The Connection

Max is sweaty and exhausted but smiling from the grass in Avery’s backyard.

And as much as Avery wishes his boyfriend was sweaty and exhausted from his superb fornication skills, the real reason is one to smile over too. Avery rests his back against the ancient elm tree, soaking in the first real spring day of the year. The weather is humid and sticky, but under the shade it’s pleasant; a slight breeze ruffles Avery’s hair and keeps both boys cool. Max is humming happily, like a fat tabby cat, as Avery runs his long fingers through his sweat matted hair. His battered sketch pad lies abandoned in the dewy grass next to them.

Max, usually so careful with affection around Avery’s house without the pretense of a shut door, has thrown it all out the window. He stretches out in the shade, his head pillowed in Avery’s lap; pair of holey jeans lying low on his hips, an even holier white tee riding up to further expose his waist. His boots and socks lying somewhere by the dark, barren flowerbed, that come May, will be filled with irises, tulips, and impatiens.

It’s Friday, right after school… something that Max didn’t attend.

Nor Allie.

“So, she’s with Jim and Andy? She’s okay?”

Max opens his eyes, brilliantly green in the late afternoon sunlight. A gleaming, wide smile blossoms on his mouth, dimples pock his cheeks and he laughs slightly; giddy and carefree for maybe the first time since his father left.

“Yeah. Shit, she’s fine.” He laughs harder now, as Avery continues to card through his hair. The note of wonderment making his tone light, airy like the spring breeze the ruffles Avery’s hair.

“So, she’s all moved out?” Avery asks, “On her way to Peoria?”

“Mhm.” Max hums, closing his eyes once more, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Dad and I packed everythin’. Even managed to get all her furniture in the moving truck.”

Avery smiles, and leans down awkwardly to press a kiss to Max’s sweaty, freckled forehead; so mercifully cleared of frown lines for what seems like the first time ever.

“So, the papers went through? Jim’s her legal guardian?”
Max’s smile falters minutely.

“Yeah. They didn’t even fight for her; Av. Mom practically signed her away… Could tell it hurt her feelings. Y’know, underneath the excitement of moving out and stuff.”

Avery feels his heart sink a little. He can tell that as happy as Max is, the fact that their mother handed her over so willingly; not a peep, not a fight, hurts him just as much as his little sister. Avery smiles slightly, his thumb moving to smooth one of Max’s dark, unruly eyebrows back into shape.

“But she’ll finally be with people that want her. She’ll have more than just you to rely on…. That’s got to count for something, right?”

Max hums, catches Avery’s hand in the middle of his preening, and bring it to his mouth to press kisses along his knuckles. Avery smiles wider, chuckles slightly.

“You’ll always be able to call her, you know. And she’s not that far away. You’ll still be her big brother, Max. You know that right?”
Max opens his eyes, quirks a small, sad smile that makes Avery’s heart contract in a bittersweet twist.

“I know. It’s just… I’ll miss the little nerd.

Avery laughs, flicking Max’s ear. Later that night as Max and Avery lay in Avery’s bed, full of Mrs. Reeves’ pot roast and baked potatoes with all the topping you could ever dream of, his phone rings. He huffs into Avery shoulder, fully expecting his mother to be demanding him home. But the caller id lighting up his screen makes his own heart lighter. He slides the lock into place, smiling because for the first time, this phone call isn’t making his heart hurt, is making him wonder what’s wrong, how fast he can be there, what’ll happen if he’s not there.

“Hey, dork.” He answers, as Avery turns down the TV. From the other end, Avery can hear a tinny snort, and then a soft, yet grown stronger voice of Allie answers.

“Good to know you’re just as rude two hours away.”

Max just laughs.
________

Avery hates ties.

He will never understand how his father wears one nearly every day. He would kill himself should he be faced with such a fate. He’d learn to tie a noose rather than the intricate knot that should hold the slip of dusky purple fabric around his neck. He sighs, shaking his bangs out of his eyes as he tries once again to tie a simple knot. The suit his mother and he bought is tight. Form-fitting, his mother corrected as Avery tried to stretch his arms over his head and felt the light gray fabric pull taut. His fingers are clumsy, unpracticed and jittery with nerves.

“Yes?” He asks his closed bedroom door, upon hearing the quick rapping of tiny knuckles against the wood.

