Social Skills (20 page)

Ray
jumped onto the stool as Adam took off. “So, I’ve never seen you ’round these
parts before.”

“Well…it’s…my
first time.” Connor forced his shoulders into a stiff shrug.
This
confrontation—with someone
who knew him in his daily life—was one he was far less prepared for.

“Awesome,
man. Awesome. I just love Karaoke nights.”

“Yeah,
um…it sounded good.”

Ray
smacked him on his arm, another bit of bodily contact Connor was not ready for.
“Oh, shove it. At least you know I play an instrument a lot better than I sing.
Honestly, I think I could do a better job, but when I’m up there with the guys
and they’re just belting out whatever, it’s almost kinda fun to be terrible.”

“I
didn’t think it was all that bad.” Lying seemed like the socially appropriate
thing to do, given the circumstances.

“Ah
ha, but you
did
think it was bad,” Ray pointed out, flashing a disarming
grin when Connor blushed. “Hey, are you here alone?”

“Um,
n-no, I came with my…my friend.”

“Oh,
that’s cool.” Ray shifted in his seat, his eyes darting away from Connor’s
face.

“Here
she is,” Connor added as Rebecca approached. He caught Ray’s expression
brightening as soon as the word
she
left his lips.

“Hey,
Connor.” Rebecca looked over at him expectantly. “New friends already?”

“Rebecca,
this is Ray. He’s in the pit with me.”

She
threw an approving smile in Connor’s direction. “Nice to meet you, Ray. I’m
Connor’s stand partner in orchestra.”

“Oh,
no, another violinist!” Ray joked, a slight dimple showing when he laughed. He
slid down from the stool and turned toward Connor, extending his arm. “My
friends and I have a table in the back, and there’s room for you two. Wanna
join?”

Connor
stared curiously at the offered hand while Rebecca brushed past to snap up her
iced tea. “Sure, we’d love to.”

Ray
grabbed his wrist and began leading the way.

There
actually wasn’t much room at the table, and Connor slid into the booth after
Rebecca, leaving only a tiny sliver of seat for Ray. Across from him sat two
other guys, one with a full head of blue hair—and a bit of blue
eyeliner—and the other with blond spikes probably held up with copious
amounts of gel.

“These
are my friends, Max and Kaden. Guys, this is Rebecca and Connor. Connor plays
the violin in the pit.” Ray settled into his seat, his thigh pressing up
against Connor’s.

Trying
not to appear too obvious, Connor leaned a little more toward Rebecca’s side.

“So,
how are you enjoying the pit so far? Like it? Or are you just ready for the
play to be over?” Ray asked.

Connor
shrugged. “I’m ready to play the music, I guess.”

Ray
tipped his head in agreement but didn’t speak, and Connor eventually realized
he was waiting for more of a response. “So…it’ll be nice to see the whole thing
all put together…but when it’s actually over…I think I might miss seeing that
play.”

“Ah,
so you’re the romantic type.” Ray smirked. “Got a soft spot for the rom-coms,
huh? I guess I have to say I’m with you on this one. I’m gonna miss seeing Fred
and Lilli fall in love with each other over and over again.”

Across
the table, the blue-haired Kaden sneered. “If you ask me, that play could use a
little updating.”

Max
lifted a hand to run it through Kaden’s cobalt tresses. “Oh, don’t mind him. Kaden
just thinks every work of theater should include a gay storyline. But we’ll
both be there to see…err, hear you guys, when the play does go on. And we’ll
love it.”

Ray
rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks, guys. We appreciate your support.”

Max’s
hand dropped back down to the table and conveniently landed on Kaden’s, where
it remained. The entwined fingers of deep tan and peachy-cream soon captured
Connor’s attention. He could hear Rebecca continuing the conversation, as she
was so expert at doing, bringing up plays that would meet Kaden’s criteria, but
the only thing he could focus on were those two hands, locked together and on
public display.

He
wished he’d gotten to hold Jared’s hand more. But holding hands was something
people did when they were out in the world, as if to say,
even though we
can’t be in each other’s arms right now, we still want to remain connected.
He
could sense that emotion coming from the couple across the table.

Now
that he thought of it, the only time he’d held Jared’s hand for any significant
time was when they had driven back from winter break. And he would never forget
how magical those moments had felt—like they were actually going
somewhere
together, in much more than a physical sense.

