by Seth King
I turn back to Robert, who is clearly flustered. “Well, you heard us! See you later!”
“Have fun,” he says.
And is it just me, or does he sound absolutely furious?
~
The dinner is awkward and boring. I don’t know what she wants from me, but my mom is being weird. Weirder than usual, actually. For a moment my mind runs away from me. I’m starting to suspect everyone. What if she knows what I did, and she’s trying to push me back onto David? Or what if David knows, and he secretly called this dinner to get closer to me, and she just went along with it?
At one point my mom downs a glass of wine and gets all serious. “So. I wanted to leave the house,” she says, “because I wanted to tell you something.”
“Okay?”
Her eyes cloud over. “You…you know I love you, right?”
I swallow. “Sure.”
“And you know nothing could change that, right?”
What is this about? What does she know? At this point, beads of sweat are dripping down my forehead. My stomach is full of something that feels suspiciously like diarrhea. If this continues, I’ll just pass out right here.
“Yes?” I ask, absolutely positive that she knows. “And? Please just say it.”
“There’s just something I just wanted to tell you…something you needed to know,” she says nervously.
“What? Are you…okay? You aren’t sick or anything, are you?”
She sits taller. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“Tell me, then.”
At that, she shuts down and pats at her hair. “Nothing, nothing.” She gives David a weird look. “Do you have anything to say?”
They share a moment, and the look that passes between them makes my spine shiver. They know something. I don’t know what, but they are hiding something, sharing something.
“No,” David says a little nervously, and suddenly he’s glaring at her. “The moment has passed, anyway. It’s over.”
But whatever this is, it’s clearly not over. In fact, it seems like it’s just beginning.
I sleep uneasily. I keep seeing one set of hazel eyes, one head of brown hair, one cock the size of a Coke bottle. I don’t know why, but I just can’t shake him – even when my brain is supposed to be resting.
At noon the next day, my Aunt Susan calls us all down into the great room for the day’s agenda. According to her, we’re breaking off into groups for some “excursions,” to enjoy the area one last time before we sell the house and lose all ties. Regardless of what she tells me, I already know where I’ll be going – Linville Gorge, the tallest waterfall I’ve ever seen, and the best hike you’ll ever find, too. I guess the only variable is who will be coming with me.
We listen as Susan divides us up.
“…And finally, the Linville group – I knew Eliot wouldn’t go anywhere else,” she says, and I smile. “Yes, let’s see…it’ll be Gracie, David, Eliot, and…um…what does that say? Ah, Robert.”
I inhale. Of course it says that. I want to be angry, but I’m not. I already knew this would happen. The universe is conspiring against me.
And so I bite my tongue and deal with it.
The Linville Gorge, called the Grand Canyon of the East Coast, is basically a giant canyon with a river at the bottom. There’s a reason this region is called the High Country – mile for mile, it’s the highest area outside of the Rockies. After a steep half-mile hike, you climb to an overlook that views a massive waterfall on one side, and a hundreds-of-feet-deep gorge on the other. Usually it’s fun and inspiring, but after we drive an hour and park at the trail head, I’m gruff and stressed. The Robert thing is weird enough. How are we going to hide it around David?
“Aw,” David says as he starts climbing. “This is so romantic. Just like old days.”
Robert’s eyes flash in my mind. “Oh,” I say. “Yeah.”
“Ugh, not this attitude again,” he says.
“Oh, no, sorry, I’m just lightheaded from the altitude. I’m so excited for the view!”
“Sure you are.”
I look back at Robert and Gracie, who are chatting away behind us on the trail. He winks at me, and my face goes numb. But I’m jealous. What are they talking about, and why can’t I join in? Sometimes I think if I could snap my fingers and make David go away, I would.
“Wow,” David says from beside me. “Did he just wink at you?”
“Huh?” I ask, turning around. Shit. I didn’t know he was watching. “What? No, probably his allergies. Hey, can you get a picture of me in front of that boulder?”
David rolls his eyes and takes the photo. As we continue to climb, Robert and Gracie get closer and closer, and soon we’re walking in a foursome.
“So Eliot,” Gracie says soon, laughing. “Robert told me his link to you. That is so funny, and so cool. I never even knew your mom had anyone before Rick.”
“Well, yep, except he’s a queen now,” I say, flashing a smile back at Robert. “Fate’s a funny thing, huh?”
“I really wouldn’t mind that,” Gracie says. “Having a gay husband, I mean. Do you know how hard it is to find a straight man who isn’t an ignorant piece of shit? Trust me, I’m out there looking, and it isn’t pretty. A gay husband could be my best friend and listen to all the same music as me and maybe go to the mall with me sometimes, too.”
“Except…what about sex?” I ask, and she waves me off.
“That ends at the marriage vows, anyway. I wouldn’t care.”
“Whatever you say…”
“How has your relationship been with Aunt Mary Kate, anyway?” she asks Robert, and suddenly I feel his eyes burning into my neck. Is that even normal, to be able to feel someone’s vision? What is wrong with us?
“Mostly good. But also…complicated,” Robert says in a voice so sexy, my hair stands up. “For many reasons. It’s hard to explain.”
