When Stebbins got out of the shower, Davidson was gone. There was a note on his bed – 'Hey, sorry for leaving but I've got shit to do! See you at school on Monday ;)' – but other than that, there was absolutely no sign that Davidson had ever been there. Stebbins read the note a few times, sighed, and turned to get dressed. He didn't know why he'd decided to let Davidson stay over the night before, or why he'd even agreed to go out with him in the first place, but there was something about the situation that made Stebbins want to do it again.
And that was horrible. While it did distract him from that annoying, ever-growing crush on Art Baker, he had a feeling that he might end up with a similar emotional attachment to Davidson, which would do no-one any good whatsoever.
He sighed and glanced at his bookshelf. Nothing there that he really felt like reading, for once. He wondered what Pearson and Harkness had picked for the next book club book, and hoped that he already owned it. If not, he would have to find it in a library or find someone to drive him the ninety miles to the nearest bookstore.
His cell phone rang and he tried not to leap over his bed to answer it. He walked around his bed, very calmly, hands at his sides, and hit the answer button as quickly as possible when he saw that it was Davidson.
"Hello," he said.
"Hey, man – forgot to mention it in the note, wanted to hear your beautiful voice instead of texting you, and figured you'd be out of the shower right now, but Harkness and Pearson are gonna be dropping off a book whenever they get back from their little bookstore date. Dunno if you remember our little conversation, you were out, but you don't have We Need to Talk About Kevin, right?"
"Right," Stebbins said. He wasn't even quite sure what that book was about. He'd heard there was a movie. Starring Ezra Miller, who was arguably one of the best-looking men on the planet, but he didn't know about the plot.
"Alright, so I told Pearson that I'd pay for yours, too, so don't worry about it! See you tomorrow!"
Stebbins didn't know if it was possible, but he was fairly certain that he could hear Davidson wink over the phone. "Good-bye," he said, hesitating a little. Davidson hung up, and Stebbins was left staring at his phone and wondering what on earth he was going to do with this predicament.
…
Pearson sat in the passenger seat of Harkness's car, a Barnes and Noble bag holding every copy of We Need to Talk About Kevin the bookstore had had in stock at his feet. Harkness was driving, humming, and refusing to turn off of the country station.
Pearson would have been infinitely more upset about this if Harkness hadn't bought him another Starbucks drink from Barnes and Noble.
"We should watch the movie when we have our meeting, too," Pearson said. "I think my parents have it."
"Movies are never as good as the book," Harkness said.
"Yeah, but won't you want to have something to bitch about? Like, 'oh no, this casting is wrong' and 'what the hell, that's not how it went' and 'wow, Ezra Miller is great.'"
"Who's Ezra Miller?"
"Oh my god," Pearson said. "What, you haven't seen Perks of Being a Wallflower? Beware the Gonzo?"
"Why would I watch The Perks of Being a Wallflower? The book was so good. I don't want to ruin it."
"Uh, because it was great and also had Hermione in it."
They bickered back and forth about it, and eventually Pearson agreed to drop it if they could change the radio station. After that, they fell into silence. Pearson grabbed one of the copies of the book and opened it, figuring he might as well start it.
"Read it out loud."
"Oh my god."
"Come on."
"Fine, whatever," Pearson cleared his throat. "November 8, 2000. Dear Franklin…"
…
Olson was at Davidson's house, shivering under a blanket, wearing a t-shirt that was three sizes too big for him and his boxers, when Abraham, Parker, and Baker showed up. Parker tossed a to-go box to Davidson.
"What's this?" Davidson asked. Olson glared as well as he could toward Abraham, who was devoutly ignoring him.
"Brunch," Abraham said cheerfully.
"It's like eleven-thirty, I think we can call it lunch by now," Davidson said. Abraham sighed.
"What do people have against brunch?"
"It's what all those church people go to," Parker muttered. "Remember? That annoying-as-hell group from the church? God. If it wasn't mostly a bunch of old ladies, I would've punched their goddam heads in."
"So, why are you here?" Davidson asked.
"Oh, right, we're going to go into the city to find some decent goddam basketball shoes," Parker said. "And I thought that if you're going to be on the team, you need some, too. And Olson, if the douche wants to show up."
Olson scowled.
"I'll order them online," Davidson said. He stretched, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. "Did not get enough sleep last night. I'm going to go take a nap. Olson, once your pants are done, feel free to leave."
Olson had the feeling that he was being kicked out.
"Actually, you know what, just borrow a pair of mine," Davidson said, and a few minutes later a pair of jeans hit him in the back of the head. "I'll get your clothes to you tomorrow. See you."
Olson scowled, pulled on his jeans, and met Baker's eyes.
"So, are you coming?" Baker asked.
Olson glanced at Parker and Abraham. Parker looked like he didn't really care what Olson chose to do, and Abraham looked like he would be pissed if Olson chose to come.
Well, then, it was decided.
"Sure," Olson said. "Of course I'll come. Can't miss up the chance to grab some decent basketball shoes, huh?"
Baker beamed at him, Abraham glowered, and Olson grinned.
more fun times with hank olson