The Surprise Inside

“Hey Casey… he’s here again.”

Casey looked up from his scrubbing dried soda off the drive-thru counter to Lisa, the assistant manager. She wore a broad smile as she brushed by him. “Your crush…” she sang.

Oh god. “He’s not my… whatever,” Casey grumbled, though his heart started pounding faster when he looked out the window to find the familiar GTO. The engine roared once more then stopped. “He’s the one who comes HERE.”

“Hmm, that’s right,” Lisa said. She went to the safe, grabbed a drawer then set it down to count the money, still smiling like an idiot. “Funny how he’ll drive by a couple times when it’s busy… then when it looks like a graveyard, he pulls in. Funny, funny.”

“And how do you know he isn’t checking out someone else, like Andrea?” Casey spat, motioning out towards the front counter.

“Because every time he comes in, you’re usually on drive-thru, and he doesn’t even look at her… his eyes are set on you, dearheart,” Lisa said.

“Then maybe he’s checking YOU out,” Casey said. As Lisa chuckled and shook her head, Casey glanced out the window. There he was--whatever his name was--coming out from the car and making his usual swagger to the restaurant. “Christ.”

“Andrea?” Lisa suddenly called.

“Yea?”

“Why don’t you switch with Casey for a bit? You need a break, and drive-thru’s dead.”

“Lisa!” Casey hissed.

“But it’s been dead out front, too--no one comes in after nine, so--” Andrea said as she emerged, but stopped in her tracks when she saw who was walking up to the door. She giggled. “Yea, sure.”

“Stop it, you guys, I’m serious! Lisa… Lisa, please…”

“I’m in charge of this place, Mr. Connor,” Lisa said in an exaggerated bossy tone. She still couldn’t hide her grin. “Give up the headset.”

Casey flared his nostrils and handed a still-giggling Andrea his headset. “This has GOT to be some kind of sexual harassment…” he grumbled while stalking off to the front. He hadn’t even gotten to the register before the tall, lean and admittedly gorgeous young man made it to the counter.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Welcome to McDonalds, how can I help you?” Casey rushed out.

The older boy grinned slowly and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “Large fry and a milkshake.”

“What kind?” Casey said while punching the order out.

“Is there a special flavor this month?”

“Raspberry.”

“Can you mix raspberry with chocolate for me, special?”

This wasn’t fair; being under the gaze of his cinnamon-brown eyes was making Casey’s knees feel wobbly. “Yea, okay,” he croaked out.

“Cool.”

“Size?”

“I said large, right?” the young man asked. Casey held back a groan.

“For the fries, yea.”

“Oh. Large, then.”

Casey punched it in; the next question burned in his gut before he said it. “For here or to go?”

“Here.”

Of course. “’K…” Casey said. He tallied up the price and tapped his knuckles on the counter. “That’s three-ninety-eight, please.”

The young man reached into his pocket and drew out some crumpled bills; four ones, to be exact. Casey was just about to reach for them when the boy sighed. “Hold on, I think I have the ninety-eight cents.”

This was a joke. Lisa knew this guy--she HAD to. Pulling pranks or just being a bit crazy were common themes, here; whether it was a pickle fight or tricking someone into sitting on a Big Mac, something was always happening. Casey usually had fun with it, even if he’d been the victim of a few tricks in the past. It made his work fun and interesting, and having just turned eighteen, being a closer was even more fun. Most of the managers were easygoing and didn’t mind the playing-around, especially Lisa. Casey had become comfortable enough to talk to the others, most of which he didn’t go to school with, or they were older. He’d confided in Lisa on his ‘preferences’ one late night when she’d noticed how long he’d looked at a few boys that had come in after a late-night summer baseball game, and he was comfortable with her knowing. Some of the others knew as well, and had been cool about it.

But he just HAD to have looked longingly at the young man that first night he came--long enough that the others had noticed, bringing on the giggles. No matter how many times Casey told them that “I was just checking him out, Jesus!”, they were convinced that they were star-crossed lovers…

“There.”

Casey snapped out of it and looked down on the mess of quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies. “All right,” he said. Of course, he needed to count it all. The young man watched him with a soft smile, which Casey did his best to ignore. He couldn’t have turned away from the register any faster when he was done; he headed to the milkshake machine and began making the ‘special order’.

