A Not So Typical Love

by Tristen Rowen

  He ran the back of his hand up my arm, sending chills down my spine, but the good kind of chills that made me warm all over. Glancing at him, my heart stopped a second seeing him bare-chested and in a pair of khaki shorts.

  “Do you want Tim to be happy?" he asked. I wasn't sure why he asked me such a question, so I wasn't sure how to respond. "Do you want Tim to be happy?" he asked again. Annoyed, hurt, and even confused by his question, I sat up, pulling away from him. "Do you?"

  "Shut up," I said. "Leave me alone."

  "Tim wouldn't have introduced her to you if he wasn't serious about her. You can't be the center of his world all the time."

  Becoming increasingly annoyed with him, I got up and walked away, my walk quickly turning into a run. As my run slowed near the raspberry bushes, I knew Jamie wasn't far behind.

  Center of his world? What did Jamie mean by that? I didn't think I was the center of anybody's world. What did he know, anyway?

  "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you." I picked a few raspberries, popped one in my mouth, then squished a few between my palms. "That's disgusting," Jamie said.

  "Do you think you'll ever get married?" I asked, staring at my purple-stained palms.

  "Truthfully? No," he said. "You?"

  "I'm only nineteen. I don't think about that," I said. "I never thought about anything like that until you came around and then...and then...I don't know." Standing directly in front of me, Jamie squeezed my shoulders. "If I ever get married, I don't think it will be to a girl." After a pause, I couldn't help but laugh a little. Jamie laughed, too. "I have to tell Tim."

  "Yeah," he said. Playfully, I smeared my sticky hand over Jamie's face. Stifling a laugh, he gripped my wrist tightly, pretending to be annoyed.

  "You're such a dirty little boy," he said, grabbing my other wrist.

  "Are you still taking me to the beach today?" I asked.

  "Why should I?"

  "Because you like the beach."

  "After you visit your mother, right?" he said, pulling me closer to him. "I suppose I'll still take you, but only because I have nothing better to do."

  "Okay, good," I said as he brought his lips to the area he bit last night. I was glad we stopped talking about Tim. He planted kisses all along my collarbone, making his way to the other side of my neck. "I want to go to bed with you now and try again."

  "I want you to try again, too," he said in my ear while my hands crept down his backside. "But not right now."

  "Why? No one's out here,” I said.

  Breaking away from me, Jamie smiled, taking my hand in his. Holding my hand, he led me through the woods, heading back to the house.

  Unexpectedly, we found Tim sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee. Since his nose was always in a book, whether it was paperback, laptop, phone, or tablet, this morning was no different; he didn't notice us. Fortunately we pulled our hands away in plenty of time. Without saying anything, Jamie went directly inside, leaving me outside with Tim. I wondered if Tim even realized Jamie was with me, too enthralled with whatever he was reading.

  "Jamie said he'll take me to see Mom," I said. Tim finally looked up.

  "I can take you," he said.

  "Don't you have plans with that girl?"

  "Kelly? Yes, but not until later."

  "Well..." I stammered. I didn't want Tim taking me. I wanted to spend the day with Jamie and go to the beach. "Jamie's going to take me to the beach again. Is that okay? Jamie likes the beach, too."

  "Uh...yeah...it's okay," he said. "If Jamie doesn't mind."

  "I don't think he minds," I said. "He has nothing better to do. The beach is near Mom's house so he said he'll take me." I didn't want to talk about Jamie anymore; not with Tim, anyway. I decided to change the subject. "Is Kelly a scientist, too?"

  "No," he said. "She's a school counselor. I think you'd really like her." How would he know?

  "Mom never liked any of your girlfriends," I said.

  "She wanted me to stay a little boy forever."

  Yeah, I understood what that was like.

  "I'm meeting her parents tonight," he said. "That's always a big deal, right?"

  I really wouldn't know, except that I met Jamie's parents even before we were officially together. Wait, were we officially together? No one knew but me and Jamie.

  "What do you guys do all day together?" he asked, which was something he had asked before. For half a second I thought about telling him, but then chickened out. I wasn't ready and I'd come to realize I wasn't sure if I'd ever be ready.