“Okay, then…”
We finally reach the overlook, a rock outcropping hundreds of feet above the canyon floor, and I step out onto the ledge and let out some air as the wind hits me. No matter what’s happening, this was always my happy place, my safety. And it still is.
There’s just something about these sights that remind you of how small you are. No matter how big you think your problems are, in the scheme of things, you barely matter. Everything ends up okay. The river keeps running. The sky keeps spreading out.
I look at the falls under me, the canyon fanning out beyond me, then close my eyes and breathe in the wild air. Then I imagine it’s just me and Robert up here, talking and laughing and touching and kissing. This would be the perfect place to share a moment with him, a real moment, and remember that at the end of the day we are just two people who are drawn to each other. Up here, words like stepson and stepdad don’t exist. All that exists is nature. And man, does he make me feel natural…
But we can’t be together, obviously. Not in any real way. Society and my family forbid it. Everything forbids it, really. Nobody dates their former step-parents…
For the past few days I’ve been getting so sad I could cry. Except I can’t cry. Nobody is even allowed to know the source of my sadness. I wish I could stop wanting him, stop needing him, stop feeling his eyes on me. But I can’t, and it is starting to rip me up inside…
We take a few last pictures and then start milling about next to the exit back to the stairs. I can’t keep my eyes away from Robert, though. The more interested I try to be in David, the less I care. If I could jettison him and just turn this into a solo date, I would.
David doesn’t seem to notice much, or else he just doesn’t care. He and Gracie get to talking, and by the time we start the hike back down to the car, they’re walking far ahead of us. For the first time, I’m alone with Robert.
I look over at him, and he looks away – then looks back. I try to resist, but I can’t. I feel my hairs stand up, and the whole thing starts happening again – the reaction from before. Is it just the danger aspect, t
hough? The forbidden-ness of it all? I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s something.
“Sorry we couldn’t talk,” I say softly, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t be. I get it. But we can talk now.”
“We can?”
“Of course. I really want to. Let’s just walk really slowly.”
And so we start talking.
Drag Race. Dating. Pop music. Sex. Books. More Drag Race. Over the next half hour, as the sun sinks into the folded Carolina hills, what was once an intensely physical attraction starts becoming a mental one, too. We talk about everything under the sinking sun, and then we talk about what we don’t have in common, too – he hates Italian food, while Stouffer’s lasagna is my favorite meal on the planet. He’s iffy about scary movies, while they thrill me and remind me I’m alive. But I don’t mind our differences. I don’t want to be twins with someone I’m dating, after all, and we seem to have a great balance of similarities and contrasts.
Soon I realize the trees are thinning, and we’re getting closer to the parking lot. Robert glances up at Gracie and David. They’re ahead of us, reaching a part of the trail that bends around a huge boulder and disappears. This is dangerous, I know it is, but at the same time I don’t care. I’m so lonely, even when I’m next to David. If only I could reach out and connect with someone...
Just when they get out of sight, Robert turns, and I feel his arms on my biceps. A moment blooms between us, then the air explodes. He slams me back against the mossy rock, just softly enough not to hurt, and then presses his body against mine.
“Robert,” I gasp, and then we are kissing, exploring, gasping into each other’s mouths and getting every ounce of each other that we’ve been craving all day.
His hands explore me, my tongue explores his teeth, we writhe and moan and groan. This isn’t a kiss. It is a supernova.
Soon I get my wits again. “I can’t do this,” I say, turning my head, but my heaving chest betrays me.
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Aren’t those the same thing?”
“Oh, come on,” he groans. “We’re not that different.”
“How?”
“My lifestyle is very…young. I go shopping, I go out to dinner, I go to bars. I look young, too. People say May-December. This is more like June/December.”
My heart pounds. My throat goes dry. “But…that’s not the biggest problem. You know it’s not...”
“Eliot. Look at me.”
I lift my eyes, and the contact with his irises jolts me like a car battery.
“I know they won’t get it…and I know they think I was your father…”
“You were never my father,” I say a little too quickly, and he stands taller and smiles a little arrogantly.
“I know that. I know, Eliot. But I think maybe, just maybe, this thing could work.”
For a long time I just stare out at the water and the hills.
“Sorry,” he says soon. “Are we going too far?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I was fine with it. And that is so scary.”
We only snap out of it when a family hits the trail up ahead. We back up a few inches and smile as they pass.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Do you know how hard it was, not to do that hours ago? Do you know irresistible you are?”
“If it’s anything like what I’m feeling, yes, I get it.”
“God damnit. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking down at his big, hairy arms. “But they’re waiting. We need to go.”
I turn and start down the path. This was too reckless. This was too dangerous. And it was the most erotic encounter yet. At this point I’m going to need a cold shower after every time I see him. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to need to do that.
As I flee, though, I swear I hear him laughing again.
Robert Glazer
That night I’m eating dinner with most of the family, praying Eliot will show up at some time or another. Honestly, the more I’m around him, the more addicted I get.
But he never shows. He never comes.
