CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
Things certainly did get more intense. Poor Russell he is very confused much like Cody. A lot of feelings and what people are to each other need to be sorted out. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!
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If I Should Fall
- Thread starter ChrisGibson
- Start date
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Feelings are riding high, and it doesn't seem like they're going to be sorted out either euickly or easily. This is, perhaps, the prelude to a mess.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
TONIGHT, THE END OF THIS CHAPTER
“You?” Cody said. “Had sex with Jason?”
“Yes.”
“You tell Chayne?”
“Not yet, and I tell him everything. I will tell him, but I didn’t know how. And I needed not to tell… anyone. It needed to be mine.
“But, I slept with him because we’ve thought about each other for a long time, and last night I stayed with him. We… it happened. And I like him, and I care about him, and I love him, and I want him, but I want other things too. I don’t know. It is confusing. I thought…. I thought when you went to someone he… or she… was the Someone, and the door was closed and that was it. But that’s not quite how I feel.”
“Fuck,” Cody said. He stopped the truck and they were near the lake and everything seemed to happen at this fucking lake. He took his hand through his chocolate brown hair that was touched by gold and Russell watched his Adam’s apple bob in his brown, shaven throat.
Cody bent forward and pressed his mouth to Russell’s and his thick lips were warm and strong and his tongue that tasted a little of cigarettes went into Russell’s mouth and lingered with his own for just a moment. For just a moment Russell smelled sweat and spearmint and something like iron and then Cody pulled away slowly, leaving Russell dizzy.
“Is that how you feel?” Cody asked him.
Russell felt like he was soaring. His heart was high, his certainty of the future, of his goodness, of his faithfulness was very low, and the rest of him floated somewhere in the middle.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice was a little sad.
“Don’t worry,” Cody put a hand that was large knuckled, and strong and warm on Russell’s khakied thigh, “You’ll figure it out.”
Nothing mattered right now. No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. They were in a fearful space. Russell was afraid of what he was about to do, but more afraid of not doing it. He didn’t let himself think when he put his hand on Cody’s knee, when he kept rubbing it and then realized Cody hadn’t stopped rubbing his. His hands slipped between Cody’s thighs and he started to knead him. If Cody moaned, Russell didn’t hear it. He didn’t look while his hands undid Cody’s fly. Cody helped him.
Russell pushed his hair out of his face and bent down and took the length and girth of Cody in his mouth. The head of his cock, the thickness of it felt so good. He went to his knees in the truck. He felt Cody’s hands come down in his hair and lift up. Cody had wanted to push his head down but Cody was good. He was sweet. That was why Russell loved him and fuck it, he was in love with this guy he’d just met. He felt so connected to him. This is why he had to do this. He pulled Cody’s hand into his hair and began to move his mouth up and down, like he had for Jason, like Jason had done for him, urging Cody to fuck his mouth.
He wished they were in Cody’s house, could do more, could do this longer.
“Russ…” Cody whispered through clinched teeth. “Please stop. I’m gonna…”
Russell went down harder and Cody’s hands flew up. His voice opened in a broken cry the same time Russell’s mouth was filled with his semen. He kept sucking him. Kept licking till it was all gone. He held Cody in his hand, still pulsing, the brown cock, red headed in its wilting. He released it, but he was hard now. As he moved to get back in his seat, Cody, winded, blank faced, put his beautiful penis back into his pants.
The world had seemed to stop, but now it began again. A car passed them. There was the sound of cars in the distance and a plane overhead.
“I don’t know if I will figure it out,” Russell said.
At last Cody said, placing his large hand on Russell’s leg, so close to his erection:
“We’ll figure it out. You know, people say love is all that matters, but it’s vague. Friendship, that’s what matters.”
They drove on for a while and Cody turned up the radio. Dionne Warwick asked:
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I've been away so long
I may go wrong and lose my way
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I'm going back to find
Some peace of mind in San Jose
LA is a great big freeway
Put a hundred down and buy a car
In a week, maybe two, they'll make you a star
Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass
And all the stars that never were
Are parking cars and pumping gas
Normalcy returned to them. Time resumed and daylight replaced the clouds of confusion. Childhood was gone, but something like innocence might return.
Russell was looking down from the cab of Cody’s truck as they drove down Bunting when he said, “Cody, stop!”
“Um?” Cody Barnard blew smoke from his nostrils.
“Pull over, I know that girl.”
Russell could still taste Cody’s semen in his mouth.
They pulled over to the chain link fence, clear on the other side of it was the brick structure of Rosary High School.
Russell rolled down the window, and Cameron Dwyer looked up from the bicycle she was working on.
“Can we help you, Cameron?”
She squinted and then smiled up and said, “Russell. Fancy that. Hello,” she shouted to Cody, whom she could not see. “I’m trying to fix my bike.”
She displayed her oil blackened hands.
“The chain’s shot.”
“Hop in,” Cody leaned over Russell. “Russell, help her get the bike in the bed.”
Russell was already out of the truck. Two cars sped down Bunting toward Uptown.
When Cameron climbed into the car, Cody took off his blue bandanna and handed it to her. “Wipe your hands off... What’s your name again?”
“Cameron,” she said the same time Russell did. She looked at the bandanna and told Cody, “I couldn’t.”
“Oh, I think you can,” he shoved the rumpled bandanna into her blackened hands. “It cost fifty cents,” he informed her and drove on.
“Cameron is my next door neighbor,” Russell said.
“Were you headed home?”
“I was, actually.”
“Don’t you worry, Cameron. I’m a mechanic. My assistant and I will make your bike good as new. We’re headed toward your area right now.”
“Then we’re going to Chayne’s house,” Russell told him.
“My dad went to school with Chayne,” Cameron said. “College. So did my uncle I guess.”
“Yeah, I think Chayne told me that.”
“Russell, it’s weird that we don’t know each other better,” Cameron told him. “I mean, our dads car pool together. We belong to the same church. You know my brother and my cousin. We know a lot of the same people.”
“Life’s weird like that,” Cody chimed in.
“But Cody thinks we’re all in a sacred net,” Russell muttered.
“What?” the pretty girl turned to Cody, intrigued.
“Well, when my distinguished collegue says it that way, it sounds stupid,” Cody said. “But basically it means we are all like fish caught up in this one net—or web, if you will,”
“We will,” said Russell laughing.
“Ha,” said Cody dryly, “and if we’re meant to meet we will meet sooner or later.”
“I don’t remember that part of the theory,” Russell remarked.
“It’s evolving,” Cody said as they turned off of Bernard and hit Breckinridge.
A minute later he said, “Here we are, young Cameron.”
Thanks,” said Cameron.
“We’ll just fix your bike right here. Right now,” said Cody.
“We can do it in my driveway,” Russell said.
“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest.”
“I thought you knew what you were doing,” Russell told Cody.
“I thought you’d kiss my ass,” Cody returned, hands, covered in oil.
“I was just thinking that a great mechanic like yourself would be able to fix a common bicycle.”
“If a hearse can’t outsmart me, then neither will a bike. Cameron, we need a new chain.”
Cameron, placidly sitting on the grass between the Lewis and Dwyer driveway, nodded.
“Russ, it’s almost time for dinner,” Thom said, coming out of the kitchen door in shorts and a blue Oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up.
“Cameron,” he nodded to Bill’s daughter.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Thom offered his hand to Cody.
“Cody Barnard, sir,” Cody offered his hand, then grimaced, and Thom took it anyway and said. “It’s time for us all to wash up. Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
Cody was about to be kind and refuse, then realized kindness was actually accepting hospitality and that if he left Cameron’s bike would be chainless.
“Alright,” he said. “Thanks, sir.”
“Thom’ll do,” Thom called back, heading into the house.”You staying for dinner too, Cameron?”
“I’ll go over and ask my parents. I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Then we can get that chain,” said Cody. “Um,” he remarked. “We were supposed to be at Chayne’s house by now. One Chayne for another. Imagine that.”
As Russell and Cody left the bicycle in the driveway, the sky was darkening and the sun laid a gold red border across the west. Fall was coming again, though the air was still warm. In the distance the bells of Saint Adjeanet’s rang. One, Two, Three, Four and Five to Six and the Angelus bells.
AND THE END OF PART ONE OF IF I SHOULD FALL. TOMORROW NIGHT, AT LAST, THE BOOK OF THE BURNING
“You?” Cody said. “Had sex with Jason?”
“Yes.”
“You tell Chayne?”
“Not yet, and I tell him everything. I will tell him, but I didn’t know how. And I needed not to tell… anyone. It needed to be mine.
“But, I slept with him because we’ve thought about each other for a long time, and last night I stayed with him. We… it happened. And I like him, and I care about him, and I love him, and I want him, but I want other things too. I don’t know. It is confusing. I thought…. I thought when you went to someone he… or she… was the Someone, and the door was closed and that was it. But that’s not quite how I feel.”
“Fuck,” Cody said. He stopped the truck and they were near the lake and everything seemed to happen at this fucking lake. He took his hand through his chocolate brown hair that was touched by gold and Russell watched his Adam’s apple bob in his brown, shaven throat.
Cody bent forward and pressed his mouth to Russell’s and his thick lips were warm and strong and his tongue that tasted a little of cigarettes went into Russell’s mouth and lingered with his own for just a moment. For just a moment Russell smelled sweat and spearmint and something like iron and then Cody pulled away slowly, leaving Russell dizzy.
“Is that how you feel?” Cody asked him.
Russell felt like he was soaring. His heart was high, his certainty of the future, of his goodness, of his faithfulness was very low, and the rest of him floated somewhere in the middle.
“Yes,” he said, and his voice was a little sad.
