“I remember this bad boy,” Travis said when Whitman finally got the school closet open. The lock had been tricky, and he’d had to press the rattling doors inward while wiggling the handle to get the key to go in.

“You know how to work it then?” Whitman asked hopefully.

“Like they’d ever actually let me near it. Susie Porter and her friends were always the ones in charge of events.”

“Darn. Because I have no clue.”

“This coming from the research king?” Travis teased and Whitman stopped himself from pressing his hands to his red cheeks while the heat spread to the top of his head. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of how-to guides online.”

Whitman pulled on the handle, but the popcorn cart wouldn’t budge. “Tell me this thing rolls and the wheels aren’t just for show.”

Both he and Travis bent to investigate at the same time, cracking skulls that reverberated along the empty school corridor.

“Sorry,” Travis said, sticking out a hand to rub Whitman’s forehead before seeming to realize what he was doing and yanking back his hand. Whitman rubbed his own forehead instead.

“Ow. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I have a cushion,” Travis said, patting his hair that had pulled out a bit from his ponytail and made a poof on the top of his head. “I think there’s a wheel lock. I’ll get it.”

Whitman stayed put, still rubbing the spot over his right eyebrow, and tried not to look at Travis’s ass as he bent over.

“Got it!” Travis declared, and the cart came with him when he gave it a little tug. “I still can’t believe the school is just letting you use this for the summer. But then I guess you are an adult.”

“You guess?” Whitman said, raising an eyebrow and causing Travis to laugh. He would have thought Travis saw him as ancient, not questioning his adulthood.

“I mean, I remember all the clubs wanted to use the thing when they first got it, oh probably five or six years ago now. But every request except the student council or the booster club was denied. They were freaking stingy with it.”

“They were very forthcoming. The principal even offered to let me use their supplies as long as I replaced them before the beginning of the school year. Honestly, it was exactly how I imagined it would be, small town helping its own.”

Travis snorted at that, and Whitman must not have hidden his surprise at being called out for his small-town rose-colored glasses well, because Travis immediately looked guilty.

“Why’d you leave Vancouver? It’s been my life’s goal to move to a big city, so I can’t imagine wishing for the reverse.”

“I suppose it’s a case of the grass is always greener,” Whitman said. “Everything feels too fast, too urgent, in the city. Even when you meet up with friends, they’re always in a rush to go from one bar or club to the next. It’s not a good place for a homebody, I suppose. It’s too easy to get lost in the crowd.”

“It sounds like heaven to me,” Travis muttered, pushing the cart down the hallway and through the heavy steel door that Whitman held open with his back.

Whitman grabbed the handles at the other end and helped Travis walk the popcorn cart down the back stairs. From the parking lot, he could see the library across the field.

“I should have brought my car,” Whitman sighed. “It’s never going to roll across the field without jarring all the pieces loose.”

“We can each take an end. Come on, don’t give up now,” Travis flashed Whitman a grin that made his throat suddenly dry, but he grabbed the handles while Travis turned to the side and grabbed the cart one-handed. Whitman tried not to notice the muscles in his slim arm popping out and adding relief to what had appeared to be smooth, thin skin just seconds before. Now his mouth, which had gone so dry at Travis’s surprise teasing, watered at the sight.

No, Whitman chastised himself. He was helping Caitlyn. He was not lusting over her brother inappropriately. And he was not going to make an idiot of himself by hitting on the one man he knew was gay. Especially not one who had just declared himself to be a friend. That meant something to Whitman, and he wasn’t going to tarnish it with lustful thoughts. God, he really shouldn’t have read that Tanya Ann Crosby last night.

Not that he worried Travis would return those feelings and ruin their friendship. Whitman was already breaking into a sweat while lugging his end of the cart across the field.

“Where do you want it? Inside or out?” Travis asked when they reached the library and Whitman directed him to an extension cord that he had plugged into an external outlet.

Whitman surveyed the area, pleased with the results. On the side of the building, he had erected a big screen that he had found in the back of the library closet. He had been worried that it wouldn’t be large enough, but even from the field it had looked decent. Inside the library, he had stacks of blankets scavenged from yard sales and thrift stores that he planned to bring out once folks started to arrive.

