Kissing Kyle

by Laurie Lochs

  “Oh…” Rachel slowly nodded. “A twink, huh?”

  I stared at Rachel. Was she really going to make me explain what a twink was to her?

  But Rachel laughed. “I know what a twink is, Mark. I’m not going to give you shit. But you look like shit right now… Are you really okay?”

  I sighed. “It’s nothing, Rachel. I promise. It’s just a boy I’ve been seeing for the past few weeks. We met at Nino’s and then he turned up in Peter’s real estate course I’ve been volunteering at. I shouldn’t have ever made a move… But I didn’t know he’d be in my class. Otherwise, I never would have done anything. But he came over last night and I think I fucked it up big time.”

  “Ahh.” Rachel nodded. “But do you care about him? I mean, if he wasn’t in your class, would you want to keep seeing him? Or was it a one-time thing?”

  “You know I can’t do one-time things, Rachel,” I said with a sigh. “I’d love to see more of him… But there’s nothing I can do, not right now. I scared him off.”

  Rachel took a sharp breath. “That can’t be true, Mark. Especially not if you’ve been seeing each other for weeks. I say you need to tell him how you feel. Take him out for lunch, see what happens. If you really fucked up, apologize and hopefully he accepts.”

  I sighed and stared at the table. “Thanks, Rachel.”

  “I mean,” she said, taking a sip of coffee, “you can’t have offended him that badly. You’re a sweetheart, Mark. It’s not like you asked him to dress up like a baby.”

  My heart sunk. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Rachel sighed and left my office. I raced through her words in my mind. Would it really make it better if I apologized to Kyle? Or had I fucked up too much? I’d asked him to do ABDL things with me and he wasn’t ready… For all I knew, I’d read him totally wrong and he wasn’t a “little” at all.

  If I’d misread him, would an apology really cut it? I doubted if someone stuck a fucking pacifier in my mouth I’d just accept their apology.

  At least you don’t have to teach the real estate course ever again. Your three-week commitment ended last Thursday — if you don’t want to make things right, you won’t have to see him ever again.

  I glanced at my watch and saw it was time to head to the showing. The Longfellows wanted to sell ASAP and we agreed to sign the listing agreement first thing tomorrow morning. On the way home, I kept playing Rachel’s words in my mind.

  Apologize, Mark. It’s the only option you have.

  But I didn’t know if I could suck up my pride.

  Chapter 23

  Kyle

  * * *

  It was finally Monday morning. Since Saturday, the nurses had been pestering me to make sure I was all right. They wanted to make sure that I wasn't going crazy in the waiting room. But I wasn't. The last thing I wanted to do was go home when Ma was still in danger.

  Though the nurses said she was stable, I knew the situation could take a bad turn at any time. Fierce anxiety kept me strapped to the seat.

  This morning was no different. I'd gotten the worst sleep of my life in the lobby waiting room last night. When I woke up, I went to the hospital cafeteria and got a huge cup of coffee. I hadn’t had coffee since forever, but it was the only thing that would get me through the day.

  Pausing at the condiment station to grab two sugars and two creams, I noticed an elderly man on the far side of the kitchen, staring into his oatmeal. At once, emotions overwhelmed me and my heart shattered in two. I wanted to run to him and comfort him. For a second, I almost thought it was Nino -- but when I looked closer I saw it definitely wasn't. It was just the morning light playing tricks on me.

  Almost like the tricks Mark played on me. Making me think he liked me. As if he really cared.

  Even now, I couldn't comprehend how a man so kind hurt me so badly. The worst part was it wasn't even his fault. When I spent the night in his bed with his firm arms wrapped snug around my waist, I'd been happier than in my entire life. But when I woke in the morning, I was greeted by the sharpest dose of reality coursing through my veins. I was greeted by the voice in my head that said, He’s only humoring you like those afternoons when he took you out to eat. That’s it.

  In his eyes, I was still the futureless fourteen-year-old who needed his help. I was a fool to let myself get so swept away.

