by Z. B Heller
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, then, you can spend fifty dollars every time you park your car somewhere in the city.”
“No, I’ll just have my personal driver, Jeeves, take me everywhere. He will know when to show up with my limo, stocked with tea and crumpets.”
I smacked my hand on my forehead, and Ryan barked out a loud laugh. “I’m just messing around with you. You know I’m the only one that would let you sit on my lap if the bus is too full.” He winked.
Why did he have to say things like that? Now I had an image of myself sitting on Ryan’s lap. Feeling him grind against me…
No!
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” I said as I pointed to where the trail started.
“Don’t be such a baby.” Ryan swatted his hand on my chest. “Afterward, we can get manis and pedis together.”
I looked at him with wide eyes.
“I’m kidding! What’s got you tied up in so many knots today?”
Maybe it’s the way you’re smiling at me. Or perhaps it’s the nagging question of what’s under your shorts.
“Nothing. I think I’m just freaking out about finals,” I said.
“Brandon, I highly doubt you have anything to worry about. Your brain is as big as the guy’s dick I saw on this one porno I was watching—”
“Okay, I get it!”
Ryan chuckled, and I started my run up the trail. “We need to get you laid,” Ryan called out behind me. The new images that invoked only pushed me to run faster. That’s what I did best. Run away.
We finally took a break a half hour into our run. We were both dripping with sweat as the sun beat down on us most of the way. There was a lake and some shady trees up ahead. I found a patch of grass under one of the trees to collapse upon, and Ryan followed.
“I didn’t think it was supposed to be this hot today,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. I didn’t respond because my chest felt like it was on fire. Ryan was more physically fit than I was; this was the first real form of exercise I actually liked. Even in P.E. I tried to get away with only what I had to do to pass. Most of the guys in the class didn’t want me on their team because I was the scrawny book geek.
“I have an idea,” Ryan said.
“Really? That must have used up the last of your brain cells.”
He flashed me his middle finger, and I returned the sentiment with a thumbs-up. He stood up and took off his sweaty shirt to reveal his chest. For the most part, Ryan’s chest and abdomen were bare, with the exception of a small trail of hair that ran from his navel down into his shorts. It was the happiest of trails.
“What are you doing?” I tried to keep my focus on his face.
“Going swimming.” He pulled down his shorts next and was left with nothing but his gray underwear. I prayed to God there would be no more articles of clothes removed. Apparently God wasn’t answering calls today because Ryan shucked off his underwear and put them in the pile with the rest of his close.
Shit, shit, shit.
“What are you doing? There are other people in the park,” I said, pointing my thumb toward the trail.
Ryan twisted his head to look left and then right. “No one’s around. Come on, lose the clothes and let’s hop in the lake. No one’s going to care if we’re in our birthday suits once we’re in the water.”
I swallowed hard and did my best to keep my eyes fixed on the lake instead of looking at Ryan.
“What? Are you afraid I’ll see your junk? We have the same equipment.”
“No, it’s not that,” I lied. “I just don’t want to get caught.
“Stop being a pussy, Brandon. Live a little. Don’t make me come over there are strip you down.”
That comment got me up from the ground in record time. The thought of Ryan touching me when he was completely naked might send me off the slippery edge I was on.
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll turn around. I don’t want to look at your pale ass, anyway. It might burn my retinas.”
Ryan turned, and I quickly took off my clothes and put them next to the pile Ryan had made. Before he got the chance to turn around, I darted to the lake and jumped in. The water was cool, but felt good on my burning skin. I felt a splash of water next to me and Ryan’s head came up from the water.
“See? Brilliant plan,” he said as he splashed me with water.
I returned the favor and splashed him back. This turned into a combination splashing war and a game of tag. At that moment, all of my fears faded. I enjoyed being with my best friend and prayed I could keep that feeling forever.
