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Heather pulls her hair up in a ponytail that bobs up and down, in and out of Chris' view.
Unlike the rest of her body, which is all tanned arms and warm, sun-browned legs, the back of Heather's neck is a stark white color like it had been bathed in a cloud of baby powder, and Chris longs to reach a hand out, trace the line of her neck with his finger, and feel her skin ripple from beneath his touch like an endless, oncoming wave of still, blue water.
Chris couldn't just do it, though, because he doesn't want to be such a lame old softie in front of the coolest girl he knew, who just so happened to be his secret girlfriend, and they were sitting on a table with two of their closest friends, Thrash Acksman and Summer Summers, who also happened to be dating.
Chris doesn't quite understand why Heather had insisted on keeping their relationship an absolute secret when their friends were so out and about with their own relationship, holding and swinging hands while walking Summer's dogs, Coco and Chanel, at the park without a care in the world. Summer doesn't care about being seen with a boy like Thrash who is the proud owner of the world's ugliest haircut, just about, although there is one other boy in town who owns a similar haircut in a startling violet but even worse than what Thrash had going on, and Thrash doesn't mind being seen with Summer, who has to be the girliest girl all of them know. She could barely outrun a dog or throw a baseball back to a player, although she doesn't mind getting dirty and she is very good at screaming and picketing and looting for her causes, which is a noble thing to do.
The two of them are absolute polar opposites, on the extreme ends of the scale, and yet the two of them hit it off when they had first met. They met while trying to raise money for an organization. And of course, there is Burger Shop. They get along so well and go together so perfectly that Chris couldn't help but look at them and want what they have, because he couldn't have the same thing with Heather.
He knows she's special, and everything, and he is certain, at least almost certain, that she thinks the world of him, too, but why doesn't she want him to show her off and the other way around? Better yet— he knows she's special, and everything, and he is certain, at least almost certain, that she thinks the world of him, too, so why doesn't she want him to show her off and the other way around?
Even if she is a sweaty tomboyish jock, and he is her less than smart boyfriend who knew nothing but to cheer for her on the sidelines, Chris just wants to come out and hold her hand in public. He wants to be able to walk her home in front of all of his friends without her blushing and making excuses at just the thought of it. He wants to be a proper couple, like they already are in secret, just in public.
Chris doesn't question it, though. He is sure he has nothing to be anxious or insecure about. He just has to go with the flow and everything will be perfect between them. He doesn't ask Heather any questions about their relationship, and Heather doesn't answer any questions he may have about the state of their relationship. What happens between them stays the same, and it's enough for him.
The two of them have settled for finding quiet, intimate moments, the peaceful moments of everyday where they could hold each other, maybe kiss a bit. The two of them just have to find the small pockets of quiet in everything, everywhere, and try and foster love there.
“Do you really have to go shirtless every time we go out?” Heather asks once Summer and Thrash had gone off to the bathroom together. Summer is cradling her new dog in her arms like a newborn baby, and Thrash is holding the door open for his girlfriend and her tiny puppy before going in to the men's room. She sneaks a glance again at the bathroom to make sure they haven't come out yet, and they haven't.
Heather is too anxious about getting caught, and Chris is too calm about hiding. Who cares about the two of them? Who cares, really? The two of them wanted to be out and proud, so why couldn't they? It's not like they had any people opposing them. It's not like they were too old or too young for each other. It's not like they had any reason to hide. There would barely be anyone hurt if they come out as a couple just now. There would barely be any fallout if they did. Thrash and Summer would know, anyway. They would find out somehow, 'cause the two of them have eyes everywhere.
The two of them have ears everywhere, too.
“Aw, babe,” Chris intones, picking up a curly fry and dipping it into Heather's milkshake, “you don’t have to get jealous… I’m all yours.”
Heather rolls her eyes, but Chris reaches out for her hand to slips his fingers between hers.
Thrash raises both of his eyebrows just a titch up his forehead, but before Thrash could say anything about going behind their backs or snark about the two of them being all touchy-feely in their favorite burger joint, Chris looks up at him and says, in the most angelic voice he could muster, “Am I right, T-dooog?”
Summer snorts from behind Heather, and Heather's jaw drops. She whips her head back to look at Summer, blinking fast in confusion.
“I'm sorry,” Summer says, not sounding very sorry at all. “I couldn't help it. It is just so funny,” she says, intoning almost every other word like some kind of giggly valley girl.
“What's so funny?” Heather asks, her cheeks flushed bright pink from above her tan skin.
“This,” Thrash tells her. “This whole thing.”
“What?” Heather says nervously in an attempt to save her skin. “What about this... thing?”
“The whole hiding behind our backs thing.” Summer is the one to break the news. “Everyone knows you’re dating. It isn't new.”
“Oh,” Chris says. “I thought you didn't know.”
“We literally saw you walking home together,” Summer says, giggling again, like she had been hiding this secret in for the longest time.
“Oh.” Heather looks down at her plate, from which she had been eating her chicken strips. She looks up again at Summer's bright eyes and Thrash's crossed arms and feel a wave of guilt wash over her. “We didn't plan to hide this for so long... I was going to tell you...”
“Three times,” Thrash tacks on accusingly. He and Summer could finish each other's sentences, and it is so sickeningly sweet.
Heather bites her lip and looks at Chris who is sitting beside her. Chris shrugs and smiles.
“And,” Summer says eagerly, “you kissed her on the forehead. That’s like, really romantic!”
Chris chuckles. “I was gonna tell you, T-dog, but I had this sneaking thought you'd find out even if we didn't let you on about anything.”
“It's obvious, man,” Thrash says, slinging his arm over Chris' shoulder. “I've seen the way you look at her, and I was like, that's enough. You're done, dude. You're done. You've sold yourself out with just the way you look at her.”
“Are we really that obvious?” Heather shrinks and hides behind her hands. “Is he? Am I?”
Summer shakes her head pityingly.
“And I thought we were hiding it so well,” Heather whines. Chris runs his fingers through her brown hair to smoothen it down her back.
“Not when you’re hiding in plain sight!” Thrash says, breaking into a rare laugh, his steel-iron eyes shining with the same glimmer they have when they are looking right at his girlfriend.
“You're not so slick, you know,” Summer says, feeding Thrash a bite out of her tofu burger. “I can see the way you look at her. I can hear the way you talk to him. There isn't any real edge to it. You're never really mad at him.”
Chris grins and wraps his arm around his girlfriend's waist in public for the first time. “She can't help it, darling. She adores me.”
“Oh, you know you love me more,” Heather tells him, sticking her tongue out at him.
“I do,” Chris says, mellow. “I adore you.”