Neon Saturday Night (Low Country Lovers Book 2)

by Julia McBryant

  “I told you,” Calhoun says.

  “This is spectacular.”

  “Look at god. Oh my god. Look at god.”

  Lovingly painted across an entire wall, a replica of Michelangelo’s deity gazes down upon the supplicating Atlanticans, complete with pointy finger. Except god inexplicably wears Ray-Bans and looks weirdly like Kurt Russell from the movie Big Trouble in Little China.

  “Well, father fuck me,” Audie breathes at the obviously psilocybin-inflected art “God’s giving the people zebra bunnies and algebra.”

  Mini-golf suddenly doesn’t suck. Audie still sucks, but it’s funny rather than annoying. He and Calhoun laugh at his pathetic efforts. “I thought all rich kids got golf lessons,” he says.

  “They kicked me out,” Audie admits. “They also kicked me out of tennis. The country club let me stay on in swimming but I never figured out how to do the butterfly.”

  He slams the ball into the blue water again, but this time he fishes it out. “I’m attached to the pink ball,” he says.

  “You touched the blue water!” Calhoun laughs. “Your hand is going to fall off.”

  Audie intentionally grabs him with it. He tries to run. Audie looks around, pins him to the wall of the fake cave, and makes out with him for a second. “Ha,” he says. “I made out with you on a minigolf course. That means I made par, bitch. Write that down.”

  He keeps the pink ball. Calhoun accuses him of stealing. Audie tells him to keep his voice down. They argue all the way out to the car, Audie cracking up, Calhoun deadly serious. It’s adorable. Audie fishes a permanent marker from his glove compartment and scrawls “I LOVE CALHOUN” in his spiky writing across the ball. “Now you have to keep it,” he smirks.

  “Bastard,” Calhoun laughs.

  They order more pizza.

  Afterwards, Calhoun drags him to the pool. “This is the best,” he says. “It’s one of the reasons I picked this hotel. You’ll love it.”

  What Audie will love, apparently, is a pool bar. He cracks up. “Calhoun, you have to be kidding,” he says. “A swim-up bar? Like a bar in the pool? Like we go swimming and drink at the same time?”

  “Uh-huh. And they make you like, super girly tropical drinks and you get plowed with all the other tourists. Come on.”

  Audie lets Calhoun drag him into the pool. They swim over and run up a truly enormous bar tab with the most ridiculous drinks on the menu, the ones with the most alcohol in the most tropical and ridiculous combinations: coconut rum and stoli and blue curaçao. Calhoun declares that Audie wins when he orders something with banana liquer. It’s stupid and touristy and totally hilarious. They hang out in the water, half-floating, laughing, and drink. They end up chasing each other to their room, laughing loudly all the way through the lobby and dripping water all over the floor. They are stupid and loud and glorious.

  Upstairs, Audie pushes Calhoun down on the bed. “Imma fuck you stupid,” he says.

  “Imma suck you until you beg,” Calhoun grins.

  “Get on my lap and ride my cock,” Audie says. “I wanna lay down and I want you to ride me like a fucking pony. You never do that. And I dare you.”

  Calhoun flips over Audie and pins him down. They wrestle and laugh. “You dare me?” he says.

  “I fucking dare you, Chatterton.”

  So they make out hard, sucking and demanding, half wrestling, Calhoun on top more than usual, both of them laughing through it. Audie opens him up and lays back. “Do it,” he says. “Dare you.”

  And Calhoun slowly lowers himself on top of Audie, shocking both of them. Calhoun’s eyes widen. “Ohmygod,” he says. “This feels fucking amazing. Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.”

  Audie cracks up. “Then move.”

  Calhoun leans forward a little, gasps more, and starts fucking Audie fast and hard. Audie groans and grabs his hips, all joking forgotten. “I won’t last if you keep this up,” he manages.

  “I won’t either,” Calhoun says. His cock bobs on Audie’s belly; their balls smack together. He moves up and down, up and down on his knees, his hands braced on Audie’s shoulders. His eyes shut with pleasure. His hair swings, almost in Audie’s face. “Oh god,” Calhoun says. “Oh god oh god oh god oh god —” and he sprays come, curling up, shooting over and over, all the way up to Audie’s chest. Audie can feel him shaking. He slides off. Audie jerks himself three or four times and spills himself. He almost gasps with laughter when Calhoun collapses again.