But
they hadn’t really gone anywhere—
couldn’t
go anywhere—and
it was about time he truly faced that fact.

His
eyes misted over until Rebecca gently squeezed his knee, reminding him to be
more present in the moment. He shook out of the reverie with one last, longing
glace at the hands across the table. Luckily, no one else seemed to have
noticed his mental absence.

“So,
to celebrate Connor here joining our little ragtag group—” Ray was
saying.

“The
QSU is the largest gay organization on campus,” Kaden interjected.

Ray
glared. “As I was saying, to celebrate, we should order one of those dessert
nachos, with extra caramel.”

“Dessert
nachos?” Connor asked.

“Cinnamon-sugar-covered
tortilla strips with ice cream, whip cream, honey, and caramel. I’m telling
you, it’s delicious.”

“I
prefer the chocolate to the caram—” Max began, until Ray kicked him under
the table.

Throwing
an arm over Connor’s shoulder, he smiled sweetly. “So, what do you say—are
you in? It may very well be the best nacho experience of your life, I swear.”

Connor
looked around at the familiar faces and the new ones, then at the room in
general. And it hit him…he wasn’t standing alone in the corner, bemoaning his
awkward ways. He was sitting with a group of friendly people, talking, smiling
and about to partake in a shared dessert—like he
belonged
there.

He
nodded. “Yeah. I’m in.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Okay,”
Rebecca huffed. “Next time, you’re coming to Brown.” Her loaded bag slipped
from her arm with a thud. “That really is a long walk.”

Connor
watched her drop her violin from her other shoulder and grimaced. Why hadn’t she
mentioned wanting to practice? Now he felt even worse. “I know. I’m sorry…it’s
just…I thought I might want to talk about…things, and with everyone else over
there at Brown…”

“I’m
only teasing, Connor.” She patted his head. “I mean, your dorm
is
out
in the boonies, but you make the walk to Brown all the time. I can handle it
every now and then. Though a backpack instead of a shoulder bag might be a good
investment—better for the long haul.”

“I
didn’t know you were going to bring your violin, too, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
He leaned against his nightstand and waited for Rebecca to settle on his bed. “Really,
Rebecca. I’m…I’m sorry…I know I’m taking advantage…”

“So,
you went to the QSU meeting yesterday, right?” She interrupted his bumbling
apologies. “How’d it go?”

With
a deep breath, he let go of his worry over troubling her. He had more important
things on his mind, anyhow. “Um, it was all right, I guess. There were a lot
less people there than at the social.”

“Well,
yeah, I’d imagine so.” Rebecca stretched out, her legs taking up most of the
bed. “What was the meeting about?”

He
climbed onto the space that was left. “They mostly talked about club business…painting
Beta Bridge, plans for next year’s LGBT history month…that kinda stuff.”

Rebecca
nodded. “Painting Beta Bridge is a lot of fun. If they do that, you should
definitely join in. I’ve done it a couple of times with Brown—it just sucks
when it gets painted over the next night. You want at least a few days for
people to revel in your artwork.”

Connor
shrugged. “I’m not really artistic.”

“Everyone
can paint a rainbow, Connor.” She laughed. “But enough about that. Did you get
to know anyone? Make any new friends?”

He
focused on her toes for a moment, reminding himself she wasn’t looking to chide
him for failing at social interaction, the way his mother would have. “I talked
to Adam a little…but everyone already knew each other and they seemed pretty
busy covering the agenda for the day…” he trailed off as he ran out of excuses.

Rebecca
frowned. “I’m sorry. Adam’s usually really good about making everyone feel
welcome. Maybe they just had a lot on their minds? I can talk to him, if you
like.”

“No,
no.” He shook his head emphatically. “Everyone was really nice to me. It’s just…they
were all regulars, and I couldn’t really get involved in the stuff they were
talking about. I guess I was sorta hoping Ray and his friends would be there.”

“Oh.”
Rebecca nodded, her concern replaced by a knowing look. “Right, right. I get
it.”

“But
he told me during pit practice he pretty much only goes to the social events.”

“I
can see that. He seemed like a social kind of guy.”

“Yeah,
he’s pretty nice.”

“Cute,
too,” she added with a sly smile.

Connor
shot her a look. Just what was she getting at? “Um, Rebecca, I d-don’t
think—”

“Oh,
no need to worry.” She threw up her hands. “My matchmaking services are closed.
I learned the hard way that’s not where my talents lie.”

