Jimmy has already grown used to being alone in his mid-twenties. One failed attempt at romance after another has left him both weary and defiantly independent. That is, until Luke stumbles into his life, flashing his adorably crooked smile and wielding his boyish charm. Jimmy stands no chance against the boy of his dreams.
All seems picture perfect, but as the dust settles and the reality of day-to-day life takes over, Jimmy’s happily ever after begins to suffocate. Differences arise and disagreements become the norm as Jimmy and Luke navigate the sometimes-troubling waters of early adulthood.
Daniel Janaka © 2018
All Rights Reserved
“I never do this right. It’s like every time is the first time for me.”
Jimmy struggled to quiet his shaking hands as Luke took a drag from the bowl, resting his free hand on the steering wheel. Jimmy had fantasized about being close to him for weeks, but the confidence he’d so naturally possessed in his daydreams was nowhere to be found, all the charisma and charm replaced instead with a resounding fear that shot through him like an electric charge of restlessness. His leg fidgeted, bobbing up and down to its own chaotic rhythm. His whole body trembled.
“It’s freezing in here,” he noted, hoping to hide his nerves behind the chill.
“Sorry, it takes a while for the heat to warm up.” Luke reached for the air vent and adjusted its direction, guiding it toward Jimmy. “That should help.”
Luke pulled another waft of smoke deep into his lungs, holding it in for a few seconds before gently releasing it into the air. Jimmy watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to stare but unable to look away. Luke’s adorably lanky arms remained suspended for a moment as he emptied his lungs. His skin was pale, his nostrils highlighted by a soft pink glow. His shaggy hair crowned his boyish frame, an unorchestrated mound of waves and curls.
The streetlight above flickered, struggling to illuminate the quaint Brooklyn neighborhood, abnormally free of any distraction. No pedestrians, no traffic, none of the usual late-night clamor. The hybrid cinema-bar was only a block ahead. Its sign shone in the distance as Jimmy peered through the dirty windshield.
A group of rowdy men exited, interrupting the silence with their laughter as one man pulled out a cigarette before passing the pack along. The twenty-minute intermission between screenings provided a welcome opportunity to grab a smoke, use the bathroom, or be alone with a dangerously captivating new friend.
It had been a challenge to quiet his overactive mind while trapped in the dark theater—sitting so close, feeling the accidental graze of Luke’s arm against his own. He had been forced to keep his eyes fixed on the screen ahead as he struggled to absorb the subtitles that fired off one after another while his mind ran in circles, left only to imagine those puffy eyes surrounded by soft dark circles like remnants of a constant lack of sleep. When the first film had reached its finale—the score rising in an unnecessarily epic crescendo—the lights slowly rose, illuminating the sparsely filled space.
Jimmy hid a yawn as Luke leaned in and whispered, “I don’t want to sound like a freak, so of course no pressure, but I have some pot in my car if you want to smoke a little before the next one. It might be more fun to watch it with a buzz.”
It didn’t exactly fit the construct of what Jimmy had in mind for the evening, but the warmth of Luke’s breath as it grazed against his ear thwarted any desire to refuse. It had, however, been some time since his last encounter with the unpredictable herb. He grew concerned about what he might do or say while stoned, fearful that the smallest dent in his armor of coolness could send Luke running back to Jersey.
Jimmy took the pipe, silently commanding his hands to cease their incessant shaking. His fingers grazed Luke’s in the exchange.
“Just pull it in, and let it sit in your lungs for a while before you let it out.” Luke reached over and took Jimmy’s hand, guiding it around the pipe in the right direction. His fingers were long and slender but knotted at the knuckles; his fingernails short and frayed, jagged around the edges. He placed Jimmy’s thumb over the small hole at the side of the pipe. “You’ve got to cover the hole when you pull in at first,” he explained.
Jimmy willingly took instruction, delighted to be touched. He pulled in a small, apprehensive drag and waited for a moment, holding the smoke in his lungs as he had been instructed to do. He glanced over at Luke who to his surprise was smiling in approval. Jimmy smiled back as he admired Luke’s childlike expression, more a grin than a smile whereby only the left side of his mouth was raised. There was something sinister about it, devious even, but charming. Steadily, Jimmy exhaled.
“There you go,” Luke exclaimed. “You got it.”
Jimmy smiled and flicked the lighter again, already a pro. He pulled in another drag, this one bigger.
