White Teeth and Blue-Blooded Boys

You know those people who burn really easily, that by just standing outside for a few minutes in the heat of summer their skin begins to redden and peal? That was Henry. He wasn't necessarily pale in the winter, not pasty looking but not golden either, but during summer that all changed. The first warm-weathered sunny-skied day of summer Henry would end up getting burnt just from walking up his driveway. He'd have that awful tshirt tan and every other text would be laced with annoyance, but I never really blamed him. A slight breeze over his skin would burn and even sitting on the couch, every muscle clenched, concentrating on keeping movements to a minimum would never help.
I always tried not to laugh but when I would see him for the first time, sunburn in the white peeling stage, I let a laugh break through and even though Henry would roll his eyes and pretend to be annoyed, he'd just join me and complain some more.



"So instead of the usual hangover cure, you want me to watch a movie with you and eat popcorn at seven AM, "he said like a statement rather than a question.

He just woke up a few minutes ago so his voice was still rough around the edges and I tried not to let myself wonder what it would be like to wake up like this for rest of my life; what it would be like to be the only person lucky enough to know what Henry sounded like in the morning. What he smelt like(just washed sheets, sparkler smoke after it fizzled out), what he looked like(a newborn nuzzled into their parents bed, a person who just had the best dream ever being slowly pulled into reality).

"Why not? It's better than being miserable by yourself," I answered, rolling off my bed and landing on the hardwood.

I was slightly hungover, too, but Henry was worse. When we got home only a few hours ago he nearly passed out on the stairs to my room and I had to drag him the rest of the way. After a few restless, fighting-over-the-covers hours of sleep I was awoken by the slamming of a door downstairs, then footsteps shuffling in the upstairs. I assumed it was my mother because she was the only one who would still be home - my dad worked a few hours away so he was long gone by the time I usually woke up and my younger brother wouldn't be awake for another hour or so. When the door flung open Henry was still laying on his stomach and still hoarding all the blankets.

Seeing Henry and I sleeping in the same bed wasn't nearly as awkward as you'd think, we'd been sleeping next to each other since we were ten and Henry decided that since I wasn't normal and had hardwood floors instead of carpet he didn't want to sleep on the floor("And don't try to tell me I can use blankets and pillows, it still hurts and I always wake up with a sore butt in the morning"). When I came out I thought that would change but it didn't, he just rolled his eyes like he knew I thought he was gonna freak out and crawled onto his side - right up against the bedroom wall.

I think that's a reason why I loved him: he didn't care what you liked or what you didn't, you were still whoever you were in the beginning.

"Good morning guys," she smiled at Henry and wasn't surprised to see him like I knew she wouldn't be, "have any plans? Is Henry staying over?"

I looked up at Henry from where I was on the floor and after a few seconds of silence he sighed and nodded that he was.

"Okay, well I'm going to head out now and I'll be back at four. Hunter is still sleeping, just keep an ear out for him, okay?" She didn't wait for an oral response, just waved goodbye and closed the door on her way out.

Once I heard the front door lock I pulled out a movie I had been meaning to get Henry to watch and turned on the DVD player.

"What are we watching?"

"It's a surprise," I said with my back turned. Truthfully I knew Henry wouldn't watch this movie on his own volition so I thought now was better than ever. I mean, it was something to watch and I didn't think he had the energy to do anything else besides lay in bed.

"Get your ass up and make popcorn."

I heard him groan and the shuffle of the blankets being crumpled up; saw him in my peripheral vision and hated the fact that he looked so good without a shirt on.

"Hey," he pointed at me and for a second I thought he could read minds, "don't check out my ass even though it's almost impossible not to," he joked.

Of course I did anyway.

I turned on the TV and got the menu for the movie up by the time Henry came back with a ceramic bowl of movie theater popcorn. We had about three different kinds in our pantry but I knew what kind Henry would pick.

(I wouldn't admit this but no one in my family liked movie theater popcorn anyway, it was always there because I knew it was Henry's favorite.)

"Oh my god, dude, what is this?" He placed the bowl on the floor as he stared at the screen in mock horror.

A slow-paced pop love song from the 80s played in the background as the infamous scene from the movie played in a loop.