“Don’t worry,” Cody put a hand that was large knuckled, and strong and warm on Russell’s khakied thigh, “You’ll figure it out.”
Nothing mattered right now. No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. They were in a fearful space. Russell was afraid of what he was about to do, but more afraid of not doing it. He didn’t let himself think when he put his hand on Cody’s knee, when he kept rubbing it and then realized Cody hadn’t stopped rubbing his. His hands slipped between Cody’s thighs and he started to knead him. If Cody moaned, Russell didn’t hear it. He didn’t look while his hands undid Cody’s fly. Cody helped him.
Russell pushed his hair out of his face and bent down and took the length and girth of Cody in his mouth. The head of his cock, the thickness of it felt so good. He went to his knees in the truck. He felt Cody’s hands come down in his hair and lift up. Cody had wanted to push his head down but Cody was good. He was sweet. That was why Russell loved him and fuck it, he was in love with this guy he’d just met. He felt so connected to him. This is why he had to do this. He pulled Cody’s hand into his hair and began to move his mouth up and down, like he had for Jason, like Jason had done for him, urging Cody to fuck his mouth.
He wished they were in Cody’s house, could do more, could do this longer.
“Russ…” Cody whispered through clinched teeth. “Please stop. I’m gonna…”
Russell went down harder and Cody’s hands flew up. His voice opened in a broken cry the same time Russell’s mouth was filled with his semen. He kept sucking him. Kept licking till it was all gone. He held Cody in his hand, still pulsing, the brown cock, red headed in its wilting. He released it, but he was hard now. As he moved to get back in his seat, Cody, winded, blank faced, put his beautiful penis back into his pants.
The world had seemed to stop, but now it began again. A car passed them. There was the sound of cars in the distance and a plane overhead.
“I don’t know if I will figure it out,” Russell said.
At last Cody said, placing his large hand on Russell’s leg, so close to his erection:
“We’ll figure it out. You know, people say love is all that matters, but it’s vague. Friendship, that’s what matters.”
They drove on for a while and Cody turned up the radio. Dionne Warwick asked:
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I've been away so long
I may go wrong and lose my way
Do you know the way to San Jose?
I'm going back to find
Some peace of mind in San Jose
LA is a great big freeway
Put a hundred down and buy a car
In a week, maybe two, they'll make you a star
Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass
And all the stars that never were
Are parking cars and pumping gas
Normalcy returned to them. Time resumed and daylight replaced the clouds of confusion. Childhood was gone, but something like innocence might return.
Russell was looking down from the cab of Cody’s truck as they drove down Bunting when he said, “Cody, stop!”
“Um?” Cody Barnard blew smoke from his nostrils.
“Pull over, I know that girl.”
Russell could still taste Cody’s semen in his mouth.
They pulled over to the chain link fence, clear on the other side of it was the brick structure of Rosary High School.
Russell rolled down the window, and Cameron Dwyer looked up from the bicycle she was working on.
“Can we help you, Cameron?”
She squinted and then smiled up and said, “Russell. Fancy that. Hello,” she shouted to Cody, whom she could not see. “I’m trying to fix my bike.”
She displayed her oil blackened hands.
“The chain’s shot.”
“Hop in,” Cody leaned over Russell. “Russell, help her get the bike in the bed.”
Russell was already out of the truck. Two cars sped down Bunting toward Uptown.
When Cameron climbed into the car, Cody took off his blue bandanna and handed it to her. “Wipe your hands off... What’s your name again?”
“Cameron,” she said the same time Russell did. She looked at the bandanna and told Cody, “I couldn’t.”
“Oh, I think you can,” he shoved the rumpled bandanna into her blackened hands. “It cost fifty cents,” he informed her and drove on.
“Cameron is my next door neighbor,” Russell said.
“Were you headed home?”
“I was, actually.”
“Don’t you worry, Cameron. I’m a mechanic. My assistant and I will make your bike good as new. We’re headed toward your area right now.”
“Then we’re going to Chayne’s house,” Russell told him.
“My dad went to school with Chayne,” Cameron said. “College. So did my uncle I guess.”
“Yeah, I think Chayne told me that.”
“Russell, it’s weird that we don’t know each other better,” Cameron told him. “I mean, our dads car pool together. We belong to the same church. You know my brother and my cousin. We know a lot of the same people.”
“Life’s weird like that,” Cody chimed in.
“But Cody thinks we’re all in a sacred net,” Russell muttered.
“What?” the pretty girl turned to Cody, intrigued.
“Well, when my distinguished collegue says it that way, it sounds stupid,” Cody said. “But basically it means we are all like fish caught up in this one net—or web, if you will,”
“We will,” said Russell laughing.
“Ha,” said Cody dryly, “and if we’re meant to meet we will meet sooner or later.”
“I don’t remember that part of the theory,” Russell remarked.
“It’s evolving,” Cody said as they turned off of Bernard and hit Breckinridge.
A minute later he said, “Here we are, young Cameron.”
Thanks,” said Cameron.
“We’ll just fix your bike right here. Right now,” said Cody.
“We can do it in my driveway,” Russell said.
“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest.”
“I thought you knew what you were doing,” Russell told Cody.
“I thought you’d kiss my ass,” Cody returned, hands, covered in oil.
“I was just thinking that a great mechanic like yourself would be able to fix a common bicycle.”
“If a hearse can’t outsmart me, then neither will a bike. Cameron, we need a new chain.”
Cameron, placidly sitting on the grass between the Lewis and Dwyer driveway, nodded.
“Russ, it’s almost time for dinner,” Thom said, coming out of the kitchen door in shorts and a blue Oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up.
“Cameron,” he nodded to Bill’s daughter.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Thom offered his hand to Cody.
“Cody Barnard, sir,” Cody offered his hand, then grimaced, and Thom took it anyway and said. “It’s time for us all to wash up. Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
Cody was about to be kind and refuse, then realized kindness was actually accepting hospitality and that if he left Cameron’s bike would be chainless.
“Alright,” he said. “Thanks, sir.”
“Thom’ll do,” Thom called back, heading into the house.”You staying for dinner too, Cameron?”
“I’ll go over and ask my parents. I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Then we can get that chain,” said Cody. “Um,” he remarked. “We were supposed to be at Chayne’s house by now. One Chayne for another. Imagine that.”
As Russell and Cody left the bicycle in the driveway, the sky was darkening and the sun laid a gold red border across the west. Fall was coming again, though the air was still warm. In the distance the bells of Saint Adjeanet’s rang. One, Two, Three, Four and Five to Six and the Angelus bells.
AND THE END OF PART ONE OF IF I SHOULD FALL. TOMORROW NIGHT, AT LAST, THE BOOK OF THE BURNING
Last edited:
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great conclusion to the chapter. Well I guess Russell is still sorting through things with now sleeping with Cody. Things are a mess and I look forward to seeing how it is sorted out. Cameron seems interesting. Excellent writing and I look forward to The Book Of The Burning tomorrow!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Yes, Russell's a real mess right now. He's certainly doing more than sorting through his feelings. Where this goes we will see soon enough, but now we are all caught up and it is time to return to the worlds of Chayne, Anigel, Brad, Nehru and especially Gilead and Cameron. The first part of the book is done. Innocense is over. Maybe it will return. Who's to say?
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
PART TWO
THE NEW
WORLD
TEN
LIKE
A
GROWN UP
Nehru Alexander closed his eyed and bit the pillow, letting the feeling thunder through him. His voice rattled and went to another ululating place and he grasped tighter Brad’s hands as they grasped his. Brad Long fucked him so hard, so thoroughly their bodies smacked and the bed sounded like a galloping horse and noises, swears, escaped from their mouths, Brad’s mouth fell in Nehru’s neck, murmuring this and that into it, kissing him, bruising him and Nehru reached back to urge him on. On the little table there was a small red capped bottle and Nehru reached for it, unscrewed it, while Brad slowed down he inhaled into one nostril and then into the other and drew Brad’s head down, drew all of Brad to him as he screwed shut the bottle.
Nehru didn’t want it to ever end, and it felt like it was happening forever, this hammering, this being entered and bruised and made to feel like in a place he didn’t even know existed, and Brad was strong, full of stamina, could go for a very long time. They were both surprised when he screamed and his body lifted up and then fell down, when, whimpering he came inside of Nehru, his voice sounding like pleading as he came, and came and came.
He rolled from Nehru onto his side, looking himself, bruised and crushed, though Nehru looked neither of the two, his cheeks were red, his face was flush his caramel skinned glowed Brad came so deeply inside of him, nothing came out of him. Brad’s body was long and red and he breathed heavily, looking to Nehru than to the ceiling and Nehru lay on his side in contentment. Admiring the long body, admiring the penis like a trunk, still half hard, that had penetrated him so.
Bradley Long turned over, lit the joint that was half burnt, and then, motioned to Nehru, and kissing him, blew the smoke into his mouth and gently mounted him, his hand working him slowly, smoking him, stroking him, working him until Nehru quaked and moaned in surprise as they both watched him ejaculate, semen the color of lemonade in the late summer light, an arc rising impossibly high, falling, rising, falling, showering them.
Nehru had gotten off work from the office at Soubirous around two and Brad had picked him up. They often went to Brad’s house because Brad felt too old in Nehru’s home and in Brad’s basement Nehru never had to see Brad’s parents. But now it made more sense. Nehru could not have imagined having any kind of sex in his bedroom in a house where his mother might or might not come in and out of during the day, or where sounds might or might not be heard. Brad’s basement apartment was the perfect place for everything. Like, they could not have possibly gotten high in Nehru’s house either.
“Did you eat yet?” Brad had asked. Brad always asked. Brad always looked out for him, and because Nehru had in mind what he thought would happen he always said no. Brad talked a lot, about the music, about Marissa, about movies they had seen. He was, fot a very tall thirty one year old man, very shy though he said, “I was never this sky with girls.”
