Andrew Detmer sat placidly at the end of his bed, flipping through an old magazine that he had borrowed from his mother. The waxy pages were full of bold letters and colorful images, but Andrew had never felt more dull. The sun outside was setting, allowing cloudy cascades of pale colors to dance across the darkening sky.
Tonight, the entire student body was drinking spiked punch in the high school auditorium and he was reading an article about toxins in facial cleansers; it wasn't the most exciting way to spend a Friday night, but it was good enough.
Truthfully, Andrew had not been invited by anyone to attend the dance. He was aware that it was somewhat his position to ask someone else, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The fear of being shot down smothered the urge to stay up late and dance with people he didn't know well. Instead, he had watched Matt ask Casey to the dance in a very loud and abrupt way.
Matt had attempted to quote Shakespeare, but Casey had corrected him on his pronunciation of the word 'magnanimous' and patted him on the shoulder, though she accepted his invitation nonetheless. Andrew had brushed it off as a 'Matt thing' because he didn't believe anyone else could fail that badly and still succeed.
And then there was Steve, who never said anything about the dance in terms of himself. The taller boy had shrugged his shoulders when Matt asked him nonchalantly who he was bringing, and then, it was dropped. Andrew, however, remained curious. He allowed himself to indulge, even when it hurt to picture Steve with someone else.
The magazine flipped inwards, falling between his parted legs as he sighed in discontent. He spared a glance outside, where the sun was now barely visible below the horizon and the moody color painting the sky purple merged into black.
It was almost comforting in the darkening expanse of his bedroom, where he remained in isolation.
Andrew fell back on his bed and stared up at the white ceiling, drowsy and bothered by the thought of Steve holding someone else's hand. He closed his eyes and pictured Steve again, but this time, they were together, hidden in a dark alcove. In the fantasy, Steve was running his wet lips along Andrew's jaw, and his body was drawn taut in anticipation, swept up in the thought of being loved unconditionally.
Suddenly, there were five sharp knocks on his bedroom door. It rattled the lock out of place, and Andrew held his breath, awaiting the intrusion of Robert Detmer's violent words.
''Andrew, some damn kid is at the door for you- you're lucky I didn't tell him to fuck off,'' the man growled, his raspy voice cracking from months of constant alcohol intake. Andrew got up as fast as possible to reach his father, he opened the door and found Robert Detmer's nasty scowl pointed at him.
''Who is it?'' he asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
Robert squinted, ''Does it look like I'd know any of your fucking friends, Andrew?''
Andrew flinched but felt there was no time to wallow in the harsh words of his father. He slipped past the older man, holding his breath to prevent the intrusive smell of alcohol from clouding his senses. He ignored Robert behind him as he took the stairs two by two, anxious to meet his visitor.
He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and hesitantly twisted it open, revealing the quizzical face of Steve Montgomery. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it almost immediately.
''It didn't feel right to be there without you,'' Steve said quickly as if he were defending himself.
He looked nervous, with his tie undone and his suit jacket unbuttoned and fanned open. Both of his hands were shoved in his pockets, and even now, when he looked ruffled up and disorderly, Andrew found him alluring.
''What about Samantha? All your friends?'' Andrew couldn't wrap his head around it, his own limbs felt foreign to him as he stood on his front porch with a dumbstruck expression on his face.
Steve shook his head, ''They were all drunk out of their minds, I think everyone was, even the principle.''
''What about Matt? Couldn't you have spoken to him?'' Andrew pressed, unable to accept Steve's strange excuse. There was something soft bubbling up in his chest, it was beckoned by Steve's intent gaze and the musky smell of his cologne.
''Matt was busy sucking Casey's face off,'' Steve replied humorously, shrugging his broad shoulders in dismissal of the subject. ''Can I come inside or are you too busy wall-gazing to hang out?''
Andrew huffed but allowed Steve to slip past him and into the house anyways. The other boy didn't bother to inspect Andrew's house, he was uncaring as he climbed the stairs and stepped over the clunky toolbox collecting dust at the beginning of the hall.
Before Steve could make it to the battered-looking door at the end of the hall, Andrew had slipped in front of him and sprinted towards it, quickly entering the room to kick the glossy magazine under his bed.
Steve approached the entrance of the room cautiously, ''What was that about?''
Andrew merely laughed awkwardly in return, gesturing for the other boy to sit down. Steve looked out of place against the clashing backdrop of tattered band posters and drawings stapled to the wall.
''So, what did the dance look like?'' Andrew asked in a way he hoped was composed.
''There were a lot of party streamers and people yelling. They didn't even play one slow song, I have no idea why any of us got dressed up for that.'' Steve toyed with his jacket sleeve as he recalled the event.
''No slow songs?'' Andrew questioned, propping himself against his computer desk.
''Yeah, uh, there weren't any at all. I really wanted to show off my slow dancing skills, but I had no luck there.''
For a moment, Andrew thought Steve was joking but found Steve's words to be true from the sober expression on his face.
''I don't know how to slow dance,'' Andrew said absentmindedly, staring at discarded blue jeans on his bedroom floor.
Steve seemed to be up and across the room to him before he had the chance to look up. ''I could teach you!'' he exclaimed, his face lit up by the light glinting into the window, painting a soft, yellow glow onto his dark skin.
Andrew was startled by the sudden closeness but was quick to decline. ''I don't think that'd be a good idea, I have two left feet and there's n-no need for me to know how anyways, y-yeah, yeah.'' he was stumbling over his words, his tongue clambered in his mouth and caused a rosy tinge to bloom on his cheeks.
''It's really easy, 'Drew, just let me show you.'' Steve insisted, certainly on a mission to keep Andrew constantly flustered.
The other boy carefully nudged Andrew out of the way, before sitting in the desk chair and pulling up a tab on the computer. There was a buffering noise, and then suddenly, a soft voice slipped from Andrew's speakers and into the dim bedroom.
Steve stood up again, pushing the chair away to face Andrew, who had a prominent frown on his freckled face. He embraced him, placing two large hands on his hips. ''Here, you put your arms around my neck,'' Steve instructed softly, a curious smile on his lips.
There was a moment where Andrew hesitated, but he promptly wrapped his arms loosely around the other boy's neck. They were pressed tightly together, and Steve swayed them both to the melodic song drifting from the speakers. ''It's not so hard, you see?'' Steve whispered into his ear, sending delicate shivers down Andrew's spine.
Andrew laid his head on Steve's shoulder, relishing in the feeling of being so close to the other boy. ''Wouldn't you rather do this with Samantha?'' he murmured, growing attached to the feel of Steve's body pressed against his own.
''No,'' Steve's voice was breathy as it left his mouth, ''I would have thought of you anyways.'' ''Do you think about me a lot?'' Andrew questioned, at ease with the dulcet music and the warmth of Steve's hands.
''All the time.''
And even as the music faded out, they kept dancing.
Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me I'll be coming home, wait for me.''