Fever Pitch

by Heidi Cullinan

  “You need to get your feet wet,” Jim said every morning as he dragged Aaron out of bed. “Get in there and get a feel for law, for what the discipline will demand of you. You have a lot of catching up to do. There’s a chance you could actually make something of yourself with this path.”

  Aaron planned to change his major to undecided and move himself to nothing but gen ed courses once he was on the ground, his father too distracted by work to notice. From what he’d been able to learn by being at the firm so much, his dad was likely to go off to the California office soon for anything from two to six months.

  The good thing was Aaron had gotten into Saint Timothy. His grades were solid, and they liked his entrance essays so well they gave him a scholarship. Despite the late hour, Aaron got three thousand a year shaved off as some kind of renewable coupon so long as he kept a 3.5 GPA. His dorm was Titus, which apparently was some Bible name, and his roommate was Elijah Prince.

  Aaron’s email exchanges with his roommate were weird. Aaron tried his best to connect, asking questions about Elijah’s interests, his hometown, anything he could think of, but Elijah’s answers were short and…a little creepy.

  I’m from South Dakota. I enjoy spending time with my family and my church group. I don’t know what I’ll major in yet. I’m still praying about it.

  Aaron twitched at the idea of his roommate praying about his major—Aaron and his mom were slight scandals in Oak Grove for not going to church, but honestly, religion gave Aaron the heebie-jeebies. He started to worry Saint Timothy was more religious than he was ready for. They had a big thing on the website about being open to all faiths, but did that include none?

  Good God, what if his roommate wanted to pray with him?

  As July wore on and August crept around the corner, Aaron worried whether or not he’d done the right thing, going to Saint Timothy. He feared his roommate’s weirdness was a sign of greater obstacles to come. He’d chosen his source of secondary education based on sex at a lake with a guy he’d only just met, a guy who might be disgusted to see him again. How had he ever thought this would end well?

  As orientation drew closer, Aaron’s anxiety ramped up so high he could barely function. He stopped eating except when his father bullied him into it, and at the office he hid in the corner of the basement storage room whenever someone wasn’t checking up on him. He curled up with his phone, listened to music and played digital solitaire with a fever that did little to bleed off the desperation in his heart.

  This was how Aaron met Walter Lucas.

  Walter was an intern from the University of Minnesota. He had a brightness and focus Aaron envied. The two of them had spoken occasionally at the coffeemaker, and once Aaron had helped him organize a set of briefs in the conference room, but otherwise Walter was nothing more than another guy in the office.

  This changed the day Walter came downstairs and Aaron didn’t get up to pretend he was working. Aaron had been so absorbed in his game while Florence crooned to him through his noise-canceling headphones that he hadn’t realized he was being observed until Walter stood over him, head cocked to one side as he took in Aaron with a critical eye.

  Aaron guiltily pulled off his headphones and tucked his phone away. “Sorry. I was taking a break. Can I help you with something?”

  Walter studied Aaron a few more seconds. “I’m about to make a run for lunch because my fiancé had to bail on our date. Would you like to come along?”

  Aaron wouldn’t, but he couldn’t think of an excuse to give. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “Wherever. I figure we’ll haunt the skywalks until something looks good.” Smiling, Walter extended a hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

  The law office was in a converted bank building in downtown Minneapolis, the main atrium now a common area between six different businesses, connected to the rat’s maze of the Minneapolis Skyway System. Aaron could barely find his way to the parking garage without his dad, but Walter navigated the internal passages with ease, chatting up Aaron as they went.

  “So you’re off to college next month, right? To the place Bob went—where is it again?”

  Aaron wrapped his arms around himself, colder than ever despite the heat of the bridge. “Saint Timothy.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Bob keeps telling me you’re in for great times.”

  Aaron hoped so. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Northwestern, Hope University and the University of Minnesota St. Paul. I’m heading into the law school at the U of M in September.”

  Great, so Walter was handsome, put together and brilliant. “How many degrees do you have?”

  “Not even one until they hand me my diploma at the end of the month. After I did a month at Northwestern, I dropped out to help my mom, went to Hope for two years, then moved up here for the rest of undergrad. I’m hoping to stick to one place for grad school.”

  Well, Aaron didn’t feel quite so bad at not being able to pick a college now. “I didn’t know you could switch around like that.”

  “I don’t think it’s generally advised. I’ve spent the past few summers filling in blanks, and I had to go on overload both semesters at the U of M.”

  Aaron liked Walter. “So you’re getting married? When?”

  Walter groaned. “God, that’s the million-dollar question. I wanted October, because who doesn’t love fall, but Kelly said there’s no way he’s having a wedding in the middle of midterms. My guess is we’ll end up in June with the other eight million anniversaries.”

  Aaron tripped when he thought he’d heard Walter refer to Kelly as he. “Your fiancé is still in college too?”

  “Yeah, he’ll be a junior this fall.” Walter waggled eyebrows at him suggestively. “You leaving behind a string of brokenhearted high school girls, or are you doing the thing where you try to bridge the gap between high school and college?” When Aaron experienced a brief paralysis, thinking of Giles on the shores of Hickey Lake, Walter laughed and patted him on the back, his touch lingering ever so slightly in a not-straight way, like he’d welcomed Aaron into a club. “Ha. I thought so. But you’re not out to your dad, so I’ll keep mum.”

