Austin meets my eyes at once. “Of course. Why?”
“I’m ready for people to know,” I tell him. “Like, the town.”
He lifts his eyebrows questioningly. “You mean—?”
“Is that what’s been on your mind? My parents are respecting me wanting to come out on my own terms, even if it’s killing my mom not getting to brag to Nadine just yet, but … I never thought to askyou. If we come out, more people might see us, recognize us, and … and talk about us. And that could matter.”
“Don’t matter to me one bit.”
“It might matter to Chase Holt, though.”
That stops him. Did I just hit the nail on the head?
But the very next instant, he reaches over the table and takes my hand into his. “Chase Holt ain’t here. Austin Love is. And he…” Suddenly he cringes and shakes off his words. “Sorry, hate talkin’ about myself in the third.I’mhere. And I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what that world out there wants. I care aboutyou, TJ McPherson. You got that? You’re all that matters to me.”
His voice is somewhat aggressive.
I find it both low-key hot and kind of scary.
Austin sounds about ready to take on a battalion of dragons to defend my honor.
“Alright,” I reply gently, then start to nod. “Okay.”
“Alright,” he agrees, smiling, echoing my words. “Okay.”
“So, um …” I glance down at our hands still united. “Does that mean the fuck-it Band-Aid has been officially ripped off …?”
He grins. “Ripped right the fuck off.”
It feels like a relief at first. I mean, isn’t the point for us to just be ourselves and get out of these so-called cages of ours?
But how realistic is that? What happens when someone spots him and knows exactly who he is, despite the limited social media presence? Can he ever really escape being Chase Holt any more than I can escape being my parents’ son?
Or is the point to just not give a shit what happens and let our hearts lead us?As long as they don’t lead us over a cliff, I guess.
Mick arrives with our burgers and fries, then just stands there with his eyes glued to our joined hands, not yet setting down our plates, as if his brain needs to work overtime to reinterpret who we are. Austin and I stare at him patiently. After a year passes, he lifts his dead eyes to us and says, “We have a date night special if, uh, you guys, like, are doin’ that and stuff.”
Austin and I look at each other. “Doesn’t the … ‘date’ have to be at night …?” I ask, confused.
“I dunno.” Mick sets down our plates in front of us, shrugs, then adds, “I’ll just ring up the special. Enjoy. And, uh, congrats.” Then he walks away while scratching at a spot on hisback where his shirt doesn’t quite meet his jeans, his apron tied too high. It’s a miracle the guy still works here. Billy’s mom, co-owner of Biggie’s, is known for having a soft spot for living train wrecks. I still recall Anthony Myers being made to wear their Tackle Monster costume out front a few Sundays in a row last summer.
But train wrecks and dinner specials and monster costumes are the last things on my mind. My eyes are right back on Austin’s, his fingers threaded with mine. For a while, neither of us seem to care about the lunch we just got on a surprise discount, despite our appetites. Is it that we just got identified as a couple for the first time outside my house? Or are we just happy to be here in this moment with each other?
“Guess we’re gonna need our hands to eat,” I point out.
“Agreed.” We both chuckle, then let go to stuff our faces.
The burgers go down like butter. The insanely tasty fries, too. Mrs. Tucker—Billy’s aforementioned mom—waves at me from the kitchen through the partition window as we’re heading out, only to stop short, rush to the swinging door with her gloved hands full of suds, and shout, “TJ! Who’s your friend there? Wait a sec.” She snaps her fingers—which makes no sound considering her hand’s gloved and wet. “Austin! Billy told me you had a friend in town. Is that you? Are you this Austin fellow?”
“The one and only,” he says with a warm smile.
“Billy’s my son,” she explains. “How nice to meet you!”
Austin returns a nod. “Pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”
Mrs. Tucker holds her hands up in front of her like a freshly-scrubbed surgeon ready for the OR. “TJ, honey, you should’ve told me you were bringin’ your friend, I’d have come out and said hi! I was back here the whole time chewin’ my husband’s ear off about Tanner’s kids. You heard the team made it all the way to Regional Finals this year? I mean, it’s baseball in the spring,but it’s all the same boys as football, and—Gosh, I don’t gotta explain the whole thing, do I? Oh, and that freaky storm we just had! What was that? Never mind. How long are you in town for, Austin?”
“Through the Fourth and a few days after, ma’am.”