First Time for Everything

by Andrea Speed

  “Thanks. I did track for two years, but I’m not sure if I’ll do it this year. Varsity is a lot harder than people think.”

  Since the closest to sports I got was running to my next class because I spaced out texting in the halls, I just nodded and acted like I knew what he was talking about.

  “What about you? You’re too cute to be hanging with a pack of nerds.”

  Strike one.

  “I’m a nerd too,” I declared, put off by the insult. “And what’s wrong with my friends?”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to insult anyone. I’m just saying you’re way cute and don’t look like a nerd.”

  I blame the fact that he was complimenting me that I didn’t walk away.

  “Well, don’t rag on my friends,” I warned him. “They are my life.”

  He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “Yeah, none of my friends know about me. I think they’d completely freak.”

  “Then they aren’t very good friends, are they?”

  He gave me a look for a moment. “What happened to not ragging on friends?”

  “My friends know and love the fact I’m gay. You can tell by the fact they’re here with me. If your friends stopped being your friends because you’re gay, then how can you call them friends?”

  “Bi,” he corrected me.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He chuckled. “No, I’m bi. I’ve gone out with girls too, just never had the courage to with a guy yet.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure how to proceed. My instinct told me that bi was a word people used when they didn’t want to admit they were gay, but I knew better than that. The same way that people thought me being gay was a choice is the same assumption I would be making saying all bi people were just confused. Everyone had the right to define themselves, so I let it slide for now, but it was close to a strike two. “I’m gay,” I said after a few seconds.

  He laughed and shook his head. “I know, you said it like three times in the last five minutes.” I closed my mouth, feeling like I was talking way too much. “It’s okay, you’re too cute to hold it against you.”

  He leaned in and kissed me. I felt my stomach do a slight lurch as I leaned into it.

  “I’ve never kissed a guy like that before,” he said when we paused.

  I wish I could tell you I didn’t have the knee-jerk reaction most guys have about going somewhere first, but I can’t. I don’t know about you, but every gay guy has that crazy fantasy where he gets a hot, straight guy to fall for him and give up girls, and right now it felt like that.

  “How was it?” I asked him, holding my breath.

  “Can we keep going?” he asked eagerly.

  There was no way I could resist that.

  We spent most of the night talking with our friends, making out, and just holding hands. It was awesome, and I felt like I was floating on air. I checked my phone, and it was getting close to when Brandon’s mom was supposed to pick us up. I hated the fact we didn’t have our licenses yet. Once I had a car I would be so gone, the only way my parents could talk to me would be with Twitter.

  “I have to go soon,” I said, not wanting to go.

  “You can’t stay? I can drive you home,” he offered.

  “I wish, but there is no way our parents are going to let us stay out this late with strangers. But can I call you later tonight?”

  “Tonight?” he asked with a tone in his voice.

  I mentally slapped myself for seeming so pathetic.

  “Um, whenever,” I tried to backpedal.

  He took my phone and started pushing buttons. After a few seconds, he reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. It was ringing. “There are my digits. Text me when you get home.”

  He handed my phone back to me, and I felt like it was a glass slipper.

  As we stood outside waiting for Brandon’s mom, we compared nights.

  “I got a number,” Ethan said, holding his phone up. “She said to call her tomorrow.”

  Brandon sighed. “Mine said she was seeing someone or she would have. She said she’d add me on Facebook.”

  Dominic smiled. “She added me on her phone,” he bragged. “She took a picture of me and everything for the contact screen.”

  We all were subtly impressed with that.

  “Mine said I was too young, but I was cute for my age and to call her in a few years.” Tag paused as we chuckled. “Was she serious or is that a line?”

  Brandon looked at me. “And you? How did you fare?”

  I tried not to scream. “He told me to text him when I got home.”

  They erupted into cheers, since that was almost as good as a second date where we were concerned.

  Once I got home, changed, and showered, I jumped into bed and texted Jeff.

  Hey you still up?

  A couple of seconds passed, and my phone buzzed.

  I was just brushing my teeth, BRB

  It felt like the longest four minutes of my life.

  OK back, what’s up?

  I typed back Just got into bed, WYD?

  In bed too >:)

  I laughed at his emoticon.

  I liked meeting you, I typed, hoping I wasn’t going too far.

  Me 2, wish we could have hung out more

  I sighed, wishing that very same thing.

  Wht abt tomorrow?

  It took almost two minutes before he texted back.

  WYCM?

  He wanted me to call him, like, now?

  Now?

  RFN ;-P

  So I called him right freaking now.

  “Hey,” he answered in just above a whisper.

  “Hey,” I said back, just loving his voice.

  “So what you doing?” I could hear him smiling.

  “Lying in bed wishing you were here.” Did I really just say that?

  “Oh yeah? And if I was there, what would you do to me?”

  I paused, knowing where this was going but not sure I wanted to go there. On one hand, I liked him. A lot. On the other, I’m not sure phone sex immediately after meeting someone is the way to go.

