A Not So Typical Love

by Tristen Rowen

  "No, I guess not," he laughed.

  "You know I can be your boyfriend if you want. If you let me."

  "Oh Jordan," he said lightly.

  "Oh Jamie," I mocked him.

  "I wasn't expecting any of this," he said. "You and me...this summer...This was not what I had planned."

  "What did you have planned?" I asked.

  "Well, I don't know," he said. "Not this. I don't know. What are you doing, anyway?" he asked as I held him close to me. "You're dancing with me now?"

  I sang the falsetto of Blondie because that's what played in my head. I didn't even know I could dance until he came along. Jamie smiled against the side of my face. He liked it when I sang.

  "You're really something, you know that?" he said. Swaying with me, Jamie sang the title of the song.

  "I just want to be with you," I said in his ear. "And I know you want to be with me. It's okay, right? Jamie..." I said as he pulled away from me.

  "Jordan," he said, holding my face. "I want to be with you, too."

  "Then what's the problem?" I said. He shook his head. "What?" I said, squeezing his butt cheeks hard, eliciting a laugh from him. As his erection bounced against my thigh, I looked down his body. "I'm not afraid," I said, stroking him. "I was freaked out at first, but I'm not anymore."

  "You know I really want you," he said.

  "So what's the problem?" I said again, backing away from him, throwing myself on his bed. Lying there naked, I propped myself up on my elbows. "Tim'll be home by the time you figure this out."

  "Jordan, I..." he said as if he was about to tell me something. "Wait." He crouched by his open suitcase, searching for something.

  "Any minute now," I said.

  "And to think you hardly said a word when we first met," he said. Finding what he was looking for, he plopped down beside me.

  "Hold out your hand," he said.

  "Why?"

  "Just do it," he said and so I did. Holding a black bottle, he squirted some clear liquid into my palm. He took my hand and placed it on himself, kissing me, breaking away from me a few seconds later, which really started to annoy me. "I don't know, Jordan. I don't know if I can do this to you." Impatiently, I took the bottle from him and squirted a bunch more on him. Before he said anything else, I straddled him. "Jordan..."

  "Jamie..." I said, pushing down a little so just the tip poked in me.

  "Fuck," he muttered. It was different than what I expected. Actually, I wasn’t sure what I expected. It felt really weird; interesting and weird. "We don't have to," he said, but I pushed harder down, figuring we had gone this far, so why stop? Looking down, I noticed that there was no space between us. He was all the way in me while I sat there, my feet tucked under his thighs. "Are you alright?" he asked.

  "Uh...yeah," I said, not really sure what to make of it at first. "Should I move?" I asked.

  "If you want," he said, his hands firmly on my waist.

  "Yeah...yeah...okay." I said. He let go of my waist and grabbed both of my hands, shifting his hips up, encouraging me to push down. "Fuck," I whispered, rocking slowly back and forth. "This feels so weird," I said. "Really, really weird." After a few more minutes, it didn't feel so weird. Something strange and unusual flowed through my veins, but in a good sort of way. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to fight it off, this unusual, overwhelming sensation. I couldn't even look at him, afraid I was going to explode.

  "Jordan, look at me," he said. I could barely take it. "Jordan...." he said, sitting up with his lips against my chest as we gained more and more momentum, his hips shifting up and into mine, mine down and into his. "Jordan," he said again.

  "Jamie," I said, my eyes fixed with his. "I...uh..." My thighs clamped down against Jamie's and I couldn't control it, crying out so loud I was glad Tim wasn't home. A brief wave of embarrassment swept over me as I observed the mess I made on his chest and stomach, not to mention all the noise I just made.

  Jamie sat up with his hands on my lower back, still deep inside me, not finished yet. He rocked me back and forth until he thrust so deep, crying out louder than I had ever heard him before. Jamie suddenly went still and quiet while my body continued to shake. Although he was still and quiet, I could feel his heart thump.

  "Was it okay?" I asked, not sure of myself, especially since Jamie went silent. As he looked at me, he nodded, not saying anything.

