BEGINNINGS

Anyone who had been inside Ricky’s house would understand why he felt a little out of place walking through the lobby of the Ambassador. Even dressed in his best – and only – pair of dress slacks, his shirt tucked in for once and his hair more or less lying flat, he felt conspicuous. He always felt weird about walking into the hotel, but it was worse than usual today because he was alone.

Every other time he’d gone to Clifford’s place the other boy had been with him – well, there was that one time when Ricky had climbed the fire escape to Clifford’s balcony, but that didn’t really count because he’d never actually gone inside. This marked the first time he’d actually walked into the lobby on his own, and he wasn’t sure whether or not the fact that the entire staff recognized him made him feel better or worse.

He wouldn’t have minded being able to blend into the background, but that was something he’d never been very good at. Even before everything that happened with his brother he’d never been able to help standing out; he’d been half a head taller than all the other kids even in grade school, and he was still growing at a rate that frustrated his mother whenever she was home long enough to watch him eat.

So disappearing into the scenery wasn’t an option, and it didn’t help Ricky feel any more comfortable about what he was about to do. At the time it had felt good to take the out Clifford offered him, good enough to make him agree more readily than he ever expected to forgetting about what had happened between them. All the way home he’d told himself they could put it behind them, that it was just a bad idea that never needed to happen again. He wanted to believe it so much that he didn’t think of anything else while he cleaned up and changed his clothes, but as soon as he walked into the lobby of the Ambassador reality came crashing back down on him.

It felt as though every single person in the hotel knew what he and Clifford had done, as though they could all look at him and read it written all over his face. And even if they didn't know about the kiss, all they had to do was take one look at him and see that he didn't have any business being there. His clothes were all wrong and he didn't know how to act, and no matter how hard he scrubbed he couldn't get all the dirt out from under his fingernails. It was only a matter of time before they noticed…or maybe they'd already noticed, and it was just a matter of time before they stopped feeling sorry for him and decided they didn't want him around the guests anymore.

Not even Clifford would be able to argue with that, because the truth was that Ricky didn't belong in his world. Sure, maybe he was good enough to work in the hotel, maybe parking cars behind the scenes, but he shouldn't be handing over his motorcycle to the doorman for valet parking. For a second when the doorman tried to take his keys Ricky had thought he was going to tell him to turn around and go back where he came from; it had taken him a full minute to realize what was happening, and when the truth sank in he'd been too embarrassed to do more than mumble an awkward 'thanks'.

By the time he made it halfway across the lobby at least four people had waved to him, and he was on the point of turning around and going home when he caught sight of Clifford hurrying toward him. For one hysterical moment he thought about making a break for it anyway, but he knew if he did Clifford would follow him. Besides, he wasn't exactly sure what they'd done with his bike.

"Hey," Clifford said when he reached Ricky. His cheeks were flushed and he sounded a little breathless, but Ricky tried hard not to think about how good it looked on him. "You hungry? Gramma's waiting in the dining room, come on."

He didn't wait for an answer, which was fine with Ricky since he had a feeling his voice wasn't working. Part of him was afraid if he opened his mouth he'd say something stupid that they'd both end up regretting, but Clifford didn't seem bothered by his silence. He was leading the way toward the dining room, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds and giving Ricky a grin that did strange things to his stomach. The sensation was distracting enough to make him forget all the eyes on them as they crossed the dining room, finally coming to a stop next to a table near the kitchen.

Mrs. Peache was already sitting down, and when they reached the table she looked up and fixed him with an appraising look that made Ricky wonder if she could see right into his mind. It was the same look Clifford had given him more than once, and it was just as disconcerting coming from his grandmother. "Sit down, sit down," she said when they both just stood there, Ricky staring warily at her and Clifford still grinning as though he'd just single-handedly taken on Moody and his entire gang.

As soon as he realized what he was doing Ricky mumbled something that might have been an apology and sank into the first chair he saw, feeling even clumsier than usual with both of them staring at him. He'd eaten there more times than he could count in the past few months, but suddenly it felt like he was under some kind of microscope, and he couldn't help wondering what exactly Clifford had told his grandmother about what happened between them. He glanced over at Clifford, almost expecting to be able to read the answer in the other boy's expression, but Clifford was already reaching for the tray of food at the center of the table.

He felt more out of place than he'd ever felt in his life, except maybe for the first time he'd walked into the clinic after he tried to put himself out of his misery that time last year. That time he'd felt like everyone in the room was staring at him, but at least the other patients were all crazy too. Here in the Ambassador's dining room he was surrounded by sane people, and it felt like every single one of them was looking right into him and seeing all his secrets. Maybe Clifford saw it too; maybe that was the reason he'd taken pity on Ricky, because Clifford knew nobody else was ever going to give him a chance.

