rode up, exposing a strip of skin and the tops of his hipbones.
Spencer sucked in some air and tried not to look.
“High five!” Jon said, coming back over to the bench, and Spencer slapped Jon’s palm.
“For being the king of gutter balls, that was pretty decent,” Spencer said.
“I know. And it’s your turn.”
Spencer reluctantly got up. He also, by some miracle, bowled a strike. Jon let out a loud “Yeah!”
When he sat down again, Jon said in his ear – over Rihanna singing about how she wanted to feel like the only girl in the world – “Nice job.”
“Thanks.” Spencer wiped his palms on his thighs; he wasn’t sure when they’d started to sweat. Or when he became a person who got sweaty palms.
“We could be a force to be reckoned with,” Jon said. “Ryan and Z have no idea what they’re in for.” He smiled goofily. “Although getting a strike could be some sort of fluke for me, I don’t know.”
“You could secretly be the greatest bowler who ever lived, and you don’t even know it.”
“I doubt it.” Jon crossed one leg over the other and hummed along to Rihanna. “But if I am, I’m going to be in those competitions on ESPN. Just wait and see.”
“You’d give up your life as a graduate teaching assistant, student, and barista for the glory of bowling championships?” Spencer shook his head. “Jon, I’m shocked.”
“You forgot to add ‘photographer’ in there. And ‘musician.’ I’m a multi-hyphenate.”
“Your talents are legen–wait for it–dary.”
“Did you just make a How I Met Your Mother reference?”
They smiled at each other and they must have looked like a couple of idiots, sitting there just staring at each other with identical expressions on their faces.
It would be really easy to fall in love with Jon.
But he wasn’t going to.
*
It turned out that Jon wasn’t as bad at bowling as he thought, and Spencer wasn’t as good as he remembered. They still beat Ryan and Z because, despite Z’s decent bowling skills, Ryan never managed to hit more than two pins at once.
As they parted ways outside, Jon said to Spencer, “I’ll walk you to the L.”
“You don’t have to,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”
“But I want to,” Jon said. He zipped up his hoodie and put his hands in the pockets.
Spencer shrugged. “Okay.” They started to walk in the direction of the station. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“I did.” Jon pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt. “I think I did pretty well for someone who hasn’t bowled in forever. So did you.”
“We were the winning team,” Spencer said. “Maybe we should join a bowling league.”
“If we do, you think we can wear those matching bowling shirts with our names embroidered on them?”
“Would we even consider joining a bowling league that didn’t wear those shirts?”
“No. Because only the best bowling leagues wear them.”
Spencer laughed. “Right.” They approached the L station, and he said, “I’m glad I came tonight. I had a good time.”
“Yeah, so did I,” Jon said. His cheeks were flushed from the slight chill in the air, and he looked cute in the hoodie. If Spencer reached out and tilted Jon’s chin up, he could kiss him.
Spencer stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Honestly, when I found out you were going to be there – which was as I was walking up to the bowling alley – I got kind of pissed.” Spencer looked away guiltily.
Jon raised his eyebrows, and Spencer continued, “I thought Ryan was setting us up.”
“Oh.” Jon took his hands out of his pockets.
“I mean, because the two of us going out a date probably wouldn’t be a good idea, considering … you know.”
“No, I know.” Jon said it in a way that Spencer knew meant he was trying not to act hurt or offended when he actually was.
“But I did have a really good time tonight,” Spencer said quickly, trying to recover. God, why did he have to open his mouth and say such stupid things? It was a perfectly nice moment; they could have said good night and ended it there, but he had to blurt out idiotic confessions.
“I did, too, and you’re right, about it not being a good idea.” Jon pulled his hood tighter on his head, and didn’t look at Spencer until he said, “And I don’t think he was setting us up.”
“Really?” Spencer sounded dubious.
“Yeah. He just invited me along, said it was going to be fun, and when I heard you’d be there, I figured it would be.” Jon looked him right in the eyes. “Also, for what it’s worth, I don’t think being set up with you on a date would be the worst thing in the world.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I’m just saying.”
Spencer’s stomach twisted. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t pissed about seeing you. I was pissed about what I thought was Ryan – I don’t know, ‘meddling’ seems like the wrong word – getting involved.”
