Being alone together is one thing, but out in public is another thing altogether. It's getting to be too much for the boy.
It's easy to pass off Shane's actions as normal, but that doesn't stop Zach from feeling self-conscious every time the boy touches him in front of the others. When he looks at Shane, he knows exactly what he's thinking and is convinced everyone else does too.
They know...they just do. They have to. It's like a game, one he feels he is losing...badly. So many times in a day Shane goes in for a kiss and Zach has to stop him, playing it off as a joke or a stumble. He can never seem to deny the subtle fingers that find his behind turned backs or under crowded tables. Shane touches his hair or brushes his arm, tugs at his clothes, and each time Zach almost turns right around to kiss him before realizing what he is doing. He's finding it harder and harder to deny the persistent boy.
Shane sighs in a way that makes him seem so happy and so annoyed all at once. He touches his foot lightly with his own in ways that make Zach think he'll go crazy no matter where they are. And always with that look of his. It's all he can do to get home to where they can be alone, where they don't need to hold back.
At the moment, however, they are clearly not at home.
The ride back to the old man's farmhouse is filled with sweaty bodies and steamy skin. Shane's hand is traveling up Zach's spine beneath his shirt, and Zach shifts in the truck attempting to warn the boy of the witnesses beside him.
Once they arrive at the house, Shane doesn't eat his food-not because he isn't hungry but because his hands are busy elsewhere, tugging at Zach's arm, caressing his skin, begging to hold his hand beneath the shield of the table. He is boring holes into the side of Zach's face with his eyes. Zach shoves spoonful after spoonful of food into his mouth then jumps up from his chair in victory.
"I'm going to wash my plate in the kitchen!" he calls out, then hunches toward the door. The old man's wife waves him off with a grateful smile.
Clattering silver and dinnerware fill his ears as he tosses them in the sink and takes a calming breath. The kitchen door swings open to reveal the very person he just managed to escape. The boy is glowing as the door swings shut once more. It's almost too much for Zach to handle in the already bright kitchen. With large strides, Shane closes the distance between them. Zach backs up from his kiss.
"You're gonna make me go crazy," he gripes with a hand pushing back on Shane's chest.
"And I am going crazy out there today. Just for a while," he pleads, already pulling him in. Zach whimpers; he has already lost the fight. How can he say no to that face?
Giving in, he wraps his arms around Shane and allows his weight to fall heavily against the sink behind him with its half-washed dishes and soapy water. Nothing feels better than Shane's body pressing firmly against his. And no force is more persuasive than Shane's reasoning, his guilty pleas.
After his hands find Zach's hips, he lifts him higher, pushing up with his mouth, hands, and hips. Zach pulls himself onto the countertop, ignoring the clattering plates and puddles of spilled water. He can't help but squeeze the boy tighter, wondering why he is the one being lifted in the air and not Shane. He laughs against Shane's lips, bringing his tongue against his before biting playfully at his lip. Shane brings his hands to Zach's hips, tracing the seams of his worn-out, borrowed jeans then down to his thighs, pushing his hands between them and the laminate counter.
Zach can't help but feel rebellious there, kissing Shane in the kitchen of the farmer's wife, wrapping his legs around the boy of his dreams. But that rebellion is short-lived.
His eyes fly open as the door swings wide once more.
"Oh!" gasps the old lady with a hand to her heart. She closes the door quickly behind her, then turns to take in the scene once more. The boys are guilty and it shows.
"Shane!" she scolds. "You know better than to fool around in my house. In my kitchen!"
Zach hops down off the counter landing heavily beside Shane in embarrassing shame. As he does, the woman eyes him with shock, clearly oblivious to them until now. Well, now she knows, thinks Zach. I blew it.
With a penitent nod, Shane makes his way back to the dining room, and before allowing him to follow, the woman grabs Zach by the wrist. When he looks into her eyes, his fear leaves as quickly as it appears. The woman shows concern, honest and simple, but nothing more. She is not there to scold him.
"I don't know much about you. But I know Shane. If this is going on, I have no doubt, that boy is sincere. I don't understand it but I refuse to let him get hurt." Zach nods, comprehending her words with gratitude.
"I..." She suddenly feels foolish, as though she'd stumbled onto a love affair and is suddenly secretly involved. "...won't tell anyone. And for now, it's best if you don't either."
"Thank you." He rubs his wrist at her release and leaves without another word.
The old woman lets out a heavy breath, fanning herself at the thought of two attractive boys embracing so earnestly in her kitchen. "Oh, dear me. This kitchen hasn't known that kind of action for years." She takes a moment to calm her fluttering heart before returning with the plate of fresh rolls.