10
CHRIS
"I like a man of mystery. Don't feel you have to tell me anything."
Complete openness and honesty immediately, that didn't suit Chris at all. They'd already covered the basics: neither of them were cheating, they were both single.
What sort of confession?
It was a bit soon for Frank to own up to any quirky sexual kinks. If he had those, surely he would have mentioned them on his profile.
"Confess away."
Frank dabbed away at his mouth. "I've only just broken up with my ex very recently, so I'm a bit out of practice."
"I don't mind helping you practice." Chris grinned. "In fact, I'm free every evening next week if you need a hand. We can get in a lot of practice."
Frank's face was serious as he looked back, holding Chris's gaze with puppy dog eyes. "That's not all. The other thing is, I've never done this before."
"Don't worry; it's very simple. We just sit here through the whole film. There will be music at the end. When the music finishes, it will get all bright in here, and that's when we get up and leave."
Frank chuckled. "I don't mean the movie thing. I mean I've never dated a man before."
No surprise there. None at all.
"That's very easy as well. You're a man; you must know they only want one thing." Though he tried to keep his face under control, Chris could feel the stretch of his cheeks when his grin widen. He hoped he hadn’t just come across as a lecherous creep.
Fortunately, Frank laughed loudly. And then some. Half choking, he swallowed down chuckles with his food. "All men have one-track minds." Frank snorted as he lost the battle to control the giggles. He placed the carton holding the remains of his food on the arm rest. Then, with hands free, he put his hands on his stomach as if trying unsuccessfully to hold back the shaking.
At Frank or with Frank, Chris wasn't sure which, but he was infected by the contagious laughter. "I'm the sort of man your mother warned you about."
Controlling his giggles, Frank whispered, "They undress you with their eyes."
"You'll get no sleep," Chris batted back.
"Men! They don't respect you in the morning." Frank coughed. "You might not see him for dust. He'll leave you riddled with diseases and holding the baby."
Chris flinched, taken aback by the comment. "Ouch. That is a bit harsh." He was closer to horrified than amused.
"I'm sorry. I am only joking. Although I'm pretty sure that's what my mom said to my sisters."
"Hence, your sisters are all lesbians? Or celibate nuns?"
"Um. Now you mention it, they are single."
Chris bent over to place his empty food wrappings on the floor, and he picked up the barrel of popcorn.
When Chris sat up, Frank whispered, "I am sorry." His hand was holding the armrest between them.
"No worries. Popcorn?" Chris offered. He shook the bucket between them before propping it between his thigh and armrest, leaving both hands free.
With his free hand, Frank picked some corn from the top of the pile and held it in front of his face. "I like popcorn, salty or sweet, but I always think it's a weird thing to eat because, the truth is, it has the texture of cardboard." He placed it in his mouth.
Chris also took a fist full of the cardboard-like kernels and, as Frank did, he held them near his mouth. "Funny you should say that because, like cardboard, it lends itself well to art projects."
With his empty hand, Chris ran his fingers over the back of Frank's hand between them, tracing down his fingers and then rested atop, weaving their fingers together.
Frank watched their joined hands. "Have you used popcorn in your art?"
"Let's just say I've experimented with it. But, no, my name is not associated with popcorn." Chris bit his bottom lip and hoped Frank didn't pursue a line of conversation that involved what type of art his name was associated with.
Chris didn't mind anyone knowing he made surreal sculptures, but h e didn't, upon meeting someone new, particularly want them to know that his name was known for anything. He was famous enough that searching his name online would bring up news, articles, and features about him and his work.
He was relatively famous in his field. Relatively. Not as famous as Tracey Emin or Antony Gormley, but he wasn't as old as those British artists either.
Frank had made a confession, but Chris wasn't ready to confess. Not that he was a fairly well-known British artist, or any of his other personal information.
"Popcorn is great for art classes with children. They learn we can use any materials to make art. Plus there's the added bonus: they can eat it."
They chatted while the adverts were running. No one else entered the room. When the low lighting faded to black for the main film, they fell silent. Chris squeezed Frank's hand. "Is this all right?"
"Yes."