“I know you’d never get pissed about seeing me. Would you really be coming to get coffee from me four days a week if you didn’t?” He smirked. “Unless you have a thing for Tom that I don’t know about.”
“No, no, god no,” Spencer said, laughing. It’s you I have the thing for, he wanted to say, but that was pretty obvious. He knew, and he knew that Jon knew, too.
“Hey, you work Monday, right?” Spencer asked.
“Yep. I’ll have your coffee waiting for you.” Jon started to take a few steps backward. “Anyway, I’ll let you go; don’t want you to miss the train.”
“Yeah, um. Thanks for walking me here.”
“No problem. Have a good night.” Jon waved and turned around.
Spencer waved goodbye to Jon’s back and walked up the stairs to the platform. They’d seemed to end on a positive note, but he still felt like a massive asshole.
When he came home, there was a note from Brendon saying that he’d gone out. Spencer wasn’t even seeing much of his roommate anymore, either. He was just a shitty person who said shitty things and forgot to spend time with his friends.
He moped around the apartment for a while, watching part of Saturday Night Live while catching up on some research for an article he was writing for class. He wished he had Jon’s number; he should have asked for it that night but he forgot, and besides, it might have seemed too forward, a crossing of the limits they’d set. He figured if Jon wanted him to have it, he would have given it to him by now. It was just really strange knowing someone without being able to text him, but Spencer kind of liked the old-schoolness of it, of having to rely on seeing Jon in person to talk to him.
Brendon came in around 2 a.m. and flopped down on the couch next to Spencer, putting his head on Spencer’s shoulder. He was cold and smelled a little bit like alcohol, but that was okay. Spencer just liked having him there; it made him feel less alone.
“How was bowling?” Brendon asked.
“Jon and I won,” Spencer said. He closed his MacBook.
Brendon lifted his head so he could look in Spencer’s eyes. “Jon was there?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“It was last minute. Ryan invited him.”
“And?”
“I got pretty pissed about it, even though that wore off. But we had a really good time.”
“That’s good.” Brendon yawned into his hand.
“No, it’s not, because at the end of the night I told him I’d been annoyed at first because I thought Ryan was setting us up on a date.”
“How’d he take that?”
“I think I hurt his feelings, but whatever, he seemed to forgive me.” Spencer didn’t want to rehash it, but he continued, “Then he said going on a date with me wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Brendon mumbled, “Just fuck him already and get it over with.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Spencer fidgeted. He was not going to talk about it anymore. “How’d your night go?”
“Booze,” Brendon said, closing his eyes.
Spencer patted Brendon’s hand. “Okay.”
He let Brendon sleep on him for a while, until Spencer started to get sore from sitting there for so long. He shut down his computer and carefully moved Brendon off his shoulder and onto one of the pillows on the couch.
Maybe Brendon was right, but it wasn’t just about wanting to have sex with Jon anymore. Spencer actually liked him, and it was terrifying. Equally terrifying was the fact that he knew Jon liked him back. He’d never experienced that before, not like this. He felt too old to still be having firsts, but Jon was the first guy who had ever reciprocated Spencer’s feelings – or had initiated the flirting.
And of course he taught Spencer’s class. Because that’s the way things always went: whenever something good happened, there was always a catch to it.
*
Spencer came by The Daily Grind on Monday after class. As promised, Jon was there, and he said, “I started making your drink as soon as I saw you walking up to the door.”
“Thank you.” Spencer got out money to pay; he couldn’t expect Jon to keep him in free coffee forever. But Jon waved the money off again.
“You know, I could take advantage of this pretty easily,” Spencer said.
“You only get free coffee when I’m here. You always pay otherwise, and you’ve become one of our best customers. They’re thinking of dedicating a chair to you and putting a plaque on it.”
“Ha, ha.”
“The Spencer Smith Memorial Chair.”
“Aren’t memorials for dead people?”
“Okay, then, the Spencer Smith Chair. Is that better?”
“Yes. And I want the plaque to be in twenty-four carat gold.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Jon said, talking over the noise of the espresso machine. Once the noise stopped, he added in his regular voice, “It’ll be a reserved seat. No other customer can sit in it, even when we’re packed. It’s just for you.”
