The Guy on the Right

by Kate Stewart

“Laney isn’t here?”

  “She had to work.”

  “How’s that going, man?”

  “Good, really good.”

  “Getting serious?”

  “We don’t talk about it.”

  “You mean you haven’t asked.”

  “I’m not about to screw with something that’s not broken.”

  “Well I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but prying eyes have been on us since we sat down.”

  “What?”

  “Check it out, nine o’clock.” I look to our left to see two sets of curious eyes watching us from the stands below. “Laney is making you look good, man, if it doesn’t work out with her, just know you have options.”

  One of the girls gives me a wave, and I nod, giving a polite smile before averting my eyes.

  “See what I mean?”

  “Not interested.”

  He jabs me with an elbow. “So, it is serious.”

  “It’s new. We’re doing it our way. I’m not going to fuck it up by acting needy. Besides, she doesn’t work like that. She would rather choke before admitting she needs anyone.”

  “I hear you. Lindsey was a little dick bitter when we got together. It took time to get her out of it.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ll tell you this much, she’s nothing like Nora. I don’t have to wonder if this thing is important to her because she looks out for me. She listens to me and my music, asks me about my day, and gives a damn about my moods.”

  “Nothing like Nora.”

  “Right,” I nod. “She works so incredibly hard, all the time, around the clock, in school, at home. She makes time for me even though she’s constantly running, but she makes it look easy even when I know she’s stressed out. I respect her. She doesn’t take advantage of me the way Nora did. It’s different with her.”

  “Good for you, man.”

  We both stand and yell when prompted and then raise our instruments to play the fourth of our five-song set.

  Back in our seats, Zach turns to me.

  “You have plans for after?”

  Just as I’m about to answer, the lights go out and I’m seized from behind with an arm around my neck. The smell of citrus and mint fills my nose as a husky voice whispers in my ear. “Houseman, in the stands with the saxophone. Mystery solved.”

  Turning in her hold, I ignore the catcalls filling the stadium as soft lips find mine, and she sinks into me when I eagerly meet her kiss, swiping my tongue along her lower lip just as she opens for me. Greedy, I push the dangling sax on my chest to the side before pulling her flush against me. Seizing her in my hands, I thrust my tongue into her mouth, kissing her thoroughly, the sensation of her moan vibrating against my tongue.

  We’re still locked in the kiss when the lights come back on, and she pulls away, her eyes darting around in surprise. I follow her gaze to see a startling amount of cell phones poised in our direction, taking pictures. “I suppose the cat’s fully out of the bag now.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” I say, stepping over the row of seats separating us, so we’re alone in the aisle above. I pull her to me and full-on kiss her again. When I close the kiss, she draws my freezing hands from her face to warm them between her own gloved hands. She spots Zach over my shoulder and greets him. “Hey Zach.”

  “Hey Laney,” He greets back with a shit-eating grin before turning back toward the band to give us some privacy.

  Laney looks up at me through dark lashes.

  “That was my first kiss on Yell night, Houseman, and I wanted it to be with you.”

  “It was mine, too.”

  “Really?” A pride-filled smile beams from her as she rubs my hands between hers. She looks beautiful bundled up in a pink North Face jacket and beanie. Her glossy, dark-brown locks twisted in long twin braids and resting on her shoulders, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “You take good care of me,” I tell her as she warms my hands.

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah, you do, and I’m coming up with ways to thank you for it right now.”

  Were in the midst of over-the-top PDA but no one is paying attention to us due to the bullhorn announcement of the all-stars for the year.

  “I think I may know a way you can thank me,” she murmurs. “Mom is working tonight.” Her voice drops to a husky whisper. “Want to meet me in the chemistry lab in an hour?”

  “Fuck yes,” I whisper back, “be naked.”

  “No issues there.” She leans in again, her eyes pooling. “The lab tech told me today that if you want, we’re safe to play with gloves off,” she grins sheepishly, “that is if you want.”

