Hypothetically Speaking

Since Race didnít have anything better to do, when Spot showed up at his door and said, "Letís go," he didnít even give a second thought before he was following Spot to his car. Spot had only gotten his car, an old Pontiac Sunfire, the week before, and had been using any excuse to drive around, with Race in tow. Spot had been able to buy the car after saving his money from working at the local ice cream shop. Race still couldnít figure out why Spot had gotten a job at a place that makes you sing for crappy tips. It was a mystery. On the other hand, it had definitely been worth the money to watch Spot force himself to burst into song for a dollar. Of course, later Spot "spilled" ice cream on Race "accidentally," but Race didnít regret it for an instant.

It wasnít until they were driving out of the neighborhood that Race thought to ask, "Wait a second, where is it that weíre going exactly?"

"Good question. Where do you want to go?"

"...I get to choose where we're going?"




"Youíre letting me make the decision."

"That's right."

"I am the one who will choose our destination?"



"How many times do I gotta say 'yes?í Now make your damn mind before I drive your ass right back home."

It was a pretty easy decision for Race to make. There werenít many places to go in town. There was the movie theater, which they already went to the day before. There was the mall, but it closed early on Sundays. They could go to someoneís house, but Race didnít feel like hanging out with anyone else. That left only one place...

"The park."

"Great. The park. Thatís in the opposite direction."

"Hey, you gave me the power here. To the park!"

Spot grumbled as he made a U-turn, but kept going toward the park. The car didnít have AC, and Spot had all the windows down. The wind whipped through the car, blowing around his hair, so that even though Race knew that it was still way too fucking hot outside, it didnít bother him at all. He looked over at Spot. He seemed completely unaffected by the wind, and had his eyes fixed on the road. Spot looked over at Race, met his gaze, then quickly looked back at the road.


"I didnít say anything." Race looked out the window and hung his arm out.

It didnít take long for them to reach the park. When they got there it was closed, but there was never anyone around to actually enforce the rules, and only a chain-link fence keeping them out. They easily jumped the fence, and walked around, finding a sufficiently grassy enough spot. Now that they were out of the car, the heat was catching up with them, despite the fact that the oranges from sunset had almost entirely disappeared into the horizon. They lay down in the grass, looking up at the twilight sky. It wasnít quiet in the park. Frogs were chirping, there were a few birds still out, and it was possible to hear the road in the distance. Even with the noise, Race thought that it felt quiet. Peaceful. It wasnít a state that he was used to being in around Spot. Normally they spent all their time together complaining, or arguing, or making fun of something, or someone. But now, they both seemed to be caught up in the moment. Or maybe they were just too lazy to talk.

Either way, Race found that he was kind of enjoying this state. Just lying around, outside, with Spot. Sure it was hot, but even that wasnít so bad. He let his eyes close. Relaxing. Thatís what it was. Soothing. It was nice that he and Spot could just lie around in a comfortable silence without it being awkward. Not that he didnít like talking to Spot. He did. Besides, talking was pretty much Raceís MO. He was notorious for running his mouth off about pretty much anything. But it was nice to know that he didnít have to talk around Spot. They just talked. And if they didnít talk, they didnít talk. Honestly, it was a relief. Even Race was okay with not hearing his own voice for a while, occasionally.

Race could feel himself starting to drift off, and wondered if Spot was still watching the sky, or if he was even awake. He thought about looking over, but then just stretched, and sighed. He had a half-formed thought, and before he knew what he was saying, he asked, "What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

As the words left his mouth, his eyes flew open, and immediately he was wide awake. There was a long, excruciating pause. Sometimes Race hated the fact that his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. It had an annoying tendency to get him into very stupid situations. Spot turned away from the sky and looked over at him.

"...Did you just ask to kiss me?"

"No." Race looked up at the sky, at the few brighter stars were beginning to shine out, over at the opposite end of the park, basically, at anything that wasnít Spot. "Thatís not what I asked. I just asked what you would do if I kissed you. There's a big difference."

He could practically feel Spotís stare. Luckily, Race had become immune to that several years ago, and easily ignored it.

"Is there?"

"Yeah. Theyíre completely different things. One is hypothetical, the other one...isn't. You know, like I said, totally different. Obviously."


"Why would I even ask the other, not-hypothetical, one? I wouldn't. That's why I didn't."

"Right." Spot shifted onto his elbows and looked back up at the sky, which was starting to turn into night. Race figured that Spot was just ignoring his question, which was, really, probably all for the best, and maybe one of the least awkward ways of ending a total fuck up of an afternoon. At least, he thought to himself, he could count on Spot not telling anyone about the conversation. Spotís best friend after Race was probably Jack, and while theyíd known each other for a while they werenít exactly into heart-to-hearts.

Spot sat up, and Race began bracing himself for the uncomfortable walk back to the car, and ride home. Hopefully Spot would just avoid him from now on, that way they wouldnít have to have an uncomfortable friendship, too.

"Iíd probably..." Spot said, and before Race could catch his brain up to what was happening, Spotís mouth was on his.

It wasnít really a good kiss. The angle was all wrong, and Spot had ended up in a strange half-crouch over Race. They were both sweaty, and because of their positions neither really knew what to do with their hands. After some awkward shifting, Spotís hand ended up on the back of Raceís neck, and Raceís ended up clutching the front of Spotís shirt.

It wasnít a good kiss, but somehow it was absolutely perfect. They pulled apart, and just looked at each other. Race let out a quick breath.

"So. That answers my question then. Good to know."

Spot started to smirk, then gave Race a rare, genuine smile.

"Yeah, good to know."