by Seth King
“Um,” I say.
“Did you feel that, too?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He does it again. This kiss lasts longer.
Again, I go week at the knees and kiss him back like some swooning fiancé waiting at the marina for my sailor to return on his ship. I feel dependent. I feel manipulated.
And I feel really fucking horny.
I turn away, because I can’t be doing this.
I look into the crowd and feel my whole body freeze: it’s a seven-foot-tall figure in a billowing black robe, drifting straight toward me. My heart stops beating; my face goes clammy. I back up until I feel someone behind me, and I jump and spin around.
Harry laughs in my face. “Joshua. It’s a costume. Turn back around.”
I look to see the figure in the robe taking off the top of their costume…and it’s a regular dude, with a foot-tall extension on his shoulders holding up a fake head in a robe.
“Dementors,” I whisper as he passes.
“What?” Harry calls over the music.
“Dementors, from the Harry Potter movies. I always had a phobia of them when they came onscreen…sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he laughs, resting a hand on my shoulder. “It was cute. And it’s Halloween – at least someone is in a scary costume.”
“Harry?” I ask, still a little scared and shaken.
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me again.”
And he does. For the longest time yet.
Suddenly Ryan appears again. Harry pulls away, and I try to act cool, and like my roommate wasn’t just feeling me up in public. Ryan looks at me, then at Harry, then back at me.
“Um, hi,” Ryan says to me as Harry turns his body away. “Who’s the hottie?”
I freeze. Ryan has only ever really seen Harry in passing, and I doubt they know him well enough to be able to recognize him from just his eyes and chin.
Still, I keep it vague, as Harry is craning his head away.
“Oh, hey! Just some guy who came up to me. What’s up?” I ask, taking their hand and pointing us toward the stage.
“Ummm…okay,” Ryan says. “Whatever. Anyway, see any guys for me yet?”
“Uh. Been a little busy. Sorry. And it’s so dark in here. Maybe you should try Grindr, after all?”
Ryan downs another shot from the passing go-go boy. “Ugh, fuck my life! Whatever. You look good, by the way. The nerd glasses make you look like one of those nerdy porn stars.”
“Really? I could pass for a porn star? Aw.”
“Seriously, yes, as much as I hate admit it. You look hot.”
“Thank you, sister,” I smile. And I know it’s true, because Ryan hands out compliments like my stingy father handed out money to me as a child when I needed it: rarely, begrudgingly, and with a grimace while they did it.
“Sure. And fine, I’ll go find some random guy and leave you to…whatever this is…”
Once Ryan leaves, Harry swivels back to me.
“Sorry, I didn’t really know how to explain…this to them yet,” he says bashfully.
“It’s okay, I understand why – wait, you know Ryan’s pronouns?” I ask.
“Joshua. They’ve been around the house more times than I can count. Of course I do. I notice things.”
“Okay, fair, but…”
“But what?”
I drop my shoulders. “Why did you kiss me, Harry?”
“I…don’t know, to be quite honest. Did you dislike it?”
“No.”
“Same, then.”
And then he does it again, so passionately that several gays close to us start giggling and pointing.
I pause and take stock of the situation at hand.
So, he is hot. Obviously.
And he is into me, shockingly.
And I am into him. I mean, clearly.
But all this still doesn’t change the fact that we have to live together for over six more months. Can you imagine anything in the world more awkward than us going home and doing stuff, and then having to go back into roommate mode for another half a year? It would drive me crazy. Seriously, I’m losing my mind already just thinking about it.
So I pull away further.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, but I can’t face him.
I’ve actually done this before once. My last suite was with three other dudes in a four-bedroom unit, and it ended in disaster. One drunken night I fooled around with one of the guys who was a little on the pansexual side, and the next few months could not have been more awkward. In fact, that’s part of why I moved out – I just couldn’t be around him.
Sex can bring on feelings, even when you don’t want to feel them. It’s not like I “liked” him, I just felt…complicated around him after that. It was like a one night stand that lasted for months; a walk of shame that never ended. And I can’t do that again.
Like, literally, I can’t, because I got a deal on this unit, and my parents can’t afford to move me again this year. So that means everything is on the line.
I hold up a finger. “Let’s press pause. Just let me dance, okay?”
He nods, looking somewhere between disappointed and resigned. A Beyoncé song comes on, and I start twerking, and try to get lost in my own little world.
As I dance, I try not to notice him. I won’t let him fuck up my fun. This is still Halloween, still my favorite night of the year.
But I do notice him. Every second.
He settles in and watches me. He doesn’t really dance, he just elegantly sips his drink while leaning against a giant speaker, that elegant motherfucker. Why does he have to be so…debonair, anyway? Even at gay Halloween, when we’re all expected to be drunken, messy queens? Is it a British thing, or just a Harry thing?
The crowd thickens, and I’m bumped against the wall again for a moment. A former fling suddenly appears and gives me a hug. It’s a…touchy hug, though, and his hand is kind of all over me. He leans in to say something, and I feel his arm wrap around my side in a grabby way.