  My dick jerks inside my jeans as she weighs my reaction.

  I lift one of her braids in my hand, rubbing her silky strands between my fingers. “Oh, I want. And don’t take these out.”

  “Why?”

  I lean in close. “Because the minute I get to the lab, I’m going to reenact the fantasy I’m dreaming up right now to show my appreciation for that kiss.”

  Her mouth parts and I lean in and gently suck her bottom lip before pulling away with nothing but intent in my eyes. “I’ll give you one guess where my next kiss will be.”

  “Theo,” she sputters out, her forehead pressed against mine, breaths coming out in cloudy puffs from her swollen lips.

  “That’s enough, Mr. Houseman,” my band director says bursting our bubble from where he stands at the bottom of our section.

  “Young lady, I don’t know how you got in here, but this is reserved for band members only.”

  “Sorry about that, sir.” She turns to me giggling. “Whoops.”

  “Go on,” I say not giving a shit about the attention we’ve drawn, or the lecture I’m sure to get, but drawing on the affection of the girl who’s standing in front of me. “I’m right behind you.”

  It’s then she says three words that strike me right in the chest. “It’s a date.”

  Theo

  “Up, Bugle Boy,” Kevin spouts kicking the end of my bed. “It’s D-day.”

  “Kevin, for the last time, I don’t play the fucking bugle. Get the hell out of my bedroom.”

  “Punishment starts in an hour. You signed up. We leave in twenty. Dress for mud.”

  I reach for whatever is on my dresser and throw it at him and hear a satisfying “ugh” come out of him when I nail him with my Magic Eight Ball.

  “You pussing out?”

  “Yes,” I say simply. And then think better of it and rise to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m up.”

  Kevin gives me a lopsided grin. “I’m almost proud of you, precious.”

  “Get out before I make you spell precious.”

  “Don’t piss me off, you’re going to need me. Clock’s ticking. Put your panties on.”

  The thirsty look in his eyes instills a small amount of fear. “Out.”

  He shuts the door behind him as I prepare myself for battle. I’m smaller than ninety-nine percent of the guys doing camp today. When I signed up weeks ago, I was mildly buzzed and feeling invincible partly due to the girl, okay mostly due to the girl. Some part of me knows I did it to try and prove something to the masculine part of myself; while the more sober, more intelligent part of me knows it’s suicide to try and fight my way through a mile-long booby trap with dozens of blood-thirsty athletes.

  Once dressed, and after putting any lingering Napoleon complex aside, I put my game face on and head downstairs where a few guys wait, draining Red Bull. Troy greets me with a fresh can.

  “Amp up, you’ll need it.”

  “That shit is poison.”

  “Drink it,” he says with a hint of warning. “Drink fucking two and stay close to me.”

  “I’m good,” I insist taking the offered can and popping it. He jerks his chin. “Totally different kind of field today.”

  “I’m up for it.”

  He grins. “Let’s do it then.”

  Slight unease coats me as I hop into Troy’s truck along with a few of th
e other guys before he peels out. It’s when I see the obstacle course come into view from the side of the highway and dozens of muddied men twice my size gasping for air at the finish line that I sink in my seat. I’m terrified but do my best not to alert the fear-smelling, steroid-infused bees chattering around me with excitement.

  Troy reads my posture and chuckles before cranking up the music as Kevin puts a reassuring paw on my shoulder. “We’ve got you, man.”

  I do the only thing I can, I nod and pray.

  At the starting line, I survey the course, my mind racing with potential tactics. A short sprint, followed by a climb over a nine-foot wall, then a crawl through the mud beneath barbed wire. Beyond that, it’s child’s play—hills, ropes, and tires.

  Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold” starts blaring through several large speakers around the course just as I decide my best bet is to flank Troy, and so I shift in line next to him. I scan the eager crowd of blood-thirsty testosterone to my left and know, without a doubt—I’m. About. To. Fucking. Die.