Running
twitching fingers through his hair, he gathered his scattered thoughts and
tried not to blush. “Anyway, I think I want to do that, too—go to just
the social events, I mean—before I decide if I want to be more involved
in the club.”

Rebecca
made a strange squeaking noise. “Good God, Connor, did you hear what you just
said?”

He
blinked. “What?”

“You
actually said you
wanted
to attend
social gatherings, and with no prompting from me! I think I can die happy now.”

“Shut
up.” He looked around for something to throw at her, but came up empty.
Meanwhile Rebecca dissolved into giggles, and within a few seconds he had no
choice but to join her.

***

“You
guys must have some tough stuff coming up for the next concert, huh,” Tate
remarked, loading his lunch tray with two slices of pizza and an overflowing
bowl of french fries. A few pieces fell off and landed on the ground, causing a
cafeteria worker to scowl until Tate bent to pick them up.

Connor
smirked and took a more modest handful of fries. “Not too terribly hard, no. Actually,
I really like Ravel’s
Bolero
.”

“Oh.”
Tate finished off his food pile with an apple. “I’ve heard that piece. It’s
nice. That why you’re practicing so much?”

“Huh?”

“Practicing,”
Tate repeated. “Is that why Becca’s been going to practice with you so much?”

Connor
reached out and grabbed…
something
…from under a heat lamp without even
looking at it, buying himself time to let Tate’s words sink in.

Rebecca
was lying to her boyfriend. And she was doing it for
him
. Practicing
was probably the best excuse she could come up with to keep Tate from asking
too many questions about the time they spent together.

His
empty stomach gurgled angrily. Was it possible to get indigestion
before
eating? “It’s…it’s a hard piece
to get out of your head…sometimes playing it is the only answer,” he replied,
rearranging his food on his tray. Turned out he’d selected a piece of bread
pudding, which he hated.

More
lies
. He was amazed at how quickly
the misleading words had emerged from his lips. When had lying become so easy?

Tate
didn’t seem to take issue with his response, however, and together they began
walking off toward their seats.

“Oh
no you don’t.” Chrissy stopped them before they could reach their usual table.
“It’s spring outside. Time to commune with nature. Go get takeout
containers—we’re eating on the Lawn.”

Predictably,
Chrissy discarded her sandals as soon as they had claimed their spot of grass
and happily curled her toes up in the dirt. Rebecca and Tate sat cross-legged
beside each other, their knees touching, while A.J. and Connor rested against a
tree.

“Hey,
guess what?” Tate bit into his second slice of pizza. “They’re gonna have a
midnight screening of Donnie Darko at the Newcomb theater next week. We should
go.”

“Yeah,
man. I love that film,” A.J. added. “And it’s got Maggie Gyllenhaal in it. She’s
hot.”

“What?”
Tate dropped his pizza from a height and almost missed the takeout box. “Are
you kidding me? Maggie Gyllenhaal is
not
hot. She’s just plain…weird-looking.”
He crossed his arms with a haughty smile, daring anyone to contradict him.

A.J.
shook his head. “Well, I disagree.” He stroked his chin and stared up at the
tree branches. “I think she’s…unique. She stands out from a crowd. There’s
something
different
to her. I kinda like that.”

“Yeah,
what’s different is that funky nose and those huge cheeks.”

Rebecca
smacked Tate’s leg with a resounding
thwack.
“Be nice,” she ordered.

Tate
rubbed his thigh sheepishly. He turned to give her ridiculous puppy-dog eyes,
but she just laughed, gathering up her hair and beginning a loose braid.

“Men.”
Chrissy let out a disgusted snort. “Quit placing your superficial values on
beauty. I think she’s lovely.”

“But
you’re a girl,” Tate replied. “And besides, you’d never admit anyone was ugly.”
He shifted abruptly to face Connor. “What do you think?”

Connor
picked a dandelion from beside him as he considered his response, but couldn’t
quite summon the actress’ face to mind. “Um…” He smashed the yellow petals
between his fingers. “Actually, I’m not sure.”

Tate
chuckled. “C’mon, man. You’re a dude. Go with your,
ahem
, instincts.”
He cast a meaningful glance at his crotch.

