Septembers

9. The Danger of Dimples

The Danger of Dimples

The university café was glorious: two floors filled with different styles of chairs and tables, walls decorated with art made by students, and the constant smell of sweet coffee mixed with overpowering dill coming from the sandwich counter.

cute drama nerd

Going to wish me luck at the audition?

Thought you said you didnt need it

It never hurts.

then break a leg

OMG WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT YOU MONSTER

j/k thanks

“No jalapenos on his,” Dae said to the barista. “And extra pickles.”

Theo tore his gaze from his phone to thank him but found his face was more sour than the pickles.

Theo sighed. “I know, I know, eyes up.”

Dae had been on his case lately for not paying attention to the world around him. Theo ran into a lamp post one time and suddenly his phone was a ‘danger to his safety.’

Jacinda had already found them the only available table, which was surrounded by wicker rocking chairs.

Not exactly ideal for eating, but one took what one could get.

The café was filled with an interesting mix of patrons, some bent over textbooks, furiously highlighting, some clicking away at their laptops, and some in groups, laughing and talking.

Jacinda nodded to Theo’s phone. “Is that the runner?”

“No, Track Team Trevor was a nail biter.”

Dae shook his head and Jacinda hit his arm. “Don’t be judgy. Theo knows what he likes.” She’d cut her hair over the summer and now wore it in short curls. Theo had nearly fainted in a fit of jealousy when he’d first seen it.

“This guy is a theatre major,” he said, unfolding the damp, waxy paper to get at his sandwich.

The first bite was borderline euphoric: the perfect blend of salty meat, sweet bread, and tangy pickle.

He groaned in satisfaction, loving Dae’s panic as he glanced around the café to see if anyone had heard.

“He wants me to try out for the drama club musical so we can do it together.”

Jacinda gasped and did a funny little wiggle in her chair. “Fun!”

“I’m not going to do it, obviously.”

“Why? You would kill it on stage.”

“I promise you, I wouldn’t.” He licked the pickle juice running down his hand, accidentally catching the attention of a guy across the café. Not now, Theo. “Plus the audition is tonight. I don’t have time.”

Dae said something, but it was too quiet to hear under the music and general chatter.

“What was that?”

His cheeks bloomed inexplicably pink, and not for the first time, Theo wished he had a window into his brain, so he could figure out what thoughts his skin was betraying.

“You should do it,” he said, audible this time.

“You’ve heard me sing, Dae. I could injure people.”

“That didn’t matter in Peter Pan.”

“Peter—” He dropped his sandwich onto the paper, not entirely by accident, and it made a satisfying thump for effect. “How do you remember that? We didn’t even speak until the speech competition.”

“The whole school saw it.” The words were a vocal shrug, like it should’ve been obvious. Theo had done a few musicals as a kid but quit when auditions became more about singing ability and less about unearned confidence.

“Wait.” Jacinda leaned forward. “Speech competition?”

Theo nodded to Dae. “He can convince you to give up social media.”

She gripped her phone, horrorstruck. “Never.”

“He got second, shocked everyone.” He tried not to sound like a proud parent, but his words came out awed anyway. “Caused a whole tizzy.”

“A whole tizzy.” She beamed at him, and he squirmed under the praise, his ears glowing. “What’d you get, Theo?”

“Fifth.” He almost pulled a muscle showing how much he simply did not care about that competition. “I tried to talk to Dae backstage, and he almost glared me right out of the room.”

Dae threw a sugar packet at him. “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s fine.” Theo’s hand-wave was so dramatic it attracted the attention of the same guy across the café. “It inspired my mean nickname, and now I get to hold something over you.”

Jacinda gasped dramatically. “Mean nickname?”

Dae expelled his Theo-sigh and shook his head at the ceiling.

“We all have one,” Theo said, leaning in and dropping his voice to a stage-whisper. “It’s so he can talk about us in Korean.”

She turned on Dae. “What’s mine?”

He hesitated, then gave her a shy smile. “Girlfriend.”

Her body melted, spreading over him, then she landed a kiss directly on his dimple.

Theo looked away. To give them privacy. Obviously.

“Theo, you played Peter?”

“Captain Hook.” He turned his hand into a hook in case she happened to be the only person on the planet unfamiliar with the story.

“He was amazing.” Dae’s voice was more animated than Theo had ever heard it. “It didn’t matter that he couldn’t sing; he owned it. Like the play was written for him.”

Theo groaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

Jacinda snorted, picking up her phone to scroll. “No, it’s not. You love that he remembers.”