  Steady guitar thrums into my ears, picking up speed and something in me shifts to beast mode as I study the hellacious trek paved out for us. I’m probably high off the Red Bull, but I feel like pounding my chest and yelling a war cry as my fingers itch at my sides. I think of the girl who just last night looked at me like I was the sun revolving the Earth.

  I’ve fucking got this.

  I lift my chin in defiance, batting any doubts away.

  It’s when the bullhorn sounds and activity spikes on either side of me that I charge, tackling the sprint like a motherfucking boss celebrating my triumph of being one of the first to make it to the wall, well ahead of the hulk parade. The pride-filled grin I sport is smashed off my face when I catch the first elbow.

  “Jesus man, that was epic. I’ve never seen a guy fly so far, so fast, and still get the worst fucking time,” Kevin laughs uncontrollably as I down my sixth beer in five minutes. Troy shakes his head laughing every time he glances my way, unable to get a word out, but I see a new respect in his eyes when he looks at me. At the finish line, and for the first time in my life, I’m at the King’s table. I can’t say that I hate it. I wasn’t an outcast in school, I just was the one everyone waved to while walking down the hall before they reached someone more important. Aside from my high school best friend, Nora was the first one to stop for me. She was the first person to take the time to get to know me. I’d latched onto that interest. It made me bolder.

  But Laney’s attention makes me feel invincible.

  Maybe I subjected myself to this massacre partly for her. But in all my years, I’d never taken the chance, never pushed myself like this and always just assumed I wasn’t capable of the athleticism or the stunt I pulled today. And the truth is abundantly clear, I’m nowhere near fucking capable. Despite that, I can’t regret it. To an outsider, I got pulverized, but every minute of the hell was a personal victory for me. It must show because the guys are crowded around me.

  “Jesus dude, you need a medic,” Troy says, looking me over.

  “I’m good,” I say finishing my beer and reaching for the collective duffle we brought before searching it for my phone. “Do me a favor and take a picture.”

  “Crowd in, assholes,” Troy says as the guys gather around, dwarfing me. Muddy and bloody, I flex my arms in front of me Hulk-style. Troy takes a few pictures while trying not to piss himself laughing.

  I scroll through a few shots and pick the most humiliating of the three before uploading it.

  “You’re seriously posting that?”

  “Favor for a friend.”

  “A friend, huh? She worth it?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Well, she looks good on you.”

  I grin through bloody gums. “Yeah, she does.”

  He nudges me with a beefy elbow, and I keep my groan inward. “Life gets a lot sweeter when you’re getting some on the regular.”

  “Please don’t go thinking we have anything in common.”

  Troy scowls. “You always going to rag on me?”

  I nod. “Probably.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Laney.”

  “When am I going to get to meet her?”

  “How about fucking never?”

  He holds his hands up defensively.

  “Bygones, man.”

  “Yeah, let’s drop it.”

  He claps me on the back, and it’s all I can do to keep him from seeing the tears brewing in my eyes.

  “Do me a favor, dude, don’t touch me.”

  He chuckles as Kevin delivers two fresh beers. “To Bugle Boy and his first Tuff Man!”

  And last.

  But I don’t bother to correct him.

  The guys collectively raise their glasses, and I join them despite the ridiculous pet name because, for a brief second, it feels good to be king.

  #tuffman2019 #invincible #hulkedout #ownedthatshit #therockhasnothingonme #livingmyrealestlife

  Grannism—If someone truly cares for you, you won’t ever have to wonder about it.

  Laney

  Pouring more shampoo into my hand, I berate my hound. “You want to tell me how in the hell you got sap all over you?”

  Max yelps as I grip him tightly to me while the hose runs at our feet. “You aren’t a young buck anymore. What in the world were you thinking?”

  Max grunts as I give him his third shampoo. I swear I hear his snide laugh at my efforts. I’m rinsing him when I hear the crunch of tires and a car door close.

  “Theo?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Over here!” I yell from the side of the house. Max starts to struggle against me, pining for Theo’s attention as he approaches.