“Hey… Max’s outside. And Kat just text me to let me know that she and Cooper are on their way…
Oh, for fuck sake, come here.”

Quinn crosses his room in a few angry strides; and if the tight form of her dress impedes her movement at all, it doesn’t show. She’s quick to yank Avery down by the offending garment, his nose colliding with Quinn tasteful up-do. Quinn smells like flowers and fresh nail polish and at least ten pounds of hairspray, and growls when Avery nearly messing up the carefully constructed nest of curls and pins and product. Quinn is quick to fix the tie, though. And when she backs up to inspect her handy work, Avery gets the first real look at his little sister.

Quinn looks astoundingly like their mother; a natural beauty with round eyes and high cheekbones and cute smile. But in the orangey sunset streaming though Avery’s window, Quinn’s pale skin seems to shimmer. Her cheeks look rosy and her lips; two perfect little peach wedges are painted a soft pink. And her eyes look rounder, rimmed in sultry plum and glittery black. She looks stunning.

“Little heavy on the makeup, don’t you think?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Quinn says, shoving his shoulder. But her grin is laughing.

“Come on. Mom wants pictures.”

“God damnit.” Avery curses, he checks himself once again in his bedroom mirror; runs a hand through his hair in vain to smooth down the normal messiness. He sighs as the curls pop back up under his hand; like rebellious dandelions through cracked sidewalks. On his way across his room, he slings his backpack over one shoulder; the familiar weight of textbooks and binders replaced with something lighter; a change of clothes, toothbrush and soap, phone charger and, like another limb, his sketch book and pencil case. The implication of the bag, however, feels heavier than the contents.

Quinn smirks, and Avery flushes.

Everyone knows what couples do in hotel rooms rented after prom.

He wants to tell Quinn, snottily, like he told his parents. There will be no sex of any kind in the hotel room that Max rented for after prom. No sir. He wasn’t sure what his parents would say, so he tried to appeal to their parental instincts to keep their offspring safe.

”It’ll be late. And everyone will be driving back, you know? And prom’s not even at Franklin, they
rented a ballroom in town. And Lincoln’s kinda far away—“

“Avery, I drive the twenty minutes from Lincoln to here, every night—“

“Will, honey, there’s no harm in letting Avery spend one night away from home—“

“Annie. It’s a hotel room!”

“Well, it’s not like Avy can get pregnant…”

“I’m not having sex with him! I am concerned about mine and Max’s safety!”

It was with some next-level scowling from his father, and doe-eyed begging to his mother that Avery finally got the right to spend the night with Max. And if Avery has a bottle of lube, carefully concealed in a lining pocket of his bag? Well, that’s no one’s business but his.

He and Quinn make their way downstairs, and when Quinn’s glittery purple toenails come into view, he can hear the camera shutter. (Why on earth did Quinn let their mother borrow her fancy camera?)

Quinn plays it up, smiling and posing subtly. Her date, a junior with big ears and close cropped ginger hair watches Quinn with moony eyes so big that Avery might vomit. Avery is shy, his collar too tight and his face feeling huge. He begins seeking Max’s face out in the small crowd that’s gathered in his kitchen. He spies his Soul Mate, to the right of his father. Max is beaming at him, his burnt honey hair darker with shower water and the lines around his eyes soft with affection.

Max is in his tux. A simple black thing with a purple tie to match Avery’s; its rented and all Max could afford with the recent move of Allie and his showering her with everything and anything she might need to be away from him. But the tux doesn’t look boxy or ill cut. It looks gorgeous; fitting and crisp. Max looks incredible; like a model straight off the set of a GQ photoshoot, ever hair on his head perfect, ever freckle carefully highlighted. Avery self-consciously tugs on his collar. He swallows the lump in his throat, aware of the clicking and flashing of his mother’s camera, but uncaring, as he crosses the hardwood over to Max.

“Hi.” Max says softly, meeting Avery half way, to help slips the overnight bag off his shoulder. Avery feels himself smile shyly, a bubble of sticky-sweet affection sticking to his heart.

“Hello.”