Rebecca
paused in her braiding, her gaze seeking out Connor’s as if she sensed his
rising discomfort.

“Uh…”

“I
mean, take Drew Barrymore, or that other chick. I always forget her name…the
one who plays Gretchen. They’re way better looking, right? Who would you rather
do from that movie?”

Rebecca
smacked Tate again, this time on the back of his head.

“What!
I’m asking Connor! I have no interest in anyone except you, I swear!”

The
normally stoic A.J. laughed heartily, his chuckles a deep throaty rumble.

“I’ll
rephrase,” Tate said carefully, keeping his peripheral vision on Rebecca to
watch for any more play-abuse. “Who would you rather
date
from that
movie?”

Connor
found Rebecca’s eyes again, and he waited to see if she’d make a move to ease
the conversation in a different direction. But she just smiled at him
reassuringly, tying off the end of her hair with a long weed.

He
took a deep breath and tossed the flower aside. “From that movie…” he began,
but his voice faltered. He gave himself a little shake and made a second
attempt. “From that movie, I guess I’d…”

The
words failed him again, and this time he clamped his mouth shut, aware a stricken
look had plastered itself on his face.

It
was such a silly, easy thing to lie about. Considering how well he’d done
earlier with a much more sensitive subject, there was no logical explanation
for his sudden inability to speak. But all the same, the acids were churning in
his stomach, burning their way up his esophagus and choking off any hopes of a
glib response.

He
saw Tate’s face change from one of expectation to one of concern, saw his mouth
open to say what Connor could only assume was going to be some form of
are
you okay, dude?

And
in that split second, he decided to beat him to the punch.

He
took one last breath. “Sorry, I was trying to think of everyone in the movie. Anyway…I
guess I’d pick…Jake.”

Tate
waited a second before responding. “Jake?”

“Yeah…um,
Jake Gyllenhaal. You know, Maggie’s brother. He’s…he’s…”
Spit it out already!
“He’s m-more…my type.”

In a
moment of silence, everyone exchanged looks—A.J. with Tate, Tate with
Chrissy, Chrissy with Rebecca, and Rebecca with Connor. Connor couldn’t hold
her gaze for long, though, as she was sitting in front of Old Cabell Hall. How
long would it take for him to run there and lock himself in a rehearsal room?
He could practice scales until the only thing running through his head were the
simple notes that always led to the next without error.

Then
Tate grinned. “Yep. I guess Jake’s a good-looking fella. He’s got the whole
blue-eyes, dark-hair thing going for him.”

Dazed,
Connor thought about nodding, but didn’t actually move.

“Poor
Maggie.” Tate sighed. “It must suck to have such a good-looking brother when
she’s not all that, but I suppose my sis has the same burden to bear.”

“Oh,
please.” Rebecca ripped a handful of grass and deposited it on Tate’s head. “You
wish.”

The involuntarily-tightened
muscles of Connor’s abdomen finally relaxed. His body went limp and he fell
back, letting the tree support his weight.

Normal
conversation-flow resumed around him, filled with its usual blend of jokes,
stories, and good-natured ribbing. A few extra smiles flew in his direction
that seemed to say
don’t worry, it
doesn’t change our friendship
, while also being considerate enough not to
make a big deal of his revelation.

A
small blush crept up his cheeks anyway. Not because of how anyone was reacting,
but because of how foolish he had been, waiting so long to be honest. He should
have known they’d take it in stride—probably even more so than he did.
They were the kind of people who took everything in stride.

“So,
we’re on for Darko next week, right?” Tate asked as they stood to clear their
trash. “A little something for everyone,” he added with a wink in Connor’s
direction.

Rebecca
shot Tate a warning glance, and for a moment, Connor thought embarrassment
might overwhelm him again. How was he supposed to take that remark?

But
a second later, the feeling passed, as a sudden realization whisked it away. Tate
was merely treating him the same way he treated all his friends.

He shrugged.
“Yeah. Whatever.”

Tate
elbowed him in the ribs, then gave Rebecca a brief kiss before leaving with
A.J. and Chrissy for class.

“Well,
that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Rebecca fell into stride beside Connor.

“No…I
guess not,” he admitted. “You were right. You’ve been right about everything,
so far.”

“Yup.”
She didn’t bother to hide her smugness. “I do tend to be right like that.”

Connor
shook his head, grinning. “Well don’t let it go to your—”