Today, exhausted after sex, they lay on their backs and then curled together. The music was serious, and they were playing tonight at their first gig outside of town. It meant they needed to meet everyone at around seven, which meant practicing their songs with each other at five, maybe five thirty. And Brad thought they should go out for tacos, just the two of them. It was, unbelievably, already four o clock. They dozed, but not without hugging and kissing and having frantic sex, and then showering together.
Brad sat on the bed in his jeans. Those were the ones Nehru had wondered about several times in the past, that were worn to the consistency of silky and clung to every shape of his body. The first time he and Brad were together, without even unzipping them, he slid out of them like a snake and revealed he wore no underwear with them. As he sat, his narrow chest bare except for all of his rich black hair, playing guitar, his unbrushed hair sticking up in gelled spikes, Nehru, in the bathroom, hummed. He had always been shy of his body, and did not mind being naked by himself, but was getting used to being naked in front of another. However, he thought he looked better completely naked, or completely clothed, and coming out of the shower, he chose nudity, as he brushed his teeth and with the towel draped around his shoulders, returned to the bed, singing:
I am beginning to see you
because I have stopped to open my
eyes
how often was i stumbling
fair is the morning and
fair is the night
no more wailing
i stood at the door a long
time weeping
Brad was mumbling the song, but their voices came together at “weeping” and together they sang:
I am beginning to see you
because I have stopped to open my
eyes
I am beginning to see you
because I have stopped to open my
eyes…
And how, in a few short weeks, had they gotten from Brad’s surprised kiss to this, the two of them making love every day, bodies meeting, voices soaring?
Nehru blamed himself because, though Brad was thirty and smart about many things, Nehru knew he had more sense. He was better at looking ahead. He always looked ahead. Everything he did was so measured. There were only two things that had surprised him recently, the afternoon when Brad swooped down and kissed him, and how good it felt.
Unlike Brad, Nehru’s sexual experience was limited. He could go on kissing Brad all the time. And he would have been limited forever, but now, late at night, when his parents had gone to bed and he knew no phone calls were going to come to ruin his connection, he got online, waiting for the little yellow man to go through all three boxes, listening the hissing and squeaking of his computer connecting to this world wide web, and then he looked up things he’d never be able to look up in a library and saw things he never dreamed he could see.
There were movies—they took a very long time to download—that you could watch and SEE people, real people having REAL sex. And there were videos where you could see real MEN having sex with other men, doing all sorts of things he’d only heard called slang in locker rooms. Seeing them played out in his room, on his computer screen, a blue light cast about the one a.m, darkness, was like seeing into a country he dimly knew existed, and that he knew in the very back of his mind he desired.
The World Wide Web was a new country. There was one movie he watched over and over again. It played in fits and starts… buffering… it was called, and then after two hours you could play it all the way through. He had tried to do this earlier, but there was always a phone call or his parents always picked up the phone and killed the connection. Once you’d gone all the way through the video, you could play it straight through for a few days. But then you had to do this all over again. It was only at the end of the summer he learned that DOWNLOADING meant you only had to go through this one, and then you had the video on your computer forever.
To Nehru, his relationship with Brad was perfect. He loved him. They loved each other. They were the closest of friends. It didn’t make sense to say closer than brothers, cause neither one of them knew what having a brother was like. And now the two of them did this. It didn’t make him love Brad anymore than he already did, and when he was making out with Brad, he didn’t feel loved any less than he ever had. Nehru, who had never really had a romance, and had very little sex, did not think of what he and Brad were doing as having sex. It was just…. What they did, and when he watched those movies, he knew he wanted to do those things with Brad.
So, one of those summer afternoons, Nehru said they would go to his house instead. No one would be there. His mother wasn’t home till five, and he felt powerful that day. He felt like this was a special day. Brad was unsure and maybe Nehru needed him to be, needed to be the master of the situation. Brad played the guitar a little, and Nheur hummed, but he put one of the movies on the computer.
“What the fuck is this?” Brad said softly, his eyes moving toward the screen, his playing growing lazier.
Nehru, ever cautious, had already locked the door. He was more afraid than he knew. He pushed past that and put his hand on Brad’s dick. Brad didn’t seem to know what he was doing at first, but when he did, he looked at Nehru, not in anger, or surprise, but the same way he would if Nehru asked him for a quarter or was reaching for his hairbrush and Brad was closer to it. And Brad swiftly pulled down his jeans and his cock came out of them, heavy and dark from the coil of black hair. His balls, man’s balls, hung between strong thighs covered in black down and then, before either of them understood it, Nehru was on his knees and Brad was down his throat.
Nehru wasn’t sure what he had planned. But well before his mother came home it seemed like they had spent two eternities tasting each other and then Brad had given in and pinned him to the bed and they spent a mattress squeaking time fucking, Nehur’s shoulders pressed by Brad’s palms.
That first time Brad came silently, his face turned to the window and the heat of the day and when he opened his eyes his saw the sun through the green leaves, as all of his shot like a jittering rocket out of his cock into Nehru there was a vision of light like a voice…. This is what I’ve been looking for…. This is what I’ve been looking for…
MORE TOMORROW
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great start to part two! Also a hot time between Nehru and Brad! I liked going back to them for a bit. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
It was good to get back to them, and to get back to everyone, which we will be doing in the next several pages. It was fitting they should headline the entrance into part two.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Anigel Reyes walked into Balusik’s, and Caroline
was working the register, taking care of Mrs. Bentham’s purchases.
“Ani, wait a second,” said Caroline, and then, when she was finished with Mrs. Bentham came to her sister.
“Firstly, I need you to baby sit Chontalay.”
“Done,” Anigel agreed, reaching into her purse for a cigarette.
“And secondly, you know how you were looking for a—I believe you said ‘piece of a job’?”
“Um hum. You found one? You found one!”
“Yes,” Caroline nodded quietly, and then said, “At Rosary.”
“At Rosary,” Anigel’s voice lowered.
“I was wondering how you would feel about that part....”
“Shit, Caroline, I’m just getting high school out of my system.”
“I know, and if you’re looking for something else, I’ll understand, but I was talking to Donna Marsh and she said that Rosary was looking for help with the cheerleading squad—”
“Are you crazy?”
“You were prom queen.”
“What the hell does that have to do with me helping the cheerleading squad?”
The bell of the store jingled and John come in.
“Hey ladies, what’s going on?”
Chontalay heard her father and began running down the stairs.
“Your wife has lost her mind is what’s going on?” Anigel informed John as he caught his daughter and the three year old with her loose afro of girls settled into her father’s arms.
“John and Chontalay tilted their heads at Anigel.
“I told her about the job at Rosary,” Caroline told John.
“It sounds like a great part time thing,” John said.
“But I don’t know anything about cheerleading,” Anigel insisted.
“And the cheerleading squad is having a competition—”
“And I’m supposed to help?”
“Against Lourdes.”
John looked from one sister to the other.
“Lourdes?” Anigel returned.
Caroline nodded grimly.
Suddenly Anigel looked earnest and she said, “When does Miss Marsh need me?”
“Tomorrow. Two-forty-five.”
“Great,” Anigel said. “Let’s beat those bitches down.”
John covered his daughter’s ears. Caroline was heedless of Anigel’s mouth.
“I knew you’d come around to reason,” she told her younger sister.
After five-thirty Mass, Chayne did what Robert Heinz had the grace not to do and watched Thom. Thom Lewis came straight from Grand Rapids, dropped off by Bill Dwyer, and entered the back of the church midway into the opening hymn. Then he went to the little chapel and knelt before the Blessed Sacrament where he was kneeling now.
Chayne, who had time on his hand, invested a great deal of it before finally getting up and stepping into the little chapel to the side of the altar. There was a tall red votive burning beside the brass box veiled in burgundy. Chayne sat in the pew behind Thom and Thom was self conscious enough to stop and turn around.
“I was wondering what you were doing?” said Chayne.
“I was praying,” Thom said. “I do it too, you know?”
Chayne ignored this.
“I was just wondering what had brought on this sudden onslaught of holiness,” Chayne said. “And I was going to ask you if you needed a ride home or if you wanted to walk.”
“I’ll walk—” started Thom, then checked himself and said, “No. I’d be very grateful if you did give me a ride, Chayne. I appreciate it, and it’s not many people who can say they’ve gotten rides from a church in a hearse—not many living people.”
“I’ll let you ride in the casket I keep in the back.”
When Thom stared at his old neighbor in horror, Chayne chuckled.
“There’s no casket,” he said. “We save that for the second ride.”
When Chayne dropped Thom off, Patti told him that Russell was not home.
Russell and Gilead had been snagged by their friends into going to the cheerleading tryouts at Rosary
“You’re graduating this year, and you never go anywhere or do anything,” Greg Redmont told Gilead.
“There’s a reason for that,”
“Yeah,” said Chris Knapp, a football player with sideburns and grey eyes and large red lips who reminded Russell a little of a werewolf, “and you’ll forget all of those reasons one day.”
“You’re going to finish telling me what you had started to, right?” Gilead said to Russell.
“I plan to,” Russell said, earnestly.
Holy Queen of the Rosary High School was an old brick building done in ornate Spanish style with orange brick with green tiles that sat on the far corner of a field on Nassau and Bunting. On the far field, which was between Bunting and Main, not far from the public library and the remains of downtown, but not so close you could tell, the girls were practicing.
Anigel Reyes had remarked that it might make more sense to practice in the gymnasium.
“But then the boys couldn’t watch,” Miss Marsh said casually.
