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Cyrus forced himself to pass the cafeteria without breathing through his nose, refusing to let the sweet, chocolatey scent of the freshly-baked muffins lead him astray. He’d been asking for punishment by getting into that golf cart with TJ, and this was it: eating a pitiful lunch in a dusty classroom with the other rebels of the week, while the vulturous students in the cafeteria happily dined on chocolate muffins and baby taters. They weren’t as good as the ones they sold at The Spoon, but they were close enough. And now he’d have to wait another agonising week before tasting them again.
Oh well. At least he got to spend his lunchtime with TJ, no matter how dire the circumstances.
Just thinking about TJ was enough to put a smile on his face, despite the impatient grumbling of his stomach. These past few days had reminded him how much he enjoyed the other boy’s company, and the frantic beating of his heart when they’d hugged had reminded him of something else… With every passing day, his feelings for TJ were growing stronger and stronger, and Cyrus wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Being with him was intoxicating, but being away from him was unbearable. It felt like an ongoing game of emotional tennis inside his chest, and he had no idea which side was going to win.
But right now, the ball was in his court, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the dangers of getting too close to TJ, just like he’d allowed himself to do with Jonah. If things were destined to end badly between them, then so be it. At least he could enjoy himself while it lasted.
As he approached the classroom where detention was being held that afternoon, he shoved all those needling thoughts to the back of his mind, sucking in a deep breath as he prepared himself for a room full of glowering punks and paper-throwing delinquents. There was no sign on the door, but it was definitely the right room; TJ had given him very clear directions earlier that day, urging him to be there on time. It seemed a little strange to hold detention in such a small classroom at the back of the school, but who was he to question it? He wasn’t exactly familiar with the rules of detention.
With another steadying breath, he rapped his knuckles lightly on the door, then let himself inside.
At first, he was too overcome by the mouth-watering combination of aromas wafting around the room to notice anything overly unusual; he’d been expecting the cloying stench of teenage boys doused in too much aftershave, so he was more than a little stunned to find himself breathing in the familiar fragrance of muffins and baby taters he’d left behind in the cafeteria instead. But then, as he slowly adjusted to the wonderful smell, his eyes landed on TJ in the middle of the room. His dreamy gaze re-focused, his brows crunching together as the scene before him finally registered in his brain.
TJ was standing in front of him, a gentle smile softening his face, and there was a delectable spread of Cyrus’ favourite foods laid out on the table before him. And if that wasn’t strange enough, there wasn’t a single other student in the room with him. Not even a teacher to supervise the detention.
“Um,” he said, blinking at TJ in confusion.
TJ chuckled. “Surprise, Underdog.”
“Is this detention?” he asked with a frown. All of a sudden, he was hit with a blinding sense of panic, and he had to grab onto the doorframe to keep himself from toppling over. “Oh, God… We’re in heaven, aren’t we? We crashed in that stupid golf cart, and now we’re dead.”
“Calm down,” TJ said, huffing a laugh as he motioned for Cyrus to come inside and close the door. “We’re not dead, Cyrus. But we’re not in detention either.”
“I’m… confused.”
“No one actually gave us detention for stealing the golf cart again. I guess we must’ve returned it before anyone noticed.”
“Or maybe the Student Court was too intimidated by me to demand another trial?”
TJ wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I lied about detention so I could get you alone,” TJ admitted, shyly rubbing the back of his neck in a poor attempt to hide his quickly-rising blush. “I wanted to thank you, for defending me the other day. You really didn’t need to do that.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Yeah, well… I couldn’t’ve asked for a better lawyer, so…”
Cyrus snorted. “You do remember losing, right?”
“Ah, who cares?”
“I do!”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” TJ said, effectively subduing the twist of guilt in his stomach with an easy, charming smile. “I’m just glad you were there for me.”
Under the inexplicable softness of his lingering gaze, Cyrus felt his knees buckle slightly. This really wasn’t doing his ever-growing crush any favours. But TJ was still staring at him, his eyes wide and imploring, and Cyrus couldn’t do anything but walk across the room and take a seat at the table. Anything to please TJ. Anything to see that goofy grin he’d come to adore so much. Anything to spend just a little more time with him, regardless of whether or not it caused him even more pain in the long run.
“Where did you get all this food?” he asked, trying his best to fight the wobble in his voice.
TJ didn’t seem to notice.
“Buffy owed me a favour after I gave her a lift,” he said simply. “I know that’s not how acts of kindness are supposed to work, but… She insisted.”
Cyrus quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. Even though she’d admitted at The Spoon that TJ had grown on her, it still wasn’t like Buffy to dish out favours for no apparent reason. Unless, of course, she was up to something. Which terrified him more than any other possibility. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about his crush on TJ, but the idea of Buffy setting them up on poorly-disguised dates was enough to make his blood run cold. Because if his friends were starting to figure it out, who’s to say TJ wasn’t close behind?