  "Swim," I said.

  "Swim?" he said as if he didn't entirely believe me.

  "Yeah, swim," I insisted and turned to go inside. "Like I always do."

  "Do you still want to live on campus?" he asked, following me inside.

  "I don't know," I said, having some doubts after my mini freak out yesterday. "I'd like to give it a try I guess."

  "I just don't want you to fail," he said. "But I guess you'll never know how you'd do unless you try, right? I mean, you're not a little kid."

  "Yeah, right," I said, making my way to the stairs.

  "Hey, I just remembered I have to pick up some things at the store. Do you need anything?"

  "You mean food shopping?" I said. Sunday morning was usually food shopping day, not Saturday.

  "I don't plan on doing an entire shop," he said. "We just need a few things, like milk and Cocoa Puffs. Do you need anything else?"

  "Chips and Coke," I said. "For the beach."

  "Sure," he said. "The important things. I'll be back in a few minutes." I was sure he'd be gone for more than a few minutes because the nearest grocery store was at least a twenty minute ride away.

  As soon as Tim left, I ran up the stairs, going directly to Jamie's room. His door was open and I found him him sitting on his bed, doodling in his sketchbook. Sensing my presence, he looked up. Closing his door, I walked into his room.

  "What's your favorite Joy Division song?" I asked, walking toward him.

  "Who says I like Joy Division?" he said, watching me as I stepped out of my boxers. His eyes followed me until I stood directly in front of him. He held my waist, looking up at me.

  "We have to tell him," he said. "I'm having a harder and harder time pretending you're just Tim's little brother."

  "I know," I said. "What's your favorite Joy Division song?" I found it hard to believe he didn't like them.

  "Love Will Tear Us Apart," he said.

  "Yeah, it's a great song," I said. That song instantly played in my head.

  "We can't do this," he said with his chin against my stomach. "Tim's..."

  "He went to the store," I said. "We can do this."

  Looking up at me with his stunning blue eyes, he kissed my stomach again, holding the back of my thighs. His lips crept lower and lower. There. I nearly toppled over.

  Personal Jesus

  Jamie

  Jordan held on to my shoulders, staring down at me while I stared up at him, my lips at the base of his cock. His eyes grew wider and wider as my tongue circled the tip. He swallowed hard, his stomach subtly heaving in and out. His hands moved to the back of my head, gently encouraging me to get closer, wanting his cock in my mouth. Jordan assured me Tim would be gone for at least an hour, but I was still paranoid he'd show up any minute and catch me sucking his little brother's dick.

  "It's okay," he said, sensing my hesitation. "Come on. Please?" I didn't need anymore convincing. He inhaled deeply as I took him in my mouth. "I love it so much," he said, stroking the back of my head. But, after a few minutes, he pulled away and got down on his knees.

  "Wait, Jordan," I said as he unzipped my shorts. "You don't have to. We don't have much..." I was going to say "time," but it was too late; Jordan's lips were already on my cock. After a few seconds, just when he was getting a good rhythm, he stopped, looking up at me.

  "What's your favorite Depeche Mode song?" he asked.

  "What?" I said, trying not to sound too pi
ssed off that he stopped to ask this question.

  "Your favorite Depeche Mode song?"

  I could honestly say that I'd definitely never met anyone like Jordan before. He was fun, fascinating, and so annoying at times...like now.

  "Just Can't Get Enough," I said.

  "What?" he said in disbelief, a mixture of shock and disgust on his face. "That's crap."

  "Oh yeah?" I said with a laugh. "What's yours?"

  "Personal Jesus," he said.

  "Interesting," I said.

  "Have you heard the Johnny Cash version?"

  "No," I said. Much to my disappointment, (because all I wanted was for him to continue to do what he was doing), he stood up and went to my phone. "How do you know about Johnny Cash?"

  "My dad," he said.

  Making myself more comfortable, I scooted back on the bed, kicking off my shorts as Jordan searched YouTube. He quickly found what he was looking for and the bluesy distinct country sound of Johnny Cash singing Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus sounded. He placed my phone back on the nightstand and knelt on the bed beside me.