They came on bikes, on buses, in their parents’ cars, in trucks and vans. Strogue Mominee and Aaron were there along with D.L. Lorris. The boys from the Breckinridge were there after water polo practice. Bobby Reyes, “Gil, Russell, what’s up!” was there. There were no class distinctions except maybe in where on and around the field, one either side of the chain link fence the boys chose to sit. Ralph was there with Jason, and when Jason saw Gil and Russell, he greeted Gilead with a respect so serious, that Gilead almost laughed, and then wrapped his arms around Russell and grinned. The four of them stood together before sitting together and Ralph said, seriously, “Did you tell Gil?”
Jason looked at Gilead and Russell said. “Not yet.”
“I think you were about to,” Gilead said, and Russell stood up, gesturing for his friend to follow him.
They passed through the crowd. A common ordinary high schooler who never went to a real Catholic high school could never understand the elasticity of the Catholic high school. To those eyes Our Lady of Mercy was on one end of town and Holy Queen of the Rosary was a distinct and separate entity on the other end of town. But to a girl at Rosary, or a boy at Mercy to inhale and say the words O.L. of Mercy, was to exhale and say, “Rosary,” or vice versa.
Rosary was their sister school.
The boys of Our Lady of Mercy conducted their ruthless business here in the same shameless fashion they used the second floor men’s restroom. They were not just here to hit on girls but to see their friends from K-through Eight, meet or insult their sisters and cousins, drop a message off to their best friend’s girlfriend. Andy Dyko was performing magic tricks, offering Rochelle Anderson his arm to shake, and when it fell off and blood spurted at her feet, he laughed. She thought to hit him and then laughed too.
Amidst this Russell and Gilead’s words could barely be heard, not were their expressions of interest.
“How do you feel about that?” Russell asked.
“How do you feel?”
“Good, I guess.”
Then he said, “For the first time I feel like a grown up.”
“It’s a lot to handle,” Gilead said.
“It’s better than having nothing to handle.”
“True,” Gilead said. “Very true.”
“Does Chayne know?”
“He knows everything.”
“How’s he feel?”
“You Princes keep things close to the vest,” Russell said. “He said we had more in common than he thought.”
“Ah,” Gilead said and smiled.
Suddenly Gilead began laughing and Russell said, “What?”
“The world seems changed.”
“The world or my world?”
“The world.”
“Changed how?”
Gilead continued to smile while he looked, for a moment, at Niall Dwyer only a few feet away.
“Changed for the better,” Gilead said.
“What are you doing?” Russell asked Niall Dwyer who was sitting lotus position beside his bicycle, a dark beret on his head.
The handsome dark eyed boy with the sprouting goatee looked up at his neighbor, twisted another bag and handed it to Strogue.
“Selling.”
Strogue looked at Russell. Russell looked at Gilead, but Gilead was not looking at him. Rather he was looking away. From something.
“Gil!” A voice called out. “Gil, is that you?”
Russell watched Gilead turn and they both saw Mark Young.
Mark Young was on the cool end of things. A track runner, an in crowd guy in his red varsity jacket, hands jammed in his pockets, chewing gum.
“Hey,” Gilead began, “Mark.”
Mark smiled stupidly.
“I thought it was you.”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
And then Gilead said, “And this is my friend, Russell Lewis.”
“Oh, yeah!” Mark grinned. He had peat colored eyes that went from grey to green and back and wavy dark hair, a small, grinning mouth. He was goodlooking. “Marlboro Man.”
“Guilty as charged,” Russell nodded, sensing that he was taking some stress off of Gilead if only for the moment, and then Mark’s eyes fell on Gilead.
Gilead seemed like a real and true virgin, and now Russell thought how strange that he should think of someone as a virgin, that he was not. He had been with Jason who he adored the same day he had been with Cody, whom he loved. The night he had brought Cody to his parent’s house along with Cameron, and Cameron had gone back home after dinner and after her bike was fixed. Thom and Patti were just glad that Russell had a friend, and when he asked to see Russell’s room and talk to him, they both thought that was a great idea. They gave him nothing but space in this house that was nothing but spacious. As early evening sunlight filled Russell’s large bedroom. Cody sat him down on the bed, pulled down his pants and gave him head until his body shuddered and he came in his mouth. Russell understood that aside from how good it was, it was Cody’s way of putting them even, so they could move on as friends, and for now they had.
Mark Young was speaking.
“You all just… hanging?”
Russell felt strongly he couldn’t tell Gilead about Cody. He wouldn’t tell Chayne either. Some things, like being a slut who had sex with two guys in the same day, he decided would be his secrets.
“Yeah. Yes,” Gilead was saying to Mark. “And you?”
Mark pointed to a few other boys who looked like him in Starter jackets, though one was blond. “I’m with Dan and Pedee and they said there you were and I said there you were so I thought I’d come over and say hi. So—”
“Hi!” Gilead seemed a little too loud and happy for Gilead Story.
“Right?” Mark said.
“You’re in German history with me in the fall, right?”
“Yeah. And O’Neill’s lit class.”
“Right. Right. Well, that’ll be something. We could be—”
“Study buddies,” Gilead spat out, trying to sound sarcastic but Mark clapped his arm and insisted, “Yes!”
“Uh…” Gilead began.
“Hey, Young!” Dan Soldener called out, and Mark, still chewing his gum, said, “Well, that’s my cue.”
“Right,” Gilead said.
“See you guys. Good to meet you, Russell Lewis.”
Russell nodded and Mark saluted Gilead and then turned back to his friends.
“What the fuck was that?” Russell said.
“That was Mark Young.”
“No,” Russell said. “You? What was that with you? Because you were weird and you are never weird..”
“Well, Mark Young makes me weird.”
“Really?” Russell narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”
“Since he tried to swipe my journal and I put him in a choke hold last year.”
Russell snorted.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Russell began to laugh, and then, at last, Gilead began chuckling too.
.
TOMORROW WE'RE GOING BACK TO WESTRIAL !
was working the register, taking care of Mrs. Bentham’s purchases.
“Ani, wait a second,” said Caroline, and then, when she was finished with Mrs. Bentham came to her sister.
“Firstly, I need you to baby sit Chontalay.”
“Done,” Anigel agreed, reaching into her purse for a cigarette.
“And secondly, you know how you were looking for a—I believe you said ‘piece of a job’?”
“Um hum. You found one? You found one!”
“Yes,” Caroline nodded quietly, and then said, “At Rosary.”
“At Rosary,” Anigel’s voice lowered.
“I was wondering how you would feel about that part....”
“Shit, Caroline, I’m just getting high school out of my system.”
“I know, and if you’re looking for something else, I’ll understand, but I was talking to Donna Marsh and she said that Rosary was looking for help with the cheerleading squad—”
“Are you crazy?”
“You were prom queen.”
“What the hell does that have to do with me helping the cheerleading squad?”
The bell of the store jingled and John come in.
“Hey ladies, what’s going on?”
Chontalay heard her father and began running down the stairs.
“Your wife has lost her mind is what’s going on?” Anigel informed John as he caught his daughter and the three year old with her loose afro of girls settled into her father’s arms.
“John and Chontalay tilted their heads at Anigel.
“I told her about the job at Rosary,” Caroline told John.
“It sounds like a great part time thing,” John said.
“But I don’t know anything about cheerleading,” Anigel insisted.
“And the cheerleading squad is having a competition—”
“And I’m supposed to help?”
“Against Lourdes.”
John looked from one sister to the other.
“Lourdes?” Anigel returned.
Caroline nodded grimly.
Suddenly Anigel looked earnest and she said, “When does Miss Marsh need me?”
“Tomorrow. Two-forty-five.”
“Great,” Anigel said. “Let’s beat those bitches down.”
John covered his daughter’s ears. Caroline was heedless of Anigel’s mouth.
“I knew you’d come around to reason,” she told her younger sister.
After five-thirty Mass, Chayne did what Robert Heinz had the grace not to do and watched Thom. Thom Lewis came straight from Grand Rapids, dropped off by Bill Dwyer, and entered the back of the church midway into the opening hymn. Then he went to the little chapel and knelt before the Blessed Sacrament where he was kneeling now.
Chayne, who had time on his hand, invested a great deal of it before finally getting up and stepping into the little chapel to the side of the altar. There was a tall red votive burning beside the brass box veiled in burgundy. Chayne sat in the pew behind Thom and Thom was self conscious enough to stop and turn around.
“I was wondering what you were doing?” said Chayne.
“I was praying,” Thom said. “I do it too, you know?”
Chayne ignored this.
“I was just wondering what had brought on this sudden onslaught of holiness,” Chayne said. “And I was going to ask you if you needed a ride home or if you wanted to walk.”
“I’ll walk—” started Thom, then checked himself and said, “No. I’d be very grateful if you did give me a ride, Chayne. I appreciate it, and it’s not many people who can say they’ve gotten rides from a church in a hearse—not many living people.”
“I’ll let you ride in the casket I keep in the back.”
When Thom stared at his old neighbor in horror, Chayne chuckled.
“There’s no casket,” he said. “We save that for the second ride.”
When Chayne dropped Thom off, Patti told him that Russell was not home.
Russell and Gilead had been snagged by their friends into going to the cheerleading tryouts at Rosary
“You’re graduating this year, and you never go anywhere or do anything,” Greg Redmont told Gilead.
“There’s a reason for that,”
“Yeah,” said Chris Knapp, a football player with sideburns and grey eyes and large red lips who reminded Russell a little of a werewolf, “and you’ll forget all of those reasons one day.”
“You’re going to finish telling me what you had started to, right?” Gilead said to Russell.
“I plan to,” Russell said, earnestly.