Max is smiling at him, all straight white teeth and crinkled eyed love. The dopey, wonderful look is so foreign on Max’s usually hard lined face. Avery is blushing like an idiot, trying to ignore the way Max’s soft eyed gaze makes his insides flame with feeling. It makes him feel like birthday candles are lit in his stomach; that hopeful, excited feeling that worms its way out of his soul and marks his face with red cheeks and a bashful smile.

“What?” Avery half laughs when Max has yet to stop staring at him with that same, gooey smile. Max shrugs, blushing slightly underneath his freckles.

“Nothin’.” He grins, and then brings a clear box up to Avery’s nose.

“I didn’t think you’d want a corsage… so I got the flower-collar thing.”

“A boutonniere.”

“Right. That’s what I said.” Max grins, fiddling with the box. The boutonniere is small and tasteful; a puce colored flower with no added frills. Max catches him looking at the box, and he frowns a little.

“S’not an iris… The flower shop was out. But it’s purple and it kinda looks like an iris so…”
Avery chuckles softly, and reaches into the box to extract one of the twin flowers.

“It’s a calla lily.” Avery smiles and carefully works the pin into the lapel of Max’s tux, “And I like those, too. It’s perfect, don’t worry.”
Max’s fingers, trembling just slightly, come to smooth Avery’s bangs behind his ear as he works.

“I want… I want this to be perfect. Y’know, for you… and stuff.”

“It will be. It is…” Avery corrects, smoothing Max’s collar, and standing on tippy toes to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s with you. It can’t be bad.” Avery says gently, as Max clumsily takes the other boutonniere out of the box. Max’s fingers are too thick to arrange the pin in the same careful, delicate way that Avery did. And much to Max’s horror, he sticks Avery twice, and his own fingers three times before he secures the pin. The small, soft purple flower sits crocked on Avery’s lapel, but he loves it. He leans up to kiss Max, only to hear his mother groan.

“You already pinned the boutonnieres? Redo it, okay guys? I need pictures.” Mrs. Reeves demands poising her borrowed camera right at them, angling for the right shot.
________

The theme is Arabian Nights.

The whole of the spacious Lake Park ballroom is swathed in flimsy, airy fabrics. Sheer clothes of sultry scarlet, warm vermillion, soft turmeric and deep, dusky indigo are draped over every available surface. They accent the staggered, round tables that make a barricade around the dancefloor, and hang artfully from the entrance and the bathroom doors. The tables are spotted with dollar store gems in the same colors as the cloths, as well as clusters of votive candles. A few thematic items dot the tables as well; a rhinestone encrusted oil lamp, right off the set of Aladdin, a brightly colored, intricately decorative elephant figurine, tiny replicas of Taj Mahal.

“Looks kinda ritzy…” Max mumbles.

“Looks very racist.” Kat snorts.

The dancefloor looks very at odds with the atmospheric, sultry setting of the rest of the ballroom. Here, a rainbow of lights spins. The fuchsia, and yellow, and lime green lights bounce off the glittering dresses and sweaty brows of his classmates. Most of the upperclassman of Franklin high crowd in the middle of the dancefloor, like a mess of glam and sweat and hormones. They’re grinding and swaying and screaming along to the raucous din of whatever the DJ is playing. It’s loud and sweltering and Avery already wants to bolt.

Fingers lace with his, and he looks up at Max’s eyes in the semi darkness, just as green and excited as they were in his kitchen.

“There’s brownies.” He says over the din, inclining his head towards the buffet tables on the opposite wall. It is there, that teachers, in their ill-fitting suits, and tasteful cocktail dress-cardigan combos, gather. Avery looks behind him for Kat and Cooper, training his eye for mint green and the god-awful white tux that Cooper wore.

He spies them on the outskirts of the twisting, withering mass of the student body. Cooper is twirling, a begrudgingly smiling Kat to a swing song, rather than a bumping, harsh hip hop song. He dips her suddenly; her freshly painted nails scrabbling to clutch his shoulders and the tips of her sleek curls nearly touching the floor, as Cooper laughs full bellied and adoring.

He nods, letting Max lead him through the chatting, punch holding groups on the outskirts of the dancefloor.