  “You there?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but… um, look, Jeff. I like you and all, but I don’t know if I am ready to jerk off over the phone with you. I mean, I do, but I don’t know if I should yet, you know?”

  “It’s cool,” he said, making it pretty clear it wasn’t cool.

  “But I do want to see you again.” I tried not to sound like I was pleading, but I was pretty sure that ship had sailed.

  “Sure, give me a text tomorrow, and we’ll figure something out.”

  “You’re not mad?” I asked him, hating the fact I felt so bad.

  “It’s cool, dude. Talk to you later.”

  And he hung up, leaving me wondering if I had majorly screwed this up.

  The next day I texted him and got nothing back. I tried again later in the afternoon and more nothing. That night I tried calling him, and it went straight to voice mail. I spent that Saturday night at Brandon’s half playing WOW and half-miserable because I had chased off the best guy I had met so far.

  Sunday I got up and tried to call him one last time.

  “What?” he answered, taking me aback.

  “Um, hello.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  “Look, man, take a hint. I’m not gay and don’t want to be.” And with that he hung up.

  It was the last time I heard from Jeff.

  By now my plan had backfired on me, but since the guys now realized it was a good place to find girls who would talk to them, they insisted we go back that Wednesday. And yes, I am aware how ironic it was I had four straight friends pleading with me to go to a gay club, but let’s not dwell on it okay? All my previous excitement was now gone, and a growing apathy seemed to be covering my heart. Before, when we walked in the door, it was like Christmas: a bunch of pretty lights and a dozen surprises you couldn’t wait to get to. Now it was a place that made me feel w
orse about being gay than I ever had.

  We were there an hour when a guy walked over to our table. I’m not going to lie, I don’t really remember what he looked like, but there was something that hit me wrong. “Hey, are you gay?” he asked pleasantly.

  “No,” I said, going back to my drink, hoping he got the hint.

  He got the hint.

  “What was what?” Brandon asked me, worried.

  Not willing to share that I was completely miserable being here, I lied and threw out, “His nose was too big” and that seemed a good enough answer to him.

  Ethan pointed to another table. “What about that guy?” he asked. “He seems cool.”

  I looked over and saw a normal-looking guy sitting with two girls. Looking back at him, I asked, “Is this you pointing the guy out to me or wanting to walk over there so you can meet his friends?”

  He paused for a moment before admitting, “Little bit of both?”

  Sighing, I got up. “Fine, come on,” I said, walking over to the table.

  When I got there, I put a fake smile on and tried my level best to act normal. “Hi, I’m Jordan, these are my friends Ethan and Dominic, and I was wondering if your friends here are straight because they are bored silly.”

  The guy looked at me and gave me a smile back, which made me wonder if I was just being too cynical. “They are, and they’re just as bored.” His name was Caleb, and he introduced my friends to his, and we took a step back and let them get their heterosexual games out of their systems.

  “So I’ve never seen you here,” he said as we sat at another table.

  “My third time,” I admitted, not adding I wasn’t becoming a fan.

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s kinda lame during the week, but the weekends are fun. You from around here?” I nodded and he smiled. “So a beach boy? That’s hot.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a beach boy, but if he thought I was and that was good, I decided to shut up and take the compliment. “Are you single?” he asked me.

  I paused. “If I wasn’t, why would I be talking to you?”

  His eyebrows went up in surprise. “Hey, we’re just talking. You can talk to people, you know, and it not be a thing.”

  By now I was not ignoring my spider sense. “Are you single?”

  He raised his hand and waved it in the universal sign of kind of. “I am seeing this guy, but it’s complicated. But we’re not exclusive,” he added, like that made it better. “So how is someone so cute still sin—”

  He had been moving toward me, and I put a hand up to stop him. “Look, I am not interested in being with someone who is with someone else. Thank you for the compliment, but how about we just sit here and let our friends talk and leave it at that.”

  Caleb stared at me for a long time and then rolled his eyes. “Never mind, I can see why you’re single.” He got up and looked back at me. “Look, dude, we’re gay. Things work differently here. If you’re Bella looking for your Edward, trust me, that’s not how gay guys are. You keep looking down at everyone, and they’ll just think you’re a stuck-up bitch.” He finished his drink and put the glass down. “And they wouldn’t be wrong.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or throw his glass at the back of his head.

  When I walked back to Brandon and Tommy, they both looked at me with questioning eyes. Before they could even ask, I said, “His breath smelled like kitty litter.” They both laughed, and I pretended to also but inside I was waiting for something to change.

  That night when I got home, I lay in bed and skimmed the app store on my phone to see if there was some kind of application for meeting other gay guys around me. I downloaded one, uploaded my picture and made a profile, hoping I’d have better luck in cyberspace. Within twenty minutes my picture was uploaded and visible. Within twenty-five minutes I started getting messages.

  Just not the ones I wanted.

  Hey cutie wanna f*ck?

  Hey you T or B?

  Looking to make some cash?

  Yeah looking for a daddy?

