by M. E. Parker
I snorted. “Tell me how you really feel, Cam. Don’t hold back.”
He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you this a million times. He’s not good enough for you. Think about it, Andy. You came to college looking like Opey Taylor and I transformed you into a younger, hotter version of Ryan Reynolds. And Mark Jacobs cheats on you with some skunk-ass twink-ho and this happens,” he said excitedly, gesturing up and down my body. “You look like,” he paused, “a visually impaired homeless person.”
A smile played on my lips. It always amused me when Cam got that worked up. I should have felt insulted and, if the words had come from anyone else, I may have felt that way. But even though I had no idea how any of what he was saying was supposed to make me feel better, I knew it was coming from a good place. Cameron had a heart the size of Wyoming and was fiercely loyal when it came to his friends. “I’m really trying here, but I’m failing to see your point.”
Cam dramatically rolled his eyes. “My point is that you are too good for Mark Jacobs. You are smarter, kinder, funnier, and way hotter than he is. I’m not gonna let him come along and undo all my hard work. I can’t begin to tell you why the fuckface cheated on you, but it doesn’t matter because it presented the perfect opportunity for you to dump him. That’s all I’m saying.”
I smiled at him. “Cam, I—”
“Do not interrupt, Maybury. I’m going to need you to go shower.”
“I just showered,” I told him.
He furrowed his brow. “Well, shower again. Put on those dark skinny jeans—the ones that hug your ass perfectly and the green Henley I made you buy last week and the suede Vans. And don’t dry your hair. I’ll do it. We’re going to the Wild Orchid—you’re getting laid tonight, so you can forget about fuckface.”
There was no way I was going out. I loved him, but the Wild Orchid was the last thing I needed. I shook my head. “The last thing I’m in the mood for tonight is a hook up.”
“Okay. No problem. We’ll just go to the bar and let desperate guys buy us drinks, flirt a little, and then blow them off. Come on. It’ll be great,” he said as he stood up. “Let’s go.”
I shook my head. “As fun as that sounds, I can’t do it tonight. I really just want to stay in and chill.” Cam’s face told me he was about to argue. “Friday, happy hour as usual, though,” I added, hoping he would drop the subject.
He let out a sigh. “Okay, if you’re determined to stay in and have a drunken pity party, I guess I’ll join you. Give me ten minutes to shower and the drunken pity party for two shall commence.”
I grinned at him and took a sip of wine as I watched him walk out of the living room towards his bedroom. He turned back to me. “At least change your clothes. You’re messing with the whole vibe of the apartment. I mean, really, Andy. Those pants are dirty.”
I laughed. “They are not, they’re clean. I just put them on. They’re just stained.”
“Oh. My. God. Is there a difference?” He huffed. “Honestly, have I taught you nothing? At least go put on those flannel sleep pants I gave you for Christmas—the grey and black plaid.”
I pretended to be irritated. “So, is the shirt okay? Or does it offend the vibe of the apartment as well?”
“Hmmm…” Cam cocked his head. “Wytheville High Football.” He bit the inside of his cheek, which meant he was thinking. “I guess I’m okay with it. It has sort of a vintage vibe to it.” Then he squinted his eyes. “I know you never played football. Did you have a secret high school football player hookup you never told me about?”
I wondered if he could see my face turning red in the candle light. “Please, Cam. This is me we’re talking about. I don’t even remember where it came from. Probably the lost and found in gym class.”
“Huh. Curious. We’ve lived together for three years and I’ve never seen you wear it.”
“I’m sure I’ve worn it before.”
“Nope. I would remember.”
“Could you just go shower? I’m already two glasses ahead of you.” I took another sip of wine, hoping he would drop the subject.
“Going,” he finally said as he thankfully disappeared into his bedroom.
chapter five
Chance
As I sat at my drafting table trying to concentrate on finishing my project, I couldn’t help but glance up at the drawing of the treehouse. I didn’t have much to finish. The assignment was to design a completely green office complex located in an urban area. It was almost done. All I had left to do was some landscape design around the outside of the building, but instead of focusing on what I needed to do to finish, I kept thinking about Andy. About Andy’s father. About my father. All of the sudden, I was transported back to my junior year of high school. It was a few days before Andy and I were supposed to make our annual camping trip up to Black Bear with our moms.
I was running drills at practice when I heard Coach’s whistle. His voice carried across the field. “Wyrick,” he yelled.
I jogged over to him, worried I’d done something wrong. “Coach?”
He took off his cap and ran his forearm across his sweaty brow before he put it back on. Then he put his hand on my shoulder pad. “Son, I just got a message from your mom. Jack Michaelson, Andy’s dad,” he clarified, “had a heart attack at work today. He didn’t make it. Your mom and dad are on their way to pick up Andy’s mom from the hospital in Wilsonville, but Andy’s at home alone. Your mama wants you to keep Andy company until they get home. So, I need you to shower up and get over there A.S.A.P. Can you handle that?”
