Improper Fraction

by V. L. Locey

  Copyright 2017 © Gone Writing Publishing

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Blurb:

  O’Malley Ramsey, math aficionado, grew up next door to Garrison Rook, All-American athlete. While O’Malley dreamed of numbers and kissing Garrison, Garrison’s tastes ran to home runs and hot chicks. During a family celebration the night before both young men were heading off for college, O’Malley joyously discovers that Garrison isn’t quite as straight as the star athlete had been pretending to be. Vows to return to each other quickly followed a few clumsy kisses in the old treehouse in the Rook’s backyard.

  O’Malley came home to Garrison. Garrison never returned to O’Malley.

  Four years later, the two ex-friends meet up at a summer camp where O’Malley is serving as a counselor. Garrison is desperate to make things right with his childhood friend, but can O’Malley, still nursing the pain and mistrust of Garrison’s betrayal, ever forgive or love Garrison again?

  Prologue

  There have always been two constants in my life: an admiration for the elegance of numbers, and the adoration of Garrison Rook. Those two things have not always run parallel to each other, but they are large components in what makes the sum of O’Malley Ramsey.

  I’ve loved numbers since kindergarten. There are days that it feels as if I’ve loved Garrison just as long, but that’s not true. I met Garrison in first grade so numbers and math have a slight edge. Garrison was everything that I was not – even when we were seven. He was physical, rough-and-tumble, gregarious, admired, and always the first chosen for anything ever done in gym class. His hair and eyes were brown. He was the first person I knew to get a tattoo.

  Garrison played sports all the time. Tennis, soccer, and lacrosse but his real love was baseball. And he was good at it. So good a full scholarship to a college way up in Vancouver had been presented to him on his sixteenth birthday. I had been there, at that party with him and his family, when the announcement came. After hearing the news, I snuck off to my next door neighbor’s teal and white powder room. At the age of sixteen, that was probably the biggest difference between Garrison and me. I was sniffling behind a bathroom door about his leaving in two years and he was bouncing off the walls with excitement like a deranged bottle rocket. Of course, if he had known how I felt about him leaving he would have tempered his excitement to make me feel better. That was Garrison and that was a part of why I had loved him so much.

  Maybe my infatuation for Garrison began as admiration for his athletic skills and outgoing nature, or maybe it was the way he stood up for those who weren’t as perfect as he was. Or, perhaps, it was just an intermingling of cosmic lines of destiny that had brought two kids to the same first grade class in Willow Glen, South Carolina, fifteen years ago and bound them as friends. Space holds infinite possibilities after all.

  That was what I told myself anyway when, upon high school graduation day, Garrison and I were crammed into the treehouse Mr. Rook had built for us back when we had been ten. The fort sat high up in a grand old oak in the Rook’s backyard.

  We both had to sit hunched over with our legs tucked into our chests.

  “This place was much roomier when we were kids.” Garrison chuckled then handed me a pilfered beer from the six pack he had lifted from the fridge in the garage. Soft laughter from the remaining adults at his graduation party filtered in through the two open windows on either side of the tiny wooden house thirty feet in the air. It had just been a small family affair, as per Garrison’s request. He did have an early flight in the morning after all. My stomach cramped just thinking about it but I hid my dread well.

  “Your legs were shorter,” I replied, tapping the top of the can then carefully popping the top. This was my second stolen can. The first had loosened me up considerably. I snorted at the memory of me trying to polka with Garrison’s great aunt.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked then took a long sip of the cold beer. I watched as his throat swallowed the beer. Dark stubble covered his sharp jaw and thick neck. My cargo shorts began to feel tight. I tipped my can up to drain it. “Hey, you better slow down, Mal, or you’ll be puking into your shirt pocket again.”

  Did that night a year ago always have to come up? I got wrecked one time after seeing Garrison making out with Dee-Dee Delaney at a beach party and have never heard the end of it.

  “I’m wearing a tank top and not a dress shirt this time.” I told him then belched loudly.

  “So you are.” Garrison snickered, kicked off his sandals, and then crossed his feet at the ankle. His shorts went to his knees but left his meaty calves bare. I wondered how it would feel to run my hands over his legs and feel the dark hairs caress my palms. When a tingle of lust stretched to life in my lower belly like a drowsy cat, I sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, and glanced out the window to my right. “I kind of wish this night would never end.”

  That announcement pulled me from the discomfort of a growing erection and the stars that twinkled in the black velvet sky. I stared right at Garrison. His dark eyes met mine. A moth flittered in drawn by the lone flashlight we had carried up here with us.

  “I thought you couldn’t wait to get to baseball camp.”

  “Yeah, I mean, I’m stoked to get to camp but I won’t be coming back, you know? I’m going to billet with a family up there in Vancouver and play in a summer league until school starts in the fall.” He tipped up the icy cold one and sucked it dry. I did the same. Maybe a better buzz would dull the pain of losing him in the morning.

  We both placed our empties aside and opened another. The talk shifted to other things such as days back in elementary school, our summers spent together biking, hiking, swimming, or just hanging out watching cartoons on Nickelodeon. As we reminisced, we sipped beer. One hour slid into two. We laughed over old jokes, old friends, and old loves.

