Coda 02 -A to Z

theater, but one of those new kinds, where people sit at tables and you serve wine and shit. You could show old movies. Like some nights you could do a date night, and you could show those stupid John Hughes movies you like so much. You could find a caterer to work with and serve dinner. And other nights you could go for the teens and show old slasher flicks, like Nightmare on Elm Street . You could host an after-prom party and show Carrie . And Jared said how the English teacher gives a list of movies sometimes, and the kids get extra credit if they watch the movie and write a report or somethin’. So, you could get that list and show those too. There’s probably licensing shit to show movies like that, and you’d need licenses for the food and liquor too. But I bet you could make more money doin’ that and rentin’ the videos. There’s not much for teenagers to do here. I bet they’d dig it.” He stopped short. I realized I had never heard him say so much at one time. His cheeks were red, but he was looking right at me. “What do you think?”
    And I could see exactly what he was talking about. I could picture it.

    “Are you serious? That’s brilliant! Why didn’t you say something?”

    “I did!”

    “I even heard about it already,” Matt said to me. “Where were you?”

    I remembered a drop of white paint rolling down Angelo’s stomach. “I guess I was distracted.”
    Matt and Jared invited us back to their house after dinner, and I was pleased when Angelo immediately declined. He talked about the theater idea all the way back to our motel. “You could do a family night too,” he was saying as I unlocked the door to our room. “There’s that space out back. Did you see it? You could put in some playground equipment and hire somebody to supervise so the adults could watch a movie while their kids play.” He sat down on the bed and started taking off his boots and socks. “I don’t know ’bout stuff like lawsuits, though. You have to cover your ass, ’cause of, you know—what’s that legal word?”
    “Liability?”
    “Yeah, liability. You might need waivers or somethin’.” He stood up and pulled his shirt off. “That would suck. You know some kid would fall too. Never mind, man. That was a bad idea,” he laughed.
    I was still standing, leaning against the door, just watching him. He stepped up close to me and looked up at me through his bangs. I brushed the hair out of his eyes, traced his lips with my finger. “I hope you’re not still mad at me.”
    He smiled up at me. “Think I’m over it.” He reached into his pants pocket, took something out and pressed it into my hand. It was a travel size bottle of massage oil.
    I looked at him in surprise. “Have you been carrying this around all weekend?”
    “I got it tonight.”
“Where?”
“From Jared.”
    I suddenly remembered them going into the bedroom together and groaned in embarrassment. “Oh God! You asked Jared for lube?”
    “Yeah. Why not?”
“It just seems weird.”
    He shook his head at me and smiled. “When we first met, I thought you were an uptight prep.”

    “And now?”

    “Now I know you’re an uptight prep.” He pressed closer. “Cute, though.”
    “I thought you were a punk.”
“And now?”
“I think you’re amazing.”
“Zach?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
    The urgency I had felt earlier in the day had faded. It had been replaced by something much more tender. I was glad he had made me wait. I kissed him and loved the way his mouth opened up so eagerly under mine.
    We slowly undressed, kissing and exploring as we went, and then he pulled me to the bed. I was trying to touch him everywhere at once, and he was clutching me, urging me on top of him and then into him. I had never felt anything like what I felt for him at that moment—somehow urgent and wild but tender at the same time.
    He was so thin, I felt like I might break him. And yet, he was so strong. His legs were wrapped around my waist, tight, and the muscles in his thin arms were like ropes as he gripped me. His head was thrown back, his neck long and beautiful and begging to be kissed. Looking down at him, I saw ribs and hipbones and a perfectly flat stomach. But he didn’t feel hard or boney. He felt supple and lean and powerful.
    He was fierce and passionate and almost feral. Sometimes I felt like I could barely hang onto him—like I was trying to hold raw energy in my hands. But at the same time, he was