You May Have Met Him

by Sebastian Carter

  All they ever seemed to do was argue anymore. Sex was nonexistent, and though he’d never really understood what all the rave was about, he did miss the intimacy. His hand was fine for getting him off, but it didn’t exactly keep him warm at night. More than anything else, he missed the cuddling and the kissing. He missed his best friend, Karen.

  “If you’re so worried about money, we could just go to the courthouse. Surely that isn’t too expensive.”

  Cole looked up and met Karen’s eyes from across the table. He felt trapped, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mack truck. Tension mounted between them, almost palpable in the air. If he could just find the words to tell her the truth, he wouldn’t have to worry about being browbeaten into a marriage he didn’t want. Unfortunately, the prospect of explaining himself was scarier than wedding bells.

  His mind drew a blank, no ready excuses waiting in the wings for him to placate her with. Lack of money was the best reason he could come up with and she’d just blown that defense all to hell. He swallowed over the lump steadily rising in his throat. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now, is all.”

  It wasn’t as if he could tell her the truth. Not when admitting his lifelong fascination for men—hot, sweaty bodies and hard musculature instead of soft curves and feminine mystique—was growing stronger and becoming more of an obsession than a curiosity. He found himself picturing a man right before he stroked one off at night. As his inhibitions dissolved with his rising need, the same fuzzy, faceless image of a man flashed through his mind and propelled him over the edge into orgasm. He tried to think of women, of breasts and smooth, pliant bodies, but somewhere between when he started jerking and when he climaxed, the images always transformed into hard pecs and rippling washboard stomachs.

  He didn’t want to be gay or bisexual, or whatever the hell he was. He wanted to stay in his safe little world, with Karen by his side, and live out the American dream—a beautiful wife and a nice home, maybe a Golden Retriever or two. But walking the straight and narrow line everyone else followed was becoming more difficult with every passing day. Like a drunk taking a sobriety test, he teeter-tottered on the brink of falling off the path.

  Karen snorted in disagreement and pushed her long, straight blonde hair back over her shoulder. She took a dainty bite of food and made a big production of swallowing before she balanced her fork on the edge of the plate and glanced up. Cole sat immobile, sweat dampening the underarms of his shirt, while he anxiously waited to hear what she’d say next.

  She huffed out a deep exhalation, the air swirling upward to ruffle her bangs. “So, you just don’t want to get married, is that it?”

  Shit. “What brought all this on, Karen? We’ve never even discussed getting married and now it seems like that’s all you think about. I don’t see what the big hurry is. Things are fine between us the way they are.”

  “No, things are not fine! I want to get married. I want to start a family. If you love me, I’d think you would want those things too. We aren’t getting any younger, you know?”

  Numb shock radiated through Cole’s limbs. “Is that what this is about? Kids? We talked about that when we first starting dating. I told you I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to have any of my own. You said you didn’t either.”

  “That was two years ago, Cole. I changed my mind.”

  So that was it, she’d changed her mind, and now he was supposed to go along with it? “I’m sorry, Karen, but I haven’t. I don’t want kids. I thought you understood that.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and broke his heart. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wouldn’t lie to her about how he felt. If they got married and popped out a bunch of kids, they’d both be miserable. And that was no kind of situation to bring a child into.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  Karen pushed back her chair and stood. She walked past him, not meeting his eyes, and he rose to follow her. She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob, and finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry too. I love you, but I can’t waste any more time on a man who doesn’t want the same things I do.” She yanked open the door and held it. “I think you should leave.”

  His chest burned, right along with the backs of his eyelids. He didn’t want things to end this way, didn’t want to lose her like this. “Karen—”

  “No. Whatever it is you plan to say, I don’t want to hear it. Just go.”

  Chapter Two

  Cole ambled along the shoreline, his toes sinking into the cool, wet sand with each step. The hot midday sun scalded his face and shoulders. Sweat beaded and ran down his bare torso in wet little rivulets. High humidity made his skin sticky and his mind slow, the heat making him lethargic.

  As far as the eye could see, families, couples and groups of teenagers frolicked in the sea or on the beach. A gentle wind carried the salty smell of the ocean and the giddy laughter of children at play. A bright red beach ball darted past him, quickly followed by a little boy in yellow swim trunks. A smile tugged at the corners of Cole’s lips as he watched the kid scoop it up and sprint back to his family.

  Cole buried his hands in the pockets of his jean shorts and continued down the beach. His gaze wandered out over the frothy blue-green water, where surfers sat perched upon their boards, waiting to catch the next big wave. It was a beautiful August day, the kind meant to be spent outdoors.

  Other than escaping the monotonous cycle of waking up, going to work and then home to sleep, Cole hadn’t had a destination in mind when he’d left his apartment. All he’d wanted to do was get away from his life for the afternoon and think things through. Meandering about on the beach, feeling small in comparison to the vast ocean, always had a way of putting things into perspective.

  Two weeks had gone by since Karen broke things off with him. True to her word, she hadn’t accepted any of his phone calls and had returned each and every bouquet of flowers he’d sent. Things were well and truly over between them. He simply wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

  Karen had been a part of his life for so long that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself without her. A part of him was relieved she was gone—the same part that whispered in his ear about how wrong it felt to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. The other half of him screamed for him to go crawling back to her on his knees and beg for forgiveness before it was too late. He knew she would take him back, if only so she could have the “Mrs.” Moniker before her first name.

  While that would have been the easy, safe thing to do, he couldn’t make himself give in to her demand. Simply put, he didn’t want to marry Karen. Not now, not ever. And it wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along so he wouldn’t have to admit to things about himself he’d rather not face.

  Loving someone wasn’t the same as being in love with them, and that’s what he wanted for Karen. He cared enough about her to want the best for her, and that wasn’t him. She deserved someone better, a man who would love her the way he couldn’t.

  Cole shook his head, almost amused by how depressing his thoughts were. What he needed to do was go out and have some fun. Maybe call up one of his single buddies from poker night and see if they wanted to… Oh, wait. That wouldn’t work. The last of his single buddies got married back in June, so getting anyone to go out with him on a Tuesday night was probably a no-go. Hell, it’d probably be out of the question on the weekend too. Did married people even go out with their single friends? He sincerely doubted it.

  The tide hit the shore, washing seaweed in right along with water. A slimy green clump of vegetation landed atop his foot. He stepped back, jiggling his left foot to dislodge it, even as the back of his right knee ran into something cold and hard.

  “Hey, watch it!”

  Arms swinging out