  “Do not touch me. Do not,” he says. “Oh my god. That was the best ever.”

  Audie can’t stop cracking up as he gets in the shower.

  By then, Calhoun has recovered some. “I don’t want to do that all the time,” he says in that dreamy voice, eyes half-lidded. “But my god.” He cuddles into Audie’s chest. “Can we sleep like this? I missed you.” He’s asleep almost before he finishes talking.

  They wake up in the tourist hellhole again. But this time it’s different.

  Audie flips Calhoun in the lazy river. Calhoun flips him. They go on a beach walk and play dinosaur golf, then race each other in go-karts. It’s close: Audie’s used to the Porsche, but Calhoun has a Jaguar. Audie wins in the end, and they make out in front of god and everyone. They eat cheap beach food at Peaches on bar stools and try saltwater taffy, which sticks their teeth together. Audie started out trying to make Calhoun happy. But he ended up happy himself.

  That neon Saturday night, in a city advertising daiquiris by the pitcher and alcoholic slushies, Audie and Calhoun walk down the strip to the storefront with the Confederate flag bikini. “Are you scared?” Calhoun asks.

  “Uh-uh,” Audie says. “Are you?”

  “You go first,” Calhoun says. “Because I am.”

  “Okay,” Audie shrugs.

  He strips off his shirt. “I want it right here, on my chest.” He points to his left pec. His parents will never see him shirtless. “And I want it done in my own handwriting.” He takes a piece of paper from the artist and scrawls:

  there is still time to live on a breath made of nothing

  But the whole night

  They load the needle with black ink. Calhoun grips his hand, but Audie isn’t scared. He smiles. He and Calhoun are the kind of people who get tattoos.

  Here We Fucking Are

  Audie curls on his couch and pulls a woven throw over him. On this dreary November day, he wants coffee, warm socks, and his boyfriend. But his boyfriend’s in Charleston, so he does the next best thing. “Hi baby,” he coos when Calhoun picks up the phone. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” he says. He sounds stuffed up.

  “You feel okay?”

  “Fine. I have a cold. This weather sucks.”

  “Sorry about the cold. How was class?”

  “Didn’t go.”

  “That’s a hell of a cold.” Calhoun never misses class.

  “Did you go to class?”

  Audie laughs. He always skips, and Calhoun always harasses him about it. “No. It was raining, Calhoun.”

  “You’re impossible.” It comes out “imposhible.”

  They talk for a few minutes. Audie tries for phone sex but Calhoun says he wants to go take a nap. Calhoun never naps in the middle of the day. “Okay, baby,” Audie says. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.” Calhoun sounds half-asleep already.

  Audie calls Patrick, Justin, and Bastian — he’s known Bastian since freaking kindergarten — who appear with extra Nintendo controllers and liquor. They play Mario Kart, loser downs a shot when he falls off Rainbow Row. The four of them crack up and trash-talk, sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch. Audie loves this part of college: the drunk laughter, the stupid jokes that mean nothing and everything all at once. They get plowed and order pizza. Audie insists they eat at the coffee table, not drop the boxes on the floor like fucking savages, and Justin makes fun of him. They wrestle and kick over one of Audie’s vases, which pisses him off, then Patrick makes fun of him, so he has to wrestle Pa
trick, too. Bastian laughs at all of them. Asshats. More Mario Kart, more shots, and finally Audie takes his own bed, Justin calls the spare, Patrick crashes on the couch, and Bastian tells Justin he best share that bed with him and not tell his goddamn boyfriend. Another thing Audie loves about college: people just fall asleep where they fall asleep and no one makes a goddamn fuss. Before he passes out, once he’s shed his clothes and locked the door, Audie calls Calhoun. He always calls him right before bed.

  “Hey, baby!” he fairly yells.

  “Hey, Audie.” Calhoun sounds tired.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “Yeah. But ‘s okay. What is it?”

  “Nothing. Just calling you before I go to sleep. Justin and Patrick and Bastian and I played Mario Kart and —”

  “Loser takes a shot when he falls off Rainbow Row.” Calhoun sounds exhausted. “How drunk are you?”

  “Pretty fucking smashed.” Audie pauses. “Pretty fucking missing you.”