Brandon and I spent a lot of time together after that day in the coffee shop. We found out we had a lot in common, such as our taste in music, love of movies, and our passion for our prospective careers. I was entranced when I listened to Brandon talk about becoming a doctor. He was fervent about healing others; he said the feeling of helping those who couldn’t help themselves filled him with hope. He became so animated when he spoke about the human body, but of course, this only led me to think of his body and what it looked like under his clothes. However, there were parts of Brandon that were still closed off, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he had gotten used to being teased by others or if he was just truly shy. I had a desperate ache to break down those walls and make him feel safe.
Being gay wasn’t easy. I wasn’t ashamed of being gay, and I was extremely lucky that I had the support system I did. Except when my sister and I went shopping; she loved to be a pain in my ass and point out dresses that would look good on me. I knew she was joking, but the joke was on her when I stuck my tongue down her crush’s throat. Nothing was better than telling her he liked dick instead of pussy. None of it was true, but she sobbed in her room, asking God why all the good ones were gay.
I, however, asked God why Brandon couldn’t be gay. There were times I swore he caught me looking at his sweet ass when we hung out. I fantasied about pressing my rigid cock against him in those tight jeans he wore. If he did catch me, he was too sweet to say anything about it. I didn’t want to make Brandon feel awkward; the thought of teasing him about staring at my ass might scare him off.
Before I knew it, graduation was here. I sat in my cap and gown, waiting to be called to the platform and receive my diploma. What I wanted to do was moon the school and tell everyone to kiss my perfectly white ass. I didn’t think my parents would appreciate my showing off the perfect rump they created. I didn’t dislike high school; I wasn’t made fun of, and I socialized with most groups. Peter served his purpose—being my introduction to fooling around with guys—but after I met Brandon, we decided to part ways. We were both cool about it since it wasn’t anything serious to begin with.
I was ready to start the next phase of my life; I wanted to see what more was out there instead of this small town I lived in. My daydreaming of my ass turned into daydreaming of Brandon’s ass. His graduation was also today, so we couldn’t be there for each other. I was hoping for the chance to meet his parents since he spent most of his time at my house. He didn’t talk about them a lot. Come to I think of it, he didn’t talk about them at all.
“Oh, honey. I’m so proud of you!” my mom screeched when I approached them after the ceremony. I gave her a tight squeeze, and she pulled away, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“Well done, son. Glad you didn’t show your ass on stage.” My dad shook my hand and pulled me in for a hug.
“Ah, Dad. You know me too well.” I laughed as he let go.
“No one wants to see your furry asshole. I would have been the outcast of the entire school, and then I’d have to drop out, get pregnant, and work at Wal-Mart.” We all turned to look at my sister, who stood with her arms crossed, sneering.
“That would be tragic,” I said. “Because your fashion sense would go from foul to downright white trash.” I shoved her shoulder, smiling. I saw a small curve of her lip turn upward into something resembling a smile. Preteen hormones had the best of her now, but I had a feelin
g she was going to be something fantastic when she grew out of it.
That evening my parents threw a small graduation party for me. A few family members came over, and I also invited Brandon since he didn’t seem to have any graduation plans of his own. I asked if he would like to bring his parents along, but he said they had plans. Who makes plans on their son’s graduation day? I told him to bring some stuff so he could stay the night. I was sure my parents were okay with us having some beers to celebrate, as long as we didn’t leave the house. Although my dad claimed I might like being caught by the cops and thrown in jail because maybe they would be nice to look at. I know he was trying to be the cool supportive dad, but the idea that my dad would even imply that made me sick.
I dressed in jeans and a dress shirt with a light navy sweater on top. My fashion tastes were always on the preppy side. I brushed my hair and styled it with some gel for good measure. I wasn’t sure why I was going to great lengths; it wasn’t like I was going on a fucking date.
Steven Buscemi: You wish it were a date, Ryan. You want to look sexy for your sweetheart, Brandon, don’t you? Aren’t you hoping he’s wearing that tight gray T-shirt you love so much? You know, the one you want to rip off with your teeth. Awe, poor Ryan, another night of blue balls. Or are they turning the same color as your navy sweater?