Correct. But he had to fake some embarrassment. It was the social contract.

“I think you should do it,” she said. “It would give you something to do.” The music switched from basic soft-pop to some kind of electric rock, making the table beside them groan, which in turn, made the barista turn it up even louder.

“Oh yay.” Jacinda typed furiously on her phone, seemingly unaware of the musical battle happening around her.

“Hailey’s on campus and wants to meet up. Wanna come?”

Hailey was Jacinda’s old roommate and wasn’t particularly fond of Dae for some bonkers reason. Who the fuck wouldn’t love Dae?

He seemed on the verge of agreeing, but it was like there was a force field in front of his face, preventing his head from completing the nod. Hailey didn’t give him any grace, always peppering him with questions and getting annoyed when he couldn’t answer fast enough.

“I’m going to do the audition,” Theo said, before he could stop himself. He just couldn’t stand seeing Dae so torn and panicked.

“Great!” Jacinda gave him a high-five, her phone forgotten.

“If it’s cool with you, can I steal Dae so he can help?”

Her slight frown was quick, but not unnoticeable. “Help how?”

“Oh, you know. Lines, costume, moral support…”

“Right. Okay.” The song playing abruptly cut out and cheers erupted around the café. “Good luck, Theo. Turn up the charm. They won’t be able to resist.”

“No one has yet.”

She gave him a double thumbs-up and kissed Dae before leaving. To an outside observer, that would’ve seemed perfectly normal, but Theo knew Jacinda’s cheer level rose when something bothered her.

“Sorry,” he said as soon as she was out the door. “Was that the right thing to do?”

Dae nodded, letting out a long breath and picking at his half-eaten sandwich. “Hailey’s a lot. She thinks I don’t like Jacinda enough.”

Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask… “Do you?”

“Yes.” He steeled his expression as if making a statement in a court of law. “I like Jacinda.”

Theo hated the stinging mixture of disappointment and relief swirling through his chest. “Okay then.”

Dae’s stare went cold. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Theo.”

“Dae.”

“Don’t do anything.”

“I won’t.”

Dae picked up his drink and pointed the straw at him like a menacing dagger. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.” He was. Obviously. “Come on. I have an audition to bomb, and you have a lie to sell.”

??? ???

Theo decided to aim for Edna Turnblad, the main character’s mom in Hairspray, because she was supposed to sing badly.

Dae went to the thrift shop to find him a costume while Theo shimmied along to the movie version in their living room.

By the time he returned, Theo had worked up what he assumed to be a very attractive, very manly glow.

Dae winced. “Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

“I…” he stammered, holding his chest as he caught his breath, “don’t know…what you’re talking about. I’m dewy, that’s all.”

“I’ve never seen anyone so red.” His eyebrows pinched in insultingly legitimate concern.

“I said I’m just dewy!” He took a few deep gulps of water while Dae fished in his shopping bag, trying to hide his smirk. The flowered dress he pulled out had no shape, just two arm holes amidst what seemed like actual miles of fabric. “What in the sweet hell is that?”

Dae lost the battle with his smirk and his dimple toyed with the idea of appearing. “It’s called a muumuu, and it’s the best I could do.”

“It’s hideous.”

“It’s perfect.” Dae threw it at him. “And if you don’t put it on right now, I quit as your manager.”

“I like it when you’re bossy.” Theo didn’t necessarily have to take off his shirt to put on the giant fabric tent, but he didn’t love being sweaty, and his shirt had definitely seen drier days.

The muumuu smelled like baby powder and mothballs, but the fabric was pleasantly soft against his skin.

“Oh wow. It’s actually quite comfortable. ”

Dae’s laugh almost startled Theo’s soul right out of his body. He’d never seen him unleash before, his hands clutching his stomach, his smile joyous, his head thrown back. His laugh gonged like a grandfather clock: haaa haaa haaa, the notes ringing out and reverberating through Theo’s chest.

Dae always fought his smiles, stifled his laughter, and kept his volume low. But this—there was no other word for it other than beautiful.

Theo took the dress off and tossed it onto the couch. Dae’s laughter had calmed down, but his smile was still huge, unchecked, and pure.

“What the…?” Theo put his hands on Dae’s shoulders and focused on his face.

“What?” Dae’s fingers wrapped around his wrists to pull them off, but he didn’t, instead keeping a loose hold on him.

His hands were a bit rough; calloused from all the drawing.

Theo’s own hands drifted to Dae’s neck, holding him in place, focusing on his cheeks.

