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NOTE: Told from Jonny's POV
When I woke up, it was slowly. My consciousness returned to me in soft, warm waves, and for that I was grateful. The minute I did open my eyes and roll over in bed, a lanky, sharp-elbowed, fuzzy headed, extremely hyper beast was upon me.
“JONNY!” Chris bellowed, shaking me. “It’s nearly one in the afternoon!”
I stared blearily up at him. “Yes, and?”
“You missed all the good stuff! We had breakfast at some place down the road. I brought you pancakes and fruit but it got all… soggy.” Chris nodded his head at a paper bag on the table. “D’you still want it?”
I shook my head. “Nah… Thanks, though.”
He grinned widely. “And then Guy nearly got some girl’s phone number. They figured out who we were, so we ran then.”
“No autographs for the adoring fans?” I rubbed my eyes and grinned a little.
Chris slapped my arm in that playful way of his and sat back on his heels. “I thought you were dead. You sleep like… like a dead person.” He blinked and laughed.
“Do I?” I sat up and stretched, and was in the middle of rubbing the back of my head when a thought occurred to me. If Chris woke up before I did, and I had fallen asleep holding him…
What a bloody idiot I was. Why the hell didn’t I think about what would happen in the morning? Chris was the earliest riser I’d ever known. I was definitely not a morning person. So why didn’t I think that he’d wake up before I did and find himself trapped in my arms?
My heart dropped, and I cautiously glanced up at Chris’s face. He was watching me curiously. My heart dropped, flipped, and leapt into my throat.
Christ almighty, he knew.
“What?” I said irritably.
“You’ve been acting strange these last couple days,” he commented mysteriously, pulling his legs out from under him and crossing them. He played with the stitching of the comforter. “Is it the touring?”
I shrugged as casually as I could. “Maybe. Dunno.”
“But you’ve always been the level-headed one, Jon, and I’m worried about what happens if you go crazy like the rest of us.” He grinned at me, but it wasn’t quite a laughing grin. Chris was uncertain.
I shook my head and sat back on the pillow. “I’ll never be as crazy as you and Will. You two just want to have fun. Guy… Well, Guy has a problem with responsibility. But it’s okay, right? We handle it all right. Don’t we?”
Chris lowered his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right.”
I relaxed a little, recognizing the tone in his voice. Chris had inquired and not gotten the answer he wanted, but he knew the conversation was over. I was grateful, at least, for that.
“So, ah…” I sat forward again and Chris glanced at me. “Have you got lunch yet?”
He shook his head, and the charming smile returned. “Nah, not yet.”
“How about it then?”
“Sounds good. But, er…” He raised an eyebrow.
“What?” I glanced at him warily. What now?
“You should probably… you know… put some pants on.”
I knocked him upside the head.
- - -
Chris rounded up Guy and Will and the four of us took the clumsy van to an “upscale diner” about seven blocks away from the motel. I was thrilled to discover the portions were enormous, but the other three weren’t so pleased, having eaten only a few hours ago.
Chris was the kind that could eat whenever, whatever, and not gain anything. He was tall and gangly but he had a petite frame, with relatively small wrists and feet. But no matter what he ate, it mysteriously dropped off his body and was never to be seen again. We would have deep, meaningful conversations about why Chris lacked any body fat. For instance:
“I dunno. Maybe it goes to his butt, and we just can’t see it there,” Guy remarked after Chris had left to go to the bathroom, taking a bite of his rather huge burger.
Will shook his head, swiping a french fry from my plate. “Can’t be that. I’ve seen his arse. It’s a barely-there sort of thing.”
We laughed, though I secretly wondered how exactly had Will gotten a chance to see Chris’s butt.
“I bet it goes to his brain.” Guy wagged a finger as if this were the most genius statement he had ever produced. “That’s why he writes so many damn songs all the time.”
“Maybe it just goes in one end and out the other,” Will suggested.
“That’s gross!” I scolded, throwing a french fry at him. Will attempted to catch it with his mouth but it went down the front of his sweatshirt.
“No, no, really,” Guy said. “But which end?”
Will and I stared at him.
“Front or back?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“You mean…” Will blinked.
“If you two don’t stop this disgusting immature conversation right now, I’m going to dump my drink on your heads, retrieve Christopher, and leave,” I told them in my most menacing voice. They laughed at me, just as Chris was sliding into the booth next to me.
“What’d I miss?” he asked, taking a french fry from my plate. I whined and tried to steal it back from him but he slipped it in his mouth. I had a momentary dirty thought: I wouldn’t mind getting it back from him now – perhaps with my tongue?
But then I looked at his innocent, unaware, unguarded face and felt guilty. I turned my burning face down to my plate and picked at my sandwich.
We left soon after that – I think Will must’ve paid – and I didn’t participate in the conversation. I kept glancing nervously at Chris, thinking, ‘What if he knows? What if he’s told Guy and Will about it? What do they think of me? No… I don’t care what they think of me. I only care what he thinks.’
And it was true, unfortunately. The more I turned it over in my mind, the more I realized that Will’s and Guy’s didn’t matter to me. But if Chris found out about the way I felt… if he was disgusted or offended or scared or… I don’t know…
What if he hated me?
I looked at him one more time, and nearly jumped when our eyes locked. He had been looking at me already. And when our stares touched, he didn’t look away; he kept gazing at me with that hooded, mysterious look of his.
I turned my eyes away first, ashamed and uncomfortable. I wished I was anywhere but here. I wished I hadn’t had to look back at him that one time, I wished I hadn’t fallen in love with the bastard.
‘I’m such a bloody fool.’ I rested my head on the window. ‘He doesn’t know. He hasn’t told anyone. He doesn’t hate me.’
I paused to glance into the rearview mirror. I saw Guy’s bright smile. Will was telling him a crude joke.
‘He doesn’t love me, either,’ I reminded myself. I turned my eyes away. I didn’t raise them again.
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t.