A few boys slap Max on the back as he passes, saying hey or hi, or occasionally just saying his name. Max nods to all of them, tense as usual. Some girls from school, in their skin tight dresses smile at Max. Some look coy, batting at him from under their spider leg lashes and flashing bright white teeth stained with creamy lipstick. Others just lift their petite hands in greeting and flash him a closed lip smile. No one pays any mind to Avery, and oddly enough, he doesn’t much mind.
Max’s calloused fingers curled around the spaces in between his fingers let him know that Max recognizes him. And that’s all Avery needs.

“Jesus Christ, how much d’you think they paid for all this?” Max asks, grabbing two paper dessert plates and handing one to Avery. The table is covered in bowls of junk. Three kinds of potato chips, pretzels, little cubes of cheese, brownies, cookies, and then M&M’s… but only the blue, red, orange, and yellow ones.

“I’m more concerned for whoever had to pick out all the offending M&M’s.” Avery says, popping a chunk of brownie into his mouth. It’s fudgy and chocolaty with little bits of chocolate chips in the batter; he grabs the one off of Max’s plate, too.

“They probably gave it to Carter.” Max says. He doesn’t take offense to Avery’s brownie theft, just scoops up some of the salt and vinegar chips Avery has on his plate.

“The football fledgling?” Avery half laughs. Max shoots him a look.

“You compare us to birds?”

“Not all of you. Just freshman… you know, they’re like baby birds. They haven’t got their wings yet.” Avery says, trying not to giggle at Max’s raised eyebrow and annoyed look.

“I don’t know. Kat thought it was funny… she likes words like that.” Avery laughs, as Max shakes his head and downs a tiny cup of punch. The shorter boy pokes his Soul Mate.

“So Carter… he’s in student council?”

“Mhm… wasn’t very good at football.”

“Not everyone can be a star quarterback.” Avery teases, laying his head on Max’s shoulder. Max snorts, and wraps his free arm around Avery.

“Have you applied to tech school yet?” Avery mumbles into Max’s shoulder. He tries not to think about it, the fact that he and Max might not see each other much during next year. Max has been looking for apartments… shitty ones, Avery assumes. Small and cramp, with mold and suspicious stains but close to home. His boss and the owner of the small body shop in Lincoln where Max works, has promised to keep him on while he gets his certification. And then afterwards, if he wants.

And the school where Max wants to go isn’t far away… it’s only an hour and half away from Lincoln. But Avery still worries. He knows he’ll either live on campus or at his parents’ house; but where will Max live? He knows that by no means are they calling it quits, but still. The thought of not being able to be around Max, if not all of the time, but most of the time makes Avery’s heart ache.

And the fact that Max refuses to tell him any progress on his apartment search makes him worry more.

“Mhm… I start the same time you do.”

“And how goes the apartment search?” Avery asks, studiously looking at the tips of his shoes. The leather is binding and tight across his feet.
He wishes for his regular shoes, all ratty canvas and worn rubber, but when he suggested to his mother to wear those, she almost had a heart attack. Max sighs, presses a chaste kiss to the top of his head. These conversations have turned into stinging squabbles before, with just as little prompting.

“When I find it, I promise you’ll be the first to know, Av.” Max soothes, pulling him closer. Avery wants to push. Wants to demand that Max let him know, and let him help pick out dishes and curtains. But he knows that tonight isn’t the time for this argument. So he nods, and stands on tiptoes in Max’s arms to press a clumsy kiss to the cleft of his chin.

“You know I love you… right?” Max asks, “And y’know I’ll take care of you. No matter where you’re at or I’m at.”

“I know.” Avery says, and he means it. He knows Max. Deeply and truly and wholly. He knows that Max doesn’t yell when he gets mad, he clenches his teeth and stick out his jaw and slams doors; he’s aggressive, but will never hurt Avery. He knows that Max won’t say that he’s feeling sad or lost, he’ll just tug Avery closer to him, bury his face in Avery’s neck or shoulder or lap and take deep breaths and Avery weaves through his hair.

He knows that Max, laughing and grinning and happy is the biggest gift in the whole world. And he’ll do anything to make that happen. He knows Max will make sure he’s cared for; loved and laughing and spitting sarcastic remarks. Because he knows Max loves him. And will always love him.

“This is annoying.” Max declares, aiming his annoyance at the pounding bass of some mix between hip hop and techno. Avery giggles, unwrapping himself and tugging on Max’s hand.

“You’re not going to dance?”

“I don’t.” Max snorts. Avery punches his shoulder.