I took off my helmet and nodded. I couldn’t say anything due to the lump forming in my throat. I felt numb and, as I quickly took off my gear and showered, I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. There was no way Jack Michaelson was dead. He was too big, too full of life. It was impossible. Coach must’ve misunderstood. That didn’t stop me from breaking every speed limit in Wytheville to get to Andy.
When I pulled into my driveway, I saw Andy sitting on the swing on his front porch. I jumped out of my truck and ran to him. The closer I got, the more my heart broke into pieces. He was staring out into the yard. His face was white and his body was stiff. “Andy,” I said as I knelt in front of him. “Are you okay?” He shook his head.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the swing. “Let’s go inside. It’s too hot out here.” I never stopped holding his hand as I led him up to his bedroom. We quietly sat next to each other on the edge of his bed while I held his hand. I didn’t know what to say to him.
When he finally spoke, tears were pooling in his big green eyes. “He uh… he asked me to throw ball in the front yard last night and I told him no. Then he asked if I wanted to watch Cake Boss with him and I, uh, I told him I had an AP Lit paper to finish.” He looked at me and I watched his tears as they spilled down his cheeks, and it hurt so much I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I reached up, gently took his glasses off, and put them on his nightstand.
“Andy,” I said as I put both hands on his cheeks and wiped away his tears with my thumbs. “He knew how much you loved him, and he was so fucking proud of you, okay?” I tried to ignore my own tears as I did my best to console him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
It wasn’t long before his head was buried in my chest and he was sobbing. I felt the wetness of his tears spread across my t-shirt as we fell back on the bed. I wasn’t sure how long we laid there with our arms wrapped around each other. I ran my fingers through his hair with one hand, rubbed his back with the other, and kissed his forehead every so often. I would have done anything in that moment to take his pain away.
That was the day I realized Andy was more to me than just the kid who lived next door. He was more than my best friend. Holding him like that felt right. Righter than anything I had ever felt in my life. Whatever I felt for him was so much more than what I felt for Kara, who’d been my girlfriend for the three years. I felt both terrified and at peace.
The sun had gone down, and I guesse
d we’d been laying in each other’s arms for hours when I was startled by my father’s harsh voice. “Chance!” I looked up and he was standing in the doorway of Andy’s room with his arms crossed. “Son, you need to go home. Andy needs to be with his mother now.”
As soon as we parted, I felt empty. I squeezed Andy’s hand. “I’ll see you later.” When he looked at me in response and nodded, my heart broke all over again. As I walked down the stairs, I could hear my father utter his usual words of comfort I’d heard him say too many times to people who had lost loved ones. “Sometimes, we don’t understand God’s plans for us… He’s in a better place… The Lord never gives us more than we can handle… He’ll always be with you in your heart… Blah, blah, blah.” I hated him. Andy deserved better than his canned condolences.
I cried myself to sleep that night and wished more than anything that I could be with Andy. When I woke up to the light streaming through my bedroom window, I threw on some clothes with the intention of racing over to Andy’s, but I met my father sitting in the living room. “Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She’s with Mrs. Michaelson. Have a seat, son.” I reluctantly sat down across from him. “Chance, I’ve noticed that you’ve become unusually close with the Michaelson boy.”
I felt all the color drain from my cheeks. “Really, Dad? The Michaelson boy—it’s Andy, my best friend since I was six. I’d think you’d remember his name, he’s practically part of the family,” I growled.
“Of course,” he said, rubbing his face. “Andy. I just think whatever feelings you’re having for him, son, they’re unnatural. And Chance, they’re not real feelings, they’re temptations. I need you to know this. I’m coming from a place of love. We are tested every day. These temptations you’re having, you can resist—”
I couldn’t stand to hear another word. “Dad, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Andy and I are best friends—his father just died. I don’t know what you think you know, but we don’t need to be having this conversation.”
He let out a deep sigh. “You need to understand that if you choose this road, your entire world will change. What would your coach think? Your teammates? Your friends at school? The media may glorify homosexuality, Chance, but it’s a miserable life. There are things you’re too young to understand. All I’m saying is, it’s just a temptation. If you pray—ask God for guidance and live your life according to the teachings of Christ—”
I was done listening. “What the fuck? Andy’s dad just died and all you can do is worry about whether or not your son’s a faggot. Well, congratulations, I’m not. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a girlfriend,” I yelled as I ran out of the room.
“Chance,” my father called out, “where are you going?”
“Back to bed,” I said as I jogged up the stairs.
“You have school.”
“Not going,” I yelled as I slammed my bedroom door and locked it.
I’d never spoken to my father that way. I’d also never hated him as much as I hated him then. As I burrowed back under my covers, I was determined to make my words true. I wasn’t gay. I didn’t want to be gay and I sure as hell didn’t want to give my father the satisfaction of being right. I wouldn’t let him turn whatever was between Andy and me into something ugly.
A few minutes later, I heard him try to open my door. “Chance,” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “Son, I’m sorry. Can we talk some more?” I ignored him and buried myself deeper under my covers.