  Aaron stopped walking. “How—?”

  Walter leaned against a nearby railing. “You’re newly out to yourself. Makes more sense, actually.”

  They stood in the middle of a small mall area, three levels of open balcony next to them. Walter kept his voice down so their conversation was muffled by the piped-in music and din of the crowd.

  “Gaydar isn’t about what you’re wearing or how limp your wrists are. It’s how you cruise, which is why sometimes women get it and straight men never do. A straight guy will meet your eye, but he’ll make a quick decision on whether or not you’re higher on the food chain than he is, and he’ll dominate or defer as appropriate. He’ll do that without thinking because we’re talking total reptilian brain here.”

  “But gay men…don’t do that?”

  “Oh no, we do—but we give a second glance to cruise. Older men and guys who grew up in Homophobic Assholeland cruise so fast you almost miss it. In our generation, there’s two camps. My tribe grew up in suburban settings where gay-straight alliances were standard fare and overt homophobia was greeted with the same disdain as racism—we’re a little braver when we cruise. But some guys our age come from conservative backgrounds. Not necessarily told they’re bad but still aware they’re other. They leave the nest eager and starry-eyed, and they’re green as lettuce. At college in your first year you’ll get a bit of both, guys just off the truck and guys like me who love fresh produce and hone in for a sample. Well, not anymore, but that was how I rolled.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I guess I should say there’s a third camp: the guys from Homophobic Assholeland with Homophobic Asshole parents. They’re…their own breed, and it’s seldom pretty. But to answer your question, I suspected you were ga
y because you cruised me.”

  “I did?” Aaron drew back, embarrassed, but Walter only laughed.

  “Hon, don’t. I’m flattered. It was fast, and it was mostly you clocking me, going, hot guy in the building. For the record, I did the same thing to you. I may be monogamous now, but it doesn’t mean I don’t admire a nice view.”

  Aaron blushed. “Thanks?”

  “You bet your ass thanks. God, I’d have had you flat on your back, pants at your knees within an hour.”

  Aaron’s cheeks became a furnace that possibly raised the temperature of the atrium five degrees.

  Walter laughed. “Sorry, I’ll behave.” He nodded to the food court. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving. Chipotle okay?”

  Aaron followed Walter in a kind of fog, trying to process everything until suddenly it was his turn to order. When he got to the cash register he didn’t realize Walter had paid for both their meals until it was too late.

  “Please. Kelly would swat me right now if he saw how freaked out I’ve made you. The least I can do is pay for your lunch.” Walter indicated a table in the corner. “Let’s sit and talk.”

  At first it wasn’t bad, Walter asking what he did for fun, commiserating over Florence and Keane, arguing over the audio quality of Bose vs. Beats headphones. But all too soon Walter went for the subject they kept dancing around.

  “You were upset about something in the file room.”

  Aaron fixed his gaze on his napkin, worrying the edge into ragged strips with his fingers. “I’m nervous about going to college.”

  He waited for Walter to give platitudes, to tell him everyone was nervous and Aaron would be fine.

  Walter arched an eyebrow. “Why am I thinking this has something to do with a guy?”

  Aaron dropped his napkin. “Why—why—what—?”

  Walter leaned forward and touched Aaron’s arm. “Hey—it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do want, I’d love to listen.”

  To Aaron’s surprise, he found he did want to talk. Except he didn’t just tell Walter about Giles. He told him everything.

  He told Walter about Tanner.

  “We were friends since grade school, and in middle school we started a band together with a couple other guys. Tanner and I wrote all the music. I composed, he did the lyrics. I think it probably sucked, but we had a good time. I’d taken a lot of theory too, and I taught myself from the Internet. He did too. It was our thing we did together. Then…I don’t know when exactly, but things started changing. Tanner and I had always been close, but we started to feel really close. We touched a lot. Sometimes I thought he wanted to kiss me, but nothing ever happened.”

  When Aaron paused too long, Walter spoke. “Until one day something did.”

  Aaron couldn’t meet Walter’s gaze. “It was a slumber party. We got into his dad’s liquor cabinet. The other two boys fell asleep, but Tanner and I stayed awake. He kissed me, and we went to his room. Made out a little.” He paused, remembering the bittersweet moment. “It was amazing, beautiful, everything I’d ever wanted, but all of a sudden he got up, freaked out and told me to go home. He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  Walter’s mouth thinned into a line. “Yeah, there are plenty of guys like that. Tanner’s gay, or at least bi or flexible, and he’s not sure it’s okay to be a baby-bit queer. Orientation is not a line in the sand, and that’s the next big wave coming: generations of young people facing their childhood same-sex friends and considering them potential lovers because it’s not total social death to do so anymore. It’s not always going to be pretty, either. Tanner wants this but is flipped out over it, and you made him face something he didn’t want to.”

  “But he started it. I wouldn’t ever have—”

  Walter stroked Aaron’s hand. “I know, hon. In his head, though, all you had to do is exist.”