  My old love list was pitifully short. It consisted of Darren, a fellow math-a-holic who had lived here for only eight months before his parents split and he moved to Seattle with his mom. Darren and I had never moved past frotting but the summer that spanned my sophomore to junior year cemented who I was in my mind. It became clear to me that there was nothing like the feeling of a flat chest, whiskers, and a strong hand. I embraced my gayness that summer and made it mine.

  Now Garrison was another subject. He had been in demand since the day he was registered for kindergarten it seemed. Everyone wanted Garrison Rook, male and female alike. Even when Darren and I were messing around my heart and soul never wavered from Garrison. I knew it, and Darren knew it as well. When Darren moved there had been no gut-wrenching pain lik
e there was now. Nursing my beer, I sat and snickered over some of the ribald things Garrison was letting slip, hoping that if I got a little more beer into me, I’d be able to get through this last night and not breakdown and cry.

  “God, I am so going to miss this.” Garrison blurted right in the middle of a story about trying to fend off Susan Bliss a couple of weeks ago at prom. “Sitting and shooting the bull with you, Mal. Who am I going to confess all my darkest and deepest secrets to when I’m in Canada? You’re the most important person in my life.”

  “There’s this thing called a phone.”

  “Yeah but I won’t be able to see how your nose wrinkles when you laugh or smell your mango shampoo, or see your baby blues light up when you open a fucking a math book.”

  I blinked then looked away. I had to. Hearing all this coming from Garrison made it impossible to shove it to the back of my mind again. Our plans had been set for months. He would go north to Canada to hone his skills on the diamond and study broadcast journalism, and I would go further south to the University of Florida where I was still trying to decide which major I wanted – mathematics, education, or a combination of both. I wiggled around trying to hide half a boner and the dampness that welled up in my eyes whenever I thought about losing him. I shoved my fingers behind my glasses and held them there in some lame attempt to keep the tears at bay.

  “Shit, Mal, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His strong arm fell over my lean shoulders. I shook my head and coughed out something to make light of my stupid reaction.

  “You know me, I cry at the drop of a hat. Literally.” I sniffled. Garrison chortled and tugged me to his side, his fingers tightly holding my bicep.

  “What? Were we like eight when that happened?” I heard my father laughing down below at the party. The Rooks had adopted me and my dad after my mother had died from ovarian cancer when I was five. Nothing happened at the Rook home that O’Malley and James Ramsey were not a part of. “I can still see that magician trying to make you feel better.”

  “Well, seeing that rabbit bound out of his stupid top hat ruined magic for me,” I said with all kinds of false humor. What a pity that dumb hat had ruined Garrison’s eighth birthday party for me, and my father. I really had been inconsolable.

  “You’re just too tenderhearted, Mal,” Garrison said then let his brown head lay on my dark blond one. “Fuck man, I hate the thought of leaving here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

  “Like Dee-Dee and her double Ds?” I enquired as I swiped at the wetness on my cheeks. Garrison pulled my glasses off then let his hand drop back to my shoulder. The treehouse grew blurry but Garrison didn’t and never would. “I’ll always remember exactly how you look tonight.”

  He rubbed his head against mine. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. The soft scent of Mrs. Rook’s homemade lemon soap rose off Garrison’s heated skin. I pulled that smell deep into my lungs so it became a part of my soul.

  “Dee-Dee is a dimwit and a jock chaser. I never cared about any of those stupid girls. I just went out with them because…I don’t really know why to be honest.” The Rooks’ old boom box roared to life below us. Soon the old folks would pull out Duran Duran and Billy Idol. That was when Garrison and I generally snuck off and hid. It was just too eighties for us. “I’m going to miss you most of all, Mal.”

  “I feel like a scarecrow that’s missing a brain.” I laughed and swallowed down a thick glob of emotion wedged into my thin neck. The man I had loved forever snorted then tipped my chin up. I could see right into his very essence at that moment.

  “That’s one thing that you’re not lacking, Mal. You have the biggest brain and heart of anyone I know.” He smiled as his fingers rested under my jaw. My heart was trying to beat itself free from my ribs like a caged bird. My cock was hard and my breathing ragged. “I would have failed Algebra 1 if not for you.”

  “Nah, you were just distracted. I love you, Garrison.” The confession tumbled out of me as I gazed into those eyes I knew so well. “I mean, I love you and will miss you like a brother.” Heat raced to my cheeks.

  “No, you don’t, you don’t mean it like that at all.” He stared hard at me as if he were trying to figure out Newton’s law of universal gravitation. His dark eyebrows tangled up fiercely right before he dipped down to press his lips to mine. My eyelashes fluttered wildly, which matched the way my heart was pumping. I had dreamed of this moment since I had secretly tumbled for Garrison. Heck, I had dreamed of this since the moment I admitted to myself that I liked boys – and one boy in particular. I had never hidden my homosexuality, which was why Garrison, the big tough baseball player, had come to my aid more than once during our middle and high school years.