Great, groped twice in one night – at least the first time was accidental…
“Excuse me,” Harry interrupts, appearing out of nowhere and holding up an arm. “Did you want to say something to my date?”
He looks from Harry, then over at me. “Jeez, I was just saying hello…”
“Do you always grope people when you tell them hello?”
Harry stares at him. He gives Harry a weird look.
“Josh, who’s your weird friend here?”
“He’s…a friend.”
“He doesn’t have a name?”
“Bruce,” Harry finally says, smirking and holding out a hand. “It’s a pleasure. Kind of.”
They shake hands, and suddenly he turns his attention to Harry instead of me, leering at his tuxedo. “Well, hello, Bruce. Sorry for the mix-up, I assumed Josh was single. I have to admit, I’d be all over you, too, but it looks like someone already beat me to it…”
Harry flashes his eyes over at me. “I’m flattered, but like I said, I believe I’ve found my match for the night.”
The fling moves along, trying out his cheesy act on someone else. I turn to Harry, a little annoyed, a little horny, and more than a little confused.
“So I’m your match for the night, huh?” I ask when the dude is gone.
“Sorry, I was just saving you. You should’ve seen the look on your face when he grabbed you by the hips like that. I couldn’t not come over here.”
“I really showed it?” I ask.
“Indeed. I cringed inwardly for you. And then sent him on his way. ‘Twas the least I could do.”
“So if I’m your ‘match,’ then what now?”
He smiles. “Let’s dance and find out.”
“You want to dance?”
“I want you to dance. On me. In that way you were just doing.”
“Ha. You wouldn’t be able to handle it without wanting to take me home.”
“Is that so?” he as
ks.
“My Spanish grandmother taught me how to dance, and knowing how to move your hips can translate well in…certain situations.”
He closes his eyes, then bites his lip. Suddenly he opens them and holds out his hand. “Well let’s just say it’s convenient that we’d be going back to the same house, right?”
“Harry,” I say.
“Joshua,” he says, squeezing my upper shoulder.
“We can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t…do this…”
“Why not?”
“Because…we’re roommates…”
“Then tell me why your dick was semi-hard when you were dancing.”
“Oh, fuck. My stupid penis, always betraying me…”
“Tell me you don’t want to do this,” he says, and I look away. Because we both know what I want.
And suddenly, he is leading me toward the DJ booth.
Finally, I stop thinking. I stop analyzing. I stop obsessing. Right now I am single, and he is a hot guy, and this is a dance floor. We all know what that equation can mean.
So I turn my back to him and just let the music move me…
And his body responds perfectly.
Soon we enter our own little world – everyone else fades away, and all that exists is the music and the lights and the energy between us. The DJ plays every Halloween song conceivable: Monster Mash, Rihanna’s Disturbia, Monster and Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, Thriller and Billie Jean by MJ, and a sprinkling of Kim Petras throughout, as most of her music is dark as fuck, anyway.
I don’t know what this is, I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I like it. My ass feels perfectly placed at his hips, and there’s no real awkwardness at all – we just kind of vibe well together. So I let it happen, despite the danger.
As we dance, his hand slides down my back…and doesn’t stop sliding. He arrives at my ass, and cups my cheek with just the right amount of force. Fuck, maybe he really is good in bed…
He palms his way across my skin, and I can tell he’s trying me out just like I’m trying him out. Would this be as hot as it appears it would be? And would it be hot enough to make up for all the rules we’re breaking, all the warning signs we’re blowing past?
Nobody hooks up with their roommate – it’s, like, basically the biggest roommate rule of all.
But his hand on my skin…oh, God…
The music pauses for the first costume contest, a beauty pageant between the drag queens. Finally I can give my poor little booty a rest. The queens start sashaying across the stage, and then two of them get into an argument, and one of them tugs the other’s bright red wig.
But Harry won’t let me rest. He rests his hands on my shoulders and rubs me a little, then his hand starts traveling down my back. I don’t know whether to vomit or orgasm or walk away, so I do nothing.
Ryan comes out in their dress, and I force Harry to cheer with me as Ryan poses and does the beauty-queen-walk to Madonna’s Vogue. Ryan can’t see us in the crowd, but I want them to know I’m watching.
But – ugh, it’s Madonna, my all-time favorite. How could I not dance? The music sends us back into the fantasy zone, and I start grinding again. Oh, well. His feet remain rooted to the spot, but his hips are in perfect motion with me as I bump and grind.
“Joshua?” he asks over the music about ten minutes into our dance, his hands on my hips.
“Yes?”
“You were right. About what your dancing would do to me. I want to take you home.”
I turn. I stare into his eyes, pleading with him to cut the bullshit. “Harry. What is this?”
But he doesn’t look away. “I told you. I was thinking about making a change. And maybe I can. Tonight.”
“And you chose me?” I ask, motioning around. “You could get anyone at our school, not to mention any homo in this club right now. Seriously, what is this? Some game? Why me, out of everyone else?”
