The Book of Firsts

Sixty-Four

Darcy remained an anonymous girl until just before start of school on Monday morning. Walking to Home Room felt like the aftermath of a national disaster, with every second person I saw either glued to their phone, showing images to friends, arguing, or whispering in corners.

"Your expression is so funny, Mika," Lania said, as I sat down. "So perplexed."

"Ultimately, they’re just three boys. They’re attractive and talented, but the fact that they have a pretty male friend doesn’t nearly warrant this reaction. Especially over what turned out to be thoroughly innocuous pictures."

"It’s just the idea of it, I think," Lania admitted. "Even if the foursome part isn’t true, the idea of any one of them being gay or bi is, well, fun for Sean."

"Given all the art Sean’s posted on exactly that subject…"

"Yes, but there’s a big difference between fantasy and one of them actually running around with a boyfriend."

"Mm." I paused, bit back a lot I wanted to say about everyone deserving privacy, and asked: "Any guesses who’s been following them about with a camera?"

"Could be anyone. Ever since the drama with Tomas, I’ve felt that people I’ve known for years might be completely different below the surface."

"Like you and your secret nerd nature?"

Lania laughed, and shrugged. "I think I’m getting out from underneath the shadow, enough I can’t imagine what ever made me think I needed to hide it. You, at least, make no bones about your obsessions. How did the design go?"

"Good. I couldn’t do the full bridge justice, of course—not without taking up too much of the dance floor—but a scaled down version of one side of it, along with some judiciously painted backdrop, could be spectacular. I sent the plans and rough costings off to Carr, who liked it, and sent it on to Celeste, who very much likes it. They think there’s a good chance it will be approved, particularly if the woodworking teacher passes it."

"It’ll be on the Student Council agenda, then. Council items are considered by the faculty the next morning, so you’ll probably have an answer by tomorrow lunch."

Lania’s prediction came true, and I was delayed Tuesday lunchtime for a meeting with a Ms Johnson to discuss the practical aspects of building a large structure in the sports facility. Ms Johnson was short, round, redheaded, and possibly my soul mate. If she hadn’t had a faculty meeting, I may have forgotten Bran altogether in favour of excitedly talking over the strange and amazing models we’d built. We made an appointment so I could show her the thread technique I’d used on the Sunseeker Bridge model, and then I made my way to the garden, trying not to too obviously check behind me for errant photographers.

Bran was waiting at the fence, and opened the bars with practiced twists. I went straight to the summer house, leaving him to tidy up behind, and realised as I put my backpack down that even without seeing a single person on that path, my shoulders were stiff with tension.

Obedient to my request, Bran shut the doors after coming in, then stepped forward and folded me into his arms.

"I’m sorry," he said.

Startled, I lifted my hands to his chest, but didn’t push him away.

"Couldn’t do this last Friday, but I think you needed it then. You were completely white."

"I felt I might be. I tried to carry it off."

"Lania didn’t seem to notice. And you kept your expression well. But you should never have had to face the possibility in the first place."

I decided to let the Mika from last Friday appreciate the moment, and leaned against him, remembering how sick and panicked I’d been.

"Few things strike me as less desirable than to be supporting actor in any form of revenge porn. Have you worked out yet who has it in for you?"

"No." He let go of me, but only to shift us to sit together on the couch. "Someone using a VPN. Not even necessarily a revenge thing—they could just think of it as exciting gossip. Do you usually go to sleep as soon as you get home?"

"I think that was a shock reaction. My pulse stayed through the roof until halfway through my bus trip, when my brain finally started to break down likely cause and effect." Bran’s arms tightened in response, and I let myself enjoy the clear care. "Without photos, I think I could brazen it out, even if people thought I was, um, playing around with you three. But photos would have destroyed a lot of things for me."

He stroked my hair. "We thought we were being careful. Now, we truly will be. I even did a scan of the whole garden, looking for signals from hidden cameras. It helps that people truly believe at least one of us is hooking up with Darcy."

"Does that bother you?" I asked, curious.

Bran snorted. "There’s always talk about us with this person or that person, most of whom I wouldn’t be seen dead with. Darcy’s decent—it’s not an embarrassment to be associated with him. We’ll not bother to deny it, at any rate."

His voice dropped lower and lower as he said this, thrumming in my ear. He rubbed his cheek against mine, then began to kiss my throat. I slid a hand up his back, and responded unhurriedly. Leisurely touches, deepening kisses.

The slow, tender style Bran had started to prefer always left me feeling very contemplative in the aftermath, and more vulnerable than I liked. Taking a few breaths, I watched a pulse jumping in his throat as he settled, then deliberately chose a light note.

"Does the school uniform count as your fantasy costume, or do you have a dress hidden somewhere?"

"It’ll do."

"In all its oversized, knee-length glory?"

"Other than perhaps what you wore on the beach that night, your uniform is the look I associate most with you. And it’s so unnecessarily bulky, I’m always glad to take it off you."

I laughed, and snuggled against him. "Do you want a photo?"

"Not for the purpose you seem to mean it," he said, a little flatly.

Lifting my head, I considered the hint of storm in his eyes, then lay back down and very deliberately started talking about a scheduled update for Tyranny. Casual conversation, firmly moving the tone back to the friendly basis which seemed safest.

After overcoming initial hurdles, Bran had lost interest in the structure of the game, and focused simply on enjoying his time with me, not hiding that he felt leaving Corascur wouldn’t mean it was over. The challenges had simply become excuses to meet. But then, I hadn’t recorded the result for any of these encounters for months. When the whole thing was over, I’d work out some credible scores that left them almost evenly matched, and flip a coin as to who won the game. There was no way I’d hurt one of them by leaving him trailing by any significant amount.

I’d gotten too involved as well, and all I could do now was enjoy it while it lasted, and minimise the damage.