The Connection

It’s three-seventeen when Avery’s phone rings.

At first he doesn’t hear the generic iPhone ringtone over the heavy drumbeats and harsh guitar riffs of his Spotify playlist and the scratching of his well-worn pencils on paper. The late afternoon sun is streaming in through his window and the window itself is open to catch any stirring May breeze. If it wasn’t so hot outside, Avery would be out in his backyard; headphones on and sketching squirrels that stayed still long enough or his mother’s flowerbeds. He’s slightly annoyed when he finally hears the phone, and has to search for it for a few seconds before he finds it under his discarded t-shirt.

“City morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em.” He answers, resuming his place lying on the floor in front of his sketch book.

“That joke was just as lame when Cooper said it yesterday.”

“That’s how Kat answers all her phone calls. Cooper picked it up through couples’ osmosis or something.” Avery says, balancing the phone in-between his shoulder and ear and he continues to add shading to the underside of a wing. He’s drawing birds from memory, and there’s something about it that doesn’t look quite right.

“They’re not a couple, ‘member?”

“Yeah, sure. And Kat’s hair is natural.” Avery snorts, “Aren’t you still at practice?”

“Nah, we got out early; too hot. I’m heading home now.” Max says, and Avery can picture him shrugging his broad shoulders, still covered in a dirty white practice t-shirt, the fabric sticking to his chest and biceps with sweat. His hair is probably wilted; the hot weather and the exercise making the sandy strands darker, lying wetly against his forehead. And there’s probably still a light pink flush of heat underneath the smattering of freckles that make their home on Max’s cheeks and nose. It takes a minute for Avery to process what Max is saying.

“You’re driving?”

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda how I got to practice.” Max answers his voice deadpan.

“That’s not safe. Call me when you get home.” Avery says, ready to hang up. But then Max clears his throat.

“Uh, I called to ask you something.”

“Can’t it wait until you get home?” Avery says, plucking a darker, softer-lead pencil from his case. Maybe if he uses a darker shade the wings will look right.

“No. It’s kinda time sensitive.” Max says tensely.

“If you’ve got a football stuck somewhere, then you need to—“

“You wanna go to a movie?” Max interrupts his voice harsh with annoyance. Avery pushes down on his pencil so hard that the lead snaps, showering tiny flecks of black all over his paper.

“Damnit, no.” He mumbles dropping the pencil and picking it up with shaking fingers only to smudge the soft black lead all over the supposed-to-be white wings. Thoughts are running through his head at lightning speed. A date? No, it not a date. But why do two people go to the movies other than for a date? It’s Max, it’s not a date. But it might be. How can you even tell what’s a date and what’s not?

“Never mind, then.” Max says a hint of bitterness in his voice. Avery scrambles to sit up and shut his music off completely, backpedaling quickly.

“No! No, I just broke—um, yeah, sure. Movies are good. Uh, when?” he rambles, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as squeaky over the phone as it sounds in his quiet bedroom.

“It starts in like two hours. That work?” Max asks his voice a little lighter. Avery looks down at his lead grayed hands; he hasn’t showered today and… Well, when is he ever going to get another chance to do this? Go on a Not Date with a crush? Soul Mate or not.

“Yeah. That’s cool. I can be ready. Not that I need to get—never mind. So am I meeting you, or—“Oh Christ. This is why he’s never been on a date. The whole gay thing aside this, his inability to control his rambling and acting like an idiot is why he’s never had a date.

“No, I’ll, um… I’ll pick you up. Is four-thirty okay? I’ve got to go home and shower and… yeah. So, that good?” Max says. Avery swallows the lump in his throat and hopes that Max can’t hear his thundering heart through the phone. He wants to ask if this is a friendly outing or an actual date or what. But he doesn’t.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

“Cool. See you soon, Av.” Max says quickly, the line going dead a second later. Avery stares at the phone screen for a minute. His heart is beating so hard in his chest he might go into cardiac arrest. Oh god, what the hell has he done? He can’t do this. No, he has to do this. He takes a few (hundred) deep breaths, and when his fingers stop shaking and his stomach stops feeling like a pile of strawberry jelly filled with butterflies, he dials Kat’s number.

“City Morgue, you—“She answers, obviously eating something crunchy (probably a Triscuit. She’s got an unhealthy obsession). But he’s swift to cut her off.

“No! No morgue. We’re—Max and I—going to a movie. I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t showered. There’s lead on my hands and probably on my face. And I don’t know what to wear. Can you…?” Avery says all in one breathe. The crunching stops. There’s no sound coming from the other end and then—

“Holy fuck. A date? Be over in five! Take a shower!” She adds as an afterthought, there’s a rustling and then Kat yells something at someone else, something Avery can’t make out. And then silence.