Holy Queen of the Rosary High School was an old brick building done in ornate Spanish style with orange brick with green tiles that sat on the far corner of a field on Nassau and Bunting. On the far field, which was between Bunting and Main, not far from the public library and the remains of downtown, but not so close you could tell, the girls were practicing.
Anigel Reyes had remarked that it might make more sense to practice in the gymnasium.
“But then the boys couldn’t watch,” Miss Marsh said casually.
They came on bikes, on buses, in their parents’ cars, in trucks and vans. Strogue Mominee and Aaron were there along with D.L. Lorris. The boys from the Breckinridge were there after water polo practice. Bobby Reyes, “Gil, Russell, what’s up!” was there. There were no class distinctions except maybe in where on and around the field, one either side of the chain link fence the boys chose to sit. Ralph was there with Jason, and when Jason saw Gil and Russell, he greeted Gilead with a respect so serious, that Gilead almost laughed, and then wrapped his arms around Russell and grinned. The four of them stood together before sitting together and Ralph said, seriously, “Did you tell Gil?”
Jason looked at Gilead and Russell said. “Not yet.”
“I think you were about to,” Gilead said, and Russell stood up, gesturing for his friend to follow him.
They passed through the crowd. A common ordinary high schooler who never went to a real Catholic high school could never understand the elasticity of the Catholic high school. To those eyes Our Lady of Mercy was on one end of town and Holy Queen of the Rosary was a distinct and separate entity on the other end of town. But to a girl at Rosary, or a boy at Mercy to inhale and say the words O.L. of Mercy, was to exhale and say, “Rosary,” or vice versa.
Rosary was their sister school.
The boys of Our Lady of Mercy conducted their ruthless business here in the same shameless fashion they used the second floor men’s restroom. They were not just here to hit on girls but to see their friends from K-through Eight, meet or insult their sisters and cousins, drop a message off to their best friend’s girlfriend. Andy Dyko was performing magic tricks, offering Rochelle Anderson his arm to shake, and when it fell off and blood spurted at her feet, he laughed. She thought to hit him and then laughed too.
Amidst this Russell and Gilead’s words could barely be heard, not were their expressions of interest.
“How do you feel about that?” Russell asked.
“How do you feel?”
“Good, I guess.”
Then he said, “For the first time I feel like a grown up.”
“It’s a lot to handle,” Gilead said.
“It’s better than having nothing to handle.”
“True,” Gilead said. “Very true.”
“Does Chayne know?”
“He knows everything.”
“How’s he feel?”
“You Princes keep things close to the vest,” Russell said. “He said we had more in common than he thought.”
“Ah,” Gilead said and smiled.
Suddenly Gilead began laughing and Russell said, “What?”
“The world seems changed.”
“The world or my world?”
“The world.”
“Changed how?”
Gilead continued to smile while he looked, for a moment, at Niall Dwyer only a few feet away.
“Changed for the better,” Gilead said.
“What are you doing?” Russell asked Niall Dwyer who was sitting lotus position beside his bicycle, a dark beret on his head.
The handsome dark eyed boy with the sprouting goatee looked up at his neighbor, twisted another bag and handed it to Strogue.
“Selling.”
Strogue looked at Russell. Russell looked at Gilead, but Gilead was not looking at him. Rather he was looking away. From something.
“Gil!” A voice called out. “Gil, is that you?”
Russell watched Gilead turn and they both saw Mark Young.
Mark Young was on the cool end of things. A track runner, an in crowd guy in his red varsity jacket, hands jammed in his pockets, chewing gum.
“Hey,” Gilead began, “Mark.”
Mark smiled stupidly.
“I thought it was you.”
“Yeah. It’s me.”
And then Gilead said, “And this is my friend, Russell Lewis.”
“Oh, yeah!” Mark grinned. He had peat colored eyes that went from grey to green and back and wavy dark hair, a small, grinning mouth. He was goodlooking. “Marlboro Man.”
“Guilty as charged,” Russell nodded, sensing that he was taking some stress off of Gilead if only for the moment, and then Mark’s eyes fell on Gilead.
Gilead seemed like a real and true virgin, and now Russell thought how strange that he should think of someone as a virgin, that he was not. He had been with Jason who he adored the same day he had been with Cody, whom he loved. The night he had brought Cody to his parent’s house along with Cameron, and Cameron had gone back home after dinner and after her bike was fixed. Thom and Patti were just glad that Russell had a friend, and when he asked to see Russell’s room and talk to him, they both thought that was a great idea. They gave him nothing but space in this house that was nothing but spacious. As early evening sunlight filled Russell’s large bedroom. Cody sat him down on the bed, pulled down his pants and gave him head until his body shuddered and he came in his mouth. Russell understood that aside from how good it was, it was Cody’s way of putting them even, so they could move on as friends, and for now they had.
Mark Young was speaking.
“You all just… hanging?”
Russell felt strongly he couldn’t tell Gilead about Cody. He wouldn’t tell Chayne either. Some things, like being a slut who had sex with two guys in the same day, he decided would be his secrets.
“Yeah. Yes,” Gilead was saying to Mark. “And you?”
Mark pointed to a few other boys who looked like him in Starter jackets, though one was blond. “I’m with Dan and Pedee and they said there you were and I said there you were so I thought I’d come over and say hi. So—”
“Hi!” Gilead seemed a little too loud and happy for Gilead Story.
“Right?” Mark said.
“You’re in German history with me in the fall, right?”
“Yeah. And O’Neill’s lit class.”
“Right. Right. Well, that’ll be something. We could be—”
“Study buddies,” Gilead spat out, trying to sound sarcastic but Mark clapped his arm and insisted, “Yes!”
“Uh…” Gilead began.
“Hey, Young!” Dan Soldener called out, and Mark, still chewing his gum, said, “Well, that’s my cue.”
“Right,” Gilead said.
“See you guys. Good to meet you, Russell Lewis.”
Russell nodded and Mark saluted Gilead and then turned back to his friends.
“What the fuck was that?” Russell said.
“That was Mark Young.”
“No,” Russell said. “You? What was that with you? Because you were weird and you are never weird..”
“Well, Mark Young makes me weird.”
“Really?” Russell narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”
“Since he tried to swipe my journal and I put him in a choke hold last year.”
Russell snorted.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Russell began to laugh, and then, at last, Gilead began chuckling too.
.
TOMORROW WE'RE GOING BACK TO WESTRIAL !
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great portion! Looks like Anigel has a part time job she might like. Interesting to see Russell and co interacting. They are really growing up. Excellent writing I really enjoyed it! I look forward to going back to Westrial tomorrow!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Yes, it's one of my favorite parts. I didnt particularly enoy high school, but I do like the high school sceenes as Russell gets used to high school life.I love that Anigel is a part of it too and that, at last, Gilead has come out of his room to participate in the high school world.I wish I had.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
“So you don’t really have to know that much about cheerleading,” Miss Marsh was telling Anigel. “That’s my job. You know what you really need to know which is the girls. You’re their age. They’ll trust you. In a way you need to know what real cheerleading is. You need to cheer these girls on.”
They were walking across the field now, Anigel pulled a hand through her long black hair and nodded. There was a slight wind that picked up. The skies were cloudy in the late August afternoon.
“Now those girls, doing the pyramid? They’re permanent. I want you to meet them. Those others are trying out. You’ll meet them later.
“This is Binh Pham... She’s good for jumps. She’s light and cute. Everybody likes her. This is Cameron, Don’t be shy. Cameron Dwyer...”
“Dude,” someone said to Niall who was standing beside Russell and Gilead, “You’re sister’s, fucking hot.”
Niall smiled shallowly at the admirer and said, “I’ll be sure to convey the sentiments.”
“Is that?” Gilead started, pointing across the field.
“An--EE-gell!!!” Bobby hooted, cupping his hands. “Anigel! Work it, Sister! Work that shit!”
Anigel swung around, presumably to say something vicious form the toss of her head and the flame in her dark eyes, but she caught sight of Russell and Gilead and ran toward them.
“Bobby,” she said first, in a withering tone of voice, then. “Come on around ,guys.”
They followed her on the other side of the fence until they were let through and then some of the guys applauded them and said, “You go, Lewis.”
“Hit some of that shit, Gil,” someone murmured darkly.
They were ignored.
“This is—” Anigel started.
“Russell,” Cameron interrupted Anigel. “He’s my next door neighbor. He and an equally handsome stranger were my knights in dinted armor when my bake chain was screwed up.”
Russell did not realize how much he actually paid attention to the celebrity status accorded to many kids at both high schools until he took Cameron’s hand and was surprised that she would know him. Which he told her.
Binh laughed beside her, small and pretty.
“Even if you and Gilead,” she nodded at the other boy, “yeah, I know you too, hadn’t done that thing with the Virgin Mary—”
“That’s right!” Anigel murmured in memory.
“You’re my next door neighbor, Russell.”
She was very pretty. Almost as tall as him, and Russell realized how tall, how awkwardly tall he was getting.
“And this is Binh,” Anigel said.
“Do you know Jeremy Bentham,” she asked.
“Unfortunately,” Gilead answered.
Binh laughed and slapped Gilead on the shoulder. “He’s my boyfriend!”
“Well, isn’t he the lucky bastard,” remarked Gilead, unashamed.
“You know what I hate?” Faye Mathisson asked her friend.
“Everything.” said Chayne.
“Well, aside from that.”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
They were sitting on top of 1421 Curtain, watching the sun set, Chayne in jeans and a tee shirt, Faye, her hair in a bun, pearls around her neck, wearing a black dress and burgundy pumps on.
“I hate the school year,” she said. “And I’ve been in a position to be out of school for over a decade now. I’m going back to Chicago and I hate it.”
