by Susan Laine
Evan stopped there, going quiet. Adam gulped. Evan didn’t need to voice what was left unsaid. He wasn’t straight or bi; he was gay. Well, that theory was confirmed.
“M-maybe it was just her, you know,” Adam suggested in a whisper.
Why did I say that? Do I want him to be fucking girls? The weird thing was that before Evan’s stories, Adam had never even considered it might be weird picturing his best friend kissing, making out, or even fucking a girl. Now… everything was up in the air, unresolved and complicated.
Evan blew out a breath. “No.”
Unequivocal answer, that, Adam thought. Why did the reply make him feel giddy inside, relieved, and as though he were floating on cloud nine?
Evan squared his shoulders, grunting. “The worst thing was I couldn’t make out with her without… uh, picturing things. Guy things. By the time I broke it off and took her home, I had blue balls, dammit.” He plopped down on the edge of Adam’s bed and ran a hand over his face.
So, Evan had kissed Tawny. Heck, they’d made out. But Adam wasn’t jealous!
Evan groaned, his eyes closed. “Some days I really hate this teenage bullshit. When’s this gonna stop? Almost humped the steering wheel ’cause I was so damn turned on—and by what? My freaking imagination?”
Then Evan fell onto his back on the bed, his T-shirt riding up to reveal not only his silky-smooth stomach but the sculpted V-shape of his hips. Damn those low-hung skinny jeans, Adam cursed silently, as the enticing sight left nothing to the imagination. Yet he couldn’t and didn’t look away. Evan would probably not even notice, he concluded, since the only light was the dim glow from Evan’s house coming through Adam’s window.
Then Evan rested his left hand over his crotch… and rubbed. Just a little. But enough for Adam to notice, even in the shadows. Fuck, God, why do you hate me so? Adam cringed and deflated. If this had been before—before he had looked at Evan’s damn computer—he knew how he would have comforted his best friend. Now… it was all unfamiliar territory, and beneath every step a possible land mine.
“No fair,” Evan mumbled—mostly to himself, Adam reckoned. Then Evan raised himself onto his elbows and stared at Adam hesitantly. “Do you mind if I talk about this? Is it too weird?”
Adam chuckled, though it sounded hollow, and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. I’m good. Great, actually.” That was a bald-faced lie, but damn if he was going to reveal that little fact. “You’re my friend, and you can talk about whatever you want.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek and added quietly, “Or, you know, do anything you want. It’s okay.”
Evan smiled, then frowned, appearing amused and bemused at once. “Really?”
Adam smiled back but felt the gesture twist. To hide it he sauntered over to the bed and sat down next to Evan, nudging his arm with his own. “Yeah. We’re cool.”
Evan nudged him back. “Thanks.”
In a fit of odd desperation, Adam tried one more time to get things back on track. “Um, maybe you’re just a late bloomer. Lots of guys pretend or brag they’ve had awesome sex with loads of girls in high school. But the truth is most guys go to college virgins. Not me, as you know, with my whopping big record of two girls I’ve slept with. What I’m saying is that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Evan smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you saying that. Well… maybe I am a late bloomer. I mean, I haven’t really felt ready or inclined to jump in the sack with anyone. So you may have a point. But… I’m ready now, I think. Yeah.” He chuckled. “Doing research for my books has given me valuable insight into the whole relationship rumba. I think I want to give it a go.”
Adam was dying to ask if this meant Evan wanted to go on a date with a guy or, worse than that, if he already had someone in mind. But Adam didn’t know how to broach the subject. So he dawdled, fiddling with his fingers and toying with the hem of his T-shirt.
“You know,” Evan murmured softly, “you can say anything to me. Or ask anything. I won’t be offended. Can’t be mad at you, like, ever.”
Adam truly hoped that was true. He decided to start with something more innocuous, so he asked, “How did you get the details right in your books anyway? I mean, according to your own admission, you’ve never….” Adam waved his hand about in a suggestive manner.
Evan laughed. “Gay porn.” Adam must have exhibited shock in his expression because Evan laughed harder, holding on to his stomach. “Don’t look so shocked. C’mon. Everybody does it. Men and women.”