“Wait! It’s not a date! Kat! Katherine! It is not—“

But the dial tone interrupts him.
________

Avery’s just slipping on a pair of clean boxer briefs when his bedroom door is thrown open.

“Jesus fucking—“He swears, caught in between reaching for his discarded towel and covering himself.

“Wow! You know, I am the last to know everything about you and it’s ridiculous. I live in the same house as you! Fuck, I live across the hall! So, why am I the last to know about your date?” Quinn rants barging into his room; a grinning Kat in tow. Avery finally snags his towel and wraps it securely around his skinny hips.

“Not a date.” Avery mumbles, only to have Quinn make a shrill noise of annoyance and open his closet with so much force that he’s surprised the door doesn’t fly off. He cast a glare at Kat.

“Why?” He hisses as Quinn starts going through his impressive collection of graphic tee’s and hoodies. Kat shrugs her own shoulders, which are surprisingly only covered by the thin straps of a tank top. Her boobs look even bigger with this little covering.

“She answered the door.” Kat says simply, grinning widely. Avery scowls, throwing the towel on the floor and sitting on his bed. He’s not ashamed. Kat’s seen him in boxers before and he took baths with Quinn until he was six.

“Why are you in my room? And why are you going through my clothes?” Avery frowns at his sister, who is currently holding up a navy blue button up and a dark red one.

“Which do you like better?” She asks instead of answering her brother, looking at Kat expectantly. Kat frowns, wrinkling her nose.

“Why red?” Kat inquires, titling her head. Quinn rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious.

“Red is a good first date color. It supposed to be—“

”It’s not a date!” Avery groans, throwing his head back against his mattress. Both his sister and his best friend look up as if they hadn’t realized he was there. “It’s just a movie!”

Quinn chews on her lip for a moment, and exchanges a glance with Kat.

“Just a movie?” Quinn questions, holding up the two shirts again and looking at them with a furrowed brow as if the answer might be hidden in the fabric.

“Yes! Just a movie. Not a date!” Avery says, thoroughly exasperated.

“Did he say it was a date?”

“NO! Because it’s not a date and in case you missed it, Max is straight!”

Kat and Quinn exchange another loaded glance. And Avery really hates that.

“Okay. If he didn’t say is wasn’t a date, that doesn’t mean it isn’t one.” Kat says thoughtfully to Quinn. Avery sputters in the background. What the hell is he even doing here? They’re totally ignoring him. Quinn nods knowingly.

“True. But if it’s not an official date, then you can’t dress for an official date.” She remarks, hanging up the two button downs. Avery just stares at these two women. Maybe this is why he’s never been on a date. There’s all kinds of unwritten rules about them that would take at least a thousand years (or every single issue of Seventeen) to understand. Maybe people see him, in his baggy hoodies and thick glasses and think; no way, he wouldn’t know how to date even if he had an earpiece and someone was telling him everything.

“Okay. Maybe just a flannel and a t-shirt? That’s casually enough for a movie.” Kat says, going over to Avery’s closet to examine its contents along with Quinn.

“Mhm.” Quinn hums in agreement, “But what color?”

“Blue would be good.”

“Oh, yeah! It’d bring out his eyes. Good idea.” Quinn approves. Avery pulls a fleece throw over his shoulders. He has no control over this, so he might as well be warm while they choose what he wears. The minutes tick by while Kat and Quinn construct an outfit suitable for casual, friendly outing. Finally, just as Avery’s thinking that maybe he can call Max and tell him he can’t go, he’s come down with a sudden flu, or broke his leg; Quinn throws some clothes on top of him. He only makes a small noise of complaint before Quinn is telling him to hurry up; they still have to do something with his hair. He sits up and shrugs the blanket from his shoulders, only looking at the clothes briefly before slipping them on. At least they’re comfortable, a soft tee and an even softer cobalt plaid. The jeans are the only exception, which are so tight that they’re verging on cutting the circulation off from his legs. He slips on his ratty pair of high tops, before Quinn pounces, running a comb through his hair.

“Maybe we should flat iron it?” Quinn suggests over her shoulder to Kat. Kat tilts her head, and a smile slightly at Avery’s desperate, pleading look.

“Nah. The whole sex hair vibe works for him. Leave it.” She says, and then mouths to Avery ‘you owe me so much,’ as Quinn stops he assault of his hair.

“Are you done treating me like a Ken doll?” Avery grimaces, his hand coming up to ruffle his hair out of its combed state.

“You’re not buff enough to be Ken. Maybe Ken’s prepubescent brother.” Quinn counters acidly.

