Love, Lance - 6. I Gotta Feeling (2/2)

"I can't believe you flashed my gross brother!" Lance chastised her when they were alone in the bathroom together, the door closed and locked behind them. "You tart."

"What? It's my bloody sports bra! You can barely see cleavage! And he's seen me in bikinis a hundred times!" The two of them giggled as Lance stripped down naked, totally unafraid of his body when it was Jane with him - though he kept his back to her - and he hopped in the shower. "Don't get your hair wet, babydoll! I want to re-straighten and make you gorj."

"Wow, cut out the middleman and just call me an idiot next time," he retorted, his hair still bunched up behind his head and well away from the stream of hot water. "How are things with Davey boy, by the way? Have you let him have a go on those boobs yet? Does he know you're using them to control Nicky?" He used his own shower puff and body wash to scrub himself from the neck down. Body odour would not do tonight!

"Davey boy is actually a total prude," Jane laughed out loud, sitting on the counter next to the sink. "I love it, Lance! He wants to go on dates and make me feel special, and yeah he's a bit of a tit, but when we're alone, he never pressures me to do anything. He's a bit on the religious side. Abstinence and all that."

Lance felt a pang of envy. Sure, Bobby asked him out on a date, but Lance suspected he was looking for some fun more so than a relationship. That sucked. It made him doubt their compatibility even more. Lance had been crushing on this guy hardcore for a while, and Bobby only recently realised Lance existed after he broke up with his last fellow. Not to mention how... liberal Bobby had been with near-nude photos. Not that they weren't appreciated! But... still...

"Alright, how do you want to go out tonight?" Jane asked him when he was sitting at the desk in front of his mirror, a towel around his waist and his fit body on display. The bruises were still there, but they were on their way out. Good. "Full face? Subtle? Slutty?"

"Minimal, I think," Lance admitted, too shy to want to go hardcore glam. "Bobby likes masc boys. I don't wanna turn him off."

"No, get that idea out of your crust right now," she scolded him and slapped him on the bare chest, leaving a handprint. "If Bobby doesn't like you for the queen you are, then he can stick to a J. Arthur."

Lance couldn't help but laugh, and he let her apply a thin layer of concealer on his face and bring out his eyelashes with his good mascara. It was minimal indeed, but Lance liked it. Makeup was fun. It was an easy way to express himself. It just wasn't always appropriate to go full face, even if Jane thought he should look like a drag queen all day every day. She brushed and straightened his hair, and it tickled his shoulders, the bangs falling into his eyes.

"I wanna go blond again. Purple's cool, but my roots are starting to show," he lamented, realising that his natural hair colour was beginning to reveal itself. A scandal, it was.

"Really?" Jane put her face next to his and smiled happily at him in the mirror. "You look like a million quid, and you still found something to be self-conscious about? Worry about that tomorrow. Just focus on your date, okay? He's gonna wanna eat you up."

"I don't want him to eat me up!" Lance giggled, deciding that she was right. "I want him to like me!"

It didn't take him long to decide what he wanted to wear. Not long at all. Most of his clothes were home brand or cheap knockoffs, but winning a handful of competitions did net Lance a pretty penny that he dipped into to buy some designer clothes. He wore a white striped collared dress shirt underneath a scarlet coloured cardigan, spray-on black jeans and a pair of shiny dress shoes. He finished off the look with a red bowtie - his favourite. In the far back of his closet, he eyed a pair of gorgeous open-toed heels he would have loved to wear, if only he had the courage. Bobby was tall, after all, and Lance hadn't hit his growth spurt just yet. They'd only made it out of the closet twice when he wore them in his room for fun. One day I'll wear them out of the house. Maybe. When Lance entered the kitchen, dressed up and made up and ready as ever to meet up with Bobby in his wealthier, safer suburb, he was ambushed by his mother!

"Lamb Chop," Sue beamed at him, her silver hair tied back and her glasses perched on her nose. "Look at you! All ready to go on your first date! My littlest boy!" She cooed, getting her camera ready on her old flip phone. "Stand up against the wall, Lance! I need a photo! Oh, you look gorgeous!"