Adam blushed. “I’m not upset. Just… where’d you even know to look?”
Evan rolled his eyes. “Don’t know, googling gay porn?”
Now Adam felt positively stupid. Of course Evan had found links with a search engine. Duh. Adam himself watched porn, of the straight variety anyway. But he wasn’t an idiot. He knew porn wasn’t an accurate, realistic, or even useful portrayal of sex. It consisted of choreographed scenes where men were hung, women had plastic tits, their bodies were sanitized from bodily fluids, and everyone enjoyed everything.
Adam had a horrible thought. Why did he even watch those ridiculous videos? What did they even do for him?
He recalled the most recent porn video he’d seen. It did nothing for him. Not the man’s grunts or the woman’s high-pitched squeals. Had he outgrown porn? What a weird notion. After all, shouldn’t he be enjoying porn till he lay cold and dead in a grave?
Then the picture transformed—and in place of the woman, on the bed lay Evan. And in the man’s role was Adam, hovering above the beautiful naked form belonging to his best friend.
Adam shook his head, shaken to the core. Porn might not be authentic, but his fantasy felt way too real for his comfort level. God, he couldn’t even look at his best friend sitting next to him for fear of revealing his smutty thoughts or broadcasting them all over town.
“The vids are great,” Evan said, apparently oblivious to Adam’s discomfort. “I now get the positions right at least. Plus, they’re kinda hot. Naturally the vids don’t really have storylines of any kind, so the relationship part comes from elsewhere.” He nudged Adam again, startling him out of his insane ponderings. “And that’s where our personas come in.”
“Right.” Adam nodded, repeating the word a few times. His muddled brain needed time to regroup. “Well, uh, your books are, um, realistic, I think.”
Evan’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Adam saw it out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah? You’ve read them? All of them?” Evan whistled low, sounding impressed and surprised. “I didn’t really expect you to do that. I mean, they’re not your type of thing. As far as I know, at least.”
Adam frowned and growled. “Why the fuck shouldn’t I read them? You wrote them, for fuck’s sake. How can I be supportive and shit if I don’t know what you’ve written?”
“Aww. You’re sweet.” Evan slung an arm over Adam’s shoulder.
For the first time ever, Adam wanted to shake the touch off. In fact, he wished he were standing on the opposite side of the room, far away from Evan and his warm skin and friendly manner. He squirmed slightly until Evan stilled and removed his hand.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Evan sounded sad. “Things did get weird between us. You’ve never been bothered by me touching you before.”
Adam groaned inwardly. His mind scrambled for a plausible excuse but came up with nothing. “Um….” There he stopped. No words that made any sense sprang to the tip of his tongue, and nothing intelligible flickered across the nerve-endings of his brain. He was lost.
“It’s okay.” Evan sounded chipper, but Adam heard the underlying heartache. “We’ve been friends for a long time. Things change. People change. I know we made plans for the future, you know, for college and stuff. But if you don’t want to be my—”
“I do. So shut up.” Adam reined in his temper, as hard as it was. Why was he taking everything Evan said personally, as an insult? For what reason? Then he blurted out, “You want to go out on a date with a guy next? Got anyone i
n mind?”
An awkward silence followed.
Why the hell had he asked that? Adam mentally slapped himself. If he let a date like that happen, then he’d have to accept that some… stranger would get to have all of Evan’s firsts. The first purposeful brush of bodies, the first kiss (with a guy), the first deliberate touch, necking, making out, nakedness… and sex. All of it. Everything that changed a person’s knowledge of himself as a sexual being. Evan would do it all without Adam.
Could Adam accept that Evan might have a life in which Adam no longer belonged and had no real part to play? Adam wasn’t sure if what he felt was jealousy, envy, resentment, anger, or something even darker. He hated himself for his ill will.
And what about the flip side of the coin? The good feelings that had changed in regard to Evan. Loving a friend as a friend was great: Adam would sorely miss the companionship and camaraderie of like minds if it was gone. Who would Adam have then? And how?
