Prom Night Ch. 06

He paused, looking down at the expanse of used glasses on their table. "I thought I was your best friend."

She made no reply to his comment, at first. Then she asked, "What?"

"I thought I was your best friend," James said slowly. "Remember right after we got engaged—you were so proud telling everyone you get to marry your best friend?"

"Where is this coming from?" Caroline shot back. When James didn't respond, she laughed. "Are you seriously jealous of her?"

"Not at all."

"Then what's gotten into you?" Her eyes studied him, calculating. "You've been acting weird all night."

James sighed. "Maybe I just don't want to sit next to someone who needs to get loaded to have dinner."

Her eyes never left him. "This isn't about Danielle, is it?"

He said nothing.

"What's going on?" Caroline asked carefully. She pushed her drink away and smoothed her paper placemat, as if preparing their talk for a serious operation. "Are you okay?"

James nodded. "I'm sorry. Just a...bad day."

"Want to talk about it?"

He thought for a moment, wondering how he'd even begin if he wanted to. James had lied to her, and now his back was against the wall if this conversation would continue. He looked at her, his eyes studying the soft features of her pouty lips and high cheekbones. Knowing the truth was going to hurt her. Did he want to hurt Caroline? He shook his head, no.

Caroline let out a slow exhale. "Okay."

James peered at the rest of the room, watching the waiters and waitresses rushing about with their trays of steaming hot food. Without meaning to, the question rolled off his tongue. "Do you remember your senior prom?"

She looked at him cautiously. "Yeah...why?"

"Who did you go with?"

"The head of the track team. We were dating at the time, but it didn't last."

"Why didn't it last?"

"Why does it matter?" Caroline laughed at him. "It was so long ago."

James shrugged, turning his attention back to her. "I was just curious. I missed my senior prom—late flu."

"If you really want to know..." She looked at the crowded room, then back at James. Her eyes had a tinge of—

(knowing?)

—what he didn't know. A kind of glint that immediately made him shift in his seat. "It didn't last because he cheated on me."

Fuck.

***

That night, in bed, James Monaco grappled with feelings and decisions which he ultimately felt powerless to control. He tossed and turned so much that, Toby—the tom cat who had took up residence in his home since the night Dom had come over—playfully pounced at the shifting mounds of his feet like they were enormous mice under cover. A time or two the cat's front claws went through the thin cotton sheets and nicked at his ankles—like an annoying reminder that the current situation was fair to no one.

At last, when he could tolerate Toby's antics no more, he got out of bed and wandered to the sofa. The night outside the windows was cool with a slight breeze which tickled some of the papers on his coffee table he had yet to grade. He listened to the song of the crickets for a while, part of him wishing he could be a cricket himself and only worry about making night music.

But life was never that simple.

As if sensing the heavy weights on his mind, Toby hopped onto the couch with him and snuggled against his stomach. He couldn't carry on like this, he knew. If it did, Caroline was bound to get hurt from finding out that the man she entrusted to be her future husband had been cheating on her for the past few weeks with another man. And more than likely, that news would come from he and Dom being busted by someone at the school because the truth was, no matter how smart and dedicated to a secret you were, dumb luck always ran out and people had a habit of fucking up.

And whether he liked it or not, James couldn't deny that he was in a fragile situation with Dom too. Today, he had been reminded what it felt like to be a high school boy with his first crush again—that kind of awkward hesitation and even just a slight amount of insecurity that goes with asking out the pretty girl for the first time. Well, James corrected himself—the pretty boy, in this case. James couldn't recall the last time he had ever felt like that. And while he didn't know if this all made him gay or curious or bisexual, in every ounce of his being he understood that he genuinely cared for Dom.

Because holding Dom and listening to the sound of his voice, felt more fulfilling than any sexual interaction they could have. It was the solace in knowing he was close to his side and someone whom James felt comfortable entrusting with secrets.

Are you gay?