"Mum, absolutely not," Lance whined, but Jane, probably because of her handiwork, sided with Sue and forcibly shoved Lance up against the white kitchen wall. "Ugh."

"You've done a wonderful job with him, Jane," Sue's phone made annoying sounds as she snapped photo after photo.

"I know, right?" Jane laughed, approaching and brushing Lance's bangs so they sat right. "I'm an artist, but I couldn't do it without you providing me with a gorgeous canvas."

"Garth and I made some good looking kids," Sue chuckled, finally letting up. "Dunno how we did that. Maybe two ugly genes cancel each other out."

She was like this when Nicky went on his first date too. Nicky started early, ready to lose his virginity at twelve - though he wasn't successful for years - but Lance took a while longer to take an active interest in pursuing anyone.

"Now, here's fifty from your piggy bank," Sue handed him a note. "Please, Lance, be careful out there, okay? Come home by eight sharp. No later. And send me texts! If you need me to pick you up, call me."

"I'll be fine, thank you, honey," Lance blew her a cheeky kiss and smiled, and Jane marched him through to the front room. Nicky was there, to his surprise.

"Yo, Lance," he whispered as though he were worried Sue might see her sons talking like brothers who didn't despise each other. "If this guy gets handsy or something... let me know, okay?"

"I didn't know you cared," Lance replied, a violet-coloured eyebrow raised.

"... I don't!" Nicky snarked back, butting his little brother with his shoulder as he walked past. Whatever that was, it didn't last very long.

"I'm going home, babydoll, but good luck and you tell me every little detail!!" Jane kissed him on the cheek and hugged him goodbye as they parted ways.

It was easy to pass as a girl for Lance, and it was much safer to do so as well. People figured him for a young lady who dyed her hair as a way to take back some control from her parents - or something like that. When he got away from his immediate neighbourhood, the odds of someone assaulting him lessened considerably, and once he made it onto the train, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was comfortable from here on. At ease, he slipped his earbud in and let his music fill his ears. He loved his music.

I gotta feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night!
That tonight's gonna be a good, good night!

Tonight's the night, let's live it up
I got my money, let's spend it up
Go out and smash it like oh my God
Jump off that sofa, let's get, get off!

I know that we'll have a ball
If we get down and go out and just lose it all
I feel stressed out, I wanna let it go
Let's go way out spaced out and losing all control!

Hmm, maybe I don't want to have that good of a night, Lance thought cheekily, a shy smile coming up on his pink lips. While he was certainly old enough to fantasise about... naughty things... he wasn't sure he was ready to do all that yet. Did that make him strange in yet another way? Bobby was sexually active. Nicky was. Most of the boys in his grade were - according to them - and the class below. Bluster and bollocks, of course, but they were all super keen to get inside another person. Lance wanted to kiss and hug and breathe in Bobby's scent as they slow-danced the night away. Maybe touch his butt! Mayyybe...

"Hey," a young man wandered over to greet him, and Lance looked up apprehensively. "You're really pretty!" He was sixteen. Seventeen, maybe? A little overweight and a face full of pimples, with greasy brown hair and he hadn't yet changed out of his school uniform. Lance didn't know those colours, but the guy gingerly sat next to him.

"Thank you?" Lance smiled merrily at him, not sure if he should break the news that he wasn't a girl. How could he reliably avoid this social situation?

"I really like your hair," the teenager confessed, blushing underneath hazel eyes. "Do you live around here?"

"Thank you again, but I'm not in the habit of talking too much to strangers if that's okay," Lance smoothed his violet fringe with his violet nails.

"Oh," the boy looked to the floor and whispered something inaudible. "Sorry. Bye."