“Can you layer it, like a parfait?” came the next request.

“I… guess,” Casey said, though he really wanted to reply with, “How much do you think I get PAID around here?” He didn’t dare, of course, and continued with the order as instructed. After making a five-leveled parfait of the cheap, reconstituted drink, he brought it over, put it on the counter and went to the fries. Shit. “Andrea, you forgot to fill the fries!” he called.

“Oh--sorry!”

Casey groaned his way over to the fry bins, where he grabbed one and put it in the boiling oil. The hissing and crackling went off like a bomb.

“Awesome… fresh fries,” the young man said. He next took a sip of his drink and moaned in satisfaction. “Shit. You know how to make a milkshake.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Casey said. He shook the fries up, hoping that the three minutes would pass quickly.

“Damn…”

It was then that Lisa emerged from the back, holding a register tray. “When you’re done here, you can take your break,” she told him. Casey snapped his eyes up while she opened the register next to his.

“Huh? I already had one.”

“You’ve worked a long shift, so you get two,” she replied. The look on her face was stiff and concentrated, as if she was trying hard not to laugh. All Casey could do was stand there for the remaining two minutes until the fries came up. He pulled them out and shook the oil out with a force, dumped them into the bin and salted them. He couldn’t tell if he was frustrated or nervous; he simply made a large serving and turned back around.

“Here you go,” he said, putting the fries on the boy’s tray.

“Thanks, Casey--you’re a doll.”

Casey stood, blinking and wordless as he watched the young man wink and walk over to the doors leading to the play area. Once he was out of earshot, Casey whipped his head around to look at Lisa. “How the hell’d he know my name? You told him, didn’t--”

“Nametag. Now come here,” she said. She didn’t wait for him to follow, choosing instead to take his wrist to pull him into the drive-thru area. Andrea was there, smiling and drinking a soda.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“He SO wants you, Casey. I’d go so far as to say he dreams about you,” Lisa told him.

“Oh my god, shut up…” Casey replied, but couldn’t help an incredulous grin and chuckle.

“I demand that you go outside with a late-night dinner and let him start up a conversation,” Lisa told him.

“I don’t have any money, so--”

“Oh, take whatever you want! You’re a kickass worker, anyway,” Lisa said, which made Andrea giggle harder. Casey finally had to smile for real.

“What the hell are you getting out of this, anyway? Has everyone got a bet running, or what?”

“I like being Cupid--so?” Lisa said.

“C’mon, Casey. He’s fuckin’ hot,” Andrea chimed in.

Casey looked towards the front, where he could see his ‘customer’ sitting and eating past the window. He couldn’t help but agree. “All right… but if I end up looking like an asshole, I’m blaming you guys,” he said. While they cooed like schoolgirls, Casey trudged his way to the front. Just as he surveyed the row of quarter-pounders, Dave, their fry cook, peeked over the soda machines.

“They’re making you hit on him, huh?”

“How would you know?”

Dave grinned and tapped his headset. “Andrea’s got a big mouth.”

Casey groaned; he grabbed a double cheeseburger and an orange soda, then set off to meet his doom. The soft and cool summer breezes hit him first, which eased him the tiniest bit. Everything tensed up again as brown eyes rose to find him walking out.

“Two breaks… that’s pretty sweet.”

“Hmm, yea,” Casey said. He sat at a table nearby and put his things down… shit, he wasn’t even hungry.

“Where I work, we’re lucky to get enough time for a soda and smoke,” he said next.

“Where’s that?”

The young man smiled and pointed to his shirt. With Casey being so distracted, he hadn’t even noticed that he was also wearing his name on the pocket of his button-down; ‘Zeke’ it read, right above the words, ‘Engelmann’s Tree Service’. “Oh… a lumberjack?”

“We call ourselves ‘loggers’, but yea,” he answered.

“Well, nice to meet you, Zeke.”

“The same,” he said. Casey pursed his lips and unwrapped his sandwich. What else could he fucking say? Zeke, however, beat him to it. “Did you go to Herrington High?”

“Oh… no. I actually bus to work. I live in Ravenna, next town over from here. But I go to school here… Saint Mary’s.”

“Ah… Catholic private,” Zeke said in a strange, all-knowing way.

