Quarantined With My Straight Roommate

by Charlie Chubb

  “Yes! It hurts like hell.”

  “I don’t understand what the fuck possessed you to punch the wall while holding a glass? A beer bottle?”

  “A beer bottle.”

  “Fuck.”

  “My dad got intubated today. And I told my mom I was gay and all she could say was, ‘honey, I don’t have time for that right now’.”

  “Did you tell her after the whole intubation thing.”

  “No! I told her first, and I thought she’d take it worse, but my dad’s dying, my mama will probably tell him before I get a chance and my fucking life is falling apart.”

  “It’s not falling apart.”

  “It ain’t falling together.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need your apologies. I need — JESUS H CHRIST, WATCH THE DAMN AUDI.”

  “Can you stop yelling at me!?”

  “You are the world’s worst fucking driver!”

  “And you are the most annoying injured person I’ve ever met!”

  “DRIVE US INTO THE RIVER THEN!”

  “We’re not even close to the river!”

  We went back and forth like that until we got to the hospital. Luckily, they ushered Tony away, and I paced the emergency room. Why did I bother worrying about him? He hardly deserved it. He could be such a royal pain in my ass I don’t know why I bothered with him.

  It felt like hours before he came back. He wasn’t pale anymore, and the nurses bandaged his hand.

  “Ten stitches,” he grumbled, “But I made it.”

  “Oh my God, thank goodness.”

  I wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened. Right. We couldn’t act like this in public. Everyone had a mask, including me and Tony, thanks to the nurses. So it wasn’t like I could kiss him.

  “Your friend will be fine,” the nurse said.

  I bristled at the word friend. But the nurse was right. We were friends. Just friends.

  “Thanks.”

  “Make sure he doesn’t have anymore accidents,” she said, winking at us.

  Tony scowled.

  “I’ll need you to drive back, Patel.”

  “Duh.”

  23

  TONY STONE

  We argued the entire way home, but by the time Max nearly crashed my truck into the parking spot I didn’t want to argue anymore. I stopped his hand as he pulled up the parking brake.

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Did he always have to act like a frightened chipmunk when I touched him. Was I that cold that even the slightest showing of emotion made him want to run for the hills.

  “For looking after me when I’m probably the biggest dick head you’ll ever meet.”

  “Probably?”

  He grinned.

  “It’s hard. I get it. You never know how parents will react.”

  “My dad’s a veteran. He’s from the generation that believes men should be men, you know?”

  Max rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, please. I get it but like, there’s older gay people too, you know. Like people our parents’ age.”

  “You’re right,” I sighed, “You’re right.”

  Fuck. Max had a way about things sometimes. Like all his annoying “liberal arts” crap made a difference.

  “We’re lucky, I guess. We have all these things we take for granted. People older than us just had to be… invisible.”

  My throat tightened.

  “I wish…”

  Fuck. I hated how easy it was for him to bring shit out of me. I hated it. My good fist clenched.

  “What?” He murmured, tucking hair behind my ear with a touch so unnaturally gentle.

  “I wish I could be like you. I wish I didn’t have to settle for just… not being ashamed.”

  “I mean… it’s difficult.”

  “It’s easy for you.”

  He kissed my cheek.

  “Why do we fucking do this to each other?”

  “Do what?”

  “Treat each other like shit?”

  “I can’t psychoanalyze you.”

  “You’re right.”

  My cheek burned where he kissed me. I needed another kiss. Max snickered.

  “What?”

  “I’m starting to get you.”

  “Huh?”

  “You want to kiss me right now.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Max leaned over and kissed me. Fuck. He was a talented kisser. And he smelled incredible. What the fuck was that in his hair? And his natural masculine musk… I pulled away and blurted out, “I lost my virginity in this truck.”

  “Fuck. That’s one way to get a guy’s blood pumping.”

  My cheeks flushed.

  “I think this is the first time you’re acting like the awkward one,” Max said, “It’s nice to feel smooth for a change.”

  “Don’t get used to it, Patel.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Losing your virginity.”

  “It felt right. Like… before that. I didn’t understand what the hell was going on for me. Why I wasn’t like other guys.”

  “I’m jealous.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because love sucks.”

  “Wow. Now you sound like my eighth grade MySpace profile. The one where I catfished a forty-year-old guy. In retrospect, he definitely knew I was a kid…”

  “You are so fucking weird Max… Never change.”

  I leaned over and kissed him again. Roughly. I couldn’t bring my injured hand to his cheek and I definitely couldn’t get my pants undone without his help, but I wanted him. That truck had special memories for me, of never-ending summers and young love. It wasn’t like I was an old man or anything, but I never expected our summer to end up like this: weeks stuck in a house together, away from the forever sky in Idaho or the horses on the ranch, or from anything good and country.

  “Backseat,” I growled, “Now.”

  “Is that where you lost it?”

  “Now.”

  “What if someone catches us?”

  “Shut up for five seconds, Max.”

  He scrambled into the backseat. I got out of the passenger seat and slid into the backseat behind him.

  “We can’t do it here.”

  “Scared?”