  Because that's what happened, right? He utterly and hopelessly swept me off my feet. When I was in his arms, I wanted nothing more than to lie with him forever, there in that bed with gentle moonlight trickling through the window, casting an otherworldly air across the room. Mark made me feel special, protected, loved. But when I woke in the morning… Well, when I woke in the morning, I knew it was too good to be true. It was like Ms. Molly at Safe Boys always told me. "When something's too good to be true, Kyle – run."

  And so I ran. I ran as far as I could to get away from his outstretched, loving arms, if that's what they were. I sprinted to the farthest corners of the Earth, which so happened to be the hospital lobby, where Mark was sure to never come.

  I hated myself for running. But I knew I couldn’t stay.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to look away from the man in the corner of the cafeteria. I stirred my coffee. After taking a short sip, I helped myself to another dose of creamer. Moving carefully so as not to step on anyone’s toes, I walked back to the lobby and sat in the chairs. I’d done little more than take a hesitant sip of hot coffee when someone stopped me.

  "Kyle?"

  Calm down. It’s only the nurse.

  I smiled weakly. Her name was Jessica and she had gorgeous curly hair. We’d become best friends over the weekend. "Ma,” I said, biting my lip, “is she better?”

  Jessica grimaced. "I'm afraid not, Kyle. Her condition is stable, but it hasn't changed. She needs to be kept in the hospital for at least another week so we can monitor her."

  My heart sank. "Monitor her? For what?"

  "For any number of things, sweetie. Your Ma went through a severe shock and she needs to stay with nurses and medics. I know you want to protect her, but that’s not possible right now."

  I took a sharp breath. Jessica was right. I did want to protect her. I knew I couldn't do what the nurses were doing and that I needed to leave the hard work up to them. For God’s sake, I hadn’t gone to college, let alone medical school. If saving Ma's life involved selling real estate, well… In that case, then I actually could do something to help. But as it stood, my hands were tied.

  "You're not going to like this, sweetie,” she began, “but what I'd recommend is that you get out. You’ve been here all weekend –"

  "Except for Friday night," I quickly reminded her. I regretted it the instant I said it. Visions of my night with Mark flashed across my mind.

  "Yes, sweetie,” Jessica said, distracting me. “You've been here virtually all weekend. But you need to get out and get some fresh air. It's not good for anyone if you stay here stuck in this drafty lobby. Besides," she added, looking at her folder, "you don't want to catch anything, do you? You never know what's lying around a place like this."

  "You're not supposed to say that," I grumbled, taking another sip of coffee. But I was just pouting.

  "I know, sweetie. But you have to take a rest. Those bags under your eyes are blacker than night."

  "Yes, ma'am," I mumbled, nodding reluctantly. Jessica sighed in resignation and returned to an examination room where no doubt she was going to save some patient’s life or do another noble and brave thing while I was just going to sit here and wait for Ma to get better. Wait for the medics to bring her back to full health and life.

  Or… Well, maybe I could take Jessica up on her offer and do something besides sit around like the epitome of unproductivity. I could do what Jessica suggested and get on with my life. If Ma was in safe hands – and I’d already established she was – the best thing I could do for myself was to go to my real estate class even though I would be slightly late.

  But that meant see
ing Mark.

  Actually – Wait. It didn’t.

  Didn't our instructor say that Mark's volunteer term was only three weeks?

  "He sure did," I mused, mulling it over. If I went to class, there was no way in hell I'd run into Mark. This was the week his term ended. He simply wouldn’t be there. There would be no come-to-Jesus moment where I’d have to clear the air and explain my actions. I could simply go to class like any of the other students, pay attention to the lecture, take notes. Perhaps I could even contribute to a discussion even though I hadn’t said anything in class since Mark’s lesson on loan amortization.

  More importantly, I’d be able to sit in class and forget Friday night ever happened. I could forget the guilt, excitement, shame. Instead of speaking to him I could scrub him from my mind. And if I tried hard enough, maybe the next time I closed my eyes it would be someone else’s face I saw at night.

  Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the third row and wishing I was back at the hospital. The lesson was the most boring I'd ever experienced in my life. Who cared about what types of houses there were in the Midwest? Colonial, neoclassical, mid-century modern. The only interesting one had been the Frank Lloyd Wright house they'd shown us that had recalled every lick and horizon of the prairies. Even the ten-minute break to admire ancient Greek structures hadn't been enough to compensate for the unrelenting boredom assaulting me with every second ticking by.

  How the hell was learning about houses going to help me sell one?

  Peter paused to ask a question of the class. He wanted to know what type of home we were currently looking at and how you could tell. Samantha, a preppy girl with blonde hair and obnoxiously blue eyes in the front row, raised her hand – like she always did – and supplied the answer at once. "It's a rambler," she explained, adjusting her glasses. "You can tell by the huge picture window in front and its size relative to the mansions next to it."

  I tried not to grimace. “Very good, Samantha,” Peter said, pleased with his student. Or perhaps he was annoyed but hiding it well.

  I sunk even lower into my seat and blinked hard. I was trying to clear the fog circling my mind. If I had a brain scan, it would show no activity. Three days of no sleep and I was as good as dead.

  At least Mark wasn't here. Even if I was bored -- and even if the entire world seemed moments away from slipping through my fingers – because I was so fucking tired – at least I didn't have to answer to Mark. There would be no prying eyes. I was safe.

  Except… Well, as much as I hated to admit it, not all of me wanted to banish Mark to the furthest corners of the Earth. Some part of me -- even if it was practically nonexistent -- wanted to see Mark very badly. In fact it was almost yearning to see him, crying out from the depths of my heart to see him and beg for forgiveness. But that part of me was so small it might not have existed at all. And so I resolved that if Mark did happen to show up, if he walked in like he owned the fucking city, it would be enough to acknowledge his presence and go on about my day. I wouldn’t need talk to him. If he burst into the classroom I could give him one of those bashful yet ticked-off looks – the kind that last two seconds and leave men questioning their entire life – I’d waste little time in getting right back to business. Yes, that's exactly what I’d do if he walked in.

  Of course, Mark didn’t walk in. He had no reason to be here. His volunteer time was over. He was running his firm and taking it to the stars.

  He never cared in the first place, Kyle. Your “Daddy” was using the class to prop up his fragile ego.

  After an eternity, it was finally time for lunch. “Class,” Peter said, “although I’m saddened you don’t share my affinity for Greco-Roman architectural principles -- we can’t all have excellent taste -- you did an excellent job today. I was going to order Jimmy John’s to celebrate but unfortunately I forgot. I’ll do it next week. You’re dismissed for lunch.”

  I nodded sharply at Peter. I didn’t know the last time I’d had Jimmy Johns. God, I wished I could have a turkey sub with sprouts and extra mayo right now. All I had for lunch was a measly…

  A measly…

  I reached into my backpack to pull out my lunch. I’d done little more than unzip the front pocket when my fingers gasped air. My jaw dropped. How could I have been so stupid? I'd been in the hospital the entire weekend. I hadn't been home long enough to pack a sandwich. I had no lunch.

  "I'm going to starve," I whispered, slumping forward on my desk. It was just like before. This time, no one was going to rescue me. Mark was definitely not coming to the rescue, even if he’d been here. Not after last time.

  The rest of the students filed out, no doubt going to eat their lunches together or go to a local restaurant or fast food chain where they could load up on carbs and other types of food. Suddenly, I wished I'd made an effort to befriend them. In such moments, we all need friends to help us when we’re down. We return the favors when we’re up. Yet instead of cultivating these important relationships, I'd focused my energy on seducing the Professor.

  As the creamy coffee I'd had in the lobby this morning wasn't going to be enough, I pushed in my desk and, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, went to the break room. Sometimes, students left things like apples and such laying around. If I got lucky, maybe I would even find a banana laying on the table or a Ziplock bag of peanuts. It wasn’t a complete meal, but at this point even a measly piece of fruit would be enough to hold me over.