That didn't explain what had made Clifford kiss him, though, unless that was just another one of the younger boy's strange attempts at sympathy. Maybe he figured nobody else would ever want Ricky; it would be just like him to try and make Ricky feel needed without thinking about consequences. He couldn't have thought about what he was doing, because if he had he never would have done it. There was no way he would have run the risk of saddling himself with Ricky as a…a what? Boyfriend?

The thought sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, and Ricky started and blushed the color of Mrs. Peache's red sweater when he felt Clifford's hand on his arm. When he realized what Clifford wanted his blush deepened even more, and he took the tray of food and piled some on his plate without paying attention to what he was doing. He had to pull himself together if he was going to get through the next few hours, but he had no idea how he was supposed to do that when he couldn't even hear the sound of Clifford's voice without flinching.

"So Cliffy tells me you're building yourself another motorcycle," Mrs. Peache said, drawing Ricky's attention away from his rambling, increasingly incoherent thoughts. "Got yourself a regular business going, huh? I wouldn't mind taking a spin on one of those things."

He couldn't help smiling at the thought of Mrs. Peache on the back of his bike, and he glanced at Clifford in time to find the other boy grinning back at him. His heart skipped a beat but he ignored it and reminded himself forcefully that they were just friends. Clifford smiling at him didn't mean anything more than it had before the other boy decided to kiss him, and the sooner he got used to that idea the better off they'd both be. "It's just something to do."

"That's some hobby. Are you gonna teach Cliffy to put together a bike? I bet he'd be good at it, he's a smart one." Mrs. Peache glanced over at Clifford long enough to wink at him, and Ricky was almost sure he saw Clifford's cheeks color a little. So he had told his grandmother something about what happened. Ricky had never felt so much like dying of embarrassment in his entire life.

"I guess. I mean if he's interested," Ricky answered, barely aware of the sound of his own voice as he tried to decide how much Mrs. Peache knew. It was hard to say for sure if she knew the whole story or if she was just making conversation, but he had a sinking feeling that she knew something.

"Course he is, aren't you, Cliffy?" she said, reaching over to pat her grandson's arm. "Never hurts to learn a trade, after all."

Ricky was tempted to point out that Clifford wasn't really cut out to be a mechanic, but he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. The truth was that he'd always pictured Clifford doing something important like becoming a doctor or maybe a teacher; working on cars was for guys like Ricky, who were good with their hands but not so great with books. He'd always been more comfortable when he was covered head to toe in axle grease than when he was sitting in a classroom, but he couldn't see Clifford going for that kind of life. It would be a waste, for one thing; Clifford was a lot smarter than Ricky, and he could do anything he set his mind to.

"I want to," Clifford said, surprising Ricky into looking over at him again. Part of him expected the other boy to be humoring his grandmother, but when their eyes met he saw genuine excitement in Clifford's expression. The look on the other boy's face sent a jolt of anticipation down Ricky's spine, although he wasn't exactly sure what he was anticipating. They'd spent plenty of time together before, and Clifford had even helped him finally finish and then repair his first bike. So he wasn't that surprised to hear Clifford express an interest in helping him, but he hadn't expected him to look so excited about it.

All Ricky could do was nod before he looked back down at his food again, pretending he hadn't eaten in a week so Clifford wouldn't see the blush creeping into his cheeks. He had a sinking feeling he'd been fooled into something he wasn't going to like, but he couldn't see a way out of it without making them both wonder what was wrong with him. He couldn't just get up and walk back out of the hotel without raising a bunch of questions he didn't want to answer, so instead he just concentrated on his dinner and pretended to listen while Clifford and his grandmother talked about the possibility of Mr. Peache letting Clifford have a motorcycle of his own.

~

So far things were going…not that bad, Clifford decided, casting another glance over his shoulder to make sure Ricky was still following him. They'd made it through dinner, although Clifford had a feeling there were a few times when Ricky had considered getting up and running out of the room. He had a feeling he knew what the other boy was so nervous about, but he'd promised to forget it and he was going to keep his word. He wasn't going to try to kiss Ricky again; he wasn't even going to bring it up, at least not until the other boy mentioned it first.

He wasn't about to pass up any opportunity to spend time with Ricky, though, not now that he had his friend back. For a few terrifying seconds when Ricky had pulled him into that alley Clifford had been sure that was going to be the end of any chance they had of patching things up, but somehow Ricky had changed his mind and Clifford wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that.

Still, there had been a few times during dinner when Ricky had looked at him a certain way, and Clifford was almost sure he was still thinking about the kiss. Maybe he'd never do anything about it, but as long as it was still on his mind that meant there was still a chance for them. Clifford certainly wasn't in any danger of forgetting about it, but Ricky's friendship meant more to him than the chance at another kiss, no matter how much he wanted it. Not that he was that excited about the prospect of going through high school without ever kissing anybody again, but if that was what it took he'd do it. He didn't want anybody besides Ricky anyway, especially now that he knew what it felt like when Ricky touched him.

