Exiled to Iowa. Send Help. And Couture

by Chris O'Guinn

  He huffed and gave me a little kiss. “I think you’re hot, and my vote counts for twice as much because I’m not you.”

  “That logic escapes me,” I told him with a smile.

  He flopped on the bed next to me and we sort of cuddled up together. I wasn’t ready for naked gymnastics, but I didn’t want him to be out of my reach either. Having him close, looking into his beautiful eyes, knowing we had crossed such an important bridge, it made me a little giddy.

  “So, you and Becca....” Austin broached the subject with great hesitation.

  “We’re just friends.” It felt like I had made that point a few hundred times before.

  Austin’s skepticism was profound. “Are you sure she knows that?”

  That was a new spin on the question, but I dismissed it immediately. “Of course she does.” I thought it over, tracking back over our conversations. “I mean … she couldn’t think....” More pieces fell into place, making the sort of sense I didn’t want them to make. “It’s not like she could....”

  It all came together at last and I realized I had been very, very stupid. Always before when this annoying topic came up, I had dismissed it quickly because from my perspective, there was nothing more to my time spent with Becca than friendship. I had utterly neglected to run it through the boy-to-girl translator, though.

  “Oh dear....”

  Austin shook his head. “Oh, Col, you really don’t check in with reality that often, do you? I wonder if anyone else thinks they’re dating you without your knowledge.”

  I let my consternation show. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. She just seemed so nervous about asking me that I thought it would be mean to say no, since there wasn’t any reason not to. I thought she was just being nice to the new kid....” I sighed heavily. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  That was a difficult question and it was extremely unfair of him to ask it. Only, of course, it wasn’t unfair at all. What could I tell her? The truth? That didn’t seem at all ideal. Nothing I had ever heard suggested to me that girls were cool with being rejected because of their lack of proper plumbing.

  Jen’s suggestion returned to my mind. Things had gone wonderfully well with my coming out to Austin. Sure, I hadn’t done it voluntarily, but that was hardly important. Results were what mattered, or so someone had said once. Maybe just coming clean with Becca was the only path to take.

  Or, maybe I could refine the truth a little, give it some polish....

  “I’ll figure something out. Can we get back to the kissing? That was much more fun....”

  Austin readily agreed and we returned to practicing our new favorite sport. After all, neither of us was very experienced, so it would take a lot of long hours to perfect our technique. Anything worth doing is worth doing right, as the saying goes.

  Austin remained a perfect gentleman, as well, keeping his hands away from the foul lines. I was quite grateful for that, as I didn’t want to have to keep playing the part of the “boy fearing for his virtue” while we made out. I preferred by far to just focus on the very pleasant task at hand.

  * * *

  I was in a complete daze the next day at school. I couldn’t concentrate on anything and I ended up completely spacing on putting up fliers announcing the auditions for “Moulin Rouge.” I got an earful from Lundquist about that, I can tell you.

  I was on my way to make some copies for that job when I came across a very strange encounter in the quad. Derek and his goons had this scrawny kid I knew to be named Wendell held prisoner. I wasn’t sure what they had in mind, but I was certain it wasn’t going to be taking him for ice cream.

  I was going to run for help when Billy approached them, looking dour. Derek welcomed him with a broad smile.

  “Dude! There you are! We’re about to have some fun.”

  Billy did not break into a smile. “What do you mean?”

  Derek’s vicious eyes lit up. “We’re going to tape this little punk naked to a goalpost. It’s going to be hysterical.”

  Wendell started to cry at that and I started to go for help again, but again I paused because Billy was acting in a very un-Billy-like way.

  “I don’t want to, Derek.”

  “Very funny. Come on, it’ll be hilarious.”

  Billy shook his head. “No, I mean it.”

  “Does this have something to do with that Becca chick? Seriously, you can do better than that little ho.”

  Billy decked Derek, sending him sprawling. “Don’t ever call her that. In fact, don’t ever talk about her at all.”

  Derek’s shock showed plainly on his face. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

  Billy went over to where the goons were holding Wendell and made them let go. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t stand the way Becca looks at me, like she knows all the crap I pull—crap you put me up to. If I have any chance with her, I have to try to be better.”

  Derek got to his feet. “You’re seriously going to toss me aside for some b—”

  The look from Billy made him stop short. Derek got up and looked at his now ex-friend with disbelief and contempt. I stared in shock as the two shared a long glower of dislike, like I could feel the bonds between them severing. Finally, Derek took the remainder of his crew and left.

  I was nonplussed by what I had seen. Billy had turned on his friends for Becca, because he wanted her to like him. It was an incredibly brave and romantic thing for him to do and it totally undid me. If he was willing to sacrifice everything for her, then I felt duty-bound to try and help.

  Also, if Becca had someone to turn to when I broke her heart, then that might smooth things over. I was very much in favor of anything that would make the talk I had to have with her better.

  Later, while at work, I got another Billy-shaped shock. I was dressing up a mannequin in an outfit I would have killed to be able to wear when the blond hottie walked in. It was near to closing, so there weren’t any other customers.

  I stared blankly at him.