  “Um. Yes?! If the cops catch us, we’ll get a ticket if they decide not to beat us to death.”

  “Can you chill for five seconds, Mister My Chemical Romance.”

  “Ew. Please never say that again.”

  “Turn around,” I growled.

  My pants tented around my hardness. Max slid his sweatpants over his straight hips, then his underwear and turned away from me. But I didn’t want him to face away from me. Not tonight. I wanted to look into his deep, reflective brown eyes as he took me into his mouth. I kissed his shoulder through his sweatshirt.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, “But I’ve made a crucial error. I can’t get my jeans off without your help.”

  Max looked over his shoulder, stubble around his jawline drawing my attention to his full lips.

  “Bastard.”

  “Come on… help me out down there.”

  Max gingerly undid my jeans, releasing my cock from its fabric prison. He grabbed the base of my cock with a tight, firm grip and ran his tongue along the edge.

  “Fuck…”

  His tongue flattened against the underside of my hardness and Max drew it to the tip, rolling his tongue around the head. His warm, damp mouth wrapped around the tip of my cock and he took me into his mouth. I groaned as Max tightened his grip of my cock and coated my cock in wetness.

  He grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me in deeper. As his mouth wrapped tighter around my cock and my fingers tousled his perfect hair, I couldn’t hold back. I wanted Max. All of him. I wanted to cum in his mouth. To pump my balls between his full lips and
watch the look of satisfaction spread across his face as I emptied my balls inside his mouth.

  I groaned and closed my eyes as Max’s tongue flicked around the head of my cock and he took me deep into his throat. My balls tightened and unleashed an enormous load of my cum into his mouth. Max wrapped his lips around my hardness tighter and took every drop. He pulled away, and I grabbed his chin with my good hand, bringing it up to mine. I kissed him on the lips, tasting the leftover saltiness on his tongue.

  And then, words gushed out of me I couldn’t control.

  “I love you.”

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck. That was a fucking mistake.

  24

  MAX PATEL

  Why do I always do and say the worst shit ever when I feel awkward? Why? I laughed. Tony Stone said he loved me and I laughed. It wasn’t just a normal laugh that I could pass off as an accident. It was a mix between a snort and a laugh that sounded like I farted out of my mouth. Shit. His cheeks reddened, and he mumbled.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s cool.”

  It’s cool?! Why was I acting like every dickhead guy I hated? I wanted this. I wanted a guy who loved me. I wanted a guy who cared about me. And Tony… Fuck. No. I told myself he didn’t care, and I didn’t notice all the signs that he did. He fucking came out to his parents. For me.

  “Thanks for the ride to the E.R.”

  I didn’t move. We had to talk about this.

  “Tony, listen…”

  “Don’t. Please. I don’t want to hear you go on some annoying, sappy, poetry boy speech. Forget I said anything.”

  He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Fuck. I messed up. But love? Did Tony expect me to say I loved him back seconds after he came in my mouth? You don’t fall in love with your bar hookup. I never planned on falling in love with a frat boy dick like Tony. Maybe an older guy who worked on Broadway, but Tony? He was everything I hated about men.

  Even if he was ridiculously handsome. Even if he had a way of making me feel like nothing could go wrong. Like he was in control of everything. And I loved his accent. But you can’t build a relationship off of loving someone’s accent. Life doesn’t work like that.

  I’d have to go inside eventually, give him his keys and then… probably avoid him because I was too awkward to say, “listen, why did you say you loved me? You don’t act like you love me?”

  Whatever. He already said he didn’t want to hear some stupid poetry-boy speech and Tony didn’t talk about feelings. Ever. Except when he wanted to say, “I love you”. I love you is something you say to someone you’re already dating. I imagined you’d say it to your boyfriend after ten years of dating. Or something. I don’t know.

  I’d never been in love with a guy. I hooked up. I had boyfriends. But love?

  Tony had been in love before. With this Tom character. Red truck Tom. Tom who ruined love for him. Tom, who made him never want to be with a man like that again. And here I was, fucking him up again. Shit.

  I walked into the apartment, and Tony was in his room. He locked the door. I jiggled the handle. He heard me, but he didn’t respond. I deserved it. I’d given the worst response possible. He probably thought I was a total dick. I’d deserve that too.

  Peter: Wassup with anger management?

  Me: Ugh.

  Should I tell Peter? I bit down on my lower lip. Peter had more experience with people. That was part of what scared me off of him. He seemed so… confident. He was the guy to dance on tables at the bar. I was the guy to… well, to meet a guy in the bathroom for a secret anonymous hook up. We weren’t exactly similar.

  Peter: What?

  Me: He said ‘I love you’

  I added

  Me: LOL

  Awkward reflex. Peter would probably think I was a dick too.

  Peter: !!!!

  Right. So much for helping me out. What exactly does four fucking exclamation points mean?

  Peter: Gurl, I’m about to break quarantine to get the tea.

  Me: There’s no tea. He just said it.

  Peter: Did you say it back?

  Me: No.

  Peter: I have a chance then ;)

  Peter: Haha, jk

  Yeah. Not helpful. But that’s guys for you. Every man seems to have the innate capacity to turn even the most tragic situation into an opportunity to flirt. Men.