So maybe Ricky would never come around, but something told Clifford that if he was just patient he might be surprised. Then again, he was probably just putting too much stock in what his grandmother had told him earlier. He knew she meant well, but the truth was that she didn't have a clue what had happened between them. So maybe she'd been right about Ricky coming around eventually, but she couldn't know that Clifford was hoping for a lot more than just working on Ricky's bike together.

He led Ricky into the suite and closed the door behind the other boy, clearing his throat nervously before he looked up at his friend. "You wanna study in my room?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. It was the first time they'd really been alone since the kiss, and he couldn't help worrying that Ricky would see right through his act and know exactly what Clifford was thinking about.

Ricky just shrugged and let Clifford lead him toward the back of the suite, his hands in his pockets as he stopped just inside the room and looked around. It wasn't the first time Ricky had seen his room, but it felt different after everything that had happened over the last few days. The air felt charged with a weird energy that made Clifford anxious and a little uncomfortable. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, crossing to his desk to find his English notes amid the pile of homework he'd dumped there the day before.

"Sit down," he said when he looked up and realized Ricky was still standing in the doorway. He gestured toward the bed before he realized what he was doing, looking quickly away as Ricky pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few reluctant steps further into the room.

He was tempted to tell Ricky that he wasn't planning to jump him again, but he had a feeling it wouldn't go over quite the way he meant it. Instead he turned back to his desk, pretending to look for his notes until he got himself under control. When he thought it was safe to look at Ricky again he pulled his English notebook out of the pile and turned around, sinking into his desk chair before his hormones managed to talk him into sitting on the bed with Ricky. Even if he tried he had a feeling Ricky wouldn't put up with it for very long, so he stifled a sigh and flipped his notebook open to the pages the test was supposed to cover.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Clifford asked, the sound of Ricky's voice in the silence of the room nearly making him drop his notebook. For a second he thought maybe the other boy was referring to his promise to forget about the kiss and move on, but when he looked up Ricky was studying him suspiciously.

"That stuff about wanting to help me build my bike," Ricky answered.

A warm rush of disappointment followed Clifford's immediate sense of relief, and he hoped it wouldn't show on his face. "Yeah, sure," he answered as nonchalantly as he could. "It's something to do, right? Besides, it was kind of fun last time."

For awhile Ricky didn't answer, and finally Clifford decided that was the end of the conversation and looked back down at his notes again. He flipped through a few pages without really paying attention to the words, realizing too late that studying with Ricky was going to be a lot harder than he'd anticipated. When he looked up again the other boy was still watching him, but Clifford ignored the fluttering in his stomach and managed what he hoped was a cheerful grin. "So do you think she's really gonna put all of this on the test?"

Ricky's shrug clearly said 'beats me' – or maybe it was 'who cares?'. Either way Clifford had a feeling he wasn't the only one having a hard time focusing on their English test, but he couldn't think of anything else to do that might distract them.

"You can come by tomorrow if you want."

"What?" Clifford asked, forgetting to act nonchalant when Ricky's voice broke the silence again. He'd never given much thought to the sound of Ricky's voice until he had to go a whole twenty-four hours without hearing it; he hadn't even realized how used to it he'd gotten, but when he thought he'd lost Ricky he'd started to notice a lot of things he'd never thought about before. He was surprised by how much he missed the smell of tobacco, for instance, and he'd never realized how much time he spent touching Ricky until he couldn't do it anymore.

"If you wanna help you can come by the garage tomorrow. I gotta flush the fuel line, then I have to look for some new parts. The back fender's pretty rusted, I don't think I can use it."

"Oh. Right…I mean sure, I can come by tomorrow." Clifford looked down at his notebook again, trying and failing to stifle a grin. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when Ricky came over; to be honest, he was just glad the other boy had showed up. Until he saw Ricky walk into the lobby Clifford hadn't been positive he was going to show, but now he knew that Ricky had missed him as much as he'd missed Ricky. At least he was pretty sure that was why Ricky wanted him to help with the bike, and he was willing to take what he could get for now. Any time he got to be around Ricky was worth it, no matter what they were doing.

"Wear something you can get dirty."

Clifford's head shot up before he could stop it, but he covered as well as he could with a cough. "Right. Dirty," he repeated, stopping just short of rolling his eyes at himself. So far his plan to play it cool wasn't working nearly as well as he'd hoped, but if Ricky noticed he didn't say anything. Clifford breathed an inward sigh of relief and turned back to his English notes, hoping he hadn't done any more damage to the already fragile state of their friendship. All it would take was one wrong move from him and Ricky would be gone again, maybe for good this time.

That wasn't an option, though, and Clifford was going to do everything he could to make sure it didn't happen. He reminded himself of what his grandmother had said: He's a smart boy, that Linderman. Just give him a little time. She had no way of knowing what had happened between him and Ricky, but it was still good advice. Ricky was smarter than he gave himself credit for, and eventually he'd see that he and Clifford were right together. So Clifford was willing to wait as long as it took; it was worth the wait, one kiss had already told him that.

 

 

Uncertain Hour