  “Hold on, you little shit, at least let me dry you off.” I manage to get him partially toweled off and release him when I look up to see Theo covered in mud…and blood. I physically flinch at the sight of him.

  “Oh my God!”

  He raises butchered arms up, “I’m alright. Don’t you worry.” His hair is coated in mud, a blue headband sits lopsided above his brows like it got knocked down and he never bothered to fix it. His eyes are glassy, and his grin crooked.

  “Are you drunk?”

  He lifts his pointer and thumb close together. “Lil bit.”

  “I’ve been texting you all day.”

  “I’ve been doing guy stuff.”

  “Guy stuff, huh?”

  He flashes a proud grin. “I did Tuff Man.”

  “What!” Covering my mouth with my hand, I can’t help my smile. “And you call me crazy.”

  “About you.”

  He saunters up to me in full drunken swagger. “I’ll have you know I did my worst, and it’s been well documented and publicly posted all for you. I’ve been a very good boy and have come to claim my reward.”

  “Have you now?” I ask, shaking my head.

  He bites a swollen lip, his eyes roaming me appreciatively before he bobs his head. “I guess a kiss will do.”

  He leans in, and I step away.

  “Mind if I scrub you off a little first?”

  “What’s a matter?” He turns his head and lifts his chin, his hands fisted on his hips. “Can’t handle all this manliness?”

  I laugh through my reply. “Too much for me, baby.”

  He shrugs and holds out his arms with a sigh. “If you must.”

  “Keys, phone?”

  “Phone, inhaler, I got dropped off.” He says, handing me his phone and then puffing his inhaler before tossing it into the grass. Slipping the phone into my pocket, I survey the damage. His eyes are swollen to slits, there’s a cut above his right brow, and his chin is purpling.

  “Stand back, Houseman, this is going to be cold.” I put my finger on the mouth of the hose to create a pressure spray and manage to get most of the mud off him. He’s got scratches everywhere as I gently wipe away most of the grime covering his lower half.

  “What is with the
men in my life today? First Max decides to hump a sap-covered tree, and you show up looking half dead.”

  “I got stung by a bee, too, I think,” Theo supplies in a slur. “That’s why my eyes are swollen.”

  “Did that bee pin you down and kick the shit out of you too?”

  He chuckles, but I see his wince.

  “Yeah, well, tough man, Max decided to play commando today too, so you get the same treatment. Take off your shirt.”

  It’s when I see twice as much mud caked on his torso that I realize my work is far from over.

  “What in the hell made you think this was a good idea?”

  “I got talked into it.”

  “This little Indian summer must have put idiot in the air.”

  “I can’t even argue with that right now.”

  “Good thing, you would lose. Come on, I smell like a wet dog, but you’re going to have to deal with it.” Theo follows me inside as I gather half the contents of my medicine cabinet before I lay down a towel on my bed. “Strip to your boxers.” He complies, gracing me with a smirk. I wet a washcloth and take a seat on the mattress next to him before gently cleaning the cut over his eye.

  “What happened here?”

  “Elbow.”

  “And here,” I say tapping the purple on his jaw before wiping over the small cut on his lip.

  “Another elbow?”

  “And your arms?”

  “Barbed wire.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Lort,” he says through swollen lips in perfect Madea, and I grin shaking my head. “You’re something else, Houseman.”

  “You’re everything else.” He’s so sincere with his sentiment, it damn near brings tears to my eyes. Clearing my throat, I rub some Neosporin on the cut and press the cooling cloth beneath his eyes as they trace my face and dip down to my chest before doing a slow climb to meet mine. “Did you take something for the sting?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  It’s then I meet his gaze and see amusement. “Don’t you ‘yes, Mom,’ me. What in the hell are you trying to prove anyway hanging with a bunch of dumb ass jocks and get—”

  Gripping my wrists to stop my fuss, he takes my lips in a kiss that dizzies me. With each swipe of his tongue, I melt into him, the fight leaving me.