  I deleted the profile and then took the app off my phone before it became infected with the grossness. I sat there feeling more alone than ever. Was I the problem? Was Caleb right? Was I just being naive and this was how it worked in the gay world? Was what I was looking for really just something I saw in a movie, and the reality was I needed to change my expectations?

  There was no answer that didn’t make me incredibly sad.

  The guys knew something was off, but since we were guys, no one brought it up directly. Instead we walked around the issue, no one wanting to dive in and actually ask what was wrong. That weekend they wanted to go again, and by this time I was resigned that I was going just for them. There was nothing there I wanted anymore.

  There’s nothing like going to a place like a club when you don’t want to be there. Suddenly all the lights and music are just things that bug you. Suddenly it was too loud, I could smell the smoke from the fog machines on the dance floor, and the strobes were giving me a headache. Still, I tried to smile, look like I was having a good time, and help the guys find girls to talk to. That meant finding new reasons for why I wasn’t interested in the guys talking to me.

  Which is where Goldilocks came from.

  “So wait,” Dominic asked at our table. “The guy was too short?”

  I nodded. “I want someone my height or taller. Looking down at someone is a turn-off.” It was complete bullshit, but they laughed at it nonetheless.

  “And the other guy?”

  “Gingers have no soul,” I quipped, drawing some joy from my friends at the very least.

  “There’s picky and there’s…,” Ethan began, then paused, looking for the right words.

  “…Goldilocks?” Tag tossed out.

  And the name stuck.

  We went again the next night, and it became easier as I slipped into the role of a demanding connoisseur of men. It was easier to act like I was a stuck-up bitch than to accept the fact I might just be a freak in the gay community and destined to a life of being alone. Very, very alone.

  It was two weeks before summer was up, and we had all changed.

  The guys realized they weren’t hideous monsters who girls would never talk to. They had chatted up more than a few of them, enough to know what they needed was confidence and a little bravery to get in there and engage them. While I realized why people ended up owning so many cats.

  I was bitter, jaded, and more than that, disillusioned with the entire concept of romance. I was sixteen going on sixty, and I hated it. Worse than that, I was starting to hate myself. Up to now I had no problems with my sexuality. I mean, seriously, no problem whatsoever. My parents were cool, my friends were awesome. It was the other gay guys I had met who made me feel horrible about it. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted sex just as bad as anyone else did. I just wanted it to be with someone who meant something to me.

  It didn’t sound so hard on paper.

  So anyways, two weeks before summer was over, it was a Thursday, and we were sitting at what had become our regular table, discussing the comic books that came out yesterday. There was nothing going on at the club, nothing special planned. It was just another day in a long string of days. I say that because it is important to note, there was no warning whatsoever. It just happened.

  The Cutest Boy in the World walked into the club.

  Now, I don’t say that easily, and I don’t say that because I was desperate. I say it because when he walked in, even the guys paused and watched him walk in.

  “Damn, that is sick hair,” Ethan commented, and he was right.

  The boy was a little over six feet tall and had a shaggy mane of blond hair that made him look like he was supposed to be on a billboard for surfing.com or something. Where Ethan’s hair was always just there, this guy’s hair looked like it was glowing under the club lights. But that wasn’t where his hotness stopped. It was where it started. His face was cute in a way that looked both youthful and masculine all at once. He
was smiling, and from the way it lit up his face, it looked like it was his default state. He was wearing a faded blue T-shirt with a long-sleeved green one underneath and a pair of jeans that looked a couple of inches away from falling off his hips but didn’t look baggy, just relaxed.

  Everything about him screamed chill, and I was instantly drawn in.

  I heard Brandon say, “Okay, I am secure enough in my sexuality to say that guy is damn good-looking,” but I was still staring at the boy.

  “Go talk to him,” Tommy said, nudging me.

  And the spell was broken.

  “Why?” I asked, turning away. “Anyone that good-looking has to be stuck up as hell. I mean, he looks like a damn model.”

  Brandon gave me a piercing stare, but I ignored it as Dominic said, “What does it hurt to go talk to him? If he’s a dick, then walk away. What do you have to lose?”

  I didn’t answer, but the answer to his question was everything.

  My faith had taken too many hits in a row for me to be able to handle someone that good-looking turning out to be just another douche. I’d rather sit over here and dream that he was perfect rather than walk over there and make it a reality. What did I have to lose? The last shred of a broken heart that hadn’t even been able to like someone for real. It was just too much for me to handle.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I answered him quickly. “All guys like that are shallow as fuck.”

  Which was when Brandon grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the table.

  “What the hell?” I asked, once he had dragged me into the same corner Zach had taken me to. “Freak out much?”

  “Sit down,” Brandon said, sounding as pissed as I had ever seen him.

  I sat confused. “What is your malfunction?”

  He began pacing in front of me, trying to organize his thoughts. “Look, Jordan, you know I love you, right?” I nodded slowly, not sure where this was going. “And if I could be gay for you, I would, but I can’t. I’m just not wired that way. So I am sorry you haven’t found the right guy yet, but you have to snap out of it.”