Sweethearts

Gerard nervously tugged at his shirt collar, making it crooked for about the sixth time that morning.

“You’re wrinkling the fabric,” Frank said, reaching over and straightening Gerard’s shirt. As if to make up for Gerard’s looking exceptionally nice, Frank looked unusually sloppy today. Instead of his usual khakis and band-t, he was wearing ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair, which was normally just a little messy, was wild and unkempt. “Stop worrying. It’s gonna be great.”

“What if we have nothing to talk about?”

“Then ask questions. Everyone likes to talk about themselves. Ask her what she likes.”

Gerard racked his brain for questions to ask. Panicking, he said, “I can’t think of any questions.”

“Favorite book,” Frank suggested. “Favorite song, favorite movie, favorite color. Like this: so, Gerard, what’s your favorite movie?”

“Um…James Bond.”

“Don’t lie,” Frank said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a lie.”

“Right. Okay, then, which Bond is your favorite?”

“It’s, uh…it’s Pierce…Pierce what’s-his-name.”

“And which movie is your favorite?”

“Uh…”

Frank smirked. “See? Now you’re caught in a lie and she thinks she can’t trust you.”

“How did you know I was lying?”

“Because I know you, dummy.” Frank tilted his head forward with a smile, then turned and walked over to the front window to look outside. And the answer was Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Gerard stared at Franks back, letting his thoughts wander back to the one time, when a hurricane had been ravaging their seaside town, that they had closed the shop and gone upstairs to watch a movie. It had been Gerard’s suggestion, but Frank had picked the movie. How had he known it was his favorite, though?

“What else do you know?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching as Frank began adjusting a display of candy jars, turning them all so their labels faced outward.

“About what?”

“About me.”

“Oh. Uh…” Frank glanced at Gerard, looking quizzical. “Well, just this and that, you know. Just things I’ve observed.”

“But, like what?”

“Um…your favorite bands are a tie between Iron Maiden, David Bowie, and Queen. Congrats on the diverse selection, by the way. Um, you like piercings and tattoos but can’t get any because you spazz out around needles. You collect action figures and Batman is your favorite. You love theater and anything that resembles theater, even though you’re embarrassed to admit it. Aaaaaand…” He stared thoughtfully at a jar of licorice, then added, “You have a healthy fascination with Lord of the Rings.”

“Wow, you really pay attention,” Gerard commented.

“So do you,” Frank said. “I’ll bet you’d be surprised by how much you know about me.”

“Okay,” Gerard grinned, sitting up straighter and counting off facts on his fingers. “Okay, your favorite band is The Misfits. You’re obsessed with Harry Potter and even dressed up as him one Halloween…which is your birthday, too. You love Nightmare Before Christmas as much as I do and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which I hate. You love dogs. You can’t cook.”

Frank chuckled at that one, averting his eyes and failing to hide his blush. Gerard remembered vividly the time that they had been stranded in the store during the only blizzard the town had seen in over a decade. Frank had tried to cook omelets and nearly burnt down the apartment in a fiery blaze.

“Also you have a ton of Jersey pride, as well as Italian pride. Oh, and you love BJA.”

“See?”

“Wow, yeah. I know, like, nine things about you.” They both laughed for a minute, then Gerard happened to glance at the clock. “Crap, I gotta go.” He rushed around the counter, pausing as he passed Frank. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Frank smiled and shook his head. “Go, dummy.”

“You really need to stop calling me that. Technically, I’m your boss.”

He rolled his eyes and Gerard took that as a dismissal. He made his way out of the shop and down the boardwalk, already beginning to sweat beneath his jacket. Kris’ house was on the road at the end of the boardwalk and he’d passed it every day when he was in high school, so he knew exactly how to get to it. The exterior of the house was as familiar to him as his own, yet he had never made it past the front door himself. He felt giddy as he stood on the front step, hesitating. He felt sick to his stomach and hot around the collar. Was this stress really worth it?

