***tangle

It was about a week later that something really unexpected happened.

As I said, I kind of milled the situation over for probably the entire time, but even then, when red flags should have been sent up, my brain didn’t process them as such.

I was taking all of my classes at a local college because I qualified for the duel credit post-secondary program. So in the first semester, I had all of my classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (A full time post sec. student is a half time college student.) That meat that on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I went to the high school for band in the morning and went home until we had our after school practices. Occasionally I came back and ate lunch with my friends at the high school as well. I also came back right after school on Fridays to hang out with the people that stayed until the games.

The first game of the season, I was the only one at the school that could drive, because everyone else went home after school. A couple of people had forgotten money or a change of clothes or something that they needed for the game, so they were calling home to their parents. I was sitting on a wall outside the band room, talking to Thomas about one of my professors that he would absolutely fall in love with.

I heard the band room door open and shut loudly, so I looked up out of habit to see Graham walking towards us.

“Hey Graham-cracker, what’s going on?” Thomas asked, squinting in the sunlight.

“Oh, I just came to see if one of you could give me a ride home really quick. My dad’s not answering the phone, so I don’t think he’s home yet, and I left my flip folder on my dresser,” he shrugged, smiling a bit for a reason I couldn’t exactly figure out. Red Flag One.

“I’m not licensed,” Thomas laughed, making it seem like he was talking about being licensed to kill or something stupid like that. “I get my temps in a week, though.”

“Cool story bro, tell it again?” I chuckled, shoving his shoulder playfully. “I can take you,” I told Graham after receiving a glare from Thomas. I stood up and dusted myself off, noticing Thomas give me a very odd look. I just ignored him, though. That’s the best thing to do most of the time with that boy.

“You could? That’d be great; thanks so much,”

“Oh it’s not a problem,” I smiled, walking towards the band room. “Let me get my purse and then we’ll head out.”

I knew vaguely where he lived, but once we got near, he had to direct me there. I’d just planned to stay in the car while he ran in to get his music, but when he got out of the car and I didn’t, he protested.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” he chuckled. Red Flag Two.

“I’m fine here; you won’t be long,” I shrugged.

“No, I insist, come in. Get something to drink or whatever,” Red Flag Three.

“Oh fine,” I laughed, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car. He laughed at me as well and I followed him into the house. The side door we went through led into the kitchen, where Graham went straight for the fridge.

“You like Coke best, right?” he asked, one hand holding the door open and the other inside the refrigerator. ’How’d he know?” Red Flag Four.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said as he handed me the can of soda.

“No problem,” he smiled, opening his own can of root beer. I had a weird fleeting thought - something that actually happens a lot. ’They must really like pop.’ “Okay, so this is obviously the kitchen.”

“Really? I thought you just had a stove and a fridge in your living room.”

“Oh shut up, smart ass,” he laughed, shoving my shoulder slightly. Red Flag Five. He walked me through the dinning room and through the living room, pointing out both to me, as if I couldn’t tell what the rooms were on my own. From the living room, he lad me down a hall, telling me what each room was as we passed them. “and then this one’s mine,” he smirked, - Red Flag Six. - as he opened the door, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter.

It was nothing special; a typical teen aged boy’s bedroom. There were clothes scattered over the floor and on the back of the chair that sat in front of his desk. There was a stereo and a computer on the desktop, as well as a bunch of dishes that badly needed to be taken to the kitchen. A small dresser was on the opposite wall, also cluttered on top. I saw his flip folder immediately and expected him to grab it so we could head back to the school.

“Feel free to sit down,” he chuckled, closing the door as he walked into the room. Red Flag Seven.

“You’re just grabbing your music though,”

“Yeah, well…” he started, dragging out the ‘well’. Red Flag Eight. “I kind of wanted to talk.” Nine. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Ten.

“We can talk at the school,”

“Not alone, we can’t,” Eleven. ’Shit.’

“What about while I’m driving back?”

“Yeah, but you’re distracted while you’re driving and I wouldn’t want to cause us to wreck or anything.”

“Okay, I shrugged, taking a seat on the foot of the bed next to him, but not too close to him. I set my Coke down on the floor next to my feet. “So I’m going to take a guess and say that we’re talking about something serious, right?”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s kind of serious,” Twelve. ’I’m fucked.’

“It’s about what happened at the Mex’s isn’t it?” I asked, cringing already at the thought of having this conversation. That was the biggest thing I was hoping to avoid for the past week.

“It is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not what you think,”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyes shifting up to meet his.

“Did you feel a…spark, of sorts?”

“When we kissed?” my voice had lowered unintentionally.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Every time,” I answered truthfully. “I also kind of, uh, lost recognition of anything other than us when we, uh, made out or whatever. Like, I didn’t know Cora was counting until after I pulled away.”

“Cora was counting?” he smirked.

“So you did the same thing,” I chuckled.

“I guess I did,” he shrugged. “But, and this has been bugging me since then, why did you pull away?”

“Because there’s this asshole little voice in the back of my mind that always likes to remind me of my morals at the wrong times,”

“What?” he laughed at the way I phrased that.

“You have a girlfriend Graham,” I said softly. “I didn’t want to hurt Sarah. She’s my friend and I don’t like hurting my friends.”

“But she doesn’t know,”

“And that almost makes it worse. every time I look at her, I think of what happened and I feel so bad about it,”

Graham didn’t say anything for a little bit and he had a very deep look about him, as if he was trying to figure something out about himself that was very important. He set his soda down and looked me in the eyes.

“What would you say if I told you that I didn’t, and that I still don’t?”

“You don’t feel bad about cheating on your girlfriend?”

“We don’t have the greatest relationship right now,” he admitted, shifting his eyes to his hands on his knee. “It’s not what it used to be, and it hasn’t been for a while.”

“What did it used to be?” ’Okay, I threw myself into it. So what?’

“Kind of like this,” he whispered, reaching out with his left hand and placing it so that it was cupping the back of my head. I’m not even exaggerating when I say that there was a spark so big that it made me shudder. Graham pulled away when I did that and asked, “What’s wrong? Are you cold?”

“Not at all,” I chuckled, leaning in to kiss him once more. This time, however, I didn’t worry about what to do with my hands or risking being “too intimate”. Kisses flow so much better when you don’t have 12 people staring at you.