A shrug comes, but his eyes won’t let go of my mine, and it sends a finger of desire deep into me. Fuck, could he be a little less sexy for a second?
This was always the most unnerving thing about him, that he made actual eye contact whenever you spoke to him, instead of just staring at a phone screen or off into space like everyone else does. It makes you feel like the most important person in the world, and also a bit terrified at the same time. Combine that with his Instagram model looks and his intense personality, and it’s just…well, really intimidating, like you’re approaching your professor to ask for extra credit or something.
“I don’t know or care how many people are here,” he says plainly. “All I can see tonight is you.”
I pause.
I swallow my lip.
And then I turn and walk away.
Because regardless of whether he’s my fantasy man or not, I’m not that easy of a fuck. He’ll have to work me a little harder before getting anything out of the deal. Anyone would.
Harry Young
As Joshua grinds against me during the drag show, a small circle forms around us, giving us space. He moves his body in ways I’ve never seen anyone move, doing things against my penis I’ve never felt, and soon I imagine how it would feel if he did these things while on top of me, instead of in front of me…
I’ve never had a girl who could move like this. And what else could he do, off the dance floor? Ashley didn’t even like being on top, actually, since she said she preferred me to dominate her. Joshua could rock my fucking world if he wanted to – I already sense that.
But do I want him to?
In my head, I go back to our first meeting. It was awkward, admittedly. I mean, he was sitting on a toilet. But we really were friendly for a few weeks after that, until I walked in on him with that guy.
That day, something in me shifted.
But maybe not for the reasons I assumed.
Every time I avoided him in the kitchen. Every time I saw him coming, and went the other way. All along, was I jealous of the guy who had made love to him? Was I taking out an anger I didn’t even know I was holding?
He sways his ass back and forth against my cock, teasing me. I wrap my arms around his chest, holding him close to me. It gets hotter, hotter, hotter…
And then we exchange some harsh words, and he leaves.
And to be honest, I can’t really blame him.
But what next?
~
I stand there alone. The music starts up again. It’s some dance song with a very Barbie-sounding singer whose voice I don’t recognize:
Everybody dies, she sings, but not everybody lives…
For some reason I see an image of my poor great-grandmum in Singapore, lying cold and frozen in some freezer as she awaits the funeral.
She will never get to live another day, take another chance, kiss another person. Her story has been written, her tale is over.
But my story is still unfolding. And it could go anywhere from here. I am young and alive, with warm blood flowing through my veins, and there are still so many adventures to be had.
Even if those adventures end in disaster, like this one very well could…
Then I look back on what it felt like to fall asleep under the anesthesia three weeks ago. I was so disoriented from the toxins in my blood, part of me really did fear I would never wake up. It happened so quickly I didn’t even get to call my mom. What if I hadn’t woken up? What if they’d messed up the surgery, and I’d gone to my grave without ever knowing what another man felt like in my bed?
Suddenly, something in me wants to go after Joshua with everything I have. He felt so natural against me, I couldn’t believe it. What just started, whatever that was – it’s not over yet. The electricity is still dancing in me. I feel excited and alive and bold. Why walk away from the chance now?
So no, I won’t let him get off that easily. I came here for a reason, and I found that reason – even if it makes zero sense. But I won’t let him go just yet. Not until I know what this really
is, and what it could become. Because in the span of one month, I’ve gone under the knife and lost a family member – no more wasted time.
So I head for the exits, take out my phone, and start devising a plan.
Josh Nash
In the club’s crowded bathroom, I throw some cold water in my face in the sink and try to chill the fuck out.
So that was…weird. And intense. But then again, when has Harry Young ever been anything other than weird and intense? Just not in this way, obviously…
At first I wanted to think he was crazy, that he was experiencing a break from reality or something. But every time I let myself look in his eyes, I saw something undeniable: I saw total sincerity.
I just couldn’t process it. Harry Young…wanting to be with me…sexy or not, he is still my roommate, and that is still weird.
And then my mind shows me a glimpse of what I am missing out by rejecting him.
So there was this one time…
Our apartment complex has a pool, and one lazy evening I was drinking White Claws in the shallows with Ryan. Ryan didn’t notice this, but Harry came back from a jog, all sweaty, wearing only his compression shorts, and started showering in the little outdoor shower behind some bushes. He looked around to make sure he was alone, then slid out of his shorts – but he wasn’t alone. I could see him.
His legs were perfect. His ass was perfect. His dick was perfect, too; thick and long without being freakishly big, like my ex who felt like he was ramming me with a log instead of making love to me. And he was uncut, which I’d only ever encountered once, and which I happened to enjoy thoroughly…
I watched like a psycho for probably ten minutes until Ryan pulled me away and made me look at something on their phone. When I turned back, Harry was already gone.
I literally cannot recall how many times I’ve jacked off to that scene since then. But like I said – he is a fantasy. And sometimes fantasies should stay in fairy land. Right?
I’m distracted by a text from Ryan:
Ryan: I won most original look, I just got fifty bucks in cash, where are you?! We need to act like drunk sluts to celebrate!