That was peculiar, Lance thought as the stranger walked all the way up to the next carriage and vanished from sight. I hope he's just shy and not... dangerous in some way. He shifted his attention away from the boy as he approached King's Cross, where Bobby promised to meet him under the big clock. Sure enough, Lance spotted him immediately. He was far more formally dressed! A long-sleeve shirt, black pants and laced up shoes, with a tie and everything! He'd shaved the sides and back of his head recently and spiked his hair at the front. It was immaculate, of course. His whole outfit. His smile and his eyes and his perfect bloody body. His wealthy family and his private school. Bloody bollocky balls. How do some people get so lucky? How can some people just be... so perfect at everything?

"You look better than I remember somehow," Bobby sang praise the moment Lance approached him, the charming son of a bitch. His voice was deep, and he spoke with a Yorkshire accent. "And I remember you looking sexy as hell."

"Yeah?" Lance smiled shyly, pulling his cardigan down and straightening his collar. "I'm not too... girly?"

Jane would slap him blue if she heard him saying that, but as much as she tried, she couldn't understand how hard that was for him. Boys loved girls like her. Slim, fit and curvy where it counted, with a pretty face and lovely auburn curls. Gay guys tended to prefer masculine guys, as far as he understood it. Fem guys like him were scorned.

"Too girly? Of course not!" Bobby took him by the hand, and the younger boy's heart soared. "I like it. It's not what I normally go for, I guess, but you're cute. Plus you're an amazing dancer. It's hot."

"You're better at it than I am," Lance sighed outwardly. Competitiveness was the nature of the sport, unfortunately, and Bobby was quicker, cleaner and more experienced. "Do you mind if we don't walk a whole lot today? I ran cross country and my body's probably only got half a kilometre left before I faint."

"Hahaha! Yeah, no sweat," Bobby slowed his pace, and Lance was grateful for that. "How did you do? Did you win? I bet you did."

"It wasn't really a contest," Lance explained with pride. Why shouldn't I brag a little? I earned it. "The one berk who might have contested me was banned from competition because he has to take any opportunity to make me feel like shit. Well, that came back to bite him, and I won by three and a half minutes."

"Bugger me, Lance! You don't take prisoners," Bobby laughed, quite often stealing glances at his companion. Lance noticed every time - he was doing the same thing! Looking at Bobby's cute grin, his buff arms and lean body. "Good work. Does this mean you're going interschool?"

"If I don't wind up with my Achilles slashed or hanging from a lamp post in the alley by my house, then yeah, I think so," Lance replied before realising how terrible a conversation that was for the social situation he was in. He didn't need or want Bobby's sympathy or concern. "I'm kidding. It just gets very competitive in my trashy side of town."

"I didn't know you were in a trashy part of London," Bobby remarked softly, some lines appearing on his forehead as he frowned. "You talk more like a posh guy than half the twats at my school."

"Of course! I wouldn't have it any other way," Lance grinned as the two stood by a platform and waited for the next train. He had no idea where Bobby was taking him! "When my face is all over the news, I damn sure won't be talking like some cockney git, you 'ear me?" He spoke in an exaggerated accent to get his point across, and Bobby cackled.

"Point taken. You're gonna be famous, huh? A supermodel? Pro athlete? Stripper?" The Serbian-Englishman teased, poking his tongue out and Lance turned pink.

"I don't know yet. I'd like to be a wrestler, but I don't think someone like me has a shot in a place like that," Lance mumbled, remembering how Garth and Nicky both told him to be realistic. "If my model shoot goes well in a fortnight... maybe that'll go somewhere! Or maybe you and I could be the best ballet dancers in the bloody word and take over the globe."

"Wrestling?" Bobby went back to that remark, an amused look on his face. "Like those prats on television who pretend to hit each other with chairs?"

"Those are the ones," Lance forced a smile, a little hurt by that.

Bobby was the ideal fellow, but if Diego Silva ever expressed interest, Lance would drop this wrestling-hating hoe like a sack of spuds and jump on the beautiful Brazilian in a heartbeat. Of course, when the train arrived, Bobby was insanely attentive, and that changed Lance's mind all over again. Maybe Bobby was a better catch than an unobtainable wrestler. He gently guided Lance in front of him and stayed super close. It made Lance feel safe. Protected. Worth a damn. Even though none of these strangers carried any kind of threat, Bobby didn't seem to want to take that chance and wanted Lance all to himself. That was sweet.