  And then he did something I never expected: He burst into tears, leaving me more confused than I had ever been, possibly in my entire life.

  Nothing but Flowers

  Jamie

  Instead of getting off me and running the hell away from this freak (i.e. me), Jordan bent over and kissed my lips through my unexplainable, stupidly boyish tears. "Jamie Cry Baby" was my nickname in school, beginning in kindergarten and lasting until...well, let me think...oh never. I just learned how to stop crying in public. Kids always made fun of me, everyone except Tim who didn't laugh at anything. I cried even when there was no good reason to cry or at least that's what my parents said.

  My feelings for Jordan overwhelmed me. For the longest time, I believed I'd never feel connected to anyone ever again after Gavin died. And then there was this other part of me that knew this feeling I had for Jordan wouldn't...or couldn't....last forever. I was fairly certain that this little thing we had together was going to be short-lived. There were way too many years between us. Or did that really matter?

  "This feels so weird," Jordan said, still sitting on me. With my hands on his waist, I laughed and cried at the same time. Although we had finished, Jordan didn't budge.

  "Are you alright?" I asked, sniffing back my tears.

  "Uh...yeah," he said, his confusion turning into concern.

  "Just ignore me. I'm fine," I said. "I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'm okay." I brought my fingers to his head of thick damp curls. "You're all sweaty."

  "You're all sticky," he said, rubbing my stomach with his hands.

  Throughout the night, I came so close to telling him how I really felt, but something stopped me. I must have been really out of my mind, falling in love like this so quickly, even after this little shit spit, shoved, kicked, and bit me. Who was I kidding, anyway? All those things made me fall for him even harder and quicker. Wrapping my arms around him, I rolled him onto his back, finally pulling out of him. He giggled, which made me love him even more.

  Leaning against him, my legs stretched out beside his as he held one arm around my waist and the other over my chest. He kissed the side of my head.

  "It didn't hurt, you know," he said. "Well, maybe a little, but not like I thought it would."

  "Did you think about it a lot?" I asked. "Before we did it? Was it something you thought about a lot?"

  "Think about what?" he asked.

  "Sex," I said bluntly because Jordan often responded best to bluntness.

  "No," he said. "Well, maybe I did, but only a little." Turning my head toward him, I looked at him hard with curiosity. He noticeably blushed, so I suspected he had probably been thinking about it a lot.

  "You were great," I said. "More confident than I ever was my first time, that's for sure.”

  “Is it my fault you're sad?" he asked.

  "I'm not sad," I said. "I just cry easily."

  "I've never seen you cry."

  "Because you don't know me that well," I said. "Ask Tim. He knows."

  "So it's nothing I did?"

  "No," I said, squeezing his arm. "You're great, Jordan. Really...don't ever believe you're not." Jordan kissed the side of my face again. "I'm not sad," I said, pulling him into my lap. "Just fucked up."

  "I don't think you're fucked up," he said. My hands slid down his back as he pressed his forehead against mine.

  "And to think, not too long ago you couldn't stand to be touched," I said. "Now you can't get enough of it." He kissed my forehead with a smile on his lips. Down below, the front door opened and closed. Jordan immediately pulled away from me and jumped off the bed.


  "Tim's home," he said. Without looking back, he ran out of the room. I heard Jordan scamper down the hall, eventually closing his bedroom door. The only vision in my head was Jordan and his dark chocolate eyes. As I put my pencil to paper, there was a knock on my door. Did Jordan come back already? Just in case it wasn't Jordan, I threw the sheets over me, covering my naked body.

  "Come in," I said. It wasn't Jordan, but Tim.

  "Hey," Tim said.

  "Hey," I said. "How was your date?"

  "Alright," he said, clearly not willing to further discuss it. "How’s Jordan?" As my cheeks burned, I really hoped he didn't notice me blush. Fortunately Tim didn't notice such things.

  "Good," I said. "We just hung out and listened to music."

  "Him and his music," he said. "I'm glad he wasn't any trouble. Well, I'm going to bed. Good-night."

