by Lori L. Otto
“Ummm… I’m clean. You can get closer.” I called that one.
Coley laughs a little as she slides to the seat next to him. He places his hand on top of hers. “So you like to write. You like oral.”
“Max!”
“I don’t like to write,” my friend says, “but I do like oral. So we have a little in common already. What else should I know about you?”
“I swim,” Coley says, unfazed.
“So do I,” Max counters.
“I’m from Virginia.”
“I’m not.”
“I have two brothers.”
“I have two brothers. I’m the youngest. You?”
“Technically, yes, but I’m a twin.”
“Oh.” Max mulls that over. “I don’t think that counts.”
“Okay,” she says, thinking. “I write poetry.”
“We already hit the writing thing. Next.”
“But not poetry,” she argues.
“Boring. Next.”
She sighs. “I like musicals.” I set their drinks down on the table and take a seat.
“Being in them?”
“And seeing them. Listening to them.”
“Nope,” he says. “Is that what this shit is?” he asks, pointing to her phone. She nods.
“But wait, are you an actor? Do you like being in them?” She deduces this from his previous response.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Parents still married?” he asks.
“No,” she answers.
“Mine never were.”
“I’m sorry…?”
“My dad’s not worthy. It’s okay.”
“All right then.”
“We’re not focusing on me. This is Coley time. Is Coley a nickname?”
“It’s short for Nicolea.”
“Can I call you that?”
“No.”
“Lea?”
“No.”
“Nic?”
“No.”
“Cole? You gotta give me something.”
“You’ve got to get to know me better and think of something suitable.”
Max grins. “Challenge accepted. Why do you like my brother here? Don’t say he’s a good linguist. Or cunnilinguist. The whole world knows about both of those.”
She ignores his comments. “I like that he’s willing to learn from me, and that he’s willing to teach me things. I like that he’s patient and kind. He’s willing to help anyone. He has a huge–”
“Don’t I know it,” he says as he eyes my crotch. I throw a pillow at him as soon as he sets his drink down.
“Heart,” she continues. “And I’ve never met anyone who listens as intently as he does. He hears all the details, whether they’re spoken or unspoken. And then, Max, there are a lot of things I like about him that you don’t need to know about.”
“He tells me everything,” Max argues.
“That’s absolutely untrue. Max tells me everything,” I correct him. “I do have boundaries.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Ever cheated on anyone?” he asks her, then looks at me quickly. “This, in no way, is making a statement of what I think happened between you and Coley and Zaina or whatever. If you say you just started dating, I believe it.”
“We did.”
“I believe it. But you, Coley? Ever cheated?”
“No,” she says, holding up her chin.
“Has anyone ever cheated on you?”
She looks him in the eyes as she answers. “Yeah, I’ve been cheated on.”
He bites his cheek and nods his head. “Yeah, me, too. Sucks.”
“Sucks snow cones,” she adds, her face unchanging from the serious look she had when she answered him. Me, on the other hand, I’ll never be able to not smile when she says that.
Apparently, Max can’t hold in a bit of laughter either.
“Did you say snow cones?”
She rolls her eyes, catching herself only after he brought it up. “Yes. It’s from my childhood. Whatever,” she says as she tries to breeze over it.
“So, Coney it is.”
“What?”
“Snow Coney’s too long… so we’ll just go with Coney.”
“You are not calling me Coney, Max,” she pleads, starting to laugh now.
“Oh, yes I am, Coney.”
“Trey, you can’t let him call me that,” she begs me.
“Laureate, if I had any control over this guy, he wouldn’t be staying here with us tonight… which is why I assume he’s here with a backpack.” She looks at me, surprised, as Max settles back into the recliner.
“You don’t mind, right? You always said I was welcome any time.”
“I did say that,” I tell him. “Did Zaina put you up to this?”
“She can be vindictive, Trey, but no. I just don’t want to wake Mom up this late. I thought I had my key, but I don’t.”
“You have two actual brothers that live in this same town, you know?” I remind him.
“One with two little rug rats and one with a libido that’s too big for guests to stay in the apartment with him and his wife,” he blatantly announces. “If Will’s not working, he’s probably fucking,” he says as an aside to Coley.
“That’s TMI, Max, and not true, Coley. Will’s done more with his life already than most of us will do before we die.”
“Okay, well, you haven’t walked in on them multiple times like I have.”
“Maybe you should knock and not use the spare key they gave you.”
“Note to self: don’t give Max a spare key,” Coley says.
“I’m telling you… no boundaries,” I repeat. She and I both laugh. “But no, Max, I don’t mind. The guest bedroom is all yours.”
“And a ride to the airport?”
“I will call you a car. We aren’t leaving the apartment this weekend. Did you see the lobby downstairs?”
“Oh, was that calamitous nonsense for you?” he asks sarcastically.
“Shut the hell up.”
“A car works,” he says. “Is this okay with you, Coney?”
She narrows her eyes, then shifts her attention to me. “This means I can come up with a suitable name for him, right?”
“Anything you want,” I tell her. “You have my full support. He’s Mascot to us. He can be ‘Maximus, Lord of the Dick Meisters’ to you, for all I care.”