  Billy froze and gave me a look of profound displeasure. “Crap, what are you doing here?”

  “Uh, working,” I told him. “What are you doing here?”

  Seriously, first he showed up at my club and now he was in my store. He was starting to crop up everywhere I looked. If I didn’t know that he was obsessed with Becca, I would have thought he was stalking me.

  Billy frowned, annoyed, and then turned to go. “Nevermind.”

  My surprise at seeing him ebbed and with it my ire. I remembered how he had turned on Derek. In point of fact, I didn’t think he even had any friends now. So, perhaps a tiny amount of charity was not out of order.

  “No, wait, sorry. It’s okay.”

  Billy stopped and a small struggle seemed to play out inside him. Then he turned back to me and gave me a defiant, belligerent look. “I heard someone say this is where people are getting all those cool clothes.”

  I nodded cautiously, feeling like I was trying to approach a feral dog. Looking at his department store jeans and plain tee shirt, there was no doubt that he needed a visit from the couture fairy godmother. However, how he had come to this conclusion was a mystery to me.

  “Um, are you looking for something in particular? Like, is there a party or…?”

  Billy was not thrilled at having me invading his privacy, which I frankly didn’t care about since he was invading my life. If I had to put up with him constantly underfoot, then he could cope with some basic customer service.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we don’t have an ‘I don’t know’ section, sorry.”

  Billy’s jaw clenched, but I was pleasantly surprised that his next words were not some blatant threat of violence. “I want to, you know, look good or whatever.”

  There was no safe way to mention to him that looking good was something he had totally covered. Very slowly, the light dawned in my head. “Oh, I think I see. You want Becca to notice you.”r />
  My smile ran and hid as soon as he fixed me with a dangerous look. “If you tell anyone, you’re dead.”

  The threats were back, so this really was Billy and not some alien clone. I held up my hands in a placating gesture. “Chill, dude, really. I’m not mocking you. I just need to know so I can help.”

  “Yeah, why would you help me?”

  “Because … that’s what I’m paid for?” I suggested, pointing to my nametag.

  Billy grunted, conceding that point. “I don’t want to dress like some, you know, fag.”

  I nearly told him to get lost at that comment. I summoned the last of my patience and gave him a little smile. “Don’t worry, we have straight clothes here too.”

  I led him to the back and started to show him various things that would look good on him. At first, I listened to his various excuses for what was too “gay” and what looked too “nerdy.” Finally, when it became clear that he was just refusing to try anything that he wasn’t used to wearing, I lost patience and demanded he try on a few outfits regardless of what he thought of them.

  “You can be bossy when you want to be, huh?” he asked from the changing room.

  “I have home court advantage.” I honestly have no idea what that phrase even means, but I was pretty sure I was using it right. Sports metaphors are a mystery to me.

  “Why would you help me, anyway?’ Billy asked.

  There were a number of answers I could have given him, but I decided to just hand him the truth. “I saw what went down today with you and Derek.”

  Billy looked over the changing room door. “Oh.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, well, if Becca is that important to you, maybe you aren’t all bad.”

  Billy’s brow scrunched up. “Yeah, but you and her—”

  “Man, you’re dense. There is no me and her.”

  “Why not? She’s hot and she likes y—“

  “Yes, but we’re just friends.”

  “She asked you to the Hoedown.”

  “Yeah, but my boyfriend is the jealous sort.”

  I froze in horror as I realized my internal monologue had grabbed the microphone at a very bad moment. Billy was gaping at me in astonishment—which seemed absurd since no one should be that surprised by my orientation.

  He laughed, but not in his usually cruel way. “I should have known.”

  I considered saying something stupid like, “What? I was only kidding” but I knew the cat was not going back into the bag. I was at his mercy and I really didn’t like that feeling.

  “So, are you going to put it out over the PA at school? Or you think maybe you’ll just enjoy telling everyone in person?’

  Billy grinned and shook his head. “Dude, this is the best news ever. You really aren’t competing with me for Becca.”

  He had a one-track mind, apparently. “I’m glad you’re happy,” I said acidly.

  “Oh, chill, I won’t tell anyone.”

  My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why not?”

  Billy shrugged and started to try on some clothes. “Because I’m trying not to be a jerk anymore.”

  That was very little comfort to me, but there was no help for it. I had to just rely on Billy to keep to his word. I decided that maybe keeping him happy would help, so I put a lot of work into helping him pick out new clothes. I also gave him a list of products to help with his skin and so on.

  After he left, I sat down and fretted, my mind awhirl. I was very troubled about all things Billy. He was acting in a way that was very hard for me to understand. Becca is great and everything, but he was going to lengths that seemed irrational.

  Then again, he is straight and who can possibly understand the way straight boys think?

  Chapter 12

  IT SHOULD COME AS NO surprise that my time spent with Austin became a lot more exciting now that we both knew we were dating. Little smiles exchanged in class meant so much more than they had before. When he would stop by my locker and casually brush my hand with his it was like a static shock, sending a lovely jolt through my system.