“You really know how to give me the royal treatment.”
“Only the best for you.” Jon put a lid on Spencer’s drink and passed it over the counter. “Vanilla latte.”
“Thank you.” There wasn’t a line, so Spencer wasn’t holding anything up by standing there and talking. “Hey, um. I don’t know it’s stupid to bring up again, but I’m sorry about the other night.”
Jon busied himself by cleaning up. “It’s fine.” He looked up from wiping a rag over some spilled coffee. “It’s over and done with. Anyway, it was fun. It’s nice to see you outside of class. I feel more like we’re friends now instead of you being a student. I don’t think of any of my students as students, actually, because we’re around the same age.” Jon spoke too quickly, sounding nervous. Then he shrugged and refilled a pitcher of milk.
Friends. Well, yeah. Spencer guessed that they were friends, but something about the word stung.
In an attempt to change the subject, Spencer said, “I like your class, by the way. I didn’t think I would, because I’ve never been into photography, but … you’re a good teacher. You changed my mind.”
Jon smiled. “Yeah? That’s good to hear. You’re doing nice work, by the way.”
“Oh.” Spencer took the lid off his drink and blew on it to cool it off before he drank any of it. “Thank you.”
“Really, it’s good.”
“Thanks. And … I’d like to see your stuff sometime, if you ever feel like sharing it. Remember you mentioned once those pictures of the city at night? I’d love to see them.”
“I can e-mail them to you tonight,” Jon said. “What’s your e-mail?”
“Um. I’ll write it down for you. Do you have any paper?”
Jon grabbed a stack of Post-Its and handed it to Spencer, along with a pen. Spencer wrote down his e-mail address and gave it to Jon, who stuck it in his back pocket.
“I’ll make sure to send them tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Hold on a second, it looks like I have a customer.” Another barista had just returned from her break and took the customer’s order, and Jon started to make the drink.
“If you want to go sit in the Spencer Smith Chair, I go on break in five minutes.” Jon pointed at the big, comfy purple armchair that Spencer always sat in.
“Okay.” Spencer returned his smile and went to sit in his chair and drink his coffee, maybe catch up on a few e-mails on his phone.
As soon as Jon finished making a few more drinks – the shop always got a few stragglers around 10:00 – he came over and sat down in the chair across from Spencer’s.
“Hi,” Spencer said.
“Hi.”
“Are you sure you want to spend your break with me?”
“It’s just fifteen minutes. I think I can put up with you for that long.” Jon smirked and crossed his legs. He wiggled his foot to the beat of the music that was playing.
“You’ve put up with me for much longer than that before.” Spencer rolled his eyes at Jon, but it was full of affection.
“Actually, you’re the best part of my night. I’ve been here since three, and after this, I have to go home and do a bunch of bullshit assignments for this graphic design class – it was an elective – so, my day has and will continue to suck.”
“I’m the only bright spot, huh?”
“Yep.”
“You’re pretty high up there on my list, too.” There was a tight feeling in Spencer’s stomach when Jon smiled at him. Spencer loved Jon’s smile. His whole face opened up when he did it, and his grin reached all the way up to his eyes.
“Good to know.”
If he could – if they weren’t in public, if it wasn’t off limits – Spencer would have kissed him right then and there.
He drank some of his coffee to keep himself from saying or doing anything idiotic.
“Hey, so,” Jon said, “Tom’s band is doing a show on Thursday night, if you want to come.”
“Where?”
“Subterranean. It starts at nine.”
“I should be able to make it.”
“I can pick you up if you want,” Jon said.
“You expect me to get on that motorcycle again? Fuck no. I’ll pick you up.”
Jon laughed. “I thought you liked it.”
“It was okay, but kind of scary.”
Was this a date? No, it couldn’t be. Jon was just inviting him to see his friend’s band. That’s all.
“Fine, you get your way. You can pick me up at eight-thirty.”
Spencer pulled out his phone and added it to his calendar. “Eight-thirty. Will that leave enough time?”
“Empires – that’s Tom’s band – probably won’t go on until a little after nine, so we should be okay on time. I don’t want to get there too early.” Jon glanced over his shoulder. “We have a few people in line, so I should get back. I’ll see you Wednesday?”