Fuck you, Steve Buscemi.
The doorbell rang, and I checked my hair one more time before I went running down to answer it, hoping it was Brandon. Instead of Brandon, there stood my grandparents.
“Hey, boy.” My grandpa pinched my nose and then hid his hand behind his back. “Who’s got your nose?”
“Grandpa, you know I’m seventeen, right?”
He gave my grandma a bewildered look. “Does that mean his balls dropped?”
“Oh, Jerry. Knock it off.” She smacked his chest. “Hello, dear,” she said, giving me a peck on the cheek before walking in.
My grandpa followed her in and said, “You know, when your father was your age, he walked around with a comb in his back pocket so he could use it to itch his nuts.”
I pinched my eyes shut and tried to shake that thought out of my head.
“Grandpa, as far as any child is concerned, their parents don’t have any sort of genitals. It’s all blank down there. Like Barbie and Ken dolls.”
I joined the rest of the party, which included my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I was talking to my Uncle Kevin when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Brandon. I took a second to scan over him, admiring his casual look. He was wearing the jeans that I loved and that fucking gray T-shirt that clung to his lean frame. I also admired the glasses he had gotten; the dark-wired rims only made his eyes darker and more seductive than before. When he’d gotten them, I told him he rocked the nerd look and girls loved that shit. That might have been a small lie. No one loved the nerdy look, but I thought it looked hot. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Hey, man, you came.” I went in to give him a hug, and he winced when I tightened my arms around his back. I let go. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I think I strained my back trying to work out.”
I let out a little laugh. “Dude, you might want to start off small. Maybe we’ll go to the gym together, and I can show you how I achieve this magic.” I flexed my arms and did my best imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
“You mean show me what not to do, right?” He poked my abs with his finger. God, I loved it when he teased me. It was a chance to see the relaxed Brandon.
“Hey, kid, is this your boyfriend?” My grandpa asked. Heat quickly rose to my cheeks, and I wanted to find the closet hole to hide in. Brandon put his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked on his heels.
“No, you old fart. This is my good friend Brandon.”
“Hmm, too bad. He’s cute, and he looks like a good bottom.”
“Grandpa!” I screamed. “How the hell do you know what a bottom is?”
“Boy, just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m stupid. We lived on a hippy commune back in 1976. All types of folks lived there, and some of them didn’t give a crap if you were sitting there or not before getting it on. It was all about peace, smoking dope, and having sex.”
“How did I not know this piece of information about you? I’m your grandson.”
“Because your mother said if I ever told you or your sister, she would tell your grandma that I used Viagra like a daily vitamin. Can’t let the woman think I can’t get it going on my own and I needed medical intervention to please her.”
It was official. I was going to die right there—death by gay embarrassment. I put my head in my hands, and Brandon let out a small chuckle. I peeked through my fingers to look at him, and he had his beautiful boyish smile in place.
Brandon turned to my grandpa. “Ryan was the one to get some bullies from school off my back; it was how we met. I own him a lot.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that Ryan would be wearing anything shiny.” He gave me wink and nudged me in the stomach with his elbow. “With all teasing aside, it sounds like something our Ryan would do. Always the one to the rescue.”
After I was done mentally berating my grandpa, I asked Brandon if he wanted a beer. If getting piss-ass drunk was a possibility, I would take it after being totally embarrassed by my grandpa in front of Brandon.
Brandon and I sat with my family, talking about what college life had in store for us. My parents took to Brandon like a bee to honey. I also enjoyed how relaxed Brandon became—as if he’d always been part of my family. He laughed more, smiled more, and looked at me with different eyes. Maybe I was projecting those ideas because I wanted him to want me the same way I desired him. It was hopeful thinking on my part. I needed to be careful because I was setting myself up to be disappointed and hurt.