And whom would Evan care for next? A guy who could give him everything he wanted, needed, and lived for, of course. How could Adam compare to that dream of a perfect match? No friend in the world could, Adam suspected glumly.
Would Evan then abandon Adam for his new boyfriend—no, shit, his lover? Because fuck, yeah, last on the list was… love.
And absolutely nothing compared to love, to being in love and being loved in return.
Chapter 4
EVAN WATCHED his best friend fidget next to him. Adam was a pretty solid, reliable friend Evan could always trust and count on.
But the past week had been agony.
Evan had witnessed with dismay and disappointment the way Adam had changed. His behavior had become hesitant and nervous. Evan had stopped counting the number of times since Monday, at school and at home, he’d caught Adam glancing at him surreptitiously, when he thought Evan hadn’t noticed. It was as if Adam saw someone he didn’t know or understand.
That saddened Evan to no end. At heart, he hadn’t changed. He was still the same guy inside. Even if he now knew he preferred guys to girls. There was nothing wrong with girls. They just weren’t his cup of tea.
That didn’t mean Evan’s feelings of friendship for Adam had changed. But apparently it was unclear to Adam. Did he really think it was Evan’s dying wish to see Adam in the buff or to go a few rounds in the hay with him? That was nuts. Adam was Evan’s best friend, not his lover.
“There are a couple of guys at school who’re out,” Evan said slowly, carefully weighing his words to avoid spooking Adam. “Like Nick, for example. He’s a bit flamboyant, though.” His assessment of the guy sounded contradictory. How could one be a little excessive?
Adam went rigid next to him, staring a hole in the floor. “You, uh, you like him?”
Evan sighed. “He’s okay. But… he’s a bit too femme for me.” Nick wasn’t actually all that feminine, but his gestures were too outlandish for Evan. He didn’t like himself for thinking that way, for disparaging another gay guy and judging him on his behavior, but he couldn’t help it. Evan was more attracted to jocks—the strong, muscular, and fit types.
What Evan wanted was a manly man. Unfortunately, all those seemed to be straight.
Tension seemed to leave Adam’s shoulders, and he slumped and nodded. “Right, yeah.” He licked his lips and cleared his throat. “So, uh, what kinds of things would you look for in a guy you… want?”
That wasn’t an easy question to answer, so Evan tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. A cute butt?” Evan laughed at his own joke, but when Adam went beet-red, he took a different tack. “Okay, I’ll be serious. Smart, funny, hot. Masculine, built, strong. A nice smile would be a great bonus.”
Evan watched with fascination as Adam’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head as though he were going through a mental archive in search of a person matching that description. Evan hadn’t considered the possibility that Adam might know someone who was gay.
Other than Evan, naturally.
“Why?” Evan pressed softly. “Do you know someone?” A jock, maybe? Evan got hot and bothered at the image of being tackled into bed by a handsome, athletic guy with bulging muscles, raw strength, and enough sex appeal to ignite a small town.
Adam shrugged, his face suddenly impassive and inscrutable. “Maybe.”
Evan dared to feel hopeful. “Could you hook me up with someone?”
At first Adam said nothing. Then he answered, quite reticently, “Maybe.” He fished out his cell phone and started fiddling with it. “I’ll get back to you.”
Excited at the prospect of a real date with a guy (a great guy too, because Adam didn’t hang out with douchebags or jerks), Evan all but jumped up and down on the bed. “You’d be doing me a solid. I’ll owe you one, Adam. Thanks.”
Adam shrugged, chewing on the inside of his cheek, a nervous tell from his childhood. “No biggie. Besides, I haven’t done anything yet, so… thank me later.” He continued to check out his contact list for a while, as far as Evan could tell, and then finally shut off the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “So, you kissed Tawny. Was it that bad that you wanna switch to guys?”
It sounded like a joke. At least Adam had a quirky, lopsided grin on his lips. Evan didn’t find it particularly funny, though. “She was nice. Just not my type. Wrong equipment. And that better be the last joke about that.”
Adam flushed red again and slowly nodded. “Sure, yeah. Sorry.” Then he straightened up and glanced around. “Wanna play The Division?”