“I almost forgot it’s time for things to start back up,”
“I forgot” Faye mimicked Chayne. “I wish I could forget.”
“Have you ever thought of taking a sabbatical, getting a change of scenery?”
“I have,” Faye admitted. “A little bit.”
There was a honk down below. Chayne stood up to look down.
Chuck Shrader was shouting up.
“Hey, beautiful. Not you, Chayne! The other beautiful.”
With Chayne’s support Faye stood up, looked down and waved.
“Come on, Lady! I got a great table at Paris House.”
“Be right down!” Faye shouted and then, trying to move on the slated tiled surface, failed and caught hold of Chayne again.
“Whatever possessed you to wear those pumps up here?”
“You know,” said Faye. “For shits and giggles.”
“I bet you don’t bring a girl here everyday,” Faye said, opening the menu.
“That looks good,” she murmured. “And so does that.... That looks especially good. Um.. the choices.”
“You can’t read French can you?” guessed Chuck.
“Not a lick. And I don’t want to eat snails.”
So Chuck gave her a quick survey of what was good and how to pronounce it, and then the waiter came, elegant and slim, clothed in sable and snobbery and Chuck ordered. The waiter turned to Faye.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said.
The waiter eyed her. She eyed him back, and he minced away.
“Where the hell does he think he is?” she muttered. “This is East Sequoya, Michigan. The nice part, but still East Sequoya.”
There was a long while before dinner came, and Faye told Chuck. “You’ve never taken me to any place this fancy, before. Come to think of it, you’ve never taken me any place.”
“You’re here for a few days,” Chuck said. “I wanted to make this special.”
“You succeeded.”
“I like having you here.” Chuck said.
Faye was already nervous.
“I like... you having me. I mean. I like being here for you—with you. You know.”
Chuck grinned and nodded. “I know.”
“Did you want to say something?” Faye said, at last.
Chuck looked quiet. Then he made himself cough and said. “I like you.”
“I like you too, Charles. We’ve sort of established this.”
He leaned forward and touched her hand, gauging Faye with his green eyes.
“Faye, I really like you.”
“I really like you too.”
Then she started looked around the restaurant.
“What are you looking for?”
“The cafeteria lady, I feel like i’m back in junior high.”
Chuck looked frustrated. “I was just trying to say that I don’t know what you are to me. What you’re going to be to me. Are you my girlfriend, and if you are—”
“Yes,” Faye said seriously. “Yes. I am your... girlfriend. There’s got to be a better term for the thirty-five and overs—”
“Lover?”
“That’s two French.”
“Girlfriend.” Chuck shook his head.
“Playmate, love-interest, whatever. Anyway... if you are, then what’s going to happen to us?”
When Faye looked confounded, Chuck said. “I’m thirty-five, and you’re—”
“Watch yourself.”
“Mature. What kind of a relationship is a part-tiem relationship?”
“You mean that whole bit about me teaching at a university three hundred miles away for nine months out of the year is becoming a problem?”
Chuck grimaced. “You might say that.”
Faye took a breadstick and smiled sadly.
“Who woulda thought?” she said.
Marissa loved it when Brad offhandedly strummed the guitar while she talked. It was almost like having a background, and he seemed to strum in rhythm. She’d tested this a few times, When she would stop, he would stop, and when she would start again, so would he. When he voice because excited, he fingers made deep dramatic riffs, and he didn’t even know he was doing it.
“I try to be patient. I mean, I more than try. And are you sure you don’t want to work at the front desk?”
“I’m sure I don’t,” Brad said, “but I’m sure I will if you need me to.”
“I made need you to, just to give me my sanity. Maybe I can shelve for a day or two.”
“It’s very relaxing,” Brad assured her.
“This woman came up to me and asked me, ‘There’s this book. It’s a pink book.’ And I looked at her like as kindly as possible, but was thinking I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. And then she’s like, ‘Well, there’s a kitten on the front. It’s a white kitten. Or maybe a grey kitten. No, it’s a white kitten. Does that sound familiar.?’ And I have to tell her, without being a complete bitch that, no, that doesn’t sound familiar at all, but I could direct her to books about cats.
“Well, she doesn’t seem to be very interested in that all, so we go on about is it fiction, is it non fiction, a children’s book, maybe. And she actually looks angry at me. I tell her I have to help other people and I’ll be back, which is too bad because then she goes to Marcia who tells me that the woman eventually says, “Oh, no! It’s not about cat’s at all. It’s actually a chocolate Sundae on the front, and she thought about cats because her sister had a cat who ate a chocolate Sunday and got sick all over the place afterward and oh, holy hell!”
Brad put the guitar on his knees and was laughing so hard his eyes were wet.
“See what I go through?” Marissa demanded. “See!”
“You win!” Brad declared. “I’ll do front desk with you.”
“Just so you can experience the bullshit.”
They laughed together a little while and Marissa said, “You’re staying here, tonight? Right?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“What was that you were playing?”
“When?”
“A little while ago, before I started bitching about my day.”
“Oh,” Brad started.
“Yeah.”
He began to strum again, the words coming back to him.
“This is what I’ve been looking for
This
Is what I’ve been looking for.
This is what I’ve been looking for.
This
Is what I….”
There were no other words, and Marissa knew enough about Brad to know that’s how songs were, and that very often it was the genius of Nehru that finished them off, or even wrote them entirely. She wasn’t of that age where she would ask: What’s it about, am I what you’ve been waiting for? And what was more, without any feeling of hurt, just the feeling that people needed more than romance, she did not think the song had anything to do with her.
“I like,” Marissa said with consideration, “the covers you all do. But I like the stuff you and Nehru make better. That’s stuff that comes from you. When I met you, you seemed like someone who was looking for something. It’s different now.”
Brad was to say “Maybe it’s you,” but that seemed like a mockery and Marissa even said, “It’s not me.”
Brad’s fingers fell lose on the guitar strings remembering exactly where the words had come from. Over a month ago, that midday transgression, making love to Nehru all afternoon, the end of the fuck, the shuttling thrust ended in the stillness of orgasmic revelation , his face turned to the window and the heat of the day on his face, his shoulders, his back, his naked ass. Opening his eyes to see the new sun through the new green leaves while for the very first time all of him jismed like a geyser into Nehru and his tight grasp weakened on the shoulders of the one he loved… the vision of light like a voice….
“This is what I’ve been looking for…. This is what I’ve been looking for…”
“This is what I’ve been looking for,” Rob had said, smiling brightly. He had convinced Chayne to come away from his writing and go down to Kirkland street and walk through the old antique jewelry stores and now he held out the silver ring of twisted metal with the round turquoise and slipped it onto his finger.
“I don’t think I want to pretend to be something I’m not anymore,” Rob said. “It takes too much energy.”
They walked through the shop and Rob slipped his arm around Chayne’s waist. He’d been doing it a while, picking out bracelets and necklaces before he said, “Do you mind?”
“Mind what? Mind oh…”
He looked around the shop, the tables spread old lamps, statuettes, books, the glass cabinets filled with old treasures, the two of three people in the shop, the old owner who was watching tv.
“I don’t think anyone minds. Truth is, I miss it.”
“Do you miss Ted?” Rob asked frankly.
“Ted’s gone,” Chayne said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, and the answer doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“I know,” Rob said, I just wondered. “Will you help me get this on.”
Rob held out the silver necklace with the flat medallion on it and Chayne clipped it. The chain hung over the opening of Rob’s watery silky shirt covered in paisleys, and though it fit loose, it clung to him.
“How do I look?”
“Young,” Chayne said.
Rob grinned and said, “You’re young. And you look younger now that when I met you. Now, Rob grabbed Chayne’s hand, I’m thinking about some black shades and a fedora, with a feather, like in the seventies.”
Chayne had to admit that the thought excited him, Rob was in white linen trousers and sandals, and Chayne, who had stopped wearing sandals after catching his foot in a door summers ago, wore them today too. He did not know if he looked younger, swinging from Rob’s hand, as the handsome boy led him around, but he knew he felt it.
“Perfect,” Rob smiled and took another silver bracelet, this one studded with turquoise.
“My aesthetic ,” Rob pronounced to Chayne, “is to look like a gay pimp.”
Chayne laughed at his cockiness, no, his confidence. He held Rob by his hips.
“I love the way you look.”
“That too, good Mr. Kandzierski, is my aim. To be someone women wonder about and men want, the primary man being you.”
Rob looked around. He had no shame, but this was a small town in Michigan and he had no desire to shock. He kissed Chayne on the mouth quick and hard, slipped in his tongue.
He whispered: “Whaddo you think I’d look like with eyeliner?”
“I feel…. I feel like you could fuck the shit out of me if you wore eyeliner.”
Rob looked more embarrassed and thrilled than sexy, and he did a quick step, and then said, “So, I’m paying for this, and then we’re going to buy eyeliner…”
They did not hurry home because they had all day and all that night. From the first night when Rob had come to him, there had been no doubt in either of their minds that this should not be. When Rob locked the door and Chayne pulled back the covers, they came together gentle as a dance. Somewhere in the night where the moon came through the windows on them, and Rob’s tender lips kissed him over and over again, Chayne heard him murmur, “I’m yours,” and he knew he said it too.
So often, Chayne had been the master. Young boys and older men were timid. But Rob kissed him firmly, caught his lips in his danced his tongue with his tongue, kissed Chayne up and down, sucked his sex, licked the inside of his thighs, entered him tenderly, murmuring, baby, baby, baby, moved through him like the Holy Ghost, came out, came in again, made love to his thighs, kissed his feet all of his toes, made him shudder, burned with desire, and of Chayne’s desire was unafraid. When Rob came, he came laughing and rejoicing, irrigating the bed sheets like a watering can and, unexhausted, he brought Chayne to shuddering orgasm that made him smile like a boy.