  Then, of course, there was the excitement of finding new secret places in which to make out. I favored the janitor’s closet. It was dark and no one came in to interrupt, though the smell of industrial cleaner was a little distracting. Austin preferred the convenience of the stalls in the boys’ bathrooms, which were much easier to get to. The ambience did not lend itself to romance, though.

  It would be accurate to say I walked with an added bounce in my step in the days following the revelation that Austin liked me; that is, liked me in the “rainbows and hearts” sort of way. I could not stop grinning. Nothing had ever been this good. It was like I was walking around with sunshine oozing out of my pores.

  I had never seriously imagined having a boyfriend. Oh, sure, the odd thought of some guy who looked a lot like Zac Efron approaching me at the movies and chatting me up had crossed my mind, and certainly that fantasy had gone on to include road trips in his Jag, swimming at his Malibu home and so on, but what boy doesn’t have those thoughts?

  The entire idea of trying to find a boy I was attracted to, who was also gay, who was in my town and who was also into me had been far too high a mountain to climb. The Internet was full of posers, old guys and boys too far out of my league. Plus, the process of boyfriend-seeking is high-risk. You could accidentally hit on a homophobe who would get six of his friends to help beat you up to show everyone how weak you are. Or, almost as bad was the chance of rejection. I don’t cope well with rejection.

  Of course, I had been totally in love with Mike, but even that had been safe. I had known that no matter how much I wanted him, he would never want me back, so there had been no danger of it evolving into an actual relationship. I could pursue him within the secure confines of my daydreams, untroubled by reality.

  So, with all of that, I was unprepared for the sudden boyfriendness of my life. I was scared for days that I was going to wake up and find it had all been a dream. That worry slowly faded, though, and the giddy delight of knowing this was really happening made it hard to concentrate on anything.

  Naturally, the topic most on my mind suddenly was sex. This, too, had only ever existed in my mind within the realm of dreams and fantasy. For one, a person needed a boyfriend to engage in said activity, and as previously stated, that was never a consideration for me. The second barrier was the disconcerting fact that sex was typically done without clothes.

  It was not that I thought I was ugly so much as that I couldn’t imagine anyone finding me attractive. Now, Austin had made it a point to keep telling me he thought I was attractive (“hot” and “cute” and “dead sexy” had been mentioned) but I felt his objectivity was suspect. For one, he had never seen me in all of my less-than-glory, so it was all guesswork on his part. For another, I know how teenage boys are (since I am one) and I know that we will say what we need to say to get into someone’s pants.

  I didn’t really think Austin was solely motivated by hormones, but if I didn’t blame his attraction to me on basic raging teen lust, then I had to examine the idea he really was hot for me and that sent my personal demon of insecurity into fits. It was best to dismiss his interest as a generic, single-minded desire to get his freak on and leave it at that.

  Unfortunately, though, my interest was also making its presence known. As if it were a bear awakening from hibernation, it came out, yawned, looked around and started sniffing the air for something to eat. Austin, it felt, smelled really darn good.

  Now, seeing him naked had a great deal to recommend it. I spent a bit too much time wondering what that would be like—enough so that I was sure anyone observing me knew from the blush on my cheeks what I was thinking about. Try as I might, though, I could not coax that bear back into its den. It wanted some salmon, and it wanted it bad.

  I read through the book my Mom gave me in one sitting. It had a number of helpful drawings and diagrams. I tried not to imagine Austin’s face on those pictures, but I was not alto
gether successful with that. The information was very helpful, and I was ever so grateful to my Mom for having gotten it for me. I would never have managed to get to the counter with it in a bookstore.

  Tentatively, I presented the idea of being naked with Austin to the gallery of my neuroses. It was a loud, raucous meeting. Sex-Drive was bouncing around like a child on Pixy Stix, saying “yes yes yes” over and over again. Vanity suggested that the things in the book would not improve the way I looked in the slightest. Insecurity and Doubt argued over what would be more awful; when Austin saw me naked or when my sexual inexperience made itself evident and he laughed at me. Optimism sulked off to the side because I never listened to it. Prudence recommended tabling the discussion indefinitely. Curiosity wanted to look at the pictures some more. Shyness just sat in the corner, rocking back and forth and crying.

  I rolled onto my back on my bed and called Austin. Time apart from him was becoming extremely painful, but I was fairly sure that Shawn would lose his mind if I invited Austin over for a sleepover. That is not to say the idea did not occur to me more than once.

  “Hi,” Austin said, a smile in his voice.

  Like me, he was smiling all the time now. Unlike me, though, this was a completely new experience for him. He had complained to me that his face muscles were exhausted from constantly grinning. I had, of course, offered to kiss the booboo, and well, it’s not hard to picture where things had gone from there.

  “Hi,” I said, wishing I were there with him. “What’re you doing?”

  “Math homework.”

  “Still? It’s nearly eleven.”

  Austin chuckled. “It’s taking me forever. For some reason, every answer I come up with has you in it.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know. ‘X squared equals one-hundred forty-four, what is X?’ And all I can think of is, ‘Collin’s lips.’ I don’t think Ms. Flannigan would accept that answer.”

  “Only because she’s a fascist,” I replied, blushing at the idea that I was on his mind as much as he was on mine. “So, I read that book my Mom gave me.”