  "Good-night," I said, overcome with guilt as Tim closed my door. I knew he was going to kill me, or worse, possibly end our friendship if or when he found out about us. Like Jordan said, Tim still thought of him as a ten year old kid. He needed him to stay young and dependent on him. He didn't know anything else.

  ***

  As I slept on my stomach, I hugged the pillows to me, only awakening to a voice in my room, a very familiar voice I looked forward to hearing everyday, just not at seven in the morning. During the school year, I had to get up by six to make it to work by seven. It was summer vacation, though; I didn't have to get up if I didn't want to.

  "Do you like the Talking Heads?" That familiar voice I loved so much asked. I would have laughed if it wasn't so early and if I hadn't been asleep.

  "Huh?" I yawned.

  "Talking Heads. My mom loves them. I think David Byrne is overrated. I like Psycho Killer and Once in a Lifetime, but I can't stand Burning Down the House. What do you think?"

  "I think you talk too much," I said, throwing a pillow at him. "What happened to you, huh?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You barely talked when we first met. You hate talking. Isn't it supposed to be really hard for you? Now you don't shut up and talk when I want to sleep." Opening my eyes fully, I smiled, seeing Jordan standing by my bed, wearing a Red Sox t-shirt. I didn't know he was into baseball or any sport for that matter. Here it was, July, and we hadn't watched one baseball game. Frowning, he folded his arms across his chest as if he were annoyed with something I said. "I'm sorry," I said, crawling to him. "I know you don't like to be teased, but sometimes it's fun." The shirt was too big for him, hanging down to his thighs. I wondered if it was his dad's; it was too big for Tim. Looking down his body, I realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath. "Where's the rest of your clothes?" I asked. He just shrugged. "You went downstairs like that?"

  "Yes," he said. "I slept in it last night. What? You can't see anything. I mean, it covers everything, right?"

  "Yeah, just about," I said.

  "So, do you?" he asked as I knelt on the bed in front of him.

  "Do I what?" I asked, pushing his shirt up to his waist, but he pushed it back down, wanting me to focus on this serious question.

  "Like the Talking Heads," he said.

  "Yes," I said. "Sure, why not?" I was too distracted by his half naked body to give a serious answer.

  "That's not a real answer," he said.

  "Yes," I said. "They're alright."

  "What's your favorite song?"

  "Psycho Killer," I said.

  "Typical," he said as I slid my hands up the back of his t-shirt.

  "What's yours?" I asked.

  "Nothing but Flowers," he said.

  "Interesting," I said as he swallowed hard, staring back at me almost expressionless as I squeezed his ass. Due to the movement under the front of his shirt, I knew he liked it. At the same time, he just wanted to talk about the Talking Heads and his favorite song.

  "It's my mom's favorite," he said. "She used to dance to it in the kitchen. Tim, too...it's his favorite. Can we listen to it?" He picked up my phone off the nightstand, quickly finding the song on YouTube. I couldn’t wait to hear him sing along to it. Holding my phone, looking down at it, his head bobbed to the opening riff, a happy mix of bass, bongos, and guitar.

  At the start of the chorus, Jordan danced around the room while singing at the same time. I just lay back on bed, enjoying the view and entertainment.

  And then the song slowed down again and Jordan moseyed his way back to the bed. Lunging toward him, I pulled him down on the bed with me. He sang the next line with me on top of him, his head hanging off the bed. My lips trailed down his Adam's apple, which I knew he liked based on his sighs and gasps between lyrics. After his shirt landed on the floor, I took one of his legs and brought it around my waist. In-between kisses, he sang parts of the song.

  "I think you'd give David Byrne a run for his money," I said, but he ignored me as his hands ran up and down my backside.

  "Can we do it again?” he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Okay," he said. He let out a laugh as I held his ankles, pulling him closer to me so he was no longer hanging off the bed. I hadn't had morning sex in a long time. The last time was probably with Gina several months ago and Jordan was so much different and better than Gina. Jordan covered his face with his hands, muffling his sounds.

  "Hey, Jordan," I said with his legs up in the air on either side of me. I took them and rested them on my shoulders. He moaned louder as I leaned forward, pushing deeper into him.

