Page 88 of Hits Different

Brandon and I are going on a date.

The two of us.

Together.

I can’t freaking wait.

I didn’t bring many date-appropriate outfits to Summit, so I splurged my paycheque on a fancy new shirt from a boutique in town. I’ve never been accused of being fashion forward but when I tried it on, I thoughtBrandon’s gonna like this me in this.

I also maybe thought,Brandon’s gonna like taking this off.

I spend an hour in the shower, and borrow some of Archie’s hair stuff to give my buzzcut a bit of character. I check my fit as I grab my jacket.Not bad,Di Rossi.Not bad at all.Next to the mirror, my combat gloves hang from the back of my door.

Tonight’s a big deal. Not only is it our first official date, but I’m going to tell Brandon about my future MMA plans. I know he doesn’t like the thought of me fighting, but this is different. It’s not fighting for the sake of it. It’s a career. It’s my dream, and I want to share it with him.

And I need him in my corner.

I grab my keys and open the door, only to find Brandon on the other side. He’s wearing black chinos, with a hint of a white vest peeking out underneath a short-sleeved maroon shirt that accent his nicely toned biceps. “I thoughtIwas picking you up”.

He grins shyly, melting me from the inside out. “I was in the neighbourhood. Damn. You clean up good, Di Rossi”.

“You’re not so shabby yourself”. His hair is extra tousled, swept to the side in a way that basically screams look-at-my cheekbones-now.

Down boy. My dick has noticed too.

The easiest thing in the world would be to pull him inside, rip his clothes off and do the things we don’t talk about. But that’s not what tonight is. Not yet, anyway. “Ready to go?”

We pile into the back of the cab. There’s a brief moment when I feel like I should have opened the door for him. And I can tell from the way he hesitates that he thought the same.I guess we’re just a couple of old-fashioned romantics.

“Did you eat today?” I ask, quietly.

He nods. “And I went easy on training. Promise”. He crosses his heart, releasing the tightness in mine at the same time.

Our driver is under strict instructions not to reveal our destination. Brandon’s warm, hard body presses against mine as he chats away about his day. In the darkness of the taxi, I slide my hand into his and tighten it. Like it’s our perfectly fit secret. “Where are we heading?” Brandon asks. “Or do I have to guess?”

“Firstly, you’re the world’s worst guesser”. His eyes start dancing, like they always do when he’s enjoying being teased. “I’m not sure we have that kind of time”.

“Maybe I just need an incentive”. The motherfucker actually bites his lip.

“What did you have in mind?”

He flattens out my palm. With his index finger, he traces out his answer. K. I. S. S.

“Your terms are… acceptable”, I tell him. “Three guesses”.

“I’ll start with the classics. Dinner and a movie?”

“You insult me”. Back in high school, Brandon and I used to sneak off Thursday afternoon period and hit the mall. The soccer team’s club was nearby, and we’d hang out, waiting for the players to pile out of training and ask them to sign our shirts.

They rarely did. Brandon always said if he ever made it as a soccer player then he’d sign as many shirts as possible. For every kid who asked. And he wasn’t bullshitting either. He might play it cool, but he had a big heart. It was one of the things that drew me into his orbit in the first place.

“Moonlit walk by the sea?”

“We’re inner city, dumbass”.

Then we’d hit the arcade. Not the mainstream one, that everyone else went to. The crummy one, that was shoved onto the side of the local indie cinema. It was always deserted, and the guy who ran it, Ralph, was always cool about giving us free tokens.

We’d laze the afternoon away, blasting zombies or hitting pinballs. And even though we never explicitly said it, we kept it a secret from all our other friends.

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