A pencil rolled off my drafting table, startling me out of my thoughts, and I bent down to pick it up. I tried to concentrate on my project. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my father and that day. I’d spent the next year trying to ignore how good Andy had felt in my arms. I tried to forget the kiss we’d shared a few years before. I even prayed like my father suggested, and it just pissed me off when God didn’t answer. As each day passed, I grew angrier. And as determined as I was to maintain a friendship with Andy, it was getting harder and harder. The more time I spent with him, the more I thought about things I shouldn’t think about. The more I pulled away from him, the worse I felt. I couldn’t win. In my mind, my father ruined everything. Nothing would ever be the same.
Somehow, I managed to concentrate long enough to finish my project. Taking a deep breath, I carefully rolled up my design and slid it into a storage tube. I looked around the studio and there were still a few students working on their projects, so I quietly slipped out the back door, not wanting to disturb them. I froze when I heard hushed voices. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw two guys standing in front of a Mercedes parked across the street. A soft glow from the street lamp illuminated them. Even though his back was turned to me, I immediately recognized Jordan. He was in the architectural program and we’d had several classes together.
I’d always wondered if he was gay. I was pretty sure he was. Our first year, I’d noticed him staring at me a few times. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t found him attractive. He had the body of a runner. His creamy, ivory skin was the perfect contrast with his dark hair which was long on top. It fell in his eyes often and he would run his slender fingers through it to push it away from his face. His eyes were a deep blue. As soon as I saw him, I knew I needed to keep my distance. And I had. I made sure to sit on the opposite side of the classroom and I avoided participating in group projects if he was involved.
I could tell he was having a private conversation with the older guy leaning against the Mercedes. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and I wondered for a second if they were arguing until Jordan wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. As soon as they started kissing, my dick took notice and strained against my jeans. I should have walked away right then. But I was mesmerized. It was the first time I’d seen two men together like that in real life. It didn’t help matters when the man grabbed Jordan’s ass with both hands and pulled him closer. My erection became painful as I imagined their cocks rubbing against each other. I took off in a slow jog towards my dorm.
As soon I was locked safely inside my room, I stripped off my jeans and fell back on the bed. It took no time for my hand to reach my cock as I imagined how Jordan’s tongue would feel on my chest, making its way down towards my hard dick. I used my thumb to rub the precum over the tip before I gripped my shaft. In my fantasy, Jordan licked my slit before his lips slid down my cock. But as soon as he looked up at me, his eyes weren’t blue. They were green, with little flecks of amber in them. And he wasn’t Jordan anymore. I furiously stroked myself as I imagined Andy’s warm mouth sucking me. I felt my balls tighten as I came in long spurts all over my stomach and t-shirt. As I tried to catch my breath, I wished I hadn’t thought of Andy. I tried not to. It always started with someone else, but it always ended with Andy.
chapter six
Andy
When Cameron walked out of his bedroom, he was wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants and a tight-fitting white t-shirt. I couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t know the meaning of dressing down. His blonde hair was damp on the ends. Cameron was beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. His face was angelic. His high cheek bones, full lips, and big, round cobalt blue eyes were the stuff cover models were made of. His build was slight. He was several inches shorter than me, but his body was rock hard and one hundred percent muscle.
When we first met, I was taken aback by his looks. We’d found each other on one of those roommate finder apps. I wanted a gay roommate—I knew that. But I also wanted a roommate that I wouldn’t find attractive. I grinned when I remembered being worried that I would have a never-ending boner. The picture he posted on his profile looked nothing like him. It was Cameron, but it was Cameron with blue hair, black lipstick, and eyeliner. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged. “It was taken during my emo phase.” Then he looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t fall in love with me, Maybury.”
Not that I was very picky back then, but Cameron wasn’t my type. But if I was going to
fall for him, it would have been because of his inner beauty, which outshined his outer appearance by miles. He was so gorgeous though, not many people noticed that part of him. I knew when the right guy noticed, Cameron would be a goner.
I watched him walk across the room. “What are you doing?” I asked as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’m making popcorn. I need snacks if I’m gonna watch you wallow in self-pity and self-doubt.”
“I’m not wallowing,” I lied.
He grinned when he sat down after he put a bowl of popcorn and a new bottle of wine on the coffee table. “At least you changed. Much better.” I rolled my eyes.
From the moment I met Cameron, he’d taken me on as his own little make-over project. He’d taken me under his wing and became my personal stylist, a second mother, and an advisor on everything gay. A smile played on my lips when I remembered the first time he took me to Wild Orchid, the only LGBTQ-friendly bar on campus. I was wearing a plaid button down, which I had tucked neatly into a pressed pair of khakis. “Oh, hell no,” he’d said. “We’re going to a gay bar, not church, Maybury. Take me to your closet.” Within weeks, I had given up my glasses for contacts and he had restyled my hair. I pretended to hate it, but I secretly loved it. He had a gift. He didn’t try to force his own style on me. He just took mine and improved upon it. But his real gift was interior design. I felt sure we had the most nicely decorated apartment on campus.
“Well, I didn’t want to mess with the vibe of the apartment,” I deadpanned.
“Thank God. Throw those pants away. Better yet, burn them. So, how do we do this wallowing thing? Should we put on some more sad music?”