  I smiled curtly at Peter and made to leave the classroom. But I’d done little more than walk through the door when, suddenly, a burst of dark, ominous light brushed past me and left me totally frozen in the hallway. It was like a black hole or a combusting shooting star had whizzed past me and left me in its wake. I whipped around -- but the figure had already entered the classroom. Though I hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of his face, something inside me told me it could only be one person.

  It’s my Daddy.

  Breathing heavily, I charged down the hallway and threw open the door to the break room. If I had a key, I'd lock it behind me to make sure no one could get in. Instead, I threw my backpack into the seat next to me and took a shuddering break. But it was no good -- my throat was constricted and no air passed through. It was as if with every breath, my lungs were exerting an equal, upward pressure to stop the air from getting in.

  My heart was racing and my fingertips shook. Any second, the world was going to crash in.

  But before it could, someone knocked on the door.

  Chapter 24

  Mark

  * * *

  Goddamnit. Why the hell did they move my briefcase to the break room? I couldn't believe I forgot all my notes at MCTC after my meeting with Peter. I’d come over to offer our firm as a place to interview for students but I forgot everything I needed for my listing appointments.

  “Come on, Mark,” Peter said with a grin. “You’ve got to do better if you want to be number one.”

  "No shit," I said, inching towards the door. Peter shot me a quick glance and proceeded to tidy up the room and place the students’ assignment sheets in their respective folders. I spun around and beat a trail into the hallway towards the same conference room where I’d gotten my real estate license back in the day before they built the addition that housed the current students.

  My feet moved slowly. But my mind was racing.

  Where was Kyle? I hadn’t seen him in the classroom. Did he slip out before I had a chance to come in? After all, I'd come right when Peter said they were breaking for lunch so I wouldn't run into him. I didn't want to see any of the students and least of all him. The last thing I needed was to confront the boy who disappeared Saturday morning.

  I walked down the hallway and passed the photos of the successful alumni lining the walls. As one of Minnesota’s premiere community colleges, it boasted alumni who had gone on to do great things. By the windows, a brown-haired man holding a MCTC plaque stood beaming next to the mayor of the city. The mayor was giving him the ke
ys to the city because of the firm he'd begun after getting his education at the college. But there was no time to think about that. I had to grab my briefcase and get out.

  I finally arrived at the break room. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open to retrieve my belongings. But I’d done little more than cross over the threshold when, suddenly, a beam of light materialized in the seat and stared up at me. I squinted closer. My jaw dropped. It was Kyle.

  And he looked beautiful. There was no denying it. My cock throbbed in my pants. Kyle’s mouth shot open like he was about to speak, but no words came out. Then he looked at the table and shook his head.

  All at once, I wanted to forget the briefcase on the far side of the room – I spotted it out of the corner of my eye – and take him in my arms. In the pale morning light, he looked fragile, exhausted, depleted. I didn't need him to tell me that he'd been at the hospital all weekend keeping Ma safe. It was evident in his eyes.

  But I didn't get a chance to study them for long. Because no sooner had I made eye contact did he suddenly cast his gaze back at the textbook in front of him as if whatever he’d been studying before I came in was far more interesting than I ever could be.

  Mark, you must have done something that crossed the line. He's upset and no amount of apologizing will make it right.

  I walked to the other side of the room, not daring to make eye contact with him. Except a second later, my eyes accidentally found his again. This time, he didn't look away. He looked like a deer that was about to get rolled over by a steam engine. This time, I knew I couldn't stay silent any longer.

  "Grabbing my briefcase.” I made my way to the far end of the conference table. On the plush chair, I spotted my Louis Vuitton briefcase Bruce had given me five years ago which I used religiously to impress clients at listing appointments and to secure bank notes for the few investment properties I had scattered around the outskirts of the Twin Cities. I picked up the leather strap. But I’d done little more than sling it over my shoulder when, suddenly, a sharp breath filled the air. I whipped around and saw Kyle struggling to hold back tears. He suddenly burst into tears and sobbed.