His mind had asked him the question a few times now, but damned if he knew the answer. While James had grown up with a loving and supportive family, the possibility of James bringing home a male lover to meet the family was never discussed.

Toby rubbed his face against James's stomach hair, purring happily. He smiled, recalling the way Dom had snuggled his body hair much in the same way. Okay, the logic side of his brain took over, lets table that question for now.

With that out of the way, James shifted tracks, asking himself if he was truly happy with Caroline. This night notwithstanding, he had to admit that at one time he had been happy with her. In the first year of their relationship—when life seemed simple enough that college studies could last forever—and their biggest fear was getting caught in the rain across campus without an umbrella. And even that, he reasoned, hadn't been that big of a deal—Caroline had had enough playful energy back then to still make getting caught in the rain a fun time.

It wasn't anything against her, he understood. They had both slowly became different people. The longer they were together, it seemed the further apart they became—like glaciers easing away from one another. Caroline was focused on her career—as James reasoned she should be—but that didn't mean that it was any easier for him to feel seen. And perhaps, like a pet withdrawing from its owner, he mused, maybe he had emotionally gone into his shell. Going through the motions of what he imagined their relationship should be instead of stopping himself to verify if it was actually what he wanted.

And now, an innocent person was caught up in it; that wasn't fair of him. That was why James knew he needed to break it off with Caroline—knew from his heart that it was the right thing to do as sure as his heart knew that he cared about Dom. The mere reminder of it was enough to make him mentally curse Danielle for imposing on their dinner plans.

He didn't know when exactly it was that he dozed off, but he remembered dreaming. Falling through an endless void where time and reason and sanity seemed nonexistent until he found himself at the alter on his wedding day. All of his family and friends were gathered in the church pews for the special occasion, dressed in their Sunday best. But when the bridal procession music began to play, it wasn't Caroline walking down the aisle toward him.

It was Dom.

James awoke with such a sense of calm that, for a few minutes, he didn't even check the clock. When he finally did, he was surprised to find that he was late. He rushed to get ready and over to the school, but something about the dream and his thoughts of Dom provided a sense of relaxation. As if his heart understood that he was on the right course.

The day flew by with that feeling lingering, and by the time he arrived at The Gardenville Restaurant in Hinkley, James found himself singing along with Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight."

The Gardenville Restaurant was just the kind of quiet place to match his mood; he had only been there once before—alone—but had thought it just the kind of tranquil spot for a first date. The converted barn offered both a tavern-style bar-room on one half of its first floor with a quiet eatery on the second half. The second floor—he remembered from looking at wedding venues—was an open floor plan you could rent out for events.

He found Dom waiting by the entrance, looking uncertain of himself. His fingers tugged at the buttons of his polo shirt, which he had even bothered to tuck into his khaki pants. James smiled at him. "Hey there."

"Hi," Dom replied. "It looked online like this place was kind of nicer, so I hope this—"

James nodded, his eyes tracing every detail of him. "You look terrific."

Dom blushed. The compliment seemed to throw him off as he shifted from foot to foot. "So do you," he muttered.

The older man smiled, again that feeling of a schoolboy on his first date with the pretty boy returning. Because wasn't that what this was? Their first date?

James held the door for him as they entered, and Dom's hands went into his pockets—probably to keep from fidgeting—as the teacher gave the reservation name to the hostess. They followed her about the casual dining room to the rear of the building and through one of the three enormous glass garage doors which were rolled up to provide an open-atmosphere environment.

It was this section why the restaurant had its name and why James had chosen it. They emerged onto a patio as deep and wide as the dining room, its entirety covered by a pergola interwoven with live plant vines and strings of amber lights. Soft music played from exterior speakers concealed in fake rocks amidst the surrounding perimeter gardens and ponds.

They took their seats at the far corner, semi-away from other people. Dom's expression of nervousness only seemed to deepen as he looked around. "Are you sure about this?"

James leaned forward, his tone gentle and reassuring as he spoke. "It's not as expensive as it looks, believe me. And I guess I wanted to do something special—this being new for us."