"You don't have to hold hands in public, do ya?" A middle-aged woman asked them, and while Lance was content to smirk at her and go on with his life, Bobby wasn't so mercurial.

"You didn't have to wear sandals to show off your fuckin' pig hooves in public, but you did anyway. Stones in glass houses, much?" He retorted, putting his arm around Lance's shoulder, to the boy's delight.

"Disgusting little cunt," the woman flipped him off and spent the rest of the trip shooting daggers at the young lovebirds.

"You didn't have to say that," Lance whispered to him, letting himself rest his head on Bobby's shoulder. He was right. Tonight really was going to be a good night!

"I did. Nobody gets to talk to me like that. Or you," Bobby leaned over and gave him a fond kiss on the cheek. Lance was sure he passed out from being overjoyed just for a few seconds. "Besides, she's well a closet lezzer. All the homophobes are."

"It's amazing, isn't it? How all the homophobes must be gay?" Lance tittered, comfortable in his friend's embrace. He could get very used to this. "It makes me scared that I'll realise one day I've actually been a giant spider with a bad haircut all along."

Bobby had plans for the evening, alright. That was a hell of a relief - Lance had no clue how to date or how to act on one. First on the itinerary was a trip to the cinema - cliché, perhaps, but Lance was quite happy to see a movie. Step Up 3 was showing and he'd loved the first two. So had Bobby, he found out, not that it was a surprise. And the young budding star paid for everything! The tickets, the popcorn and coke - though Lance didn't eat or drink much because the calories and sugar worried him - and the two sat together in the darkness. Bobby put his arm around Lance once more.

"If they make a fourth movie we should so be in it," Bobby whispered to him during the previews.

"The British fags? Won't that go down well?" Lance chuckled, but Bobby didn't find that so funny.

"Please don't use that word," he requested, gently brushing Lance's shoulder with his olive-tinged thumb. "I hate it."

"So do I," Lance looked guiltily down at his lap, his legs crossed. "Sorry. It just hurts less to hear it if I say it first. Or something. I don't know, don't look at me."

"No. Don't talk about yourself like that. Ever," Bobby instructed him. Pfft. Like he knows. Mr Perfect. "Who calls you that, by the way? Nobody at ballet."

"Nobody from ballet. Just everyone else. Everyone at school. Everyone outside of school. My own brother and sister," Lance replied, the bitterness and despair he was trying so hard to bottle up beginning to turn his mood. "It's fine. Being called a fag is the least of my worries."

"You have it rough, then?" Bobby didn't seem scared of the conversation, so Lance let him have it. It had been a long, long day to cap off a long week in a long year. A long bloody life and he hadn't even finished the tutorial years yet.

"I have friends at ballet and a few at school. That's it. Everyone else thinks I'm a freak of nature. They think that gives them the right to treat me like one. I'm always on eggshells - if I look at someone the wrong way, then they flip their lid and that's my whole day ruined. Just like that," he clicked his fingers and wiped his eyes with his hand. "Nobody but Jane ever stands up for me, because they think I bring it on myself. Like I deserve it. They all think I'm some gigantic fucking attention seeker, but that's not true - I need the boy in the mirror to match the boy inside, you know, and that apparently makes me fair game. Just for the way I look. I'm scared all the time. And with good reason. You send me these super hot photos of yourself without your clothes on, and I feel like a proper twat when I don't want to send any back because I'm hideous and bruised and ugly. When someone kicks my head in, nobody ever does anything about it because it's my fault. And... bollocks. I was glad to come out with you because I hoped it might stop me from going mental, but it's too fucking late, apparently. Why do you even like me, Bobby? I'm not some hyper masc super hung gym rat. I'm just a freak."

