Noah lingers at his locker before the lunch bell, hoping to catch a glimpse of Doug Hathaway. The guy plays on the football team and Noah's liked him since freshman year. He doesn't know Doug really -- he sees him in the hall between classes or jogging down his sidewalk because he delivers the morning paper, that's about it. They're in the same grade but take different classes, they aren't even friends ... but Noah likes his dark eyes, the color of his hair, the shape of his lips. If he were braver, or more popular perhaps, or maybe just more self-confident, he would cross the fifteen lockers that separate his from Doug's and talk to the guy already, but he can't. What would he say?

Down the hall Noah hears Doug laugh, a sharp sound that slices easily through the noise of the other students. Noah's heart quickens and he catches a glimpse of that wavy brown hair before his name is shrieked in his ear. "Noah!" It's Melissa Bradshaw, head cheerleader, and she falls back against the locker next to his with a giggly sigh. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Noah doubts it. Melissa may live next door to him but in school, she usually acts like he doesn't exist. With her blonde curls sprayed into place, glitter glossed on her lips and eyelids, she gives him a smile that says she knows she's pretty. Noah glances down the row of lockers and watches Doug rummage through his notebooks. She follows his gaze -- when Doug looks over at them, she gives a little wave that pisses Noah off. "What do you want?" he growls.

Her smile cranks up a notch. "I want to know when you plan on asking me to the Homecoming dance."

"I --" Noah starts, then her words sink in. "What?"

"It's only three weeks away," Melissa tells him. "I know you haven't asked anyone yet --"

Noah shakes his head in disbelief. "Because I'm not going."

"No-ah," she says with a breathless laugh.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he wants to know. She can't be serious ... "Why me? You're just wasting your time --"

"No, you're wasting my time," Melissa snaps. Noah looks around and sees that they've attracted a crowd; worse, Doug is still at his locker, watching this. Watching him. "I have a dress all picked out but we have to match. What color are you going to wear?"

"I'm not going," he says again. Someone laughs but Noah doesn't think this is very funny. Even Melissa's grinning, the little bitch. Angry, he slams his locker shut and shrugs her hand off his arm. "I'm not taking you to the dance."

Then he storms off, elbowing his way through the crowd amid the catcalls and giggles. It's not until he reaches his classroom that he realizes Doug's signature laugh wasn't among those following him down the hall.

Somehow he makes it through the rest of the day without running into her again. But word gets around his school easily and by his last class, Noah's had two more girls ask him to the dance. What, just because Melissa's noticed he's alive, everyone else clues in now, too?

Everyone but Doug.

After school, Noah goes home to an empty house -- there's a note on the fridge from his mom that says she ran out to the store. As he searches the cabinets for something to snack on, the front doorbell rings and he groans -- it's probably Melissa, back to pester him again. He holds his breath and waits, but five seconds later the doorbell rings again, longer this time, persistent. Whoever it is knows he's home. Damn. Noah waits for the third ring before he flings the front door open, pissed all over again. "What --"

Doug Hathaway fills the door frame and Noah takes a step back. "What," he tries again, but there's nothing after that and his mouth hangs open, forgotten, until he realizes how stupid he must look. So he clears his throat and hopes he sounds casual as he stammers out, "Doug. Hey."

"I'm collecting for the paper," Doug tells him.

The unnerving way he looks at him makes Noah self-conscious, and the faintest hint of a smile tugs at one corner of Doug's mouth. "Collecting what?" Noah asks.

The smile strengthens. "Money?"

Noah simply stares at him. "For what?"

"The paper?" Doug prompts. When Noah doesn't respond, Doug flashes him a quick smile that kicks his hormones into overdrive. "I came to get your payment for the newspaper."

"Oh." Of course, the paper. Noah gets it now -- he should've known. The man of my dreams is a bill collector. His voice trembles slightly when he admits, "My mom isn't home." Doug watches him, waiting, and Noah's cheeks flush as he adds, "Um, she has the checkbook with her. She should be here soon, if you want to come back --"

Doug cuts him off. "Can I wait?"

"What?" Noah's heart skips a beat. "Here?"

With a shrug, Doug says, "If you don't mind."

"No," Noah assures him. "You want to come in, or something?" He stands aside to let Doug into the living room -- he's here, his mind whispers and Noah breaks into a thin sweat, in my house, here with me, ALONE -- suddenly his skin feels two sizes too small and he shoves his hands into his pants pockets just to keep them to himself. As Doug takes a look around, Noah searches for something to say, but all he comes up with is, "You thirsty?"

With a shrug, Doug turns that smile his way. "What do you have that I might like?"

Noah's mind goes blank. "I don't know," he says, which makes Doug laugh, a delicious sound that Noah wants to capture and listen to again and again. "I'll go see."

