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They’re sitting in the back of Dennis’ new Range Rover. His mom bought it for him on his 16th birthday even before he’d gotten his license (to Dee’s protestations, seeing as they have the exact same birthday, and she had received no such car). But Dennis had quickly acquired a license so as to move up in the social ranks at school, not that he could rise up any higher. Still, rolling up to St. Joe’s parking lot in a Range Rover would get him some jealous glares for sure.
So they’re sitting in the back of his glistening new Range Rover. By ‘they,’ he means him and Mac. Charlie didn’t want to leave the city, and the wound was too fresh for Dee to agree to tag along in “What should’ve been her car!” or whatever rationalizations she would’ve decided to conjure up.
They’d planned to drive to the middle of nowhere and get wasted, but when they got to the middle of nowhere at midnight without a map in the glovebox, drinking suddenly felt like a very bad idea. “Dude, if we get trashed out here, how’re we gonna make it back? We’re gonna be stuck out here all night, and we’ll get arrested! I can’t go to jail, Dennis. I can’t leave my mom all alone in the world!” Mac had escalated from his place in the passenger’s seat until Dennis gave him a quick slap to bring him back and not ruin the night.
They couldn’t drink, but Dennis didn’t want to drive back home having wasted so much time. So that’s how they ended up in a deserted tourist-y looking rest stop, looking at the light pollution-free sky from the back of Dennis’ car, feeling the quiet energy of the dark highway.
Mac dislikes the current silence, more comfortable with sarcasm, screams, and laughter than the intimacy this situation affords. “Uhhh, if we see any cars pull up, we better watch out for truckers. My dad always said that this is where they go to have gay sex.” Dennis doesn’t answer immediately, chewing on the fact that Mac’s dad had told a child about rest stop hookups. He dodges mentioning Mac’s dad because the only other time he’d asked something about the man, Mac got really defensive and threatened to kick his ass if he ever insulted his father again.
“I don’t see anyone right now. Besides, I think we could handle anyone trying to take advantage of us, right?” Dennis straightens his posture and flexes his bicep, waiting for Mac’s praise. Mac squeezes the muscle a couple times and shows Dennis his biceps in response, “Dude, those are nothing compared to these!” There isn’t much to look at. Truthfully, Mac looks as scrawny as the nerd in The Breakfast Club, and Dennis only has to poke at Mac’s arm to confirm his suspicions, “I mean, you couldn’t take any rest stop trucker by yourself with those, but don’t worry, I’d get you out of any jams.”
The last part wasn’t meant to sound so touchy feely, especially without the alcohol to lean on, and Mac blushing certainly doesn’t help anything either. They swing their legs back and forth, painfully aware that without Charlie to suggest something dangerous or Dee to yell at or a six pack to aid their friendship, they are awkwardly vulnerable.
Dennis turns his attention back to his car, “Yeah, I can’t wait to take this baby anywhere. You know what a car means? Freedom! I can leave all this shit behind after graduation!” His cheer falls when he sees Mac’s reaction.
“Are you really gonna leave Philly?” Mac pries, very aware of the implications in Dennis’ declaration, “I mean, are we still gonna see be able to see each other? Because I don’t have a car. I could save up for one, maybe…” He trails off, staring at his swinging shins. Dennis casually drapes his arm Mac’s shoulders in a move that’s supposed to feel bro-like but maintains the atmosphere they’d unintentionally created instead.
“You can come with me if you want. I don’t know where I’d go or what I’d do. I could go to med school, somewhere prestigious, and we could live together like roommates and shit. A regular bachelor pad. No rules, just all fun all the time,” he tries to gauge Mac’s reaction, but Mac truly looks like he’s about to explode. Maybe he’s holding his breath because the guy’s face couldn’t be more red. He prompts once more, catching Mac’s eye, “Would you like that, hm?”
Mac stops looking at the ground and tilts his face up and over to answer Dennis, and fuck, had that been a mistake because now Mac’s looking at him straight on with huge, endearing puppy dog eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” The sentence is caught in Mac’s throat, but Dennis is close enough to catch it.
Now that Mac isn’t looking away, Dennis no longer knows what he’s doing or supposed to say, so he takes it one word at a time.
“Good.”
The word’s just as quiet as Mac had been a moment ago. Dennis breaks eye contact to look anywhere else on Mac’s face because he thinks if he looks into his bright, hopeful eyes any longer, he doesn’t know when he might look away. On top of that, he doesn’t want to do anything reallystupid.
But, as always, he can count on Mac for that.
Mac stops nervously rubbing the hem of his oversized Zeppelin tee and moves his arm so that he’s holding onto the other side of Dennis’ waist. Dennis is only a little bit taller than him when they’re both sitting down, but that distance is a challenge to bridge now that he can feel Dennis’ breath on his lips.
Mac’s Adam’s apple bobs comically as he swallows, inching forward and anticipating Dennis’ rejection, or much worse, reciprocation.
Dennis doesn’t get scared. No, he’s never intimidated or unaware of how to get his way. He’s never, ever scared…except for now, with Mac, eyes intent on his lips, clearly going in for a kiss. He never really thought about Mac being gay, but it made a lot of sense with all the shit he liked: Queen, Depeche Mode, Judas Priest for Christ’s sake. But Dennis wasn’t gay. Couldn’t be gay if he was going to have a normal, happy life.
That doesn’t stop him from quickly closing the gap Mac had been working on at a snail’s pace, pressing his lips firmly against Mac’s. He opens his lips wider to take Mac’s top lip in his mouth; Mac does the same with Dennis’ bottom lip and sucks eagerly, breathing heavily. Mac isn’t the best kisser, but that really doesn’t matter seeing as there’s still a fluttering in his chest that he’d only felt before when he was with Maureen Ponderosa.
He can’t even convince himself that he’s imagining Maureen while slipping his tongue into Mac’s mouth because of the pathetic facial hair scratching at his cheek. The hand not gripping Dennis’ waist searches Dennis’ chest, sliding around to rub across Dennis’ bony back. Dennis’ this, Dennis’ that, Dennis’ everything.
Before Dennis can reach his free hand up to place against Mac’s face, a car pulls into the lot, startling the both of them. Mac hops up from his seat and yells, “Run!” Dennis closes the latch to the back and struggles to get the key in the ignition with his jittery fingers and Mac’s insistent shouting. The car starts and they pull out of the lot, more or less sure of where they’re going, but more importantly fully focused on escaping what they both agree to be a would-be rapist. That would be the story they’d tell their friends the next morning, that they’d narrowly missed being taken advantage of by some strange man, and Mac would throw in some bullshit about fighting him off.
Nothing about the kiss.
As long as they keep spreading their spectacular story, they’ll come to believe they’d both imagined that part.