“Yea,” Casey sighed out.

“Why you workin’ here?” Zeke said while shoving a couple fries into his mouth. He took a moment to chew before going on. “You gotta be loaded to go to that school.”

Christ, he was forward. “Well… the parents want me to learn work ethics… and I don’t mind. I’m not spoiled or anything, y’know.”

“Never said you were,” Zeke said, sounding the tiniest bit coy. “I went to Voc-Tech. We looked the same age; just wondered if we ever shared classes or some shit.”

“Ah.”

“Graduate yet?”

Casey couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Curious much?” he asked. It was a little thrilling to see Zeke’s grin grow a bit more devious; Casey tried not to shift in his seat, choosing to poke at his thus-far unbitten meal. “No. I’m going into my senior year.”

“Cool. I graduated this past June.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

It went quiet now with Casey’s decision to start eating, if only for appearances. He flicked glances Zeke’s way, who was just finishing his fries. Casey imagined him, high up in a tree, wearing the thin tee he had on under the button-down… he had to sweat in the sun, which would make the shirt see-through. The muscles in his arms and legs would tighten and bulge, his ass cradled in a harness… this had to stop, lest Casey walk back into the restaurant carrying an incredibly uncomfortable hard-on. He forced himself to remember that morning, where he’d found his mother in the bathroom plucking her chin hairs. It helped.

What didn’t help was when Zeke stood up and stretched; he made quite a show of it with his arms pulled high above his head, one hand clenched around his wrist to pull up, up, his t-shirt climbing high to reveal his navel. Casey almost choked on the mouthful of soda he’d sipped; he snapped his eyes down to his tray and focused on the picture of Ronald McDonald in rollerblades…

“’Guess I’m outta here. Nice to meet you, again.”

“Y-Yup,” Casey stammered while coughing lightly.

Zeke nodded and picked up his tray. Casey watched him go to the trash can and dump the empty containers into it, then turned his gaze away when Zeke faced him again. Keys jangled in his hand as he went to pass, but he stopped at Casey’s side. Casey felt his head spin as Zeke leaned down to his ear. “You make an awesome milkshake. And I love your eyes.”

There was nothing Casey could do or say; breathing became an almost impossible task as the warmth of Zeke’s breath faded as he stood straight and walked away. He stayed statue-like until he hear the GTO’s engine roar, and Zeke drove out of the lot… he knew what was coming…

“How’d it go??”

Casey blinked and looked towards the door, where Lisa stood. She looked eager and downright joyous. “Nothing,” Casey murmured.

“Bullshit. What sweet nothings did he whisper in your ear, honey?”

Casey groaned, folded his arms on the table and plopped his head down within them.


~*~


Per store rules, Casey was assured a ride to the bus stop in the name of safety. Lisa was always glad to drive him in her snazzy red Jeep, and he usually enjoyed the small jaunt into town, but he was almost too tired to keep up with her giggly questions. With three of the leftover chef salads in his lap, Casey sighed. “He’s probably just fucking with me.”

“Christ.” Lisa shook her head as she stopped at a red light. “Casey… it’s rare for a guy to ‘play gay’, all right? He’s not messing around. Why the hell would he come to the store night after night, watching you like he does…? Get real.”

“Because… Lisa, for god’s sake, he’s…” Casey blubbered out. “He can’t be gay.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno. He just can’t be.”

Lisa corner-smiled and took off at the green, then cleared her throat. “‘I cut down trees, I skip and jump, I love to press wild flowers, I put on women's clothing’--” she went to sing.

“Stop that!“ Casey cried, but couldn’t help laughing.

“Hey, that’s a classic song, and in this case… might be true. So anyway, you can’t come up with one, feasible reason for this ‘he can’t be gay’ argument. Not one. Do you think anyone thought that Rock Hudson was gay? Please. This guy is hitting on you left and right… what ‘man’s man’ goes around telling other guys that they have nice eyes?”

With an exasperated sigh and smile, Casey shook his head. “Just get my ass to the bus stop, cab driver.”

“Oh, if that’s how it’s gonna be…” she went to say, but trailed off. Her eyes were set dead-ahead, where the bus stop was coming into view. “No way. Nut-uh.”