Dom's lips curved into a smile. "It's already special." The words caught on his lips just after he said them, and that nervousness crept around his eyes again.

But James smiled. "It is special," he agreed.

They attempted to order beverages from their menus but fell into the bliss of locking eyes. Their silent expressions trying to say things to each other that words could not define. Once, the waiter had to give them more time to look at their drink menus before being able to get them their beverages. And just when it came time to put in the entrees, the same waiter had to twice give them more time because they became distracted with each other while perusing their menus.

When the orders were finally made and they had a few untimed minutes together, they started chatting about their days. And despite their differences in age and roles at the high school, it was surprisingly not awkward. James imparted some background about the other teachers Dom had in the building and even told a few embarrassing stories about them from previous years. In turn, Dom told James all of the ridiculous rumors and vicious nicknames students had for James's coworkers. The craziest of which was that Mr. Hopkins—one of the AP Biology teachers—had already put it in his will that his body should be donated to science upon his death.

"Are there any rumors about me?" James teased with a laugh.

Dom laughed for a bit before responding. "There's one that recently started in the past week or so."

"Really?" James arched his eyebrows as he chuckled. "What is it?"

"That you're starting to crack because you keep stuttering and blanking in class."

James laughed harder. "They think I'm going to lose it?"

"Only like one or two people think that," Dom laughed. "Not enough to be a serious rumor, though."

The older man nodded, shaking his head. "Well, maybe I am losing it." He paused, not knowing where his words were coming from. But he let them continue. "But I guess if this is losing it, it feels right." He stopped himself again, finding the last part harder. Dom watched James struggle with it for a few seconds before finally setting it free. "I feel like I'm losing it for you."

Dom's face lit up. As if on impulse, one of his hands stretched halfway across the table toward James. The other man smiled at it before taking it in his own. After a beat, Dom responded, "I kind of feel like I'm losing it for you too."

They locked eyes again, the words difficult but their gazes talking a silent language that words could never fully translate. James's breath hitched in his throat. Feeling as though he could stay in that span of seconds forever where all seemed right with the world.

But much in the way that all things end, the waiter arrived with their food to interrupt them. They both blushed as they took their plates from him and thanked him. The man, in turn, gave them a knowing smile and retreated.

Dinner took longer than either of them could bother to keep track. They shared stories from their lives outside of school, discovering the more they talked the more they still had to share with each other. James told Dom about stories from his photography business when it was open, and Dom told James crazy stories from his family. Their hands found each other off and on after the plates were cleared away, fingers intertwining periodically while they shared secrets both of them held dear.

The longer they talked, the deeper their words went. Dom confided in James about worrying he'd disappoint his parents by not being as successful as his parents hoped he'd be. And James confided in Dom about feeling at times like he was going through the motions in life—reacting to changes of direction instead of making active decisions.

"Do you like teaching?" Dom finally asked him.

"It pays the bills," James quipped.

Dom shook his head and spoke softer. "That's not what I asked."

Their hands broke apart, and James settled back in his chair. The smile faded a little on his face.

The younger man hesitated before speaking. "Would you be mad if I told you what I think?"

James shook his head, no.

"I think," Dom hesitated before continuing, "That you were happiest behind the camera...back when you had your photography business."

The older man stared at him, his expression blank like he didn't know what to say.

"That's just what I think...knowing you so far, I mean." Dom withdrew his hand and took a sip of his water.

For a minute, neither spoke. Then James flashed his eyebrows. "I don't think anyone's ever called me out like that before." His words were slower, as if he were treading into an area which was foreign to him.

Dom tried to salvage their talk. "It's just—"

"No, no," James gazed at him. "I think it's fair. Teaching is..." The younger man watched him as he trailed off. Finally, James sighed and asked, "May I be totally frank?"

"Please."