They almost glowed in the dark, rejoicing in their love, chests heaving. Rob laughed, and put the joint to Chayne’s lip. It went red, and Rob took a long hit.
“We haven’t told anyone,” Chayne realized, smoke leaving his nose.
Rob tittered.
“Do you tell people? Don’t they just figure it out. Making an announcement seems so… fucking dramatic.”
“Russell knows.”
“Well, Russell, should know. And is he banging that Indian dude?”
“Damn, Rob, really?”
Rob shrugged, and passed back the joint.
“Isn’t he a bit young for that?”
“We’re not talking about Russell.”
“Cool,” Rob waited for Chayne to inhale.
“Mind if I go down on you before we pass out.”
Chayne sighed and opened his legs and Rob lowered down into the sheets.
“As long,” Chayne inhaled tight on the joint, “as you don’t fall asleep down there.”
“Has that happened before,” Rob wondered, casually lifting Chayne’s dick to his mouth, and then he gave an almost drunken laugh and said, “Yeah, it’s happened.”
Chayne sucked hard on the joint as Rob sucked hard on him, and tilted his head back in delight.
MORE NEXT WEEK, FRIENDS! HAVE A DELICIOUS WEEKEND
Last edited:
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great portion! So much going on but in a good way. I am glad I have a few days to reread. All the characters seem to be in a good place at the moment. Excellent writing and I look forward to more in a few days!
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Yes, there was a lot going on, and a lot to unpack for the weekend. I gave you a big old healthy sample, and soon there will be more to follow.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
They almost glowed in the dark, rejoicing in their love, chests heaving. Rob laughed, and put the joint to Chayne’s lip. It went red, and Rob took a long hit.
“We haven’t told anyone,” Chayne realized, smoke leaving his nose.
Rob tittered.
“Do you tell people? Don’t they just figure it out. Making an announcement seems so… fucking dramatic.”
“Russell knows.”
“Well, Russell, should know. And is he banging that Indian dude?”
“Damn, Rob, really?”
Rob shrugged, and passed back the joint.
“Isn’t he a bit young for that?”
“We’re not talking about Russell.”
“Cool,” Rob waited for Chayne to inhale.
“Mind if I go down on you before we pass out.”
Chayne sighed and opened his legs and Rob lowered down into the sheets.
“As long,” Chayne inhaled tight on the joint, “as you don’t fall asleep down there.”
“Has that happened before,” Rob wondered, casually lifting Chayne’s dick to his mouth, and then he gave an almost drunken laugh and said, “Yeah, it’s happened.”
Chayne sucked hard on the joint as Rob sucked hard on him, and tilted his head back in delight.
There was a thump on Chayne’s bed, and he shot up while Rob murmured, “The fuck?” in his sleep..
“Remind me to start locking that thing.”
“Chayne this is serious,” Faye reprimanded her friend, taking off a high heel.
“Faye?…” Rob sat up in bed.
“You’re damned right it is—disturbing a grown man—two grown mens’—sleep.”
“Go back to sleep,” Chayne said.
Rob only glared at Faye.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “And this place smells like pot. Did you leave me any?”
“Faye,” Chayne said.
“I forgot about your living situation,” she said. “Next time I’ll wait till the morning, but you see, I can’t do that tonight because… Because…”
“For the love of Christ, Faye!”
“Chuck popped the question.”
“Chuck proposed?” Rob stared into Faye’s pale face.
“No,” said Faye. “That would be the easy question. “He asked what was going to happen with us... the long distance thing and all.”
“Well,” Chayne shrugged. “You see how well it worked for me and Ted. It was only a matter of time before Chuck asked.”
Rob raised an eyebrow at the mention of Ted Weirbach.
“I know,” said Faye irritably. “But couldn’t we have had a little more time?”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“You know what I’m going to do. I’ll have to move here or he’ll have to move to Chicago. Or... we’ll have to break up. And that’s not really an option. However...”
“However?” Rob said.
“The other two aren’t really options either.”
Chayne sighed so that Faye wouldn’t have to.
“Well, let’s look at both angles,” he said.
“Start with me.”
Rob, with the confidence of a good looking young man who was not attracted to Faye, sat up naked, reached for his cigarettes and boredly lit one, drawing his knees to his chest.
“Okay,” Chayne said. “You’ve got a high paying job at a major university and an established writing career.”
“And Chuck lives in a little podunk Midwestern town on the verge of collapse—”
“Hey!”
“It is, though,” said Faye, “and he is a teacher at a Catholic high school which means he lives just above the poverty level. By those standards, he should move out to me.”
“But,” Rob ashed his cigarette and pointed to her with it, “you have a job you hate, and a place you live in far away from any friends or family not to mention—though I have—an established writing career that you can pursue anywhere, and the abiltiy to stop working and be financially sound—easily—for at least the nest three years.”
“Four,” said Faye. “I don’t live large.
“And I don’t appreciate you throwing it in my face that I don’t have a life!”
Rob took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nose toward the ceiling.
“Well,” Chayne said, “whenever you want to have fun you always drive out here.”
“You want me to move here!” Faye said, a triumphant light dawning in hr eyes.
“That wouldn’t be bad,” Chayne agreed.
“As long as locked the fucking door,” Rob said.
Faye was quiet a while, then she said. “But that would make me the loser.”
“What?”
“Women are supposed to be independent,” said Faye. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“I’m as independent as it gets, and I’m supposed to give it all up to be with a school teacher? He should be giving stuff up to marry me.”
“Well, maybe he should,” said Chayne. “But you’re not independent unless you’re free, right?”
“That’s what it means.”
“Well, how can you be free if you’re not free to give up what you have?”
“To be the bitch for Chuck Shrader?”
“Doesn’t everyone have to consent to be the bitch every once in a while?” said Rob. “In love? Isn’t that part of what love is?”
Nehru put down his books and sat awake in his room, his mind vacant and imagining. It was past midnight and all of Geschichte Falls was quiet and he thought of two summers ago, coming over to Brad’s house. They were becoming better friends, writing and playing all the time, and his parents were used to Nehru, preferred him to the other boneheads. He came through the garage, into the breezeway and, shoes off, after helping himself to a drink from the fridge, no one was home, he went down the linoleum steps to the basement Brad was making over into an apartment.
He had still been with Debbie Baynes then. Stone Temple Pilots were playing on the tinny, unseen radio. The cream curtains covered the light so that it was only in umber shadows, Nehru saw Brad’s naked body, like a long, slowly leaping frog, pumping up and down, his ahir buttocks clenching and unclenching like breath, and the breath coming out of Debbie. He barely saw her face, only her thighs, her comparatively small body wrapped about Brad, Brad moving up and down like a wave, the sounds of her startled fucking, a taste like iron and embarrassment rising in Nehru’s mouth. He was trembling. He was a traitor for not walking away, for being so curious, for wanting to see this, wanting to see it faster and faster, feeling his heart beat and his mouth dry, watching Brad rise up and come with a shout. He’d never heard another man come. Nehru felt nineteen different shades of shame and desire. In some way he saw it every day. He saw it tonight, and it was happening tonight. Brad sliding in and out of Marissa, Brad’s head lifting up. Brad coming.
And when Brad did come it was almost like a staggered cry, through clenched teeth, a moan like a roar that startled Marissa as she hummed with the way he knew how to touch her, and the way he bore into her. He was like a frozen wave, arched between her thighs, slowly he came down, slowly he came down.
He did not like to think of sex like an experiment, but now, as Marissa lay in his arms he knew it had been.
“This is what I’ve been looking for…. This is what I’ve been looking for…”
When he remembered that, he remembered Nehru and looked for that feeling, but as he shot out of himself, and the last of the semen dribbled from his body, he was filled, once again with the hollowness, the near despair that had happened the last time he’d been with Debbie, the first time he had been with Marissa, the ache that had driven him to Nehru in the first place.
TOMORROW WE RETURN TO WESTRIAL
“We haven’t told anyone,” Chayne realized, smoke leaving his nose.
Rob tittered.
“Do you tell people? Don’t they just figure it out. Making an announcement seems so… fucking dramatic.”
“Russell knows.”
“Well, Russell, should know. And is he banging that Indian dude?”
“Damn, Rob, really?”
Rob shrugged, and passed back the joint.
“Isn’t he a bit young for that?”
“We’re not talking about Russell.”
“Cool,” Rob waited for Chayne to inhale.
“Mind if I go down on you before we pass out.”
Chayne sighed and opened his legs and Rob lowered down into the sheets.
“As long,” Chayne inhaled tight on the joint, “as you don’t fall asleep down there.”
“Has that happened before,” Rob wondered, casually lifting Chayne’s dick to his mouth, and then he gave an almost drunken laugh and said, “Yeah, it’s happened.”
Chayne sucked hard on the joint as Rob sucked hard on him, and tilted his head back in delight.
There was a thump on Chayne’s bed, and he shot up while Rob murmured, “The fuck?” in his sleep..
“Remind me to start locking that thing.”
“Chayne this is serious,” Faye reprimanded her friend, taking off a high heel.
“Faye?…” Rob sat up in bed.
“You’re damned right it is—disturbing a grown man—two grown mens’—sleep.”
“Go back to sleep,” Chayne said.
Rob only glared at Faye.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “And this place smells like pot. Did you leave me any?”
“Faye,” Chayne said.
“I forgot about your living situation,” she said. “Next time I’ll wait till the morning, but you see, I can’t do that tonight because… Because…”
“For the love of Christ, Faye!”
“Chuck popped the question.”
“Chuck proposed?” Rob stared into Faye’s pale face.