Day turned into night and the party ended. Brandon and I helped clean up, and my parents and sister excused themselves to go to bed. Brandon and I went to chill out in the family room.
“I’m feeling nice and relaxed,” I told him as I flopped onto the couch.
“Yeah, having a few beers will do that to a person.” He flashed me a toothy smile as he sat down next to me. “Your family is so incredible.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t call DCFS on them or anything.” I returned Brandon’s playful smile and stretched up, locking my hands together behind my head. Brandon watched me, his smile fell, and he adjusted his glasses. I’d come to learn that Brandon adjusted his glasses when he became nervous. “What’s wrong?”
“What? Nothing’s wrong.”
“Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose.
I reached over and took his glasses off his face, neatly folded them, and placed them on the coffee table. “You always play with your glasses when you’re nervous.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You’re lucky your family is so accepting of you.”
I furrowed my brows. “You mean because I’m gay?”
“Yes. I can’t imagine every kid who comes out has such an easy time and such accepting parents. Do you know anyone out there who has been disowned or worse?”
“What do you mean ‘worse’?”
“Maybe they hurt themselves or tried committing suicide?”
My brows furrowed, and I wondered why Brandon would ask me something like that. Was he just curious about what it was like to come out? Or was there something more? “I only know one other gay person who’s a year younger than me. She’s out, but her parents didn’t take it as well as mine did. They didn’t throw her out or anything, but she’s told me that there were some pretty big rifts going on in her house.”
Brandon twisted his hands together. Another nervous habit I’ve come to recognize. I decided to change the subject.
“Bran, you don’t talk about your parents very much. How come?”
“There isn’t that much to talk about; they’re both workaholics, and they’re never home,” he said, turning his
eyes away from me to stare out into the distance.
“Then how come we never hang out at your place?”
“Our place is always a mess. Even a hoarder would run out the door screaming,” he added.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you afraid to bring me to your house because I’m gay?”
He was quick to answer. “No! It’s nothing about you. You’re perfect the way you are.”
I froze. “Perfect?”
Brandon gulped and then opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it. Was it possible he had similar feelings as I had? I mean, he did spend most of his free time with me, and he never mentioned anything about having a crush on any girls.
Brad Pitt: No, no, no, Ryan. Get those silly thoughts out of your head. You’re talking with the wrong head.
Steve Buscemi: It’s called a cock, motherfucker.
Brad Pitt: There’s no need for vulgar language here. Ryan needs to protect his heart, and he needs to take care of Brandon.
Steve Buscemi: Fuck that shit. He needs to stick is tongue down his throat and get his whistle wet. Poor kid is getting fucking calluses on his hand from wanking it so much. Let the other kid jerk him off for a change.
Brad Pitt: Tsk, tsk. Ryan, think about it. You know what’s right for this moment.
Steve Buscemi: Fuck right! Go for it, asshole.
Sorry, Brad. You’ve lost this war.
I slowly slid closer to Brandon on the couch, waiting to see if he would back away. He kept twisting his hands, and his beautiful brown eyes went wide. His Adam’s apple bobbed. We sat so our legs touched, and my heart pounded as I lifted my hand to move a piece of hair that had fallen into his eyes. My movements were all in slow motion as I touched his cheek with my fingertips. Brandon’s eyes shut, and whether he did it consciously or not, his tongue came out to wet his lips.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
Brandon opened his eyes and gazed into mine. I’d been hard all evening just from looking at him, but the swipe of his tongue did me in, and I was harder than steel. I carefully moved my hand to the back of his neck, letting his longer locks weave through my fingers. It felt like I was touching the finest silk. My fingers found the skin of his neck and I pull him ever so gently toward me. I waited to see if he would pull away, but he didn’t, so I leaned in. He closed his eyes, and I cocked my head slightly so our noses wouldn’t bump. I ghosted my lips over his, hovering for just a moment, giving my brain the opportunity to burn this moment into my memory.