Finally, after several minutes of debate, Gerard knocked on the door. He only had to wait about five seconds before the door swung inward and Kris was smiling at him.

“Hey, Gerard,” she said, stepping down onto the stoop and turning to lock the door behind her. Today she was wearing distressed jeans and a Motorhead t-shirt. She’d managed to tame her blonde pixie-cut with a number of bobby pins, but Gerard liked it best when it was a little messy.

“You ready?” Gerard asked, then mentally slapped himself in the face.

“Yup. Still getting ice cream, right?”

“Yeah.”

They set off back down the road, keeping about a foot’s space between them, not speaking. Kris was humming. Gerard tried to remember what Frank had told him back at the shop. “So, uh, do you like Motorhead?”

“Who?” Kris asked, looking at him curiously.

“Motorhead.” There was an awkward pause, then he added, “Your shirt?”

“Oh, that,” said Kris, looking down at her shirt. “Sorry, this was one of my mom’s. It’s just super comfy.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into another silence that lasted until they were passing Sugar Rush. Gerard glimpsed Frank through the window. His back was turned and he was hunched over a broom as he gave the shop its afternoon sweep.

“So how long have you known Frank?” Kris asked, obviously noticing where Gerard had been looking.

“Oh, like two years. More than that, actually, I think. He was friends with my brother in high school and I guess we sorta got stuck together when we started the shop together. We’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s nice,” commented Kris.

“Yeah,” Gerard agreed. “He’s a good friend. Oh, hey, how are things with Jason?”

She shrugged. “They’ve been better. He’s got his eye on some cheerleader from school who’s been obsessed with him ever since he started going to the tanning place.”

“Jason goes to the tanning place?” Gerard balked.

“Yeah.”

They paused by the door to the ice cream parlor and Gerard quickly pulled open the door for Kris. The inside of the ice cream parlor was very bland, with white walls and hardwood floors. There was a handful of Marvel comics hanging on the wall behind the counter, but that was pretty much all they’d done to decorate the place.

“Nice comics,” Gerard said to the man behind the counter. “That’s a really rare one.”

The man gave the comics a cursory glance, then said snidely, “Yeah, I paid a lot of money for them.”

“Do you only collect Marvel?”

“Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “DC is garbage.”

Gerard pinched his lips together, annoyed. It was fine to like one better than the other, but it really bugged him when people trashed what other people liked. He and Kris ordered their ice cream and, as he was paying, Gerard said to Kris, “I like Marvel, but Batman was always my favorite.” The man snorted and Gerard felt his cheeks heat up. “What?”

“It’s just the lamest favorite to have,” the man said. “I mean, come on. Batman? The guy’s a joke and only an idiot would think he was the best superhero.”

“Yeah, well…” Gerard searched for something really snide to say to the man, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. So he just accepted his change and led the way to a booth in the corner. “Jeez, that sucked.”

“Why?”

“Were you there?” Gerard asked incredulously. “The guy made me feel like an idiot.”

“He wasn’t trying to make you look like an idiot.”

The comment hurt Gerard’s feelings – he was unable to ignore the way she’d said look stupid when he had said feel stupid. They sat in silence after that, Gerard focusing too hard on keeping himself calm to think of things to ask Kris about herself.

After they had their ice cream, they walked back to Kris’ house. She thanked him for the ice cream, hugged him, and then went inside without another word. She hadn’t seemed upset with him, but she must have realized that she had hurt his feelings. Gerard trudged back to Sugar Rush alone and went straight upstairs, feigning exhaustion and staving off Frank’s inquiries. At five o’clock, Frank closed the shop and came to knock on Gerard’s door, but Gerard only told him (through the door) to go home and give him some space.

After fifteen minutes, he heard Frank go back downstairs and leave the shop. Gerard knew he was being dramatic, but he was crushed that his date with Kris had gone so poorly and embarrassed that Kris had not only seen him humiliated, but also agreed that he’d looked like an idiot. And then she hadn’t even tried to stand up for him.

No, today had not gone well at all, and Gerard doubted tomorrow would be any better.