“No,” said Faye. “That would be the easy question. “He asked what was going to happen with us... the long distance thing and all.”
“Well,” Chayne shrugged. “You see how well it worked for me and Ted. It was only a matter of time before Chuck asked.”
Rob raised an eyebrow at the mention of Ted Weirbach.
“I know,” said Faye irritably. “But couldn’t we have had a little more time?”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
“You know what I’m going to do. I’ll have to move here or he’ll have to move to Chicago. Or... we’ll have to break up. And that’s not really an option. However...”
“However?” Rob said.
“The other two aren’t really options either.”
Chayne sighed so that Faye wouldn’t have to.
“Well, let’s look at both angles,” he said.
“Start with me.”
Rob, with the confidence of a good looking young man who was not attracted to Faye, sat up naked, reached for his cigarettes and boredly lit one, drawing his knees to his chest.
“Okay,” Chayne said. “You’ve got a high paying job at a major university and an established writing career.”
“And Chuck lives in a little podunk Midwestern town on the verge of collapse—”
“Hey!”
“It is, though,” said Faye, “and he is a teacher at a Catholic high school which means he lives just above the poverty level. By those standards, he should move out to me.”
“But,” Rob ashed his cigarette and pointed to her with it, “you have a job you hate, and a place you live in far away from any friends or family not to mention—though I have—an established writing career that you can pursue anywhere, and the abiltiy to stop working and be financially sound—easily—for at least the nest three years.”
“Four,” said Faye. “I don’t live large.
“And I don’t appreciate you throwing it in my face that I don’t have a life!”
Rob took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nose toward the ceiling.
“Well,” Chayne said, “whenever you want to have fun you always drive out here.”
“You want me to move here!” Faye said, a triumphant light dawning in hr eyes.
“That wouldn’t be bad,” Chayne agreed.
“As long as locked the fucking door,” Rob said.
Faye was quiet a while, then she said. “But that would make me the loser.”
“What?”
“Women are supposed to be independent,” said Faye. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“I’m as independent as it gets, and I’m supposed to give it all up to be with a school teacher? He should be giving stuff up to marry me.”
“Well, maybe he should,” said Chayne. “But you’re not independent unless you’re free, right?”
“That’s what it means.”
“Well, how can you be free if you’re not free to give up what you have?”
“To be the bitch for Chuck Shrader?”
“Doesn’t everyone have to consent to be the bitch every once in a while?” said Rob. “In love? Isn’t that part of what love is?”
Nehru put down his books and sat awake in his room, his mind vacant and imagining. It was past midnight and all of Geschichte Falls was quiet and he thought of two summers ago, coming over to Brad’s house. They were becoming better friends, writing and playing all the time, and his parents were used to Nehru, preferred him to the other boneheads. He came through the garage, into the breezeway and, shoes off, after helping himself to a drink from the fridge, no one was home, he went down the linoleum steps to the basement Brad was making over into an apartment.
He had still been with Debbie Baynes then. Stone Temple Pilots were playing on the tinny, unseen radio. The cream curtains covered the light so that it was only in umber shadows, Nehru saw Brad’s naked body, like a long, slowly leaping frog, pumping up and down, his ahir buttocks clenching and unclenching like breath, and the breath coming out of Debbie. He barely saw her face, only her thighs, her comparatively small body wrapped about Brad, Brad moving up and down like a wave, the sounds of her startled fucking, a taste like iron and embarrassment rising in Nehru’s mouth. He was trembling. He was a traitor for not walking away, for being so curious, for wanting to see this, wanting to see it faster and faster, feeling his heart beat and his mouth dry, watching Brad rise up and come with a shout. He’d never heard another man come. Nehru felt nineteen different shades of shame and desire. In some way he saw it every day. He saw it tonight, and it was happening tonight. Brad sliding in and out of Marissa, Brad’s head lifting up. Brad coming.
And when Brad did come it was almost like a staggered cry, through clenched teeth, a moan like a roar that startled Marissa as she hummed with the way he knew how to touch her, and the way he bore into her. He was like a frozen wave, arched between her thighs, slowly he came down, slowly he came down.
He did not like to think of sex like an experiment, but now, as Marissa lay in his arms he knew it had been.
“This is what I’ve been looking for…. This is what I’ve been looking for…”
When he remembered that, he remembered Nehru and looked for that feeling, but as he shot out of himself, and the last of the semen dribbled from his body, he was filled, once again with the hollowness, the near despair that had happened the last time he’d been with Debbie, the first time he had been with Marissa, the ache that had driven him to Nehru in the first place.
TOMORROW WE RETURN TO WESTRIAL
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
That was a great portion! Seems like the characters have a lot of decisions to make and I am very interested to see what they do. Excellent writing and I look forward to the return to Westrial tomorrow.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Our folks do have a lot of decisions to make. Faye needs to decide some shit ,and so does Brad. On the other hand, Chayne and Rob have already made their decisions, and I like seeing that play out. I am, personally, a huge Chayne and Rob fan.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
When the revelation hit him, it didn’t scare him. What would come of it scared him, how they would handle the future scared him, but the revelation itself did not scare him at all. He waited until Marissa was asleep, and then he climbed out of bed, pulled on underwear and jeans, tee shirt, and left a note, remembering that first time, and then went out of the house quietly. He did not drive because he did not want the engine to wake her up, and he did not drive because he wanted the mild air to talk sense to him.
Nehru lived in the same neighborhood, just a few blocks away, and he climbed the fence and came into the backyard, grateful the Alexanders kept no dogs. He had a handful of pebbles at the ready, and he was tossing them at Nehru’s window. But they made no sound on the glass and Brad heard Nehru say, “What the fuck!”
His head appeared in the window. The light went on for a second and Nehru looked down, putting on his glasses and squinting through them. The light was out and a minute later, the back door opened.
The television was on, and Nehru said, “Dad’s asleep.”
Without looking back, he headed to the refrigerator, pulled out two Cokes and gave one to Brad and then headed up the stairs, expecting Brad to follow.
In his room, Brad shut the door and Nehru turned on the little light. He was in a thin house coat he had just thrown on, and he said:
“You’re always weird, but this is weird for you.”
“I had to come over,” Brad said.
“I was thinking of you,” Nehru said. He wasn’t going to say, “I was thinking of you with her, thinking of that time I saw you and I wanted to touch you so bad it ached. Thinking about the first time you touched me in this bed.
“And I was thinking of you,” Brad said with earnest excitement.
“And I love you.”
Nehru said nothing, because the first thing to come to his mind was a cop out. They loved each other. They were frank about it. They were best friends when neither thought they’d find a best friend. This was different.
“I was asleep, next to Marissa.”
They both knew he meant after they’d finished having sex, after he had come.
“Just laying there, and I knew . You are the one I love, Jawarahalal Nehru Alexander. I love you.”
A part of Nehru that he did not understand thought that anything physical would ruin this moment. He’d just imagined touching him. This man had just finished having sex with someone else. Touching him would ruin something. The two of them, looking at each other, Brad, knees apart, his large hands grasping the coke, his dark green eyes wide and earnest, made it real.
Nehru knew so clearly how he felt….. no, not felt. Nehru knew so clearly that he belonged to Brad that he didn’t say I love you too.
He only said, “Well, what are we going to do about it?”
Brad’s mouth was open, his face fell a little. Half brought back to reality, he shrugged and said, “I… I don’t know.”
MORE IN A COUPLE OF NIGHTS
Nehru lived in the same neighborhood, just a few blocks away, and he climbed the fence and came into the backyard, grateful the Alexanders kept no dogs. He had a handful of pebbles at the ready, and he was tossing them at Nehru’s window. But they made no sound on the glass and Brad heard Nehru say, “What the fuck!”
His head appeared in the window. The light went on for a second and Nehru looked down, putting on his glasses and squinting through them. The light was out and a minute later, the back door opened.
The television was on, and Nehru said, “Dad’s asleep.”
Without looking back, he headed to the refrigerator, pulled out two Cokes and gave one to Brad and then headed up the stairs, expecting Brad to follow.
In his room, Brad shut the door and Nehru turned on the little light. He was in a thin house coat he had just thrown on, and he said:
“You’re always weird, but this is weird for you.”
“I had to come over,” Brad said.
“I was thinking of you,” Nehru said. He wasn’t going to say, “I was thinking of you with her, thinking of that time I saw you and I wanted to touch you so bad it ached. Thinking about the first time you touched me in this bed.
“And I was thinking of you,” Brad said with earnest excitement.
“And I love you.”
Nehru said nothing, because the first thing to come to his mind was a cop out. They loved each other. They were frank about it. They were best friends when neither thought they’d find a best friend. This was different.
“I was asleep, next to Marissa.”
They both knew he meant after they’d finished having sex, after he had come.
“Just laying there, and I knew . You are the one I love, Jawarahalal Nehru Alexander. I love you.”
A part of Nehru that he did not understand thought that anything physical would ruin this moment. He’d just imagined touching him. This man had just finished having sex with someone else. Touching him would ruin something. The two of them, looking at each other, Brad, knees apart, his large hands grasping the coke, his dark green eyes wide and earnest, made it real.
Nehru knew so clearly how he felt….. no, not felt. Nehru knew so clearly that he belonged to Brad that he didn’t say I love you too.
He only said, “Well, what are we going to do about it?”
Brad’s mouth was open, his face fell a little. Half brought back to reality, he shrugged and said, “I… I don’t know.”
MORE IN A COUPLE OF NIGHTS
CharmedFan28
JUB Addict
So Brad loves Nehru? That’s great but it does make things all the more complicated. I look forward to reading what happens in a few days.
ChrisGibson
JUB Addict
Of course he loves him. He's been fucking his best friend. Now the issue: what to do?