"It's a classic, come on!" I protested, pulling him by his wrist onto the floor.

"I only know that scene cause all the girls complain about wanting their boyfriends to stand outside their window with a boombox." He stuffed some popcorn into his mouth like it wasn't only seven thirty in the morning.

"It's really good, give it a chance."

He finally groaned in the way I knew meant he was giving in(it was funny - maybe weird - that I could tell what noises he made meant what) and took some pillows from he bed and flung them next to us. I smiled and hit the play option, scooting backwards so I was leaning against my bed.



By the time the movie ended I might have been sniffling a little bit or had something in my eye. The credits rolled by and I turned to look at Henry, wanting to know what he thought. Instead he was just staring at the screen with the empty popcorn bowl in his lap, but it wasn't even like he was watching the credits, it was more like he was staring at the space behind the TV.

"Did you like it?" I asked instead, snapping him out of his weird haze and taking the bowl from his lap.

"It was good. I'm glad Diane's dad went to jail, though, he deserved it. Lloyd was such a good guy," he said as he stood, shaking the crumbs off the pillows we were using and throwing them back onto the bed.

"I love Lloyd. First of all, his personality is so great, like he's so funny and he rambles when he's nervous, it's cute. Secondly, John Cusack - that's the actor - he's so cute too."
I was waking towards the closed door to go put the bowl in the sink when Henry stopped me.

"You should date a guy like that."

It was one of the first time's I'd heard his soft, scarily serious voice and I couldn't help but sputter.

"I know you and Theo are doing it casual, but I still don't want you to get hurt. I've heard stuff about him," he trailed off and I felt my face blanch so quickly I wondered where all the blood went.

Fuck this, I thought, because I really hoped Henry would forget the conversations he had that night. But apparently that wasn't so.

"I don't - I won't," was all I could mutter out.

"I don't, like, think differently of you because you're just hooking up, it's no big deal. I do it all the time," that might have pricked my heart, "but I know sometimes you can't help feeling for them. I just don't want you to get hurt cause I hear that Theo kid's a real player."

When it looked like he was done speaking I just nodded, smiling half in awkwardness, half in thankfulness and all in nervousness.

"I'll kick his ass if he does hurt you, though."

Then he laughed. He laughed and the air shifted and the awkwardness and heavy seriousness blew out the window and it was back to normal. I laughed, too, thankful that what I assumed would be a catalytic event in my head was just a five minute conversation, and left to bring the bowl to the kitchen. While I was scrubbing a few burnt kernels from the side of the bowl I heard more footsteps pound down the stairs and the fridge open.

"What do you have to eat? Kiddo's hungry," Henry said and I knew he was referring to Hunter.

Hunter was, in fact, standing behind Henry, peering through the gap in Henry's legs into the fridge. Hunter was ten but still doted on like a baby. My mother always coddled him and got him the remote even though he was sitting n the couch and the remote was on the coffee table. It wasn't all her fault, though, almost everyone treated him like he couldn't do anything for himself. Including Henry, which pissed me off because I thought Hunter should be treated like the ten year old he was.

"What do you want, Hunter?"

"Pancakes?" He asked, going to the pantry and rifling through.

"Yeah, we have stuff. I'll make it, I guess," I sighed, just wanting to go back to my room and watch more movies with Henry(and cuddle - who said that?)

"I got it, bro," Henry said, grabbing the box I had in my hands and pulling down a bowl and spatula.

It made me twinge knowing Henry didn't have to look for what he needed, just knew right where it was.

I didn't mean to watch him but I ended up watching anyway, trying not to be too obvious as I watched his tanned back muscles flexing like they did during soccer. Or his ass when he moved from one side of the stove to the other. Or the way his pajama pants sagged so the white band of his boxers peeked out. It felt like they knew what they were doing to me. It made me nauseous, though, thinking that one day this would be some other woman's view every morning. That years from now she'd wake up to his muscles flexing like they used to when he was a teenager and played soccer, that he'd be making pancakes for his son who woke up way too early but Henry was up, anyway. It felt like someone stabbed my lungs quickly and I sat down on a chair, staring at the tiles and counting how long I could hold my breath.

He was too hot, I concluded, and too enthralling.