“You mean to tell me, you dragged me to prom, knowing that you wouldn’t dance with me.” Avery accuses, but he’s smiling. Max rolls his eyes, but let’s Avery pull him.

“I never said that. ‘M more than happy to grind on you.” Max winks, causing Avery to punch him harder.

“I am forcing you to dance with me. Stupid, annoying dancing with limited touching.” Avery scolds, leading Max on the outskirts of the mess of bodies in the center of the dancefloor. Avery finds Kat and Cooper, dancing in the same place they left them. Well, Cooper is dancing, moving quickly and sporadically, while Kat is laughing hard and only moving when Cooper spins her or dips her. Kat sees them and beckons them over.
Avery turns to face Max, looking up at the softly smiling quarterback with a blazing look.

“Dance with me, asshole.” Avery commands. Max rolls his eyes, but places his huge, warm hands over Avery’s and moves slightly, stiffly. Avery laughs, pushes Max’s chest slightly and begins to dance faster. He’s not good, and he’s sure to look dumb; bobbing his head and shaking his skinny hips and sticking his tongue out at Max.

Max is laughing, full bellied and joyous. He follows Avery slightly, dancing clumsily and with no real rhythm.

They dance, getting to know each other’s rhythm, and trying to match. There’s a lot of giggling, and yelling with Kat and Cooper. Avery dances wildly with Kat, like they do sometimes in each other’s rooms, with electric sounding indie bouncing off the walls. Max and Cooper nearly cry when Avery attempt to dip Kat, only to have the fierce redhead, dip him instead. They look stupid, completely and utterly stupid.

And Avery loves every minute of it.
________

“I’ll be right back.” Avery promises Max.

“You goin’ outside?” Max asks into Avery’s ear, curling his arms tighter around his middle. The songs have slowed slightly, not really slow dance songs, but easier, softer songs. And Max has finally got his wish to grind on Avery. They, along with an equally tired Kat and Cooper continue to occupy the small corner of the dancefloor they’ve been in for the last three hours. Avery’s back is pressed against Max’s front, the quarterback’s arms curled around Avery’s hips, as he lazily sways them.

Avery would be content to stay here until prom ended, but even with his jacket off, tossed next to Max’s and Cooper’s, and Kat’s clutch, he’s sweltering. His freshly washed hair is dripping salty sweat instead of coconut sweet shower water, and his dress shirt is plastered to his back. He’s sticky and as much as he loves Max, the older boy’s usually pleasant body heat is making it worse.

“Just for some air…” Avery says, twisting around to press a soft kiss to Max’s lips. Max kisses him back before unwrapping his arms.

“While your outside ’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Max says resting is slick forehead against Avery’s.

“Hey Max?”

“Hm?

“I… I’m kind of tired.” Avery says chewing his lip. Max looks at him for a while, his brow furrowed and his eyes unreadable in the almost nonexistent lighting of the dancefloor.

“Yeah?”

“Yes… can we, um… Can we leave? After… after like one more song?” Avery stumbles. He can feel himself blush bright red—and he doesn’t think that it has anything to do with the heat this time. Max pushes his sweaty bangs off his forehead, looks at him for a while before speaking.

“We’ll do whatever you want.” Max says softly, he leans down to press a speaking kiss into Avery’s slack mouth. When the quarterback pulls away, Avery wants to chase his pink, freckled lips.
“I have to pee, Av.” Max half smiles, when the younger boy still has his hands clamped over Max’s cheeks, holding him close. Avery blushes harder, and releases him.

“See ya in a few.” Max smiles, kissing Avery one last time before walking towards the bathrooms.
Avery has to pass the principal, like a guard dog in a cheap blue suit, before he can step outside. The April night is chilly and starry. It feels like heaven against Avery’s florid skin, so he takes a few greedy lungfuls. The air smells clean and crisp, like a thunderstorm. He catches a whiff of muddy grass, and the flowers planted around the building. He’s not really paying g attention, as he walks around the small courtyard—but then an acrid, chemical smell cuts through the spring evening.

“Sorry.” A voice says to his left. The voice is soft and sweet, with the just a whisper of rasp. It sounds familiar, but Avery can’t place it.