When he moves towards the kitchen, he trips over his own feet like a dork but a strong hand catches his elbow before he can stumble. "Careful," Doug says with a grin. "I haven't been here two minutes and you're already falling for me."

Oh jeez. Is it that obvious? Noah tries to pull away but Doug holds on tight, steadying him. "I'm fine," Noah mumbles as he tugs against Doug's grip. Doug's fingers sear his skin and he wonders what would they feel like on his face, his chest, lower? Like a lit match, Noah thinks, and his flesh would go up in flames. What a lovely way to burn.

Doug won't release his arm. He's looking at Noah, willing him to meet his gaze, but Noah keeps his eyes downcast and doesn't dare look up. Softly, his voice low, Doug asks, "Noah?"

He knows my name, Noah thinks. The moment stretches between them, unreal. Then those fingers loosen and Doug rubs his hand up under Noah's shirt sleeve and back down Noah's arm to squeeze his wrist. "So no Homecoming dance for you, eh?"

Noah tries to jerk away but Doug doesn't relax his grip. "Very funny," he growls. "Let go."

Doug's hand slips into Noah's; their fingers lace together. "It's sort of my fault," he admits. Noah twists his hand in Doug's to break free and isn't surprised to find that he can't. The guy plays football, for Christ's sake. "I'm really sorry."

"How's it your fault?" Noah asks. Outside he hears a car pull into their gravel driveway -- the engine idles for a few seconds, then shuts off as a door creaks open. Noah's all too aware of the hand in his and the sweat that slicks his palm. "My mom's home."

Talking fast, Doug tells him, "Last Friday, after the game? The whole team went over Matt's to celebrate because his parents weren't home, the cheerleaders too. At some point the guys sort of divvied up the girls and snuck away until it was just me and Melissa sitting there staring at each other like idiots."

"What, she hit on you too?" Noah asks. Outside he can hear his mom messing with those flimsy plastic bags she gets from the grocery store. He tries again to pull his hand from Doug's, but it's a half-hearted attempt and he doesn't succeed. "I can't believe she's that hard up for a date."

"Let me finish." Doug's thumb rubs along Noah's wrist, a tender touch that he wants to fall into, but he won't let himself enjoy this moment just in case it turns out to be some sort of joke. Out in the driveway, his mom hollers for him to help out, but when his gaze flickers up to meet Doug's, he can't move, can't look away. Seizing on the moment, Doug whispers, "Yeah, she made a move." It takes Noah a second to remember they're talking of Melissa here. "I told her no. Told her why." Before Noah can ask, he adds, "You know why."

Noah nods -- he knows. It's the same reason why he himself turned down the prettiest girl in the school, and why at this moment his heart thuds in his chest like a furious bass line just because Doug is so damn close. Why Noah's liked this guy for the past two years, an eternity in high school, and why he's dreamed of this moment over and over again, a million different scenarios that would lead to something Noah hasn't quite dared to think about yet. It involves more than Doug's hand in his, though, and God knows his mother isn't in it.

Another step; they're so close now that Noah can smell cherry-flavored bubblegum on Doug's breath. His mother's voice cuts off in mid-holler, then brightens. "Melissa!" she calls. "How nice of you to give me a hand."

"Did she freak out?" Noah asks. Another moment and she'll be in the house, he can ask her himself, but he wants to hear it in Doug's voice. "What'd she say?"

he hand in Noah's tightens. "She said she knew," Doug tells him, flashing that smile again. "Said my secret's safe with her, but only if I told her who I liked like that in our grade. When I mentioned you, she was all, ‘No way!'" Doug's voice raises an octave in eerie imitation of Melissa's Valley Girl shriek. Noah laughs, which makes Doug's smile linger and his foot bumps Noah's when he moves nearer. "She said you weren't like that, she should know, she's lived next door to you since kindergarten, and I said I thought she might be wrong. I hoped --"

"She's wrong," Noah breathes.

Something in his chest loosens at the admission -- it feels so good to tell someone, finally, someone who understands. Someone who feels the same. In the kitchen, the screen door squeals open and Melissa's loud voice drifts towards them like a cloud. "It's no problem, Mrs. Jackson. You know I like to help. In fact, that's why I came on over. I need your help."

From the corner of his eye Noah sees her, framed by the archway that separates the living room from the kitchen. She looks just like she did when she leaned against his locker, not a hair out of place despite the grocery bags she's carrying. Noah's mother is still outside, struggling with the screen door. When Melissa sets the bags on the kitchen table, she senses something that makes her turn towards him and in that instant, Doug leans in and presses his lips against Noah's with a sweet, damp crush. If it weren't for the hand holding his and the arm that suddenly comes up around his waist to hold him close, Noah would melt to the floor.

As the world falls away with Doug's kiss, Noah barely hears Melissa's frustrated cry.

THE END