Caitlyn helped him figure out the popcorn machine while Travis connected the laptop to the projector and pulled up the movie. Couples, families, and groups of friends wandered up, many with their own blankets and picnic dinners. By the time Travis had the movie set up and Whitman had dished out enough popcorn to feed an army, it was dark enough to begin the movie. Whitman could count almost fifty people scattered around the lawn, including him and Caitlyn and Travis. The nerves eased a little at the crowd. He only hoped he didn’t run into any technical glitches. If there had been any wood to be found, he would have been knocking the crap out of it.

Caitlyn’s friend Layla and a few other kids Whitman recognized were there. He watched her plead with her brother and then join her friends shortly after, so Travis had obviously relented, though Whitman knew he would be keeping his eye on her all night.

He spread out his blanket halfway between the projector and the popcorn machine, just in case anything went wrong. As the beginning credits began to roll, Whitman saw a blanket fling out beside him and settle onto the grass in a perfect square nearby.

“Is it okay if I join you?” Travis asked in a hushed voice.

“Of course,” Whitman said, suddenly incredibly aware of the arrangement of his limbs. He had flopped down with his legs stretched in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, but now he felt too exposed. He sat back up and crossed his legs, trying to rest his elbows on his knees, but that made the screen at an odd angle and he’d wind up with a crick in his neck if he stayed like that. He shifted again, this time keeping one knee bent and kicking out the other leg, and leaning back on his hands, arms straight behind him.

Ugh. Why had he decided on movies on the lawn? There was no casually sexy way to do it. Especially now that he’d jostled his popcorn and spilled it across his lap. At least the event was a success, even if trying to attract Travis was a glaring failure.

Travis would never have guessed that many people would be interested in Back to the Future, but apparently, he was wrong.

He was glad to have been wrong, because Whitman was trying so hard to be a positive asset to Slat Creek. He seemed to have an endless supply of optimism, especially when it came to small towns, and Travis hated to see that destroyed. At least right away. Give him time, give him a few wins, before he realized that these people would pretend to love you but then hand over the knife destined for your back without a second’s hesitation.

Travis’s mom had believed in the town too and look where she ended up. He was determined not to repeat her mistakes and get tied to the town. Or to any particular person in the town. With the exception of Caitlyn. He only hoped that he could get her on the right track, and in a year, they could both go off to college together. Maybe they could even get a place off-campus together, although he would probably cramp Caitlyn’s style. Then again, that might be a good thing. At least from a big brother’s perspective.

Travis knew the movie well enough that his mind had wandered but he hadn’t lost track of the plot. It wasn’t until Whitman shifted nearby that he realized how close he had set down his blanket. Almost on top of Whitman’s. And when he sat with his legs crossed, their knees almost touched. Travis shifted to put a little distance between them, but when he leaned back on his hands, he realized that actually put him closer to Whitman, not farther.

There was a hint of sweat in the air, but also a tang of something else, too subtle to be cologne. Obviously not shampoo, but maybe his body wash? It was intoxicating, to find the heat of another body so close that you could feel it and smell it and have it affect your own heat and scent in a similar way. Travis wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he hadn’t been able to leave Slat Creek long enough to truly spread his little gay wings and fly with the big boys. He’d gone to bars, flirted, and shared a few quick nights. But slow and subtle flirting, the kind that heated your skin and set your stomach aflutter, was entirely new to him.

Halfway through the movie, Whitman got up to check on the popcorn. When he returned, he had two sodas in hand, passing one to Travis.

“Thanks,” Travis leaned to whisper in his ear, the close proximity making the tips of his own ears – and Whitman’s too if his lips were an accurate thermometer – hot. When Whitman shivered at his breath against his skin, Travis felt a little better. At least he wasn’t imagining the tension, even if he was doing his best to ignore it.

A sharp laugh and the obnoxious chatter of teenagers interrupted his focus, and he chided himself for forgetting to watch over Caitlyn. She was behind him, to his left, and he had been so worked up over whatever was, or wasn’t, going on with Whitman that he had almost forgotten she was there. He glanced back to see her and Layla throwing popcorn at two boys who tried, and mostly failed, to catch it in their mouths.

He should be happy to see her acting like a normal teenage girl, but she wasn’t normal and he was afraid that any minor heartbreak brought about by a teenage boy or a conflict so common with her and her friends that typically blew over after half a day, would in her case, at this point in time, be disastrous. He couldn’t allow her to be normal, and he couldn’t allow himself to get complacent.

Travis’s body might not have any doubts about what it wanted, especially with Whitman so near, but his brain could not risk forgetting again. Whitman was a distraction he didn’t need.