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Ryan sounded like his normal, cheerful self when he greeted Chad's mom, but when he walked into the living room, he wore a thundercloud on his brow just as firmly as his pale yellow fedora. He slumped onto the couch with a disgruntled sigh and shot Chad a look of sulky displeasure.
"What?"
"The Frontier," Ryan paused melodramatically, "is closed from 1:00 to 5:00 in the morning now."
"What are you doing out at that time of night?" Chad asked incredulously. "You leading a secret party life I don't know about?"
"Yes, Chad. I like the night life. I like to boogie," Ryan told him with straight-faced earnestness. Then he rolled his eyes and let his head drop back onto the couch, tipping his hat forward over his face so it wouldn't get crushed.
"In the middle of hell week," Ryan said from inside his hat. "When rehearsal runs forever, and the director insists on giving pages of notes about everyone's performance, it's … comforting to know that, no matter what time you leave the theater, you can go to the Frontier and get a sweet roll and a plate of huevos rancheros."
"Dude," Chad said, propping his feet up on the coffee table and poking Ryan in the shoulder. "There is no way that pouty lip is about late night breakfast food."
"You can't even see my lip," Ryan protested.
"Doesn't matter," Chad sing-songed. "I still know it's there." He reached over and lifted one corner of Ryan's hat, revealing unhappily blinking blue eyes and, as predicted, a pouting lower lip. "So what gives?"
Ryan stared at him for a moment, still half shaded by his hat, then he sighed and batted Chad's hand away and set the fedora on the arm of the couch. He looked oddly young and naked without it.
"You know my theatre camp at the university?" he asked.
"The one you've been obsessing about all summer? The one you've been spending the entire day at since last Tuesday, leaving me completely at the mercy of Troy and Gabriella for rides to the mall?" He shrugged. "Sorry, man, never heard of it."
Ryan huffed, and his eyes flicked around the room, like he was searching for something to look at other than Chad's face. After a moment, he settled on the Georgia O'Keefe print hanging on the wall. "Everyone's been pairing up," he told the cow's skull in the painting. "Except me. Carston flirted with me all day yesterday, but when I got there today, he was making out with Javier on the green room sofa." He kept staring at the picture, despite the fact that it seemed unlikely to answer back.
"Oh." Chad blinked. "Do you like Carston?" he asked. The question came out a lot more quavery and pathetic than it had sounded in his head. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, are we dealing with a broken heart here, or just a bruised ego because you didn't get to make out on the green room sofa?"
Ryan's lips twitched. "Please," he scoffed. "I am so not the 'making out on the sofa' type. I'm the 'going out on a nice date and then making out in the car' type. Besides, do you know how many people have had sex on that sofa? If CSI ever came to Albuquerque, they could get DNA samples from three-fourths of the theatre community off that thing." He sent a sidelong, smirking glance at Chad, apparently giving up on communing with the painting.
"I don't think I needed to know that," Chad muttered.
A smile flickered across Ryan's face, flaring bright in momentary amusement before dying away. "I don't have a broken heart," he said after a few seconds. "I just don't get it. What's the matter with me? I'm gay, I'm lovable, and I've got good teeth. What more are people looking for?"
"Yeah, well. Those guys have gotta be either stupid or blind, because you're … you're awesome." Chad intended it to sound like friendly support. Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he thought he'd pulled it off. But when he finished speaking, the aching honesty in his voice hung in the air between them, and Chad had to swallow hard against the lump of panic that rose in his throat.
Ryan stared at him, his head bare and his eyes vulnerable. If Chad could have looked away, he would have tried out Ryan's strategy of managing stress through staring at paintings, but the flare of hopeful understanding in Ryan's face held him still.
"I … you … really?" Ryan's voice was tentative. Chad didn't think he could actually form words at the moment, so he jerked his head in a stiff nod. "Oh," Ryan said weakly.
Chad swallowed again. His face was burning, and he knew if he'd had a complexion like Ryan's, he'd have been bright red by now.
"Oh," Ryan said again. In Chad's daydreams, this was about the time that Ryan usually climbed onto his lap and started doing dirty, sexy things to him. Apparently, Ryan never got the scripts to those daydreams, because he just stared at Chad some more.
"So," Chad said in a croak. "So, if you were just looking for a guy who's, you know, interested …" He couldn't even finish the sentence.
"No," Ryan said, and Chad's heart dropped like a stone. "No, I don't just want a guy who's interested."
Chad thought it was supremely unfair that this conversation had to happen in his living room, where he couldn't escape. If they'd been at Ryan's or at the mall, Chad could have faked a convenient emergency at home. But instead he was stuck, rooted to the couch and feeling like his insides were being beaten with shovels.
"I want a guy," Ryan said slowly, "who's smart and funny." Chad realized with a wince that Ryan was going to describe his dream guy. Carston, or whatever. And Chad had to listen to it. "Somebody who'll be my friend and agree when I'm right but who'll laugh at me when I'm being an idiot. A guy who really doesn't care if my dad owns half the town and my sister owns half the school."
Chad closed his eyes and wished he could sink through the cushions, so he didn't see Ryan move closer. He did feel a hand on his arm, though. Ryan's voice was suddenly very near.
"You are not just a guy," Ryan said fiercely. Chad's eyes popped open. Ryan's face was right in front of him, wearing an expression that was glad and determined and scared all at once. He leaned forward slowly, like he was giving Chad time to get away, which was so ridiculous that Chad surged forward to meet him.
It wasn't dirty and sexy like Chad's imagination had painted it, but when Ryan kissed him, Chad's heart pounded and his breath caught. He pressed closer, encouraged by the way Ryan's arms were winding around his neck. This was good in a way that it had never been with girls and sweet like he'd never dreamed it could be with a guy, and Chad wanted to stay like this forever.
Except.
Chad pulled back, breathing hard. "Dude," he said. "My mom's home." He meant to explain that he really didn't want to come out to his mother by surprising her with wild, gay antics in the living room. He meant to tell Ryan that, while he really didn't want to stop, they really had to. But he got distracted by Ryan's lips, which were right in front of him, pink and parted and completely irresistible. He ducked forward and pressed kisses along them.
This time Ryan was the one who drew back. "No," he said. "You're right. Your mom is here. Besides," he added, sliding back over to his side of the couch. "I'm not the 'making out on the sofa' type."
Chad smoothed a hand over his curls. "Oh, yeah." He took a deep breath and watched Ryan put his hat on, carefully angling it on his head. "Okay, then," Chad said with a grin. "Let's go out. I'll buy you a sweet roll."
Ryan's smile lit his face like sunshine. "You just want to make out in the car afterward," he said, his voice teasing and promising at once.
Chad raised his eyebrows suggestively, because yes, he really did. But even if Ryan were the 'waiting until the right time' type or the 'prove you care about me first' type, Chad would want to take him out.
Because he was just Chad's type.