“What?” Casey asked. He followed her gaze and instantly paled. “Shit…”

“Did you tell him that you took the bus??” she excitedly asked.

“I… must have…” Casey softly replied. He lost breath again in seeing the parking lot to the Kmart next to the stop, where a familiar GTO sat with a familiar person leaning on the side of it. “Shit.”

“He’s stalking you, oh my god…” Lisa gleefully stated. “He practically parked on the sidewalk.”

“And that’s a GOOD thing?”

“Damned right! I wish I had a stalker as hot as he is,” she replied.

“Just… can you give me a ride home?”

“Huh? No way am I driving all the way to Ravenna.”

“It’s not far!” Casey continued to plead.

“You have a ride already, big boy,” she said with a wink.

Casey clenched his teeth as they approached. With the openness of the Jeep, he’d probably been spotted already. As they came closer, sure enough, Zeke was looking right at them, making Casey hunker down in his seat. “Oh, Christ…”

Lisa stopped the Jeep at the curb, mere feet away from where Zeke was. She glanced to Casey as the Jeep idled, sucking her lips in a moment before letting them go with a soft smack. “Drop whatever you’re thinking about that’s gonna make you cling to that bus stop sign, okay? Do it up.”

Undoing the seatbelt felt as if Casey was trying to lift a boulder off of his chest. He’d always been too shy or scared--such was the bane of a school nerd, especially a Catholic school nerd. Zeke didn’t know that about him, and who could say if he’d stick around if he found out? Still, he had to get out of the car…

“Casey, the salads!”

Lisa’s yelling made Casey stiffen and grab the bag at the last moment. He snapped his eyes up to Zeke in a panic; the smile the boy wore made his face go hot. “I really look cool, now…” he muttered.

“Jesus, get out of my car,” she hissed back.

Casey steadied himself, gripped the bag tight in his hand and finally stepped out of the car. He looked back to Lisa, his brow crinkled with worry. “Can you just wait here a minute if--”

“See you tomorrow,” she blurted before putting the car in gear and speeding off. For a few seconds, Casey was stiff and cold, unable to move.

“Hey,” the voice came from behind. Casey finally swallowed and turned to find Zeke, still leaning on the car and lighting a cigarette.

“Hi. Um… is this some crazy coincidence, or…?”

“Nope,” came Zeke’s answer. Apparently, he was a cocky bastard, and it made Casey tremble.

“So… what? Did you come to keep me company, or something?” Casey asked.

Zeke blinked furiously against the smoke curling around his face. “’Came to give you a ride… if you wanted one,” he stated.

“Are…” Casey went to say. He was too confused, his thoughts too muddled up to find reason. He finally gave Zeke an inquiring gaze and parted his lips. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Uh… thought that was pretty damned clear.”

“Oh.” Jesus God, Casey felt stupid. He fell mute all over again, and after a too-long silence, Zeke groaned and stood straight.

“Yea, see ya.”

He was walking to the driver’s side. Casey snapped himself out of it and took a few steps towards him. “I’m not…” he blurted. It made Zeke stop and turn back around; Casey licked his lips and grunted, low in his throat. “I’m not used to getting hit on. That’s why I’m looking like a complete idiot right now.”

Zeke regarded him carefully and put a hand up on the top of his car. He drummed his fingers and rolled his tongue around before nodding towards the bag in Casey’s hand. “You get free salads at the end of the night, huh?”

“Yea.”

“Can I have one?”

A shy smile crept over Casey’s lips. There’d been many nights that small emergencies arose while closing--power-outs, the shake machine practically exploding--that it wasn’t unusual for Casey to be home extremely late. His parents had accepted this, and were usually asleep by eleven at night, anyway. Right now, they’d gotten everything done early, and it was barely twelve-thirty. “I usually bring ‘em home for my mom… but…” he looked down on them. “…I can tell her that there was only one left.”


~*~


This was the equivalent of ‘parking’, Casey figured, even if all they were doing at the moment involved eating salad with their fingers while staring out over a deserted farmhouse, corn field and the night sky. A small pile of iceberg lettuce fell onto the hood of Zeke’s car; Casey picked it off, snarling at the small bit of ranch dressing it left behind. “Shit… sorry,” he said.

“No prob,” Zeke replied. “This thing needs a new paint job, anyway.”