“Yes.” Spencer put his phone back in his pocket. “You can meet me in front of your building.”
“Okay. See you then.”
*
“It’s definitely a date,” Brendon said, watching Spencer pull out a hoodie from his closet. It was the night of the show, and he had to pick up Jon in twenty minutes.
“It’s not. We’re just going to see Tom’s band.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Brendon patted Spencer’s shoulder and walked out of the room.
*
The show wasn’t that crowded. Almost everyone there seemed to know each other, and Spencer felt like the odd man out as Jon introduced him to his friends. Jon knew everyone there. If he didn’t walk up to someone to say hi, he was waving to them.
“How do you know all of these people?” Spencer asked. They were standing at the bar, drinks in hand, waiting for the show to start.
“Bands I played in a long time ago. I don’t keep in touch with everyone anymore, but if we see each other out, I always say hi.”
“How many bands were you in?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Four? But during my senior year of high school, I had a band that got semi-popular out in the suburbs. You know, playing a lot of high school auditoriums and VFW halls.” Jon sighed wistfully, but then he laughed at himself. “It was fun. Now I just play guitar mostly for myself.”
“I think the last time I played drums was last Christmas when I was home.”
“Wow.”
“It was kind of hard to bring a drum set halfway across the country. And I’m too busy to play, anyway, which is really sad, but it’s true.”
“Maybe you can play again soon? Christmas is right around the corner.”
“The second week of November does not mean Christmas is coming soon.”
“For me, it does. I start planning around this time. Gifts, decorations, all that stuff.” Jon looked excited just talking about it. “I’m really into Christmas.”
Spencer pictured Jon decorating a Christmas tree and singing Christmas carols at work and passing out candy canes to his customers. He couldn’t help it; those were the images that popped into his head.
“I think that’s cute,” he said.
Jon ducked his head and took a long drink.
The lights dimmed even more, and the show started. As the band came on stage and started their first song, Jon was nodding his head to the music, and he kept glancing over at Spencer.
“Do you like it?” he asked between songs.
“Yes!” Spencer said. It was a challenge to hear Jon and be heard back, even when there wasn’t any music and the place was filled with just crowd noise.
The music was good – loud, fast rock music with big choruses. Spencer was glad he came. And no matter what Brendon said, it wasn’t a date.
The band played a short set – they were opening for another, bigger local band – and afterward Jon turned to him and said, “Do you maybe want to grab something to eat?”
Not a date not a date not a date.
“Sure. What do you feel like?”
“They have food here.” Jon took some menus off the bar and passed one to Spencer, who was grateful that they could just stay where they were. It’d been a long day, and he could feel himself getting sleepy. He didn’t want to have to go anywhere else.
They each paid their own way. It was definitely not a date, although for a second Spencer considered offering to pay for Jon to make up for all the free coffee.
He drove Jon home at the end of the night, and before Jon got out of the car, they looked at each other and a warmth spread all over Spencer’s body. It was driving him crazy, being this close to Jon and not being able to touch him or kiss him. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever, and here was this gorgeous, funny guy sitting right there and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.
“Thanks for coming,” Jon said, his hand on the door. “And for the ride.”
“I enjoyed it. Thanks for inviting me.” Spencer gripped the steering wheel; it was the only thing that could keep him from just going for it.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Spencer smiled weakly. “Six to nine p.m.”
“It’s a lecture on lighting techniques! I bet you’re pumped.” Jon lightly punched Spencer’s arm. He added, in a whisper, “There’s a quiz, too. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, professor.”
Jon made a face. “Don’t call me that. I’m a T.A., not technically a professor. That makes me sound old and more important that I actually am.”
“You are important. You’re responsible for shaping the minds of graduate students.” Spencer grinned.
“Oh, shut up,” Jon said, but he was smiling back. “I don’t think I’m shaping minds. I feel more like someone who’s just up there in front of a bunch of people sharing what he loves.”
“I can tell.”
They were quiet, and the lack of any other noise in the car became obvious. Spencer held onto the steering wheel even tighter. His hands were starting to go numb.
“So, I’m – I’m going to –“ Jon opened the door. “Thanks again.”
“Yeah.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good night.”
As he drove away, he smacked his forehead with his palm and muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Part Three