FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,73

find Aiden’s amused gaze upon him.

Eugene mouthed Help me, bro. Aiden gave him a little shrug, a little smile, and a little wave. Then he waltzed off and left Eugene to his fate.

Classes were tedious, as usual, but Aiden was cheered by the fact that Harvard stopped in after each one to check up on him. When in class, Aiden amused himself by contributing to the gossip about gold bars and stolen watches. He noticed there were two students in his and Harvard’s grade who were starting to wilt under intense collective looks of suspicion. He’d always thought those boys were worms and felt this pair deserved whatever the inexorable wrath of Seiji Katayama—aided by master of whispers Eugene Labao—had in store for them, then decided to forget all about it. He headed to his and Harvard’s room for their last night.

There wouldn’t ever be another night. He wanted to make the most of this one. If Harvard wanted to, as well. After the kiss on fair night, Aiden thought Harvard might be open to taking things a little further.

He wouldn’t go too far. Just as much as Harvard wanted and no more.

The sun was low in the sky, spilling across the floor and half across their beds, like a gold sheet turned down and ready for someone to climb in. Aiden stretched out across the beds and waited for the door to open.

“Hey,” said Harvard when it did. “Were you okay being in class today? Are you feeling sick again?”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Aiden told him. “I’m feeling all better.”

Harvard’s brow was furrowed in concern as he put down his bag, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie. “That’s why you’re lying down at five thirty in the afternoon?”

“Mmm.”

It was a noncommittal, but calculated sound. Aiden made another, a long, drawn-out sigh as he lifted his arms over his head. His uniform shirt was already mostly unbuttoned, rumpled enough so that it might be accidental. He saw that Harvard noticed.

Then Harvard looked out the window. “The rules said this stops at the door of our room.”

“I was thinking,” said Aiden. “It’s time to break the rules.”

Harvard glanced back at him, almost involuntarily, then out the window again. “Why?”

He sounded as if he wanted to be convinced.

“It’s time for a lesson progression,” Aiden informed him. “At first, dating is going out places together. But there comes the time when you stay in… together. What do you do on the first night he asks you to watch a movie at his place?”

Harvard swallowed, looking almost helpless.

“Uh, what do I do?”

“Say yes, for a start,” murmured Aiden. “Come over here.”

“We’ve watched movies together, like, a million times,” Harvard pointed out. “Is it that different?”

“Come over here and find out.” Aiden hesitated. “If you want to.”

He watched Harvard carefully for any sign of reluctance, telling himself that if he saw even a trace, he’d stop. He’d stop right now; he’d tell Harvard it was done.

Harvard nodded, bit his lip, and smiled. Shy, but eager.

Aiden had seen this expression on boys’ faces a thousand times, but never on Harvard, so it was like seeing that look for the first time. Like seeing a sunrise for the first time after learning the word sun, wonder given bright new meaning.

Harvard put on one of their favorite movies and came over to the bed. Aiden felt the give of the mattress under his body as Harvard crawled over to be next to him.

Initially, it wasn’t that different. They had watched movies together a million times before. Aiden had always possessed a buzzing, constant awareness of Harvard, where Harvard was in relation to him, where they were touching and where they weren’t.

The awareness was magnified; now Aiden could hope it was—to some degree—mutual.

They laughed and joked through the opening credits and romance in the sunset, then watched with more focus as a Spaniard and a masked man in black had a duel on the edge of a cliff.

Then the Spaniard revealed that he wasn’t actually left-handed.

He switched his sword to his right hand and swung into the fight with renewed vigor. The duel at the cliff’s edge recommenced, steel swinging and slicing bright in the sun’s rays.

Harvard pointed. “You know, right there is when the stuntman catches the sword out of frame.”

“I know.”

Aiden did know. Harvard always told him this fact at this precise moment. Aiden had watched this movie without Harvard once—on a date. Seeing the sword fly without the familiar murmur had upset Aiden enough

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