  "Tim could show up any minute," I said.

  "No, we have time," he said, his hand roaming down my chest and stomach and further down, eventually running a finger up the shaft and around and around the tip. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into my lap. "What do you think this song is about?" he asked, lathering my cock with lube at the same time.

  "I don't know," I said, not really listening to the song, only thinking of one thing.

  "Do you believe in Jesus?" he asked.

  "No," I said, wondering what prompted all this questioning.

  "I don't know if I do," he said. "You know, I think this song is about being Jesus for someone else. I mean, someone else's savior." If I wasn't thinking about Jordan and him pushing down on me, I would have been up for this type of intellectual conversation. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, pressing his hands against my chest for support.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah," he sighed. Bending over, he breathed and moaned against my neck as my fingers dug into his lower back.

  "You know you're incredible, right?" I said, hopelessly and stupidly in love with this kid.

  I knew him in a way no one else did and that made me feel better than I'd ever felt.

  And guilty as hell at the same time.

  The front door down below opened and closed, but Jordan didn't let go of me.

  "Finish," he said.

  "Okay, okay," I said. He kissed me hard, muffling my cries with his mouth. I did the same to him.

  "Hey, Jordan," Tim yelled up the stairs. "I got your cereal."

  "Shit," Jordan gasped, releasing me. He put his shorts back on, running out of my room. A few seconds later, I heard the shower turn on. For once, Jordan took a shower when he was supposed to. The last thing we needed was for Jordan to go downstairs, smelling the way he did, not to mention how incredibly sweaty and hot and...Damn, I wanted him all over again, imagining his damp curls through my fingers.

  Jordan poked his nose in my room, smelling all nice and clean, a towel loosely hanging from his waist. He smiled shyly at me. I couldn't resist and went directly to him. With my hand on his waist, I kissed his mouth.

  "I love you," I said.

  "Yeah, I do too," he said and kissed me in return. I didn't want to stop, but we were half in the hallway, half in my room while Tim was right downstairs.

  "Go get dressed," I said when all I really wanted to do was tear his towel off him.

  When I knew the coast was clear, when Jordan was back in his room and Tim was downstairs somewhere, I went to the bathroom to take a shower. I couldn't go downstairs looking the way I did. Raspberry residue was still on my face, my chest and stomach sticky, all from Jordan.

  By the time I finished my own shower, Jordan was somewhere in the wilderness, hopefully with shoes on so he wouldn't get himself dirty again when he was going to visit his mother in a few hours.

  Surprisingly, I found Tim in the laundry room doing Jordan's laundry.

  "I don't know what's with him lately," he said. "He forgot it's his laundry day. I don't think he's forgotten that in ten years. I can't believe I'm doing his laundry. What'd you do to him, anyway? He took a shower and ran off."

  "I didn't do anything to him," I said, swallowing hard. What did he mean by that? "He really likes to run, huh?" I said, also hoping Tim didn't notice me blush. It was ridiculous how a nineteen year old could do this to me, a thirty year old man.

  "Jordan says you've agreed to take him to see his mother again."

  "She's your mother, too, right?"

  "She gave birth to me, yes," he said. "You don't have to take him, you know. I just asked for a favor that one time."

  "I know," I said. "I don't mind. He wants to go to the beach and I know you don't like the beach, so..." He stopped stuffing clothes in the washing machine, giving me a suspicious look. At least it looked suspicious to me, but maybe I was being paranoid. "You can take him if you want, but I know he really likes the beach and you don't so..."

  "No, you can take him. It's just...oh, nevermind. It doesn't matter. He's annoyed at me right now, anyway. He can't deal with any type of change. I'm surprised he's put up with you. He likes you."

  Yeah, he more than likes me.

  "You know, Jordan is really smart, a fucking genius," Tim said. "You'd never know it, right? Sometimes he gloats. He says he's smarter than both me and Art combined."

  "Really?" I said, unable to hide my smile.

  "He can be a real wise ass, you know. You wouldn't know it, would you?"