Bobby didn't answer right away. Those big, dark eyes looked at him with such pity that Lance felt ashamed of the way he acted. Bobby took his other hand and looked at it, running his fingers over Lance's long, painted nails. They were sharp and well manicured. Bobby brought his hand up to his face and gently kissed his fingers, and Lance's bottom jaw shook.

"I'm not sure how to react to all that," he sighed, honest with his reply. "I do like you, though. You're cute and you're really funny. So... I dunno what to tell you. I'm sorry things are shit for you. I guess I'm hoping that a movie and dinner at one of my favourite restaurants might make things a bit less shit."

Lance laughed out loud and brought Bobby's fingers over so he could have a turn at showing affection, kissing them tenderly.

"I hope I didn't put you off! There's nowhere I'd rather be right now. Nobody I'd rather be with! But do not tell Jane that," Lance turned to Bobby and smiled at him.

Bobby grinned, and he leaned forward. Lance's inner alarm bells began to blare. He was gonna have... His. First. Kiss! With Bobby! Sure enough, Bobby took charge and his soft, pretty pink lips gently brushed over Lance's, then they kissed them. Briefly, Lance felt like a grown adult. Like a layer of his innocence had been stripped away. But he kissed back - meekly and clumsily, but Bobby leaned in closer, his invitation accepted, and the two of them must have kissed nearly twenty-five times before the movie began for real and Bobby pulled away, cuddling Lance closer. Lance was a nervous, charged-up mess! It was perfect! Oh, mah gawd. Perfect. Bobby likes me. He wouldn't have been accurate sweet if he didn't! He wouldn't have kissed me like that if he didn't! So elated he was that he struggled to put all of his focus on the movie playing in front of him, too busy gushing internally about his first date. His first kiss. Bobby! Bobby bloody Petrović!

A few times during the slower parts of the movie, Bobby made sure to nuzzle Lance's cheek and kiss him. Every time, Lance felt like every Christmas, birthday, Easter, recital and KADA show had come at once. It wasn't long before he was even beginning to wonder what he might wear to their wedding. Bobby would be in a tux, of course, but what would Lance wear? Something slimming, of course. Something that made him look super pretty so that his future husband would never, ever look at one of those freakishly jacked teenage boys ever again! The movie came to a close and Lance was disappointed. He enjoyed being alone in the dark with his date. He definitely wanted to do that again!

"Do you still wanna come out for a bite?" Bobby asked, and Lance felt hot under his collar. "I wanna show you a place that's special to me."

"Yaaas!" He replied happily, and Bobby beamed and shyly looked away.

Oh gosh! He's as nervous as I am! That revelation was the icing on the cake, knowing that Bobby was trying to impress him. To woo him. Not just seduce him. He wondered where his date was taking him, walking on sore, tired legs down a busy main road through Notting Hill, Bobby's stomping grounds. Wealthy, multicultural, beautiful. Of course it was. Nothing like the army of white hooded thugs that prowled the streets of Peckham. They turned into a beautiful little building. Petrović Restoran. Lance knew at once where this was going.

"My family owns this place," Bobby reinforced his suspicions with pride.

A Serbian restaurant! Bobby wanted to share his culture with him. Awww! Lance went bright pink as his date brought him by the hand to the front desk, where an immaculately dressed young woman greeted him in their native language.

"Jana, this is Lance," Bobby introduced them, and the violet boy shyly waved and uttered a weak hello. "Lance, this is Jana, she's my big sister."

"Ohh, this is Lance!" Jana, looking a lot like a slimmer, shorter version of Bobby with longer hair and rich red lipstick, spoke in a different accent than her brother. Was it Serbian? He had no idea. "I've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally see you two around together."

"Really?" Lance wasn't sure how to react, nervously looking away. He talks about me to his family!

"I didn't book. Can you get us a table?" Bobby grinned cheekily at her, and she laughed.

"You're a lazy sod. Sure, go to fourteen, as long as you're out by seven, it's good," she smiled warmly and nodded at the younger boy. "Great to meet you, Lance."