Afterward I take care of some business in my room. I made fifteen thousand dollars today in a surprise move on the secondary market – cool. Honestly, the money isn’t too fun if nobody is next to me, having fun with it. It gets old. I can only buy so many jackets and go on so many trips before it all starts to feel same-ish. And I’m starting to get more and more impatient for that person.
I grab some Pinot Grigio, then fuss with the TV and finally figure out how to access OnDemand. I click through some free movies and then smile to myself – it’s Clueless, that classic of the ‘90s that actually turned out to be a chronicle of a teenaged girl falling in love with her former stepbrother. And everyone loved it! This movie has gone down in history as the Heathers or the Mean Girls of its decade. And it was about something very similar to what I’m experiencing right now!
I glance out of my window. Eliot doesn’t know this, but my third-floor bedroom is a converted attic space, and my dormer window looks down, at a diagonal angle, directly into his bedroom. Mostly it’s just been Eliot and David sweeping in to change clothes in the bathroom and then leave again, but tonight the light is off and the room seems empty. Where are they?
I watch Cher and Dion speed through the streets of Beverly Hills. Halfway through, a light catches my eye. I press mute and look down – and there he is. Eliot, staring at himself in the mirror. And he’s naked.
I watch as he runs his hand from his ab muscles down to his dick, which is nice even when it’s soft. He looks contemplative and a little sad. His hair is streaked blonde from the sun, and there’s a sharp tine line at his hips where deep gold becomes pale silver. His body is perfect from this angle, and when he turns a little, I can see the roundness of his ass. No wonder David is holding onto him for dear life. I would, too.
He grips himself and starts to jack off. That’s when I look away.
I shouldn’t be looking, right? But then again, something about what he’s doing is kind of…performative. He obviously wants to be watched, doesn’t he? Why is he doing it in this manner?
Sometimes Eliot looks so lonely. Sometimes when David is talking to him, he looks like he’s a million miles away. Today when we kissed, I really did feel something – I feel it every time we touch, actually. As much as it scares me, I really don’t think this is some crazy “vacation fling” type of thing. It feels…deeper. Realer. I know that makes no sense, but it does.
Finally I look back. He’s holding his phone like he’s taking a picture, and I watch as he presses the screen and then starts typing. Two seconds later, my phone pings.
I grab it. He’s added me as a friend on Snapchat, a photo-sharing app I downloaded a few months ago and then quickly forgot about. My face burning and my heart pounding, I accept his request and then watch as a photo icon pops up. My God – he’s messaging me, right now.
I hold my breath and open the photo. It’s him, thirty seconds ago, holding his dick in the mirror. My whole body jumps as I type a response.
You are perfect, I say. Beyond perfect. Today was amazing.
I look down into his window as he smiles and responds. What are you going to do about it, then?
I feel my face go red. Maybe show you my dick again, perhaps? A second time wouldn’t hurt.
He sends me a smiling emoji, and then I turn and watch in real time as he takes a video of himself stroking his cock. The video shows up a few seconds later, and the result is a sensory overload. I know I’m about to march down there right now and fuck him if we don’t get a handle on this, so I type something daring:
Where’s David? Is your room empty?
But that’s when I know I’ve gone too far. I watch as he frowns and then turns toward the bathroom and disappears. Fuck. He didn’t even respond. Why do I have to ruin everything?
I sigh and turn back to the movie, my dick still throbbing. I need to calm down. I ha
ven’t been this consistently horny since college – and even then, I was too closeted and repressed to do much about it.
“I love Josh!” Alicia Silverstone finally says, as fountains erupt and choirs sing. Why is this so accepted, though? They were step-siblings for a time. What if Eliot and I were treated like this, potentially? What if the world accepts us? I know it’s a long shot, but what if Mary Kate could one day learn to deal with it?
And I am crazy for even trying to figure out a future with someone I just met?
I’m too emotional to handle myself – frankly I’m overwhelmed. Thinking of his body in that window, I grab some lube and take my cock into my hand. I know it’s big, I knew that since I took my first group shower in high school and the other guys stared at me with a sudden look of shock and respect. And sometimes I get turned on by my own penis, as weird as that sounds. I rub and down, up and down, doing everything to myself that Eliot won’t do to me. And when I come, I imagine I am doing it inside Eliot’s body…
And then an idea comes to me. I take a photo of my dick, still fully erect, and covered in my semen – and then I send it to Eliot and promptly plug in my phone and go to sleep.
If he won’t make an actual move yet, he’ll just have to be blue-balled until he gets brave enough to do it in real life.
Eliot Prince
It’s crazy, how much more sensual some sun and nature can make you feel. All that caveman shit they talk about, it really is true. I’m baking and sweating and stretching out on the floating dock, just thinking, with my bathing suit pulled all the way up to make sure my legs get a little tanned. My abs are slick, and my dark-blonde hair is already shining a shade lighter. The feeling of my skin against the warm wooden deck, the smell of the trees and the soil and the Rhododendron bushes and the water, fuck – I could grab David right now and fuck his ass right here, but he’s off playing Scrabble or something with the kids.
Oh, well. The sex can wait. I’ve already jacked off today, anyway. And do you know why I’m horny in the first place? Last night’s sexting session.