  Peter: what did he do?

  Me: what?

  Peter: I mean, you didn’t say it back. Was it awk?

  Me: Incredibly.

  Peter: Whew.

  Me: I’m an idiot

  Peter: You love him.

  No. I don’t love Tony. Why the hell would Peter think I loved him? I lived here, sure. We fucked occasionally. I mean, I was attracted to him. But there’s an enormous difference between being attracted to a guy and loving him.

  Me: Tony’s not my type.

  Peter: so?

  Me: So, I can’t love him.

  Peter: LOL

  Me: -_-

  A text from Julissa interrupted me reading Peter’s next reply. Why did she always send a BRICK of text for me to read? Didn’t she have anything better to do?

  Julissa: Listen, Max. I didn’t appreciate your ATTITUDE the last time I came over to your place. I know you have some kind of mental problems and you feel like the entire world is out to get you, but I’m tired of your victim complex. The fact of the matter is, you are UNEMPLOYED, and that won’t change anytime soon because, let’s face it, you’ve never cared about holding down a job. You care about one thing and one thing only. I don’t care if you’re banging that redneck roommate of yours, but let’s get one thing straight, I am your SISTER and that means I deserve respect. I asked you (nicely) for your bike because the person who ACTUALLY SUPPORTS ME IN THIS LIFE needs to get to work. You have some kind of problem with Mark like he’s this evil guy, but he isn’t. You’re the one who seems hell bent on ruining my life and I need that bike. I’m coming over tomorrow and don’t give me any of that quarantine bullshit.

  Me: K.

  Nothing pissed Julissa off more than me responding “K” to one of her texts. But what the fuck was I supposed to say to her brick of annoying ranting? We were siblings, yes, but sometimes, I felt like we weren’t on the same fucking planet. I flicked back to my chat with Peter.

  Peter: You love him. It’s pretty obvious… Do u not think he’s relationship material?

  25

  TONY STONE

  I’m a fucking idiot. I told that motherfucker I loved him. Why the fuck had I done that? The words came out. I can’t love Max. I don’t love Max. I was right to think I should change how I did things. I love too hard. I love too fast. I love too often. I loved Tom and look how that ended up. It wouldn’t be so hard to act straight. Whatever the fuck that meant. Because no matter how I acted, I couldn’t lie to myself. I couldn’t deny what I felt when I saw Max, or any guy with a six-pack, or biceps, or dark brown hair. Fuck, I have a type.

  But I could do it. Once Max was out of here. I could get a girl, one who didn’t care too much about sex, and I could just… I could… Fuck. That would never work. I wanted him. Max. Max Patel. That stupid, smarmy, arrogant, funny, handsome, brown-eyed devil. He said nothing. That was the worst part. He laughed. He fucking laughed at me. I swear to God, I couldn’t go a day without wanting to punch Max in the face and…

  My phone rang. I lay in bed, running my hands over my stomach as I answered.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Tom…”

  I sat up in bed. Max jiggled my door handle. Fuck. I ignored Max. If he would be such a dick, he could wait until tomorrow to talk to me.

  “Tom? Where are you?”

  “I’m… It doesn’t matter where I am. How are you?”

  Fuck him. Fuck him for doing this. Fuck him for calling right now. My hands clenched into fists and Tom laughed, that stupid, Tom laugh that made me fall in love with him, that unraveled my stiff, Texan demeanor and made me think that I had a snow
ball’s chance in hell at happiness.

  “I’m great.”

  My voice cracked. He’d hear it. Tom could always tell when something was wrong with me. Fuck. It had been years. Why the fuck was he calling me out of the blue?

  “You don’t sound great.”

  Fuck you. Don’t tell me how I sound.

  “I’m hanging. Are you quarantined?”

  That might give me a hint about where he was. Maybe.

  “I’m on the rez. For the week.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop my hand from shaking. What did he want? Why was he calling?

  “What’s up, man?”

  “Geez, Tony. You’re acting like we barely know each other.”

  “It’s been years.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Sorry didn’t cut it anymore.

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry to tell you this, Tony, but… I… I’m… I’m getting married.”

  What? What the fuck? I dropped my phone.

  “Tony?”

  “Tony are you there?”

  I picked it back up.

  “Yeah. I’m still there.”

  “Cool. Um. I wanted to tell you because… I don’t know. I thought you should know.”

  “We haven’t spoken in years. I thought you were dead. And you call me to tell me you’re getting married?”

  “I know. I’m a dick. But… I still think about you sometimes.”

  He didn’t have the right to think about me. He didn’t have the right to pull that line. Not now. Not after all this time. Not after me going around thinking he could be dead in a ditch somewhere.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” I choked out.

  Lucky guy. Fuck that. I was the lucky guy. Lucky for moving on. Because for the first time since Tom left, I felt like I had moved on. I didn’t need to wait anymore. I didn’t need to wonder if he cared about me. Because he didn’t. And my bleeding Texan heart was somewhere else.

  “He’s… he’s some guy I met in rehab. He’s nice. He’s great.”