"You too!" He smiled. He liked her already.

Bobby yanked away and brought him to a lovely little round white table near the front window. The place was gorgeous! Much nicer than any truck stop Garth ever took his kids to, or the minging McDonalds store. Potted ferns were hanging from hangers high up on the wooden wall, a terrific smell of cooking meat filled the air, and catchy foreign music played in the background.

"You were born in Serbia, weren't you?" Lance asked him after a short silence as he took in his surroundings.

"Yeah. In a city called Niš," he replied, his eyes sparkling with cheer. "I grew up in Leeds, though. That's why I talk like a wanker, innit? I totally blame my folks for that! But then we came to London a few years back when my Dad scored this place, and you've been there for the rest of the story. How about you?"

"Nothing even close to that! South Londoner all my life. That's literally all there is to me," Lance gave a half-chuckle. "So... what's good? What should I order?" It's all expensive, he thought. Luckily I have fifty quid to squander.

"Whatever you want," Bobby shrugged, tapping on the part of the menu that said Petrović. "You're with me, so you ain't paying. It's all good though. Fuckin' mint. Not just saying that because it's my folks' place."

"Are you trying to impress me?" Lance asked, looking at the English translation for the items on the menu. "By paying for everything and showing me how amazing your family is?"

"Something like that. Is it working?" Bobby sported a cocksure grin, and Lance chuckled.

"I'm thoroughly impressed - I just didn't want you to know," he replied.

Bobby continued to impress Lance throughout the meal, though. From far away, he seemed like an arrogant, perfect young man who took his privilege for granted, but Lance saw a different side to the teenager. He was polite and personable, greeting all of the employees in the restaurant by name and introducing his date. Not his friend or mate. His date. A potential boyfriend. Bobby wasn't at all shy to be seen with Lance, and that was special. Lance ended up ordering the pork ćevapčići: lumps of delightful kebab-like meat served on some flatbread with ajvar - a delicious peppery spread. There were a lot of rich flavours, few of which he'd experienced before, and his taste buds were dancing by the time he finished up. Unlike the fattening meals Sue cooked and the trashy grease-filled dinners at the diners Garth took him too, Lance ate up every single bite, and even happily sampled some of Bobby's goulash - although it was so spicy the boy coughed and spluttered and leaked fresh tears from his eyes. For dessert, Bobby ordered ruske kape - a delightful little cake with walnuts, coconut and chocolate drizzle. Just the one, as the two of them liked to keep a close eye on their sugar intake. Sharing was a million times more romantic than having one each, Lance thought.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Bobby asked as he escorted Lance to the nearest train station, their bellies both full to bursting. "Can I interest you in another date?"

"Yes! And yes!" Lance gushed, covering his mouth with his hands to hide the small burp that found its way out. "I had so much fun, and I'd love to do this again!"

"Awesome," Bobby paused before the two boarded the platform. "I'll see you at ballet tomorrow, yeah?"

"I hope so," Lance swung his arms around the other lad and pushed their lips together, initiating a kiss for the first time. Bobby was very receptive and hungrily returned the love.

"Hey Lance," Bobby used his fingers to brush the hair from Lance's eyes. "Don't be shy to send me photos, okay? Even if it's just a head shot. I like to see you, and I'd like to see... more of you, heh. You have such a nice body. But only if you're okay with it. You don't have to, but I just don't want you to think you're too ugly."

"Then I'll make sure I send you something tonight as a big thank you!" Lance bit his lip seductively, and he believed he saw the pupils in Bobby's eyes dilating just a little bit. "Goodnight."

When he boarded the train alone, he felt like he'd left half of his soul behind! He waved to Bobby, who beamed and waved back until the train was out of sight, and then his phone buzzed.

Bobby: < missing u already xxx >

Lance's smile never left his face until he made it home and went to sleep in his bed. Even then, he dreamed of a sweet, attentive and naked Bobby Petrović, who used his soft, warm hands to explore the body of a very, very naked Lance Lovecraft.