“Well, it looks great,” he said, smothering his anxieties with a breathless smile as he helped himself to the mountain of chocolate chocolate-chip muffins in the middle of the table. He didn’t even realise how aggressively he was chewing his chosen muffin until TJ laughed softly, his eyes practically gleaming as he watched Cyrus from across the table.
“What?” Cyrus asked, blushing as the word came out garbled by his overly-full mouth.
“You’ve got something on your face,” TJ said, his lips twitching with a smile as he reached across the table and wiped away a smear of chocolate with the pad of his thumb.
Cyrus froze. All his years of watching romantic movies with Buffy had prepared him for this very moment, and yet… His mind was blank. The boy of his dreams was currently hovering over him with the fondest of smiles, his thumb still brushing the corner of his mouth, and Cyrus had absolutely no clue how to respond. All he could do was stammer and blush and ball his hands into tight, trembling fists as the feeling washed over him, his innocent crush steadily evolving into something far more significant…
“Where’s Kira?” he heard himself blurting out, desperately trying to distract himself from the emotional hurricane causing havoc inside his heart. “You usually play basketball with her at lunch, don’t you?”
TJ winced, slowly withdrawing his hand from Cyrus’ mouth. “I haven’t been hanging out with Kira much lately.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah… Things were getting weird between us. I think she wanted to be more than friends.” He shrugged, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. He looked a little flushed now, as if Cyrus had unintentionally asked him a personal question. “But I don’t like her in that way.”
“Oh,” Cyrus said again, trying his best to keep the startled relief out of his voice. “How come? I mean… You guys have so much in common.”
“Like basketball?”
“Well, yeah!”
“That’s it,” TJ said, an edge of irritation to his voice. He was staring at him with an expression of impatience and disbelief, and Cyrus had the feeling he was missing something obvious. “Liking the same sport doesn’t make two people perfect for each other, you know? There are more important things… Like, getting to be yourself around each other. Feeling comfortable with them. Happy.”
Cyrus frowned. “You didn’t feel those things with Kira?”
“She wanted me to play a certain part,” TJ mumbled, staring down at his twiddling thumbs. “The person I used to be. A jock. A…”
“Scary-basketball-guy?” Cyrus suggested.
TJ smiled thinly. “Yeah. Exactly that.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not hanging out with her anymore, then. A real friend wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. I realise that now.” TJ licked his lips, a nervous habit that made Cyrus’ stomach flutter. He was too distracted by the flick of his tongue to notice TJ reaching across the table again, his fingers gingerly brushing the back of his hand. It felt like a question. An invitation. And Cyrus accepted it without hesitation, allowing TJ’s fingers to melt into the gaps between his knuckles as they moved closer together, practically draping themselves over the table. “I know who my real friends are now.”
Cyrus nodded. “We’re here for you, Teej. Especially me…”
“I’ve missed you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” TJ said, laughing self-consciously. “Hanging out with you these past few days… It’s been fun. More than fun, it’s… It’s been amazing, Cy.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, then turned Cyrus’ hand over in his own, gently sliding their palms together. “When I’m with you… I feel like myself, you know?”
Cyrus gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “Yeah, I know. I feel the same way.”
“You do?”
“Every time I’m with you,” he said, a dreamy smile passing his lips as the very feeling washed over him in earnest, seeping into his veins and warming his heart with easy, weightless joy, “it’s like the opposite of holding your breath. Does that make any sense?”
TJ grinned. “Totally.”
“Do you… I mean, is it like that for you? With me.”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Well, my crippling paranoia kinda demands it, so… Yeah.”
“You’re such a dork,” TJ said fondly, his eyes bursting with undeniable affection as they flitted over Cyrus’ face. After a moment of quiet exploration, they settled on his lips, and Cyrus could feel his pulse leaping with possibility. “Of course it’s like that for me.”
“Okay.” He swallowed thickly. “Good.”
A beat of silence passed, and TJ tore his eyes away from Cyrus’ mouth, pointedly clearing his throat and staring at the table instead. His ears were practically glowing with embarrassment, which Cyrus found incredibly adorable. Just like everything else about him. And for once, he didn’t chase those crush-induced thoughts to the back of his mind. Instead, he looked at TJ and allowed himself to appreciate how wonderful he was, and just how much he cared about him. Those feelings didn’t scare him anymore. They excited him. And judging by the bashful, giddy smile adorning TJ’s endearingly flushed face, the feeling was mutual.
“Anyway,” he said after a while, reluctantly letting go of TJ’s hand to wave at the banquet of muffins and baby taters. “We should probably make a start on all this.”
“Yeah,” TJ said, absently drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “It’s not gonna eat itself, right?”
“God, I hope not… I have nightmares about that sort of thing.”
TJ laughed, and Cyrus felt it in his gut.
“We should steal golf carts more often,” he teased. “If this is what detention is really like.”
“It’s not,” TJ said. “But don’t worry, Underdog. If you want me to break into empty classrooms and prepare elaborate picnics for you more often, all you’ve gotta do is ask.”
“I might just take you up on that, you know?”
TJ met his eyes and smiled, without an ounce of insincerity. “Good.”
And, yeah. It really was.