Dinner is uncomfortable, even more uncomfortable than he expected. Jake’s father serves a roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, a side salad dripping with dressing. It’s not right for the hot weather, and the sort of food he’d find unpalatably heavy even if he wasn’t so on edge he felt nauseated.

Jake puts his hand on David’s knee after everyone starts to eat, and David jerks his leg away, tries not to see the hurt look on Jake’s face, can’t look at him for the rest of the meal. He focuses on biting, chewing, swallowing. He eats everything on his plate. It’s only polite, and when his mouth is full, he doesn’t have to answer any questions.

“It was very good, Mr. Lourdes,” David says when his plate is taken away.

“Greg,” Jake’s father says, not for the first time.

“Greg,” David corrects himself, returns Mr. Lourdes’ smile with a weak one of his own.

There’s ice cream for dessert. It’s weather appropriate, at least, if also far too heavy. Jake’s mother gives him a bowl with two scoops without asking first if he wants it. He can only manage one, the chocolate lingering, sickly sweet, in the back of his throat. He asks for the washroom, is directed upstairs, and isn’t surprised to find Jake waiting in the hall when he opens the door.

“You okay?” Jake asks.

“I’m fine,” David says.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, they’re like, super low-key,” Jake says.

“I’m not nervous,” David says.

Jake gives him an incredulous look, which David supposes he deserves.

“I’m doing my best,” David says.

“I know,” Jake says, and he doesn’t have to say David’s best is pathetic, David is already well-aware. “We were going to watch a movie, if that’s cool.”

David certainly isn’t against it, since watching a movie means there won’t be talking. Except he’s wrong about that: it’s clearly a movie they’ve all seen more than once, and they alternately talk through it and recite the lines along with the actors. Jake’s sitting too close to him, thigh pressed up against his, but then, he’s sitting just as close to his sister Allison, who’s on his other side. With four people crammed onto one couch, there simply isn’t enough room.

David tries to follow the movie. It’s hard, considering the interruptions, the way he’s holding himself as upright as possible so he and Jake are touching in as few places as possible. When the credits roll, Jake elbows him lightly in the side.

“You look a thousand miles away,” he says.

“I’m just tired,” David says.

“Well, you travelled today,” Jake says, like he’s making excuses for him. “Want to go to bed? I’ll head up with you.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” David says.