He turns to see a girl. She’s sitting down, but Avery knows she’s short and curvy. Her frilly orange dress is pulled up around her knees, and her feet dangle off of the concert bench she sits on, free of any strappy sandals or glitzy heels; just petite, tanned feet with salmon colored toenails. The glow of her lit cigarette doesn’t do justice to her remarkably pretty features. All Avery can make out are green, almond shaped eyes, winged in thick eyeliner and perfectly bowed lips, painted a rosy pink and sucking on the cigarette. Her hair falls down her shoulders in elegant blonde curls, perfectly sleek and looking just a fresh as if she’d step off the salon chair.

“Ah… it’s fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.” Avery stumbles. The girl shrugs, sucks on her cigarette and blows the smoke upwards, away from Avery.

“You’re fine, Avery.” She says. She doesn’t smile, or wink or even scowl. Her face looks magazine perfect as always, passive and blank and unearthly beautiful. Avery smiles slightly; he didn’t even know that Nikki Allen knew his name.

“It’s a small school, Avery. I knew who you were.” She says, when he tells her so, a small tilt of her mouth around her dying cigarette.

Avery doesn’t know what to say, so he just continues to stare at the head cheerleader that Max should have ended up with. They’d make beautiful kids. All olive skin and sparkling green eyes, they’d have Nikki’s naturally platinum blonde hair and Max’s mess of freckles. They’d be athletes and then models in their spare time.

Nikki seems uncaring that he’s staring at her. She simply continues to smoke; easy and leisurely as if she doesn’t mind Avery’s unwanted presence at all. She looks at him finally, blows a cloud of smoke upwards.

“Max always hated that I smoked.” She says lightly, conversationally. And Avery scans her comment for any bitterness, or mockery. He finds none, just a statement… like a comment on his tie or on the light drizzle coming down.

“I’m sorry.” Avery says. He is sorry, but he’s not sure why. Nikki quirks a bigger smile, carefully taps away the ashes, making sure her lovely orange dress is not speckled with gray.

“Don’t be.” She says, “The smoking aside, Max and I wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I’m sorry.” Avery repeats, and this time he knows why. Max could have had her. He could have had the family and the life that Avery knows he craves. And Nikki is beautiful; cold, but not aggressive. Nikki looks at him funnily, taps her dying cigarette once more.

“I mean… it’s my fault. I’m sorry I took him away from you.” Avery amends, stumbling and stuttering. Nikki raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, and then blows smoke into the air again.

“You know, Max and I never where a thing,” She says, instead of attacking Avery and telling him that’s he’s right and he stole her boyfriend.

“We fucked once,” She continues unabashed, causing Avery to wince, “And neither of us was that thrilled. We broke up, and it was the end of that.”

“My friends and Max’s teammates, they can’t let it go.” She says, “They see Max and they see me and they think that we’re the perfect couple. They’re stupid.”

“I know, but… you liked him, right? I’m sorry that I took that away.” He says. Nikki huffs a little laugh, a tiny puff of smoke coming out of her perfect, button nose.

“I did like him.” She inhales the rest of her cigarette, the cherry glowing bright, fiery red in the blackness of the April night. Another apology is poised on Avery’s tongue, but then Nikki exhales. The cloud she exhales is not a puff or a huff, but it’s elegant cloud. Curling wisps of smoke dance their way around Nikki like a cloak of silvery vapor. Making her look like a silent film star; eternal and icy beautiful.

“He’s a wonderful guy; hardworking and kind when he thinks no one is looking. But I don’t like him now.” She clarifies. Standing up, her dress falls back down, perfectly in shape and perfectly flat, just like a fairy godmother waved her wand. She takes the filter of her cigarette and stubs it out against the bench, her bird-like wrist twisting once and then back again. She slips on her shoes easily, like they aren’t six inch heels and she isn’t standing in rain soft grass.

“But you know,” She says, looking straight at Avery, her green eyes open and commanding.

“I’ve known Max for a long time… and I’ve never seen him happier than when he’s with you.” She says, her voice carrying no hint of bitterness, or longing or anything. It’s just even, like she’s stating a fact.

“He loves you.” She says, plainly. Nikki approaches him, a few inches taller in heels, and then she really smiles.

“Be good to him, okay?” She says, and without an answer she walks towards the entrance. Nikki must know, that Avery could never hurt Max.

Not ever.