“Oh, that’s too long.”
“You haven’t seen my dick,” Max says, holding onto his crotch.
“Oh, you’re funny,” she states adamantly with a smile, looking down curiously. “Are you checking to make sure it’s still there?”
I burst out laughing.
“You weren’t going to follow that statement up with ‘have you?’ Were you?” she asks with mock pity.
Max begins to nod, the corners of his mouth raising slowly. “It’s on, Coney,” he says, pointing at her.
“Bring it, Van Boytin,” she says without skipping a beat.
“Van Boytin? Why Van Boytin?”
“You know… like the comedian?” she asks. I’m not even sure the guy’s worthy of the title comedian. He tells the most imbecilic jokes and uses the most obvious puns in his uninspired, vapid routines.
“Yeah, but he’s not even funny.”
She nods quickly. “And that’s ‘why Van Boytin,’” she says with finality.
“Hahahaaaa,” I laugh audibly again, this time in more of a smug, in-your-face kind of way.
“I don’t like her,” Max says to me, but he’s still smiling.
“Too bad. I love her. She stays. You’ll come around.”
I catch him wink at her before he picks up his drink again. “So, what are we doing on this fine Saturday night? We can’t go out. What did I interrupt? Oh, wait. I was saluted by Trey’s cock at the door, so I can put two and two together. Do you need me to wait in the guest room while you fool around in here? Which camera’s filming?”
“Can it, Max,” I tell him, holdin
g Coley’s hand. “That really isn’t funny right now. Maybe in a few weeks.”
“Maybe years,” she says.
“Yeah, I know,” he concedes. “That shit was messed up. I’m sorry it happened to you–both of you.”
“Thanks.”
“But you were fooling around when I showed up, yeah?”
“Max, we’re hanging out with you now, okay? Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“What’s your favorite movie?” he quizzes her quickly.
“Amor y Alabanza,” she says.
“That sounds foreign.”
“So you haven’t seen it.” She looks at me. “Have you?”
“No,” I tell her.
“You will both love it. I promise. Wait, can you read, Van Boytin?” she asks him.
“He’s surprisingly smart when he puts his glasses on.”
“It has subtitles?” he whines.
“Yes. But just trust me on this, okay?”
“I don’t even know you,” Max says. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because it’s about two gay men in Mexico who meet in seminary school and fall in love, and they are the hottest Latin actors you’ve ever seen.”
“Is there sex?” he asks, acting like he’s not interested.
“Passion like you wouldn’t believe,” she says.
“I mean… if there’s nothing else on.”
“Yeah, Max,” I say, rolling my eyes as I find the movie on iTunes. “It’s the only movie available tonight.”
“It’s a beautiful love story,” she whispers in my ear. “My favorite.”
“I want to know everything that inspires you,” I tell her, planting a kiss on her temple before I pull the blanket off the back of the couch. She settles into me as we get comfortable.
“I swear, if there’s any inappropriate touching going on over there, I’m turning on that documentary about kill shelters that made you cry when you were thirteen,” Max threatens.
Coley’s hand slides up my thigh and rests between my legs. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s never once touched me inappropriately.” I look over at her.
“Same,” she says. “I’ve never been more appropriately… touched.” I lean in to kiss her, lingering for what I hope is just enough time to make Max uncomfortable.
“I’m not afraid to dump ice on you,” he says.
“Sounds sexy,” Coley counters, running her thumb along my lower lip.
“Will you please hit play already?”
Putting my left arm around my girlfriend, I pick up the remote again and start the movie. “Happy?” I ask him, tossing him the device and trying to keep a composed look on my face while Coley’s hand continues to explore.
“Thank you.”
I readjust myself against the cushions until I’m lying down and Coley’s on her side behind me, her head on my shoulder so she can watch the movie. She tickles my chest and abs throughout with her manicured nails. I know they’re gay men, but the lighting and cinematography–and the obvious chemistry between the actors–makes it difficult to not get a little caught up in their passion during the sex scenes. I’m not ashamed to admit that. It probably doesn’t help that my girlfriend is stroking my dick over my jeans while it’s happening, either.
“We’re going to bed, Van Boytin,” she announces, climbing over me. “Bring the blanket with you, Trey.”
“It’s not over yet,” Max argues, wiping a tear from his eye.
“I’ll tell him the ending,” she says, pulling me up off the couch. I wince in discomfort, my jeans in the way of my hard-on. “You may want to turn up the volume.”
“Night, Max,” I say as I quickly make my way to the bedroom.
“And just so there’s no misunderstanding, Max,” I hear Coley tell him, “Trey’s bedroom is off-limits. ¿Comprendes?”
“How long will this go on? Ten minutes? Fifteen?”
“All night!” I yell from my bedroom. “Enjoy your stay!”
At three-fifteen, I slide out of bed quietly and put on some sweatpants before making my way into the kitchen. Coley’s sound asleep. A part of me is tired, too, but my empty stomach is keeping me awake and I realize I never ate my dinner last night.