“Max could be Ken! He’s buff and blond!” Kat adds, rather unhelpfully from Avery’s bed. Avery throws a discarded plaid at her growling obscenities. As usual, his aim is terrible and the wadded up shirt knocks his alarm clock off his nightstand.

“God damnit.” Avery sighs as Quinn and Kat cry with mirth. He crosses his room and picks up the clock, and when he sees the time, his heart stops.

4:28

“Shit. Shit.” He says hurriedly, his nerves flaring and his stomach rolling.

“Are you late for a very important date?” Kat giggles at her own joke. And if there was any fraction of normality to tonight he would throw something else at her for the lame joke. But not tonight. Oh Jesus, he feels likes he’s going to puke.

“What’s wrong, Avy? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Quinn says a light smile still on her mouth.
“He probably is.” Kat snickers—

Then the doorbell rings.

And Avery has to fight the other two for the door.

It’s actually something to watch. Once the doorbell’s chiming has stopped, leaving the residual ringing in everyone’s ear, all three of them run towards Avery’s ajar bedroom door. Avery actually reaches the door first, being the closest. But as soon as hits the hallway, Quinn has shoved past him and is sprinting down the taupe carpeted lane that separates the sibling’s bedrooms and bathroom. Avery falters slightly, his shoulder smacking hard into the wall of the narrow hall, and before he can recover Kat too, has pushed past him and racing Quinn.

“Hey!” Avery shouts, swiftly catching up to these demon girls. He passes Kat and he and Quinn have a rather unsafe shoving match on the staircase; both the siblings’ bony shoulders pressed painfully against each other and the wall, as they fight to push ahead of the other, cursing and spiting insults. Kat tries unsuccessfully to worm her way past Avery’s shoulder and the wall; but her boobs and pudgy stomach prevent her from doing much more than pressing all three of them tighter together.

“Get off, fucker!” Quinn shrieks digging her elbow into Avery’s ribcage.

“You get off! He’s here for me! “Avery barks back, wriggling away from his sister’s jabs. Meanwhile, Kat has somehow sucked in enough of her stomach and (painfully, she might add) smushed her boobs enough to slip past the squabbling Reeves’ siblings. Kat races, slightly out of breath through the living room and into the foyer. The doorbell rings again. Both Avery and Quinn dash to get ahead of her (and do surprisingly easy). Quinn reaches for Avery’s shoulder, but thankfully, her socked feet slip out for beneath her on the hardwood of the foyer, and she lands with a thud and a swear. Avery, in his trusty rubber soled sneakers, is able to reach the door, throwing it open as Quinn and Kat crowd behind him.

“Hey!” Avery says, slightly hysterical as he gasps to catch his breath.

Max looks up, raising one heavy eyebrow. Max is dressed just as casually as Avery; in a worn, but comfortable-looking concert tee, a pair of jeans and black sneakers. His hair looks freshly styled in its usual fashion of upturned bangs, with the rest artfully ruffled. But its looks somewhat darker than normal, probably still a little damp. A touch on pink lines the tips of his ears, and when he shuffles just a hair closer, Avery can smell that same unnamed spicy scent that clung to Max’s Letterman jacket; only its stronger. Not dulled by days of wear and the taint of sweat, coffee and motor oil.

“Hi? What—“

“Hey there, Sport-o!” Kat greets, shoving past Avery to grin wickedly at Max. He rolls his dark gold-green eyes impatiently.

“Why’re you always here?” He says tiredly. Kat snickers.

“’Cause I can. Why? Jealous?” She adds, smirking widely. Max’s cheeks flush pink and he glares hard at the short redhead.

“No. Anyway, are you ready?” Max says tensely, turning his attention away from Kat and unto Avery’s blushing face. Avery could kill her right now. He shoves past Kat harder than needed and nods.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He says, and then to Kat and Quinn, who stand in the doorway, wearing twin smirks, “I’ll be home later. Tell Mom where I’m at.”

“Sure thing, Avy. I’m sure Mom won’t mind, anyway.” Quinn beams, adding a ridiculous wink that makes Avery want to strangle her, too. Avery rolls his eyes, he’s own neck becoming unbearably warm. He starts to walk to Max’s Chevelle, parked haphazardly front of his house, wishing that he had a puppy instead of a sister.

“Hey, Sport-o! Tone down the aftershave next time!” Kat cackles across the lawn. Max’s whole face turns bright pink and he flips Kat off as he gets into the car.

He also wishes he had a puppy for a best friend.
________

The ride to Lincoln is quiet and a little awkward.