  “Miss you too, Audie.”

  Goddammit. No phone sex for him. He’ll try over text when he hangs up.

  “Love you,” Audie says.

  “Love you too.”

  They hang up.

  Wanna fuck you so bad, Audie texts.

  I know. so tired, Audie. Love u

  OK love u

  Love u 2

  Calhoun almost never turns down sexting. He always jokes he’s lucky to date a poet, and usually all it takes is “wanna fuck you” before Calhoun texts back “wanna fuck you too.” Then Audie texts back something like “get up against the goddamn wall” or “take your clothes off slow” or “i want your knees to hit the ground.” After that they both start, and knowing Calhoun’s jerking off while Audie does the same thing makes everything better.

  Not tonight.

  Audie still fumbles for the lube in the bedside table. He’s already half-hard, and when he slicks the length of his cock, he hardens further. God, this is going to feel good. He situates himself on his back and closes his eyes. Calhoun all fours, stretched and ready for him. I want your big cock Audie fuck me with your big cock, I’m so tight for you I swear I’ll be so good I’ll be so good if you fuck me hard. Audie holds himself at his base and strokes upwards, his fingers hitting the spot just under his head. He pauses and plays with it. Calhoun against a wall. Want you so bad Audie please please fuck me I’ll do whatever you want please fuck me. Audie jerks himself faster, passing all the way over his head every time. He imagines it’s Calhoun’s warm, wet mouth, then his tight ass. God I love it when you fill me up I’m so full fuck me hard no harder please harder I love when you fuck me hard your cock feels so good in my ass. Audie jacks himself hard and fast, cock slick in his hand, hard and stiff, god he’s going to come, he wants to come in Calhoun so bad, wants to come in that tight ass, Calhoun under him ohgod, curling up and spraying wet and sticky between them. Audie lets go hard, into his own hand and on his belly. He lays still for a moment and cleans up, then passes out.

  He calls Calhoun when he wakes up. It’s Friday, but Calhoun’s usually up and doing stuff by nine. No answer. This is getting weird.

  He and Justin, Patrick and Bastian grab breakfast at Waffle House: greasy and awful and glorious. Audie orders a triple hashbrown smothered, covered, and peppered. He houses it all, tosses back coffee, and flirts with the waitress. Patrick drags them back to his place, where they lounge on futons, watch industrial music videos, and debate whether it’s too early to start daydrinking. Bastian claims it’s never too early and cracks a beer. Trust Bastian. The rest of them argue with him.

  Audie keeps calling Calhoun, who finally picks up. Audie takes the phone outside into the drizzly weather.

  “Hey, love,” he says. “What’s up? You haven’t been answering your phone.”

  “Been asleep.” He’s still stuffy.

  “Since when? Did you take a nap or something?” Calhoun never naps.

  “Since last night?”

  “Calhoun, it’s like, noon. How’s your cold?”

  “‘S okay.”

  “Do you like, have a fever or anything? You never sleep like this?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t have a thermometer.”

  “Okay,” Audie says. “Well, like, get rest or something, okay? Are you taking anything?”

  “Not really.”

  “You should take something.”

  “Okay, Audie.”

  “Imma call and check on you.”

  “Okay, Audie.” He sounds so tired.

  “You wanna Facetime?”

  “No. I look bad.”

  “C’mon.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Get some rest.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Calhoun sounds like he has a nasty cold. Not like he has a roommate to take care of him, either — he lives by himself, like Audie. At least he said he’d take something. Patrick puts on the new Ashbury Heights video and the rest of them cave to Bastian and decide that no, daydrinking can commence now.

  Audie tries Calhoun again around two.

  He tries him at four.

  He tries him at six.

  He’s frantic by eight.

  Calhoun finally answers at ten. Audie’s pacing his living room.

  “What the fuck?!” Audie demands. “Are you okay?”

  “I was asleep,” Calhoun says.

  “For ten hours?”

  “I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry I worried you.”

  “Did you take anything?”

  “Well, I, um —”

  “That means no,” Audie says. “I love you. Please take something. You sound awful.”

  “I love you too. Imma go to sleep again.”

  “Okay. Feel better.”