“What the fuuuuuck?” Max moans, peeking over the back of the couch when I turn on the light.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t realize you were in here. Why aren’t you in the guest room?” I ask him, putting the take-out container in the microwave.
“Because you guys were obnoxiously loud, and I felt weird jacking off next door.”
“What, so you did it out here?”
“No, you moron. I came out here and turned on some women’s basketball so I would lose the urge. Good athletes, though. Pretty sure they could outplay us,” he comments.
I laugh lightly. “I don’t doubt that. I know I’m out of practice. Callen could still take them.”
“Stop bringing him up.”
“Fine. Are you hungry? There’s plenty here.” I get out two plates, but hold them in my hands, suddenly frozen.
“Yeah,” he says as I look hard at the countertop. Even after she was raped, Jenny had meticulously cleaned the kitchen, destroying any other evidence of what happened to her. He stood right here when he hurt her. My appetite is gone once again, and I decide in this moment that I don’t want to live here anymore.
“I ate all your Valentine’s candy, by the way.”
After putting one of the plates back, I glance in the small basket from my sister. “So you did. Did she send you one, too?” I ask, hoping to get my mind off of what I’ve seen.
“She did. It was gone within three days.”
“Since when did you start eating candy like that?”
“I didn’t. The guy I’ve been seeing ate it all.”
I look up at him as I dish all of the chicken and vegetables onto his plate. “You’re seeing someone?”
He shrugs his shoulders as he gets up off the couch and walks toward the island. “It’s nothing serious. We’re just having a good time. He’s a bartender at a club near campus. He’s thirty-four.”
“Thirty-four?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“I went to a concert there. He saw me from across the room and took a break to come dance with me… I gave him my number, he called me when he got off… the rest is history.”
“Did you, uh… hook up that night?”
“I don’t fuck and tell, Trey…” Before I can argue with him, he continues. “…but yeah. And don’t judge me. You slept with Coney the night of your first date.” I set his food in front of him and hand him some silverware, then move as far across the kitchen as I can before continuing the conversation.
“I’ve known her since the first day of classes, Max. It might be a tiny bit different. But I’m not judging you. You’re a smart guy. Nobody expects celibacy while you and Callen figure things out.”
Before he takes his first bite, he glares at me, the fork half-an-inch from his mouth. “I don’t know why you insist that we’re going to get back together,” he says to me.
“Because you guys fought too hard to be together in the first place, Mascot. And he isn’t giving up.” I leave that little tidbit hanging to see if he takes the bait.
“He never calls me anymore.”
“You told him not to. He’s respecting your wishes.”
“Well, then, what the hell’s he going to do?”
“Something big. Something very uncharacteristic of Callen.”
“When?”
“When you least expect it. But when you’re ready for it.”
“I’m never gonna be ready,” he says stubbornly.
“Okay,” I concede as if I don’t care.
“How would he know if I was ready, anyway?”
“I’ll know,” I tell him smugly.
“I’m cutting you off.” It’s an empty threat.
“Your brother will know, and he talks to Callen weekly.
”
“Fuck, I’ll cut him off, too.” I chuckle at that. There’s no one Max is closer to than Will.
“We’re not going to force you into anything. We’re only going to do what’s best for you,” I promise him.
“He cheated on me,” he argues.
“And he hasn’t been out with anyone–in any capacity–since that day, Max. Not even a date. It’s been more than a year and a half. This is Callen, we’re talking about. Callen ‘Manwhore’ McNare. The guy who would sleep with Brinlee in high school–a girl he wasn’t even attracted to because he’s gay and wasn’t ready to come out yet–just to get laid. I don’t know. To me, that says something.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that he cheated on me.”
“Nope,” I contend. “You are absolutely right.”
“Could you forgive?” he asks. “Let’s say Coney met some guy next week and fucked him in the showers. Could you forgive her?”
I open one of my notebooks, finding it necessary to divert my attention elsewhere. “I don’t know this Coney about whom you speak.”
“Coley. That woman in your bed who quoted poetry to you while you nailed her–” I blush, knowing that he heard that.
“Created poetry,” I correct him quietly.
“That’s even more disgusting. Anyway. Could you forgive her if she fucked some other guy?”
I swallow hard. “I mean, we’ve only been dating for a few days.”
“You’ve liked her for a lot longer. You dumped your girlfriend of four and a half years for her. You love her.”
“I know, but… we don’t have history yet. You guys had a lot of history.”
“You’re just making up excuses. Is she the girl of your dreams?”
I nod my head. “Yeah.”
“Then answer the question.”
I pick up my notebook and take it into the living room, getting comfortable in the recliner and staring at the wall across the room. Never in my life have I believed that a relationship I was in could survive infidelity of any kind. I’ve always known I would not be the one to cheat, and in my limited experience, it was always Zaina that I had envisioned in the scenario. I knew I would never forgive her if she cheated on me.
But I feel differently for Coley. I feel more for her; stronger, deeper. Does that mean I’d have a better chance of forgiving her if she were to betray me in such a way, or does it mean I would be hurt that much more, and even less inclined to take her back?