“I like it. Wish I had a cool car,” Casey said. He bit into an egg and almost winced; egg. Yea, that was going to leave him with a fresh-smelling mouth. That was the least of his worries, however, as he felt like he’d been dipped into a vat of grease. He shifted in his seat and look the last bite of lettuce. “My boss was teasing me about you.”

“Oh yea?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How so?”

Casey felt another blush coming on, but he smiled past it. “She said that you came more often than senior citizens for their cheap ‘American Meal Deal’ days, and not for the food.”

A round of chuckles burst from the young man. “I do like McD’s fries, but yea, she’s spot-on, I guess.”

With the salad finished, Casey put the plastic container aside and squirmed his arms inwards. “So…”

“So?”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“Hah,” Casey scoffed. “I could serve up a few hundred reasons that I’m not--”

Everything in the world came to a screeching halt when Casey felt fingers brush against the back of his neck. He shifted his eyes Zeke’s way, finding him just inches away, his salad finished… “Um…”

“Yea?” Zeke breathed out. Lips were being wetted, moving in, and Casey all but jumped from his seat.

“Wait, wait…”

“What?”

Now in a small panic, Casey blurted, “I smell like a Happy Meal!”

Zeke blinked profusely, staring directly into Casey’s eyes. Halted puffs of breath escaped his mouth, until he was having a fully-blown chuckle-fit. Casey frowned and shrugged. “I do!” he cried. It didn’t stop Zeke’s hilarity; he now rolled onto the hood on his back, then slid down to stand on the dirt road.

“I’m gonna write that down… that was awesome,” he laughed out.

Casey crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever.”

“Aw…” Zeke cooed. He stepped over and stood against Casey’s knees; he bumped his thighs against them lightly. “Think I care?”

“You should,” Casey murmured.

“Hmm… I don’t,” Zeke replied. His hip then edged past one of Casey’s knees, which allowed him to move within them. Casey let them part, entranced at the feeling of someone moving against his inner thighs. He was lost somewhere between anxiety and want--or an anxious want, or wanting anxiety--but he was thrown back into reality when Zeke reached behind him to push his ass to the edge of the hood, making their groins meet. Casey’s eyes widened and he looked down, seeing denim and black cotton-polyester meet. “I’ve gotten Happy Meals before,” Zeke broke the silence.

“Um… yea?”

Zeke nodded and put his forehead to Casey’s. “Don’t tell anyone--but I like the toys.”

Something inside of Casey was melting. “Okay.”

“It’s like this little surprise…”

“Oh fuck,” Casey moaned the moment he felt Zeke’s tongue press against his lips. Speaking opened them, and Zeke let himself inside. Casey turned his head on instinct to deepen the kiss; gone were the cares that he smelled like hamburgers or that he felt like he had a inch-thick layer of grease on his entire body. If Zeke didn’t care, why should he? It felt too good to stop; Zeke’s tongue had talent, with the way it smoothed over Casey’s and lapped around. The faint scent of wood and smoke found Casey’s nostrils and egged him on into grabbing the back of Zeke’s neck to pull them even closer together. He was pleased to hear the contented, humming sigh Zeke let out, knowing that he was doing something right. When Zeke’s hand snaked down between them and brushed against Casey’s groin, however, self-consciousness hit again. “Wait…” Casey murmured, pulling away. He put his head back and tried to smile. “I really wanna… but… I’m really gross.”

Zeke smiled back and rolled his eyes. “Not gonna let that go, huh?”

“I’ll remind you of this when you’re covered in tree sap and wood shavings,” Casey teased.

“Oh… so you’re saying this isn’t some crazy one-nighter, huh?”

There was a brief moment of silence between them. Casey cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t do one-nighters.”

“Good,” Zeke said. He pecked a kiss on Casey’s lips and grinned. “Neither do I.”


~*~


“What happened?”

“You HAVE to tell me, I was the one that shoved your ass outta the car!”

“Are you gonna see him again??”

“CASEY! Come ON!”

All Casey could answer Lisa with was, “Thank you,” over and over with every question she asked the next day. When his afternoon shift ended at five, she figured things out when the GTO pulled in, replacing the usual bus Casey rode. Her squealing was deafening.