“Now we’re talking,” cheered Luke.
A ball of fire barreled down Jimmy’s throat, scorching the terrain as it made its way to his lungs and filled them beyond capacity. He hurried to exhale but began coughing, his insides erupting as heavy clouds of smoke burst out. He heaved for air between attacks, desperately trying to regain composure.
“It’s—I took—oh, man.” His eyes filled to the brim.
Luke chuckled and placed a caring hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, holding back his amusement while he offered support.
The coughs grew fainter and the outburst subsided. Jimmy’s breathing returned to normal. He dried his eyes and sat upright, eager to recover. His head was lighter. Time began to crawl. He passed the bowl back to Luke who received it with another half smile before the glass vessel met his mouth. Luke cradled it with only the tips of his long, delicate fingers. His rosy lips puckered as he released another effortless stream of smoke. He moved with such precision, his methodical gestures casting a spell on Jimmy as he imagined Luke’s moist lips pressed against his own, pot-flavored saliva mixing.
Luke turned to Jimmy, catching him midstare.
Jimmy looked away, gearing his attention ahead.
Silence lay awkwardly suspended between the two. Jimmy’s leg sprang into action, bobbing up and down chaotically as he struggled to come up with something to say, anything to distract from his embarrassment. It was his dead dog, Sneakers, who entered his mind at that particular moment, becoming the topic of his incomprehensible rant. He anxiously traversed the subject, hoping that as long as he continued he might find a point, some meaningful way of making the story relevant.
Luke charged forward.
He pounced without warning, catching Jimmy off guard, a dangling word about Sneakers still struggling to escape, quashed by Luke’s eager lips. Jimmy sat frozen, suspended in a state of shock as his lips acquiesced. His eyes remained wide open. He glanced around to assess the situation in hopes of regaining consciousness. Luke’s eyes were sealed shut. Jimmy closed his.
Luke grabbed Jimmy’s face, pulling him closer. Jimmy kissed harder, adding his tongue to the mix in hopes of returning to his body and ending the sudden, ill-timed fit of numbness. Luke accepted, offering his tongue as well. It twirled around Jimmy’s, slithering in and out of his mouth with skill. The haze was lifting. Jimmy reached over, trying to touch Luke’s face, but Luke’s arms created an impenetrable barrier. He settled for his elbows before eventually resting his hands on Luke’s thigh. Jimmy caressed Luke’s leg as a rush of excitement filled him. Blood charged through his body. His senses now on overdrive, he could finally taste the boy attached to him, feel his moistness. He lunged forward, pushing Luke back into his seat. His hands were now free to roam as they pleased. He ran them up and down Luke’s torso, traversing his stomach and chest until resting on Luke’s face. Luke moaned softly. Jimmy leaned in farther, pressing closer, wincing in pain as the center console stabbed into his side, but continued on his mission to devour him.
Luke pushed forward, sending Jimmy crashing into the steering wheel.
The horn burst into action.
Their mouths broke apart as they surrendered to laughter, the tips of their noses still touching. Jimmy peered behind and noticed the men near the theater staring. He peeled away.
“I guess we should get going?” Jimmy suggested.
“I guess,” Luke replied as he wiped the sides of his mouth clean. “Don’t want to miss the next one.”
Jimmy’s heart pounded as he exited the car, flattening his shirt and rearranging his hair.
Luke approached, offering his hand.
Jimmy placed his hand in Luke’s, quieting his enthusiasm as best he could as they began down the sidewalk. Their fingers locked together as a sense of ease washed over him. There was no concern for the group of men watching as they approached. He no longer worried about being awkward or unprepared. The chatter of his overactive mind had quieted.
They entered the theater, still joined together, and took seats in the back row.
“More privacy back here,” Luke said with a wink.
Jimmy smiled brightly, unable to contain his excitement as the lights dimmed.
Meet the Author
Daniel has always had a love for storytelling. Originally from New York City, he moved with his family at a young age to South Florida, and received his B.A. in Studio Art and Film from the University of Miami in Coral Gables, Florida. After graduating, he returned to New York where his love affair with the Capital of the World continued. In 2007 he relocated to Los Angeles, California where he now resides. Daniel received his M.F.A. from the American Film Institute Conservatory. He works in post production in the film and television industry, but spends most of his free time reading and writing.