  Aaron’s chest hurt. “That’s not fair.”

  “No, it isn’t. Honestly, a lot of misery comes from only half the country thinking it’s okay to love whoever you want. Sure, I can legally marry Kelly in Minnesota, and the Feds will recognize it too, but now the bigots are even angrier. Until they die off and gay is just another way to be, guys like you and Tanner don’t only go through the hell of adolescent attraction, you do it with a gun at your head.”

  That was exactly how it felt. “Me and Tanner, but not you?”

  “Please. I was born fierce.” Walter took Aaron’s hand, squeezing it briefly. “I’m sorry that was your first experience, Aaron. I hope your second one is better.”

  Aaron became very interested in his burrito wrapper. “Well…actually, I’ve had a second one already.” He swallowed hard and looked up at Walter.

  Walter gazed back, patient and kind. “A bit better, this one?”

  “Yeah. But I was an idiot and didn’t get his number, and I can’t work up the courage to send him a note online.” He drew a deep breath before confessing the rest. “He’s the reason I decided to go to Saint Timothy.”

  Walter’s smile made Aaron feel like he’d been folded into somebody’s arms. “Tell me about this guy.”

  Aaron did. He told Walter all about Giles, about how they’d met because Aaron was hiding and Giles was running from someone who wanted to beat him up. He told Walter about Giles offering to get something to eat when he found out Aaron hadn’t had dinner, how he’d paid since it had been Aaron’s birthday, how he’d taken him to Hickey Lake—Walter laughed, but mostly he kept smiling. With his ears red to their tips, Aaron confessed how they’d had sex, how it had felt being with Giles. “He made me feel good. Bought me dinner, took care of me.”

  “He didn’t give you his number though?”

  Aaron grimaced. “I didn’t really give him a chance. I was leaving the next day, and he had no idea I would choose to go to his same school.” The question he ached to ask poured out of him. “Was that incredibly stupid? Have I fucked up my entire life because a guy smiled at me and blew me by the lake on my birthday?”

  Walter had a funny look on his face, nostalgia and empathy and…something else. “I think it’s a hard call. Play it easy when you get there. Don’t beat yourself up if it turns out to be a bad gamble, but don’t write anything off too fast either. Most importantly, though…” he pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table, “…stay in touch with me.”

  When Giles arrived at Saint Timothy College, he half-considered kissing the lawn in front of his dorm.

  Summer in Oak Grove had been hot, boring and interminable. He reread every novel he owned, played so much Xbox he thought his brains might leak out of his ears, and practiced violin and sometimes even piano, he was so bored. Basically, he marked time until his life could begin.

  He deliberately didn’t think about his midsummer adventure at Hickey Lake.

  The one highlight had been his frequent IM chats with Brian, his roommate-to-be. At first they’d talked about pretty boring stuff, like who was bringing what, but when Giles mentioned his gaming system, this had unleashed the kraken. Brian was a major gamer. He played more first-person shooter while Giles preferred strategy, but their Switzerland was Minecraft. They met all August via Xbox Live to kill Creepers and harass Endermen, and haunted the same online servers. They’d already hatched a plan to bring in takeout from Noodles & Company and spend the first night of college in introducing each other to their favorite games. Giles couldn’t wait.

  Best part? Brian was straight, knew Giles wasn’t and didn’t give two shits.

  Brian was as cool in person as online. When Giles and his family came up with their first set of boxes, Brian greeted Giles with a warm smile and a man hug.

  “I can’t believe we’re finally here.” Brian put his hands on the back of his head and grinned up at the canopy of trees above them as they crossed campus to go to orientation. “I hope it d
oesn’t turn out to be as dumb as high school. My older brother says it isn’t, that the stupid popular kids don’t have the same kind of foothold here.” He lowered his hands and glanced at Giles. “When is your orchestra tryout?”

  “At five. I have to head over there after orientation, actually. Which, shit, I should have brought my violin with me.”

  Brian waved this worry away. “I’ll bring it to you on my way to the parking lot to go get our dinner. Of course I think it might be faster for me to walk to the store, and I’m not kidding. Did you see how far away M lot is?”

  Giles snorted. “Try P lot. I’m west and half a mile from M.”

  They split up as they stood in line to check in at the student union, meeting up in the back to find a seat in the packed room.

  Brian shook his head. “Look at all these people. And this is just freshmen.”

  “Mina’s in here somewhere—my friend from home. I was supposed to find her, but I have no idea how.”

  “Text?”

  Giles pulled out his phone and grimaced. “God, there’s no LTE. I don’t have a signal at all. And no Wi-Fi. What the hell?”

  “Try the hallway. Maybe they have the walls lined with lead or something. I see three seats up ahead—I’ll snag them for us, okay?”

  After watching where Brian pointed, Giles slipped into the main hallway, where he still didn’t have much signal but did have enough service to send a text.

  The crowd pouring into the ballroom didn’t look like a high school crowd. There was a lot less diversity of class—more people of color, but also a distinct evening out of social strata which, honestly, felt a bit weird, as if Giles had entered a gated community. The lack of cliques was visible and almost jarring—people herded up, but not much and not often.