Max doesn’t say it, but Avery knows why they didn’t just go to the tiny movie theater in Franklin. Even though it’s Tuesday, and it’s not likely that many of their classmates would be at the movies; Max won’t take the chance. And Avery would be lying if he said that didn’t sting a little. But when Avery glances at Max; his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, index finger tapping out of time with the rock music blaring out of the speakers; his hurt wavers. Max is just as nervous as he is; for whatever reason. Avery racks his brain for something, anything to say. He wishes that Quinn and Kat had schooled him on conversation topics instead of meticulously matching his over shirt to his eyes. Avery glances out the window; the bland interstate scenery leaves much to be desired. What to say?

“You never said what movie we were going to.” Avery settles on, causing Max to jerk the wheel slightly as if Avery just appeared in his passenger seat out of thin air. Max blinks twice, turns the radio down a hair.

“Uh. The Conjuring? It’s supposed to be good. Well, Allie said it was terrifying, but she’s no good with horror movies.” Max says, passing an already speeding minivan without flipping on his signal. Max drives too fast and too carelessly. It surprises Avery, to be honest. Max is always controlled and steady (while you’re always freaking out; like right now his brain supplies unhelpfully). Just the opposite of how he drives. Max drives like he escaping; like he’s a bird flying the coop.

“Terrifying is always good.” Avery says drily. Max chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimples just barely breaking the surface of his speckled cheeks. Avery’s heart beats faster in his chest like it always does when he manages to make Max smile or laugh.

“Well, she said it was scary but it’s her, so I don’t know. She hates stop motion animation, too.” He laughs, changing lanes quickly in order to make the exit.

“What? Why?” Avery says, finding himself chuckling along with Max.

“I dunno. She’s always hated it. When she was like five, we had cable for a few months and that weird Christmas Halloween movie came on—“

“Don’t let Kat ever hear you say that. She worships that movie.” Avery laughs. Max snorts.
“Figures. She’s even weirder than you.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, Allie came into the living room while I was tryin’ to figure out what the hell that skeleton guy was. Said she had a nightmare and wanted to sit with me. The whole time the movie was on, she hid under a blanket.” Max laughs his voice warm with the memory of his beloved sister, “I told her to go back to bed. She didn’t; had nightmares for like, ever.”

“Quinn hates thunderstorms.” Avery supplies helpfully. “And Kat’s terrified of bugs. Even butterflies give her the creeps.”

“Really?” Max laughs heartily, as the drive down the main street of Lincoln, “That’s fuckin’ great.”

“Please don’t.” Avery laughs despite himself, “Don’t do anything. She’ll kill you. Like, she’ll murder you and your family and just…anyone you’ve ever spoken to.”

“But it’s so easy! I’d just buy some crickets at the pet store—“Max says, still laughing loudly.

“No! Seriously, don’t!” Avery insists, giggling. Max flashes him a grin of pearly white teeth.

“You could help!” Max argues, grinning widely.

“No! If you have a death wish that’s fine, but I don’t want to die!” Avery can’t help the smile that’s stretched on his face. He hardly notices when himself and Max pull into the nearly empty AMC Theater parking lot. Max rolls his eyes.

“Your attack dog would not kill me. C’mon, it starts soon and I want popcorn.” Max says instead, opening the creaking door of his car. Avery follows. They walk next to each other, Avery’s shoulder lightly brushing Max’s bicep as they make their way into the dimly lit lobby. The girl selling tickets is flipping through a magazine, popping her gum absently. The good natured car ride slips away, the flush returning to line the tips of Max’s ears as he pulls out his wallet; black leather, soft looking with use and age.

“Wait—“Avery tries, reaching into his back pocket for his own wallet. But Max is louder.

“Um, hi…Two for The Conjuring?” Max stutters, as the girl looks up from her magazine, casting a dark look at Max. Her dark rimmed eyes glance back at Avery, who tries his best to look like a speck of dirt. She frowns, looking up at Max with an annoyed expression.

“Are you two students?” She asks, looking up at Max.

“Not at Milton.”

“So you’re in high school?” She probes glaring at Max. Her voice carries a nasty lit that must piss Max off. He nods, holding a crumpled twenty tightly in his fist.

“Yeah, that a problem?” Max asks instead, staring hard down at the girl. The girl for her part looks totally unimpressed with Max’s attempt at menace. She rolls her eyes instead, typing something into the register with one hand.

“That’ll be fifteen-twenty five with the student discount.” She says pointedly, giving Max a deeply annoyed look. Max stops, turning a violent shade of pink and hands her the twenty. She rolls her eyes again, and gives him his change and the two paper stubs.

“Enjoy the show.” She adds humorlessly, raising one manicured eyebrow at the taller boy. Max shoves the change quickly in his pocket and hurries through the turnstile. Avery wants to laugh, but instead he follows Max, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’ to the girl, who has resumes flipping through her magazine. She gives him just a barely there twitch of a smile.

“Enjoy the date, kid.”