"Teaching is...wonderful when it's just you and the kids. I probably have about a hundred funny stories I can tell you just from student teaching and my few years in school here, right? But...it's also a profession which is tedious, demanding, and thankless. There are pros too—don't get me wrong—but not as much space for creativity. Your early years are spent developing a collection of engaging lesson plans to meet the needs of your current students, and the rest of your years, you try to revise your collection to meet changes in your classroom dynamics and changes in your curriculum. What doesn't work, you end up trying to replace with something new that usually is something recycled from someone else. And why? Because you spend so much time grading and doing administrative work that you don't have as much time to be original—not if you want to have some kind of life outside of work, I mean..." He paused. "At least, that's just one perspective; I'm sure some others would disagree."

Dom said nothing at first, watching his date after he finished. Then he reached across the table again, and with a tinge of a smile again, James took his hand in his.

"I'm sorry," James sheepishly said.

"No, don't be sorry," Dom's eyes never left him. "It just doesn't sound like it has the creative space you had before."

"It doesn't" James replied softly.

Dom gave his hand a slight squeeze. "It's not my life, so I'm not going to tell you how to live it. But I hope you know that I want you to be happy in whatever it is that you do."

James smiled wider.

"And sometime," Dom added, "I want to see these pictures you've been talking about."

"How about on our next date?"

***

When the bill was paid and they were in the parking lot, both of us seemed hesitant to leave. James accompanied me to my car, and a few a little bit, we just stood beside it talking. But after some time standing there with headlights occasionally flashing on us from cars pulling in and out of the gravel parking lot—some even hesitating thinking we were trying to walk across the lot—our conversation lulled. I asked him, "Where are you parked?"

James produced his key fob from his pocket and pressed the LOCK button. His Jeep Sahara issued a honk from across the lot, and without invitation, I went toward it. He followed behind me—maybe wondering what I had in mind. And truthfully, I don't even think I had anything in mind.

The Sahara sat under one some of the trees away from people. By now it was dark enough that its windows looked like black voids. I went around to the passenger side and peered inside. I felt him behind me before he spoke. "Do you want to talk in the car?"

I nodded, and he unlocked it. He was about to go around to the driver's side when I opened the backseat for him to climb in. For a few seconds, he looked from the open backseat to me and then, without a word, we both climbed inside one after another.

The air was a few degrees warmer inside from sitting without air conditioning in the first tinges of summer, but the shade had prevented it from being stifling. As soon as we were alone together, James slipped his arm around my shoulders and drew me close to him. Our mouths met in slow, gentle kisses almost as if it were the first time all over again. And when I think back on those moments now—years later—part of me likes to think of that moment as our first kiss together. We had had each other in numerous ways, but I think that was the first moment when things officially changed between us forever. Like we were crossing the threshold from some kind of hard to define sexual relationship into something which actually had potential.

Something that might have meaning.

Our fingers traced each other's faces as we lovingly made out, James's digits eliciting tingles across the back of my neck which made me melt into his arms. He kissed me as if he were afraid he might break me, his other arm wrapping around me to hold me. I drew him closer by the back of his head, my index finger stroking the little hairs on the back of his neck as our tongues met and joined together like lovers dancing the waltz.

When our breathing could be halted no longer, we pulled away, but our eyes remained locked on each other. Talking in that silent language for which there were no written words. I still caressed the nape of his neck with my index finger, and James let out a sigh I knew meant he felt at home. And while I said nothing, my smile told him I felt the same.

"I don't want this night to end," I admitted after a moment of silence.

James smiled. "Neither do I, baby."

I blushed at his use of a pet name, and his smile grew wider. I wanted to burn that smile into my memory, if only to remind myself this night hadn't been a dream. That we were evolving as a pair, entering a territory together which frightened us and yet excited us all at the same time. We were drawing a picture of emotional connection together.

As soon as the thought entered my mind, I knew what to do. I broke free of James's arms for a minute and fished my cell phone from my pocket. He seemed puzzled at first what I was doing until I switched on the camera feature. My hand brushed the headliner till it found the backseat dome light and switched it on.