  I sat there like a blob, shaking, and clutching my sweaty can of beer, as Garrison tentatively tasted my lips. My hands ached to touch him. Just throw the beer aside and grab handfuls of his glorious brown hair but I was afraid of scaring him or breaking this incredible moment by being horny and clumsy. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of my lips. A shuddering exhalation escaped me. He pulled back. My eyes opened. The tiny beam of light shining on the sloppily painted walls showed me there was a fire in Garrison’s gaze.

  “I thought you were straight,” I whispered as his fingers skipped along my jaw to my ear.

  “I think…I might be…I think I’m questioning,” he replied unsteadily then took another taste. I opened for him this time eager to feel his tongue gliding over mine. Garrison shifted, turning to me. The flashlight rolled loudly across the wooden floor. He leaned into my chest, pressing my back to the two-by-four wall. I groaned and fisted my hands. The beer can crinkling noisily. Garrison delved deeply into my mouth. I met each stroke of his tongue with one of my own. His hand now held my neck and jaw with light pressure, keeping me where he wanted me. I had never been so hard or hot for anyone or anything in my life. The kissing went on and on, never stopping even when one would pull away. Garrison would chase me for kisses or me him. My father singing I’ll Tumble 4 Ya blew in the tiny windows with the summer breeze. Garrison’s hand landed on my thigh as he nibbled at my bottom lip. The contact made me jump. His teeth tugged my lip gently as his fingers dug into my leg.

  “Garrison, God.” I panted and then made the move. I pushed my hand between us, desperate to feel his swollen prick. His cock kicked when my palm moved over it. The nibbling became another passionate kiss. Garrison tasted like hops and spicy sausage sandwiches. “Touch me,” I whispered while stroking him through his shorts. His hand lingered on my upper thigh for ages then crept upward. I tossed my can of beer to the side, my fingers diving into his hair. With a slight lurch away from the wall, I slid to my back. Garrison followed. Our mouths sealed tightly, our hands wildly seeking each other’s erections.

  “Shit, Mal, shit.” He groaned while grinding his dick into my hand. I bit his neck hard, ran my tongue over his new dark whiskers, and gyrated against his hand.

  “Hey, guys, can I come in?” Emily, Garrison’s eight year old sister, shouted then began pushing on the trap door under me. Garrison shoved back off me so quickly his head hit the ceiling with a sickening thud.

  “No, Emily.” Garrison growled as he fell to his ass, his usual grace abandoning him. Lust pounded through my veins. I kept my backside plastered to the small door in the floor. “We’re talking. We’ll be down in a minute.” The flashlight was in the corner now. It backlit Garrison so I couldn’t see him but he sounded incredibly strained.

  “Hurry up.” Emily whined. “They’re acting stupid again.”

  “They” meaning the adults and “stupid” meaning shaking their booties or whatever they called dancing back in the day.

  “Just give us a couple of minutes.” Garrison shouted. She stopped pushing on the trap door. I stayed where I was for a full minute and then slowly sat up. “I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have drunk so much beer. I mean, I didn’t do that because I was drunk. I’ve wanted to touch you for months now.” He con
fessed.

  “It’s okay. I’ve wanted to touch you for years too,” I said as I tried to make things inside my head align. I preferred tidiness in my thoughts and emotions. Well, unless it was Garrison we were talking about. He was nothing but upheaval and passion and my sole outlet for silliness and nonsense. And he was leaving tomorrow. Every molecule I possessed pined for him already and he hadn’t even left the state yet. “If I told you my eyes will be starved for the sight of you, will you think I’m an idiotic nerd?”

  “No,” Garrison said. I stared slightly when he gently slid my glasses back onto my face. “I’m going to feel the same way. I swear on my soul that I will text you every single fucking day, O’Malley.” He so rarely used my complete name that it sounded funny coming from him. Funny but wonderful. “Why the hell didn’t I act on these fucking urges months ago?”

  He sounded so pained, so lost and so bewildered. “You were probably scared and confused. I know I was.” I offered and he seemed to accept that. Garrison was one of the most open-minded and accepting human beings that I had ever known. If anyone could come to terms with a new wrinkle in his or her sexuality, it would be Garrison Rook.

  “Boys, come on down now. You have an early morning, Garrison.” I winced as Mrs. Rook’s shouted reminder wafted in the window. There were so many things I wanted to say to him and being a slightly brainy dude, words should be easy, but they weren’t. Nothing sounded right in my mind so, in lieu of something witty, I went with something heartfelt.

  “I really want to be with you.” I promised and meant it. Garrison crawled to me on his knees then embraced me.

  “I’ll be here for Christmas, Mal. Wait for me, okay? Don’t let some surfer guy with ripped abs down there in Florida steal you away. I want to explore this with you – and only you. You’re the only man I would trust with my body and heart.” He held me close, his breath a soft, moist caress on my ear. My arms slid around his waist as I promised I would wait for him forever. He vowed he would come home to me in December, that we would be in constant contact over the summer, and that he and I would make up two halves of a perfect whole. Just like we always had – only better.