  Oh, I think maybe I did know.

  "Do you know he knows the lyrics to almost every punk and post punk song?"

  "Don't forget new wave and alternative," I said. "I've introduced him to Green Day."

  "I bet he liked that," he said.

  "Yeah, actually, he did."

  "He wants to live on campus," he said, closing the top of the washing machine. "He's never been away from home except for when he's been in the hospital."

  "Yeah, he told me," I said.

  "He tells you a lot of things, doesn't he?" he said, walking out of the laundry room. "He better thank me for doing his laundry. He never thanks me for anything."

  "Maybe he can repay you by making special brownies," I said. Tim stopped and looked over his shoulder at me.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said. I wasn't sure what he meant by that or what he implied.

  Or maybe I did.

  "He makes good brownies," I said matter-of-factly. "I think you should let him live on campus. I know you care about him and..."

  "What do you know?" he said. "You don't have a clue."

  "I think he deserves the chance to try," I said.

  Jordan emerged in his bare feet, wearing khaki shorts and a Ramones t-shirt, interrupting our already awkward conversation. Without saying a word, he handed me a sunflower. Words couldn't begin to describe what I felt at that particular moment.

  "Where'd you get that?" Tim asked, but Jordan didn't reply. Smiling shyly, he walked away.

  "There's this field of sunflowers..." I said, holding the sunflower, twirling it around and around, wishing I could run to him and tell him how incredibly thoughtful and sweet and incredible and...stupid...I spaced out for a second with Tim's eyes harshly on me. "He took me there the other day because...well...we had nothing better to do and...it's this secret place he said and...and...and..."

  I didn't know what else to say as Tim stared at me. I really wished I knew what he was thinking. I knew what it looked like. It looked weird and odd for Jordan to give me a sunflower out of the blue. It’s what a boyfriend would give his girlfriend...or boyfriend.

  Jordan ran back to us in a frenzied panic, breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating. He directed his anger toward Tim.

  "Why'd you touch my clothes?" he demanded.

  "Because it's your laundry day and you forgot," Tim said. "You want clean cl
othes, don't you?"

  "They're my clothes. You had no right to touch them," he said, looking as though he was about to hurt someone, notably Tim. "You could have told me or reminded me. Why didn't you remind me? Don't fucking touch my things."

  "Hey, I was trying to be helpful," Tim said. "But you were too busy picking sunflowers."

  "Fuck you," Jordan said and stormed off. Tim calmly followed him, watching Jordan run into the kitchen. In a rage, Jordan emptied the kitchen drawers while Tim just stood there as Jordan dumped the silverware onto the floor. My initial inclination was to stop Jordan, to try to calm him down, but Tim put his arm out, preventing me from going to him. Interestingly, Jordan didn't throw any glass or breakable things. It was like he chose what to throw on the floor.

  Tim stood there with his arms folded across his chest. "And you want to live on campus?" he said. Jordan stopped his tantrum and gave him the middle finger. As he walked past him, he purposely walked into him, shoving his shoulder on his way to the stairwell. "You're picking that shit up," Tim added. Jordan went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. Tim continued to stand there, looking at the mess in the kitchen.

  "He has a little temper, huh?" I said, not sure what else to say. I had never seen a teenager have a temper tantrum and over something so trivial. It wasn't trivial to Jordan. To Jordan it was a big deal.

  "You have no idea who you're dealing with," Tim said. "You might want to think about leaving sooner than later." Still, despite Jordan's temper tantrum, the last thing I wanted to think about was leaving.

  Mad World

  Jordan

  Pulling at my hair, I paced around my room, ashamed and embarrassed, wishing I could take everything back.

  Jamie saw me freak out and it was worse than what I did at Shake Shack. He saw what I did to the kitchen. All the drawers and their contents were all over the floor. I made a mess. I had every reason to be embarrassed.

  How could I do that? I asked myself over and over. Why would Tim do my laundry? Why didn't he remind me? Why, why, why?

  My episodes didn't last as long as they used to, but they still happened. Historically, once I was in the middle of a rage, I had a hard time stopping and calming down.