8

Graham Birch

The night before was still a bit hazy for me. I once again remembered why I don't like going out drinking. And yet, I went out again. I'm pretty sure Spencer was the one that brought me home.

My car is parked in my driveway. I slept in only my pants and shirt. And Juniper didn't look like he was stressed last night. So, in conclusion, I got home safely thanks to Spencer.

But it was now hitting me that he had seen me at my worst. I could feel the embarrassment already and was dreading having to see him again.

Which means it is time for the only thing I know will make anyone happy: Food. I got up quickly and made Spencer a nice breakfast. I pulled out all the stops and spent way too long cooking because it was almost noon.

"Guess it'll be brunch." I said. "Come, Juniper!"

I walked across the street, basket in hand, until I reached Spencer's front door. He took a while to answer. By the time he did, he only had a robe on, and his hair was a mess.

"What time is it?" he asked, squinting his eyes from the sun.

"11. I brought you something to eat." I replied happily.

He let me in, and I set up all the food on the counter. Spencer kept looking at me as if he was waiting for me to say something. But I just figured he was ogling me again.

"I brought you more almond milk." I said.

"Oh, thanks. I was starting to run out." Spencer said. He glared at me.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him.

He leaned forward on the counter. "Nothing, nothing." He muttered. His face turned red. "I'm going to go get dressed. Be right back."

Spencer left up the stairs quickly. I glanced at Juniper and shrugged my shoulders, unsure of why he was acting strange.

With the food set, and Spencer waiting at the table, I served him. I poured him coffee and watched him eat it.

"Sorry about last night." I said.

He spat out his coffee and began coughing. I patted his back and handed him napkins to wipe the coffee. Spencer's face was red.

"Last night? So, you do remember?" He asked.

"Uh, a bit." I replied as I scratched my neck.

"Look, what happened was an accident."

"It was." I said. "And I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Spencer drank his coffee. "Well, maybe I liked it."

"You did?" I asked. Spencer sighed. He stabbed his French toast and ate it. He covered his mouth while staring me down.

"I did." He said. "And I won't hesitate if you want to do it again."

"Maybe not now. I still feel a bit embarrassed about it. And I know that I said some things that I didn't exactly mean."

"You didn't mean it? Graham, those were the sweetest words anyone has said to me!"

I smiled at him. "Really? I never knew that being told that beer tastes like piss were sweet words for you." I said.

Spencer looked confused. "Wait. What are we talking about?" He asked.

"Last night when I got wasted in front of you. It was not cool for me to do that. And I know I said I would look after you when you ended up being the one to look after me." I said. Spencer slammed his head on the table.

"Fuck me." He muttered.

"Did you think I was talking about something else? Did I do something last night after getting drunk?" I asked him. He cut a piece of toast and forced it into my mouth.

"Nope! Nothing at all! You got drunk and passed out. This is all that happened." Spencer said. I chewed on the food and nodded.

"Okay." I said while chewing.

"Gross. Close your mouth or cover it." He told me. I cut off a piece of my toast and fed it to him.

"Heh, my turn." I chuckled. I offered it to him and watched Spencer lean forward and place the toast on the tip of his tongue. He looked at me, his amber eyes hypnotizing me.

I felt myself begin to get excited. I closed my legs tightly. What was wrong with me? Am I becoming a teenager again? I haven't had this type of excitement in years.

"Graham? Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Spencer asked.

"Uh, no. Sorry." I replied. I pulled away and let out a cough.

"Shall we finish eating?" Spencer asked, breaking the silence.

That seemed to ease us back into a standard Saturday brunch. Because we ate in peace until it was time to clean up.

Instead of going home, I ended up staying in Spencer's living room and watching a movie with him. We turned on the AC and relaxed on his strangely soft couches.

"Look! This is the part when the main character says goodbye to his friends!" Spencer pointed.

"How old is this movie?" I asked.

"Oh, it was made in the 40s." He replied.

"Why the oldies? Why not something new?" I asked.

Spencer turned to me. "Personally, there's just something about vintage movies. It was made during a time when cinema was taking off. You had the raw power of acting. No nepo-babies or covering everything in CGI." He explained.

"Oh, okay." I replied.

"You see, it's the rawness that really brings out the human form. You watch the actors in their purest form without any interference. The mind has adapted to see that what we see on screen is a story told through the eyes of the camera..." Spencer went on.

This conversation felt too... sophisticated for me. I don't know if I'm not smart enough or if Spencer is just reading too much into things.

"Fun fact, the two main leads in this movie were actually in a secret relationship." Spencer said.

"But they're both men." I mentioned.

"Exactly. But apparently the two were just too in love. I visited their home in Hollywood which was turned into a museum. You can read the letters they sent to each other and even recordings where they professed their love. It was all romantical."

I looked at the TV, seeing the two main characters look at each other. Now that I know about the nature of their relationship, it's easy to see their emotions behind their eyes. I guess what Spencer said about vintage movies showing raw emotions might have some truth.

"Anyways, they were both buried next to each other. One of them had a daughter via surrogacy because it turns out they were friends with another closeted lesbian couple." Spencer kept on talking.

The movie ended. He put on a show in the background while the two of us just talked. Our conversation felt natural and fluid.

Sometimes when I've spoken to people before, I've had to try harder to keep the conversation going. This time it was easy. He would say something, and I would add to it. Or maybe I'm just not good at conversing with people.

"What are you doing for the 4th of July?" Spencer asked me.

I turned to him. Funnily enough, I was just talking to my sister about our plans for the Fourth.

"Uh, nothing. I might just sit around and watch TV. I also have to be with Juniper."

"Awe, is he scared of fireworks?" Spencer asked.

"No, I am." I replied.

Spencer chuckled. "I was thinking of doing something. Maybe inviting the town for a small get together."

"That could be fun. But you'd have to prepare for it now."

"I'm good at planning things. It was part of my job before moving here."

It sounded like a good plan. It could be a great way for Spencer to meet the people of the town.

"Do you need me to do anything in particular?" I asked.

"Yes. Give me your friends contact details. I want to get the word out as soon as possible. It's going to be the Spencer Independence Bash. Also, BYOF."

"You got it. Whatever that means."

"I'm going to get a pool, tons of food. Maybe even a bouncy house." Spencer went on to list what he wanted to do.

While it sounded fun, I was worried because the loud sound of fireworks does not bring good memories. But I didn't want to tell Spencer that. He should be happy about planning and shouldn't try to change his plans just for me.