It was stupid and destructive, but the joy overpowered his mind and took control of his body.

“Your dimples.”

Dae’s flushed skin burned under his hands. “You’ve seen them before.”

“Not like this.” It seemed, strangely, that Dae was the one out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more rapid.

Theo should’ve backed away, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the spot on Dae’s cheek, the memory of his laughter still fresh.

“Do you realize the shit you could get away with if you flash these dimples?”

“I don’t give my smiles away as easily as you do.” He pressed his lips together as if he didn’t want to prove himself wrong.

Theo’s next words came out in an awed reverie he hadn’t known he was capable of. “The world would be so much better if you did.”

Dae took a quick breath as if stung. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He was right. Theo was crossing the line he’d drawn himself and had successfully stayed on the other side of for the better part of a year, only slipping every so often when his mind would wander into a hypothesis about how soft Dae’s lips were.

But he was usually able to pull himself together a lot quicker than he currently was.

He told his hands to move, told his thumb to stop gently stroking Dae’s collar bone, told his feet to step out of his orbit.

But Dae was studying his face, so he stayed, studying Dae right back, both of them searching for answers to different questions.

Maybe Dae’s laugh really had knocked Theo’s soul from his body, because it was moving on its own, drifting closer to him until the fabric of Dae’s t-shirt brushed against the bare skin of Theo’s stomach.

His heart practically vibrated at the shock of Dae’s touch, his fingers settling so lightly on Theo’s hip that he could’ve convinced himself it was a breeze.

The question was still in Dae’s eyes as they dipped to his lips. “Theo?”

Was that his name? The word echoed through him, a harsh incantation that snapped his soul back into place. What was he doing? He was Theo. Dae was Dae. Those names together meant something more than skin and racing hearts and almost kisses.

“Fuck.” He stepped back and Dae stumbled forward, as if the gravity of Theo’s near colossal mistake affected his balance.

“Wha…” The question that had been whispered through his eyes was now shouted through his face, his body, his voice. “Theo?”

What had he almost done?

“Really getting into my role,” he said, trying desperately to laugh it away. “How do actors do this?”

Then he jumped into a spiral of manic laughter that Dae didn’t follow him into. How could he? Theo had shifted the energy in the room so completely that he basically slid into an alternate universe, leaving Dae behind in the world they’d occupied together.

The door slammed open and Caleb bounded in. “Perfect!” His grin ate up his whole face when he saw them. “I was hoping someone would be home. Please say you’re in the mood for chicken fingers because the diner on University Ave has a two-for-one special.”

Dae stared at him, seemingly not registering the words. Theo could only imagine what was going on inside him: confusion, hurt, disgust. His otherwise sane best friend had just tried to ruin everything.

“Dae?” Caleb waved a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry.” Dae blinked at him. “What?”

“Chicken fingers?”

“Chicken fingers.” He said the words like they were new. Like he couldn’t conceptualize how they could possibly go together. Then he finally focused on Caleb’s face, then Theo’s, as a silent, desperate panic radiated off him. “Um, I don’t know.”

Theo couldn’t give him what he needed. Couldn’t reassure him. Couldn’t even acknowledge what had just happened. The only thing he could focus on were the words screaming through his body: not you, not for him, not yours, he deserves better.

Caleb looked back and forth between them. “They also have burgers.”

“Sorry.” Dae brushed past him and escaped up the stairs.

Fuck.

No, it was fine. Would be fine. Theo could fix it.

Needed to fix it. All he had to do was re-draw the line and actually stay behind it this time.

He couldn’t fuck up what he had with Dae, which, of course, was inevitable.

He was who he was—a chip off his father’s emotionally irresponsible block—and there was no changing that.

And Dae…he was perfect. He deserved someone perfect. Someone who wouldn’t hurt him. Someone like Jacinda.

Caleb plopped down on the couch. “Why are you shirtless? And what’s this?” He held up the muumuu. “Are we changing the drapes?”

“Yes.” He didn’t have the energy to explain.

“Cool.” He grinned like an adorable dope. “So. Chicken fingers?”

“Sure.” Listening to Caleb talk for an hour straight seemed like the best way to get out of his own head. “But we have to leave right now.”

Caleb clapped and shot up. “You don’t have to tell me twice!” He jogged to the stairs and yelled up. “Dae! You sure?”

No answer. Of course.

“Ah well,” Caleb said, unbothered. “He probably needs some Dae Time.”

“Yeah,” Theo said, forcing a smile. “Everything’s fine.”