  Audie hangs up. Calhoun seems really sick. Like, really sick. Maybe he should go down to Charleston. Calhoun has a big paper due Monday; that’s why he wasn’t coming up. But maybe Audie should drive down.

  Calhoun hasn’t asked him to, though. If Calhoun needed him, he would ask. Audie doesn’t want to bother him. God knows when Audie’s sick, he wants to be miserable in peace. But he does text.

  If you need me to come down tell me

  Im fine

  Are you sure because i can come down

  Im fine audie

  Im worried about u

  Im FINE GO TO BED OR SOMETHING CHRIST

  Ok i love u

  Love u 2

  Well, that was definitive.

  And goddammit, with Calhoun sick, no phone sex or sexting tonight, either.

  Calhoun would feel so good underneath him. It’s been two weeks. His cock starts to rise. Two weeks ago had been so good. Audie had actually ripped Calhoun’s shirt open, a series of wildly satisfying pops, shiny white buttons flying everywhere. Then he’d bitten his boyfriend’s ear and ordered, “Take those goddamn pants off for me.”

  And oh, Calhoun had done it, and done it right, eyes down, the slow metallic slide of a zipper, the quiet slipping sound of metal on cloth as he undid his button. He’d wiggled his hips, pushed, pulled his shoes and socks off by the heels and stepped out of everything gorgeously naked. He kept his eyes low, all that beautiful hair a shiny brown curtain, his big hard cock standing straight, balls hanging heavy. Audie goes up to his bedroom, drops his pajama pants, and crawls into bed.

  He spreads lube onto his hard cock and holds it. Calhoun had shaved everything but that small patch of short hair. Audie had stroked his balls, made Calhoun arch his back and twine around him while they kissed. Audie begins to jerk himself slowly. Calhoun had begged to suck Audie and how could he say no to those big eyes? Lay down on the bed and let me suck you. I wanna suck you. Audie had laid on his back and Calhoun had leaned down and oh, he hadn’t sucked, he had licked, his tongue had found Audie’s ass and licked him, teased him while Calhoun knelt with his head down and his ass in the air. Audie strokes himself harder and begins to pass over his head, his hand so slick on his cock. He’d eventua
lly flipped Calhoun over and fingered him open while he begged for it, begged, oh god he loves when Calhoun begs, fuck me Audie please I want your cock fuck me it’s so good when you fuck me, please fill me up I’ll be so so good please — Audie stops and plays with the spot under his head, then begins jerking himself hard and fast. Then he’d finally, finally slid into Calhoun and he felt so goddamn tight and he begged for it hard and fast and please please do it more I want it more — Audie’s so close — until Calhoun had come all over both of them, and when Audie remembers it he comes himself, thick ropes of it on his belly the way Calhoun had come two weeks ago, a climax that had pulled Audie along with it, sticky on him again, oh god so hot, he loves when Calhoun comes on him. Audie jerks himself slowly, milking the last bits out. He cleans up and wishes Calhoun were there to clean up with him, to make jokes about it. God, he misses him. He hopes he’s okay.

  Audie calls when he wakes up at nine. Calhoun picks up on the sixth ring.

  “Hey Audie.” He sounds sicker than ever.

  “You feeling better?” Audie asks.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Taking stuff?”

  “I’m fine. Really sleepy, Audie. Imma go back to bed now.”

  Something dawns on him. “What’ve you been eating?”

  “Too sick to eat much. I’m good. It’s all the ick in my throat. I’m fine though. I love you.”

  “Love you too,” Audie says.

  Calhoun is decidedly not okay. He isn’t eating. Audie suspects he’s not taking anything and he just sleeps. He keeps sounding worse and worse on the phone. Audie can’t stand to leave him alone anymore. He packs a quick bag, hops in the Porsche, and breaks every speed limit to Charleston. Luckily he has a key to Calhoun’s place. His boyfriend’s in bed, curled on his side, asleep. A trashcan full of tissues sits on the floor next to him. Calhoun looks flushed; his brown hair sweaty.

  Oh god. Audie should have come a day ago. A day and a half ago. What the fuck was he thinking? He knew Calhoun wasn’t okay. Audie sits on the bed and rests his palm on Calhoun’s forehead. Calhoun has a fever — a high one.

  “Hey, baby,” Audie says. “Hey, love. I need you to wake up for me, okay?”