I got into the car and started backing out of the driveway before realizing that I’d never been there and didn’t know where he lived. I stopped the car and pulled out my phone to ask him for his address. He must have read my mind. It appeared on my screen before I finished typing the question.Wait. What?I thought, looking at the message. He only lived four blocks from me. Only four blocks from me and we’d never run into each other in the neighborhood after all these years. How was that possible?
I put out the headlights once I reached his street, then parked two houses away. I jumped at a bang on my passenger window as I pulled out my phone to text him. He had been waiting for me outside in the dark. I unlocked the door and he jumped in, then leaned over and kissed my cheek.
What just happened?I looked around and almost fell forward onto the horn. He’d kissed me on the cheek. Was this right? Was I dreaming?
“Hey.” He winked as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest, the smell of alcohol radiating from his breath.
Are you drunk?I looked at him but decided not to say anything yet and drove away. My lungs felt heavy as I tried suppressing the thought of him kissing my cheek. I didn’t know whether to worry that it was only the alcohol that pushed him to lean in toward me, or to let the natural feeling of happiness flow through me.
I glanced at him a second time, surprised that I hadn’t noticed his outfit. He was wearing a pair of fitted dark jeans and a polo that clung to the grooves of his perfectly shaped upper body. Well, it was perfect to me. He wasn’t buff like a jock. He was slim, but a muscular slim.
“My dad’s an ass.” His smile turned into a frown.
“Wait. What—” I started to say, but tears began to flow down his cheeks.
I pulled over before reaching Jefferson Avenue. I was going to take us for a drive downtown, the long way down the waterfront. But this was too distracting. I unbuckled and moved closer to him with my arms out. I embraced him and maneuvered myself so he could rest his face on my shoulder.
“Let it out. Tell me what happened. You can tell me,” I whispered as he put his arms around me.
I wasn’t sure if the alcohol was escalating his emotions, but I was certain that he was hurting. He let go of me after a few minutes. I restarted the car and turned onto the avenue as he began to recount what had happened between him and his dad.
His dad had been unpleasant that morning after hockey practice when Thad was supposed to join some of his teammates for figure skating lessons. Then there was the argument he had with his dad over his outfit. “There’s nothing wrong with these clothes. I’m not always going to wear the same shit,” he said.
He had gone to the mall and purchased what he thought were nice new clothes to wear for the party. His dad didn’t share the same opinion and joked about him wearing “girly skinny jeans” while he was trying to hang out with his friends at the party. “They all laughed along with my dad.” He hiccuped.
“Okay, first of all,” I said, grabbing his left shoulder, “that was one of the first things I noticed when you got in the car. I love this outfit.”
He smiled, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand.
We drove down the avenue bordering the lake, the windows rolled down, blasting the only CD of mine that was in my mom’s car. It was a burned CD that Rhonda had made. I’ll never forget how excited I was when she gave it to me. “Time of Our Lives”by Paul Van Dyk was the first song, and it fit the moment perfectly. I was happy to see Thad was enjoying it too. His right arm stretched out the window like a plane wing, and his other hand grasped mine.
“What kind of music do you like? I feel like I’m the one forcing you to listen to my stuff,” I asked him as the song ended. We spent some time getting to know each other and yet we’d only listened to my music. What if he didn’t like it? Was I being inconsiderate to his interests?
“Honestly. Shit,” he replied. “No, really. Just dumb stuff that’s on the radio. I never appreciated this kind of music until you introduced it to me.”
You’re trying to give me a compliment.I glanced at him.
“So, where are you taking us?”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking of a place that my coworker mentioned a while ago.” I winked.
“What do you mean? Like to drink?” he asked, and I nodded. “But how?”
“There’s a bar in Hamtramck that my coworker likes to frequent. She says the bartenders who work on weeknights don’t really care and barely check ID. Wanna try to see if we can get in?”
He sat up, turned to me and placed his left hand on my leg as he smiled. “Let’s do it.”
We neared the downtown area, so I continued down the avenue and turned onto I-75 to get to Hamtramck. Rhonda had mentioned this bar to me several times over the last year. She was the type of adult who wanted to bring someone like me under her wing and corrupt them. She’d asked me to come with her more than once, promising that I’d get in without being carded since the stubble on my face at the end of the day made me look like I was in my early twenties.
I didn’t much care for that compliment. Well, it wasn’t a compliment in my mind. I hated my facial hair. Still do. My father’s genes overpowered my mother’s side when it came to that, forcing me to start shaving at fourteen. Even at seventeen, I shaved nearly every morning. And by the time I went to bed, the light stubble felt like sandpaper. Thad didn’t look like he had that problem. His face was as smooth as I could possibly wish mine to be.
Is Thad’s face going to hurt our chances of getting in?I glanced over and analyzed his face. We’d have to see.
Rhonda told me this was a chill bar where all different types of people went to enjoy themselves and to have a drink. She also told me there was a large room in the back with a stage where small bands would play.
“So she says it’s on this street across from a liquor store. It has red window frames.” We slowed down trying to find it.
“There.” He pointed to the right.