  "This feels so good," he said after I removed his hands from his face. I wanted to see him. He kissed my mouth hard, sucking my bottom lip. With another thrust, he bit down on it. By now I had gotten used to what I referred to as his "love bites" and looked forward to them, even enjoying them.

  His eyes remained fixed with mine as he finished against my chest. "I love it when you do that," I said before he apologized because he always seemed to feel the need to apologize when I actually really, really liked it. A few minutes later, I moaned against his lips as I, too, finished. Yeah, morning sex was great.

  I Will Follow

  Jamie

  For someone who supposedly struggled with eye contact, Jordan had little trouble with me as he gazed into my eyes. His gaze was so intense, I felt like he could see into my soul. I wondered if he could see the frightened little boy that still lived inside me. He saw some of it last night. I saw through him, too, a combination of fear and uncertainty, and an emotion he had never experienced before. Like me, he wasn't expecting this. He was someone who thrived on regimented, even boring routine who spent most of his time alone in his own little world in this wilderness. I disrupted his life and almost everything he'd ever known.

  "I wanna show you a place," Jordan said as his feet slid down my back and over my ass. "Only me and my mom know about it. Tim doesn't even know."

  "I'd love to see your secret place," I said, lying comfortably on top of him.

  "Okay. Let's go now," he said.

  "Right now?"

  "Yes, right now," he said dead seriously. As I eased out of him, evidence of what we just did seeped out. At first I thought he was going to freak out as he just lay there, looking down and between his legs. And then he abruptly burst into a fit of giggles. "That feels so weird." His laughter could be so contagious at times. I'd only heard him laugh a few times, mostly when he splashed me in the water. While he continued to laugh, I got up and removed the sheets with him still lying there.

  "It's not laundry day," I teased. "Is it okay if I do my laundry today?"

  "Saturday's my laundry day, not yours," he said, his laughter subsiding. I threw his shirt at him, hitting him in the face with it. Before I said anything else, he ran out of the room, putting his shirt back on at the same time.

  "Come on, get dressed," he shouted to me, running down the stairs. I really hoped he'd put on some bottoms before going outside. Not only that, I was starving so I hoped he'd give me the chance to eat breakfast first.

  After throwing on a pair of s
horts, I made my way downstairs. As I entered the kitchen, an unknown woman caught me by surprise. Around middle-aged, possibly Spanish-speaking only, she wore a light blue and white uniform shirt and jeans. She held a bucket of cleaning supplies by her side, leading me to believe she was the maid.

  Jordan was at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a glass of orange juice, still only wearing the t-shirt. He was right; it did cover everything.

  "This is Yesenia," Jordan said matter-of-factly. "She cleans a couple of times a month. This is Jamie, the houseguest." Houseguest? I couldn't help but feel insulted. Jordan said it just to be a little shit.

  "Hi," I said to her. I wasn't expecting to find anyone in the kitchen besides Jordan. She nodded at me and went about her business, looking over her shoulder once at me and Jordan. I had a feeling she didn't believe I was merely a houseguest.

  "Houseguest?" I said, playfully shoving his shoulder.

  "Did you want me to say my boyfriend?" He didn't wait for me to answer, which was a good thing because I wasn't quite sure how to describe us. "You probably want breakfast first, right?"

  "Yes, I'm starving,” I said.

  "I'll make it," he offered.

  "No, thanks," I said, ruffling his hair. "Since the only thing you can make is Cocoa Puffs."

  "Well, show me how to make something," he said. Jordan was really into learning new things lately.

  "Like what?"

  "Hmm...how about an omelet?"

  "An omelet, huh?" I said. I really wasn't in the mood to make an omelet, but he looked so cute standing there and genuinely interested in learning so I really couldn't say no. "It's amazing how you can make these incredible special brownies, but you can't cook anything else." As he opened his mouth, I cut him off. "And pasta doesn't count."

  Jordan collected a few eggs and milk from the fridge. "I don't use milk," I said. "Is there any cheese in there?" He obediently pulled out a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. "Here, mix the eggs," I said, handing him a bowl and fork.