Aiden’s voice was mild. “Are you physically revolted by me?”
“I mean, of course I’m not!” said Harvard.
They’d slept tangled together on hospital seats and lying on the ground camping and in beds, too. They were very physically comfortable together. They always had been. Aiden’s touch had always been welcome and natural to him as sunlight.
He was afraid of losing that.
“There you go. I’m cute. You’re cute,” Aiden said. “So that’s not a problem, but if you don’t want to, that is a problem. If you don’t want to, we shouldn’t try this.”
Harvard had no idea how to deal with the jolting sensation caused by part of what Aiden had said, so he fastened desperately on to the last sentence.
“I do want to!” Harvard exclaimed.
He lifted his chin and stood up from the bed. Aiden’s upward glance seemed like a challenge, familiar from times when Harvard got Aiden to take a match seriously and Aiden’s eyes gleamed above their crossed swords. The look was wildly out of context, and seemed far more dangerous, when thrown in their room.
Aiden’s voice rasped as he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” said Harvard. “Come on.”
Something flickered in Aiden’s gaze. Harvard nodded encouragement at him. Come on, let’s get with the plan.
“You said nothing should happen in the dorm room, right?”
Aiden answered, “R-right?“
Harvard said recklessly, “So let’s leave the room.”
18: AIDEN
Harvard had never been kissed. Was Neil actively deranged? Aiden wondered. Would Harvard be safe with someone who might at any time progress from inexplicable inaction to delusions that he was a teapot?
He didn’t want to think of Neil at this time or any other.
Harvard led the way, down the back stairs of the dormitory and out into the quad of Kings Row. Once they were outside, Aiden took deep breaths of cool night air. He couldn’t possibly have agreed to this. He wasn’t actually going to try to teach Harvard about dating.
Aiden was clearly in the process of losing his mind. He thought he could actually feel his mind dissolving. The tiny fragments that used to be his mind would float away up into the night sky and get lost among the stars.
The stone pillars that surrounded them glimmered silver in the gathering dusk. Their school buildings were lost in shadows, but Aiden knew exactly where they were. They had crossed this stretch of lawn hundreds of times.
Aiden had imagined the date to Kingstone Fair in excruciating detail, lived it in a hundred vivid daydreams, but he’d never planned out any date he’d actually had. Who cared?
Only now it was Harvard, so now Aiden cared, and literally all his experience was worse than useless. He couldn’t be cold to Harvard or careless or hurt him. If Harvard understood what he was asking for, he would be horrified.
None of Aiden’s experience applied to Harvard. He couldn’t do this.
“I’m not sure…,” Harvard began.
“You’re so right, this was a terrible idea!” exclaimed Aiden. “Obviously you’re overcome with shock. You were panicking. It’s fine. Neil is deranged, but that’s his problem. He probably thinks he’s a teapot. Don’t worry. There are a lot of teapots in the sea. I mean, fish. I mean, guys.”
Silence reigned under the stars.
“There are a lot of teapots in the sea?” Harvard repeated.
Aiden took a deep breath.
“You can tell me that you’ve changed your mind. I’m not the guy who could plan a perfect date, but I’m not… I know you haven’t done anything like this before, and I wouldn’t push. I’m not that guy, either.”
He whirled away, intending to escape, but then Harvard followed him. Harvard was wearing a button-down shirt—one of his uniform shirts, but with jeans. When Harvard wore shirts that buttoned, he buttoned all the way. Harvard committed like that. What Harvard wasn’t wearing was the woolen sweater or the blazer that came with the uniform shirt. When he leaned his shoulder against Aiden’s, the warmth of his skin spread to Aiden. His shoulder against Aiden’s was strong and solid. He was right there, a warm and astonishingly comforting presence. Aiden was enveloped in that strength and comfort.
“Hey,” Harvard murmured, running his hand down the line of Aiden’s back. Aiden felt every muscle in his body go liquid and his head go dizzy from the release of tension. “I know that. I know you. Calm down.”
Aiden leaned his head against Harvard’s and breathed. “I’m cool and poised at all times.”
Harvard laughed. “Oh sure.”
They stayed like that in a perfect silence, in which Aiden could breathe easier than he had in days, until Harvard made a sound that wasn’t a snort but was still too close to scoffing for Aiden’s taste.
“I haven’t changed my mind.”
“You can,” said Aiden. “Anytime.”
“I know that, too. Would you give a guy a minute before you enact a whole dramatic scene?” Harvard grumbled. “Why are you like this? I cannot believe you chose this moment to decide I’m a wounded fawn you hit with your dad’s limo.”
“My dad let my last stepmother take the limo,” Aiden mumbled.
He had calmed down. He should pull away. Aiden knew exactly how to extricate himself from moments like these, had learned from long habit, and he was about to do so in a smooth, practiced maneuver when he became aware Harvard’s attitude had shifted.
“We should—” Aiden began, and would have finished with go back inside, except his mouth was dry.
“Yeah,” murmured Harvard. “You said we should hold hands.”
There was a certain set to Harvard’s shoulders and tilt to his jaw when he came to a decision and decided nothing would sway him from his course. When this determination gathered during a match, Aiden would always grin, knowing Harvard’s opponent was about to be decimated.
He wasn’t certain what Harvard’s familiar determination would lead to in a moment as strange as this. Aiden held still and waited.
Harvard drew in a deep breath. It seemed as though he were drawing in all the air from the sky.
“If you don’t like it,” Harvard murmured, “tell me.”
He slid his hand from Aiden’s back, palm skimming lightly down Aiden’s arm, and laced his fingers with Aiden’s. They had held hands before many times. When they were little, Harvard and Aiden used to grab hands before crossing the street. They would swing their joined hands as they went, happy to be together, Aiden knowing he was safe with Harvard.
It was different now. They were older. It felt different—to actually twine their fingers together rather than clasp hands. It was such a small thing, this tiny advance of intimacy. Palm to palm, linked together. This didn’t feel entirely safe.
“So,” Aiden said, slightly breathless.
Harvard squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Well, what next? Do we try going on a date?”
“Yes,” said Aiden, trying to sound calm and judicious in his capacity as a teacher of the ways of dating. “I think that would be a good next step.”
“Where would you like to go on our date?” Harvard asked.