“Sure.” Evan stayed put while Adam snatched two game controllers from the drawer in the desk where his TV was and returned with them to sit on the edge of the bed. He seemed pretty blasé about the whole dating guys thing now. Evan wasn’t certain what that meant, or if Adam’s sudden attitude reversal would stick and become their new normal.
Could a person grow accustomed to the reality of his best friend’s gayness so quickly? Evan decided to give Adam the chance to prove himself. Judging from their past history, Evan had high hopes. Adam was a great guy, so their friendship might just bounce back from this… challenge?
Crisis was too strong a word to describe the situation they were in. Wasn’t it?
FRIDAY NIGHT. Date night. Evan had never had reason to call Friday a date night because he’d never been on a real date. Tawny had been an experiment gone awry, so that didn’t count. But now Evan was going out with an actual gay dude, someone like himself. The night showed promise.
The only downside was that Adam was nowhere in sight. He’d texted Evan the schedule and directions to a restaurant. What he’d left out, however, was the name of the guy Evan was supposed to be meeting. Evan liked mysteries as much as the next man, but not when it came to guys with whom he might consider popping his man-cherry.
Not on the first date, though. No, Evan wasn’t dropping his pants upon a first meeting face-to-face. He kept envisioning what the mystery guy might look like, how he’d sound when he laughed, what color his eyes were, if his skin would be smooth or rough….
Yeah, Evan was so ready for this to happen.
But where was Adam? Wouldn’t he come around to wish Evan good luck and give him some advice? Didn’t Adam want to have a plan with Evan in case something went wrong?
Evan checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No missed calls, no texts, nothing.
Already nervous about the upcoming date, Evan checked and rechecked his clothes in the tall mirror in the corner of his room.
He’d opted for his cleanest, newest skinny jeans, so nothing baggy or sagging. No, these light-fuchsia-colored jeans hugged his ass lovingly, exactly the way he hoped a guy he cared about would in the near future. Of course he couldn’t really sit in them without his buttcrack peeking over the waistband, but he figured his gay date wouldn’t object to such a hot sight.
Evan smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in his white T-shirt and the light pink dress shirt he wore over it. He lifted his feet in turn to scan his white Nike running shoes for
stains or dirt, but found none. Then he threaded a hand through his hair, now complete with pink and purple stripes and fixed high over his head in a faux-hawk hairstyle, held there by the powers of product.
Pink no longer screamed queer the way it had in the past. Not that Evan cared if he sent that message to the world, since it was true. But he didn’t think anyone would be inclined to beat him up on sight just because of his chosen color scheme.
Evan looked good: fashionable, color-coordinated, and hip. Yeah, he was as ready to go as he possibly could be. Adam or no, it was time to leave for his date.
With one last glance toward Adam’s house, void of movement, sound, and lights, Evan sighed, focused on the positive, and walked with determination out the door for his mystery date.
SIZZLE & Steak was a fancy three-star restaurant twenty minutes from Evan’s home on foot. He arrived there a few minutes early but considered himself prompt. It never created a good impression to be late on a first date. He might not be experienced in the dating game, but he wasn’t a fool.
Evan inspected the inside of the place for anyone sitting alone. The restaurant wasn’t packed, and one could actually hear himself think. Few tables were empty, and most of the occupants seemed to be groups of young adults.
The walls were painted black and had abstract red paintings hanging on them. Low, intimate mood lighting gave each velour-covered booth and black wooden table a sense of privacy. Evan appreciated that and hoped his date had chosen a booth.
Then, in the back corner, in a booth, a hand waved to him. Though it was dim, Evan had no trouble identifying the owner of said hand.
Adam.
Confused, Evan waded past the tables until he reached the booth where the only person seated was Adam. As Evan approached, Adam rose in a hurry, smiling shakily.
He looked great, Evan noted dispassionately. Adam wore tightass black jeans with a metal chain dangling down the side of his thigh, black boots only partially laced, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He’d combed his black hair from the back to the front to frame his sculpted face, and gray smudges of guyliner surrounded his blue eyes.
