Camping Trip

Chapter Ten

Lucas brought them to the corner of the dining hall, the furthest spot from Mandy and Linda. Aiden noticed Lucas checking him as he took each bite.

"It's really good." Aiden said, "Even if these look terrible." He picked up a long string of carrot. A string of carrot. He didn't remember cutting that.

Lucas grinned. "It tastes better than usual."

Aiden returned the close observation he was under with a watchfulness of his own. It was okay. When they looked at the same time and their eyes met it wasn't awkward. It didn't make Aiden feel uneasy, because Lucas looked like he was in a good mood.

"I usually have leftovers." Aiden put down his fork on an empty plate. "Or frozen pizzas, or instant meals."

Lucas took the empty plates and moved them aside. He glanced at Aiden, as if urging him to go on. Aiden did.

"Lily's three, all she eats are sausages, porridge and smoothies."

"Smoothies are good." Lucas said.

"Lily doesn't share."

Lucas smiled. Maybe at the idea of a three-year-old keeping food away from her older brother. Maybe he thought Aiden was joking. He wasn't.

"I never learned to cook." Aiden looked away from Lucas's eyes. He examined his blue hoodie, read the 'Michigan College' slogan, and then studied his hands. Long fingers. Veins that stood out in uneven bumpy lines over his knuckles and onto his arms. Different from Evie. "What do you make for your mom?"

"Fry-ups. Pancakes. French toast. Pasta Bolognese. Soup. Stew." Lucas listened slowly, "Lasagne once."

"Why only once?"

"I gave us food poisoning."

Aiden chuckled. "Good job."

Lucas propped up his elbow on the table and leaned his chin against his hand. His leg moved forwards and rested against Aiden's. "It wasn't funny when it happened. I've never felt guiltier then when mom got sick."

"I imagine all the other dinners make up for it." Aiden said.

"You should come over." Lucas said, "Bring Lily, and your dad. I haven't seen him in forever. I'll cook for you."

"I hope it won't be lasagne." Aiden remarked.

Lucas's finger tips brushed over the back of Aiden's hand. "I'll make you French toast. It was your favourite when we were small."

Aiden stared as Lucas drew circles along the back of his hand, felt between the line of his knuckles, then slid over his fingertips.

"Lily doesn't like French toast." Aiden said. His face was hot. And his calf, where Lucas's leg pressed against his. And his stomach. His stomach was doing a weird thing. But especially his hand.

"She can have sausages." Lucas said distractedly. He took Aiden's other hand and turned it over. He focused on the fingertips. "Do you play violin with both hands? You have calluses on either side."

"When I started neither left nor right handed felt natural." Aiden stared the hardened bumps in his fingers. Once they'd stopped hurting, he'd always liked them. He thought it showed how much work he put in. How many hours he spent learning each song. Even if he still struggled with the tune, he had these bumps to show he'd tried. "I play left handed now."

"Can I hear you play?" Lucas asked.

"I don't like playing in front of people." Aiden wanted to squirm in his seat. He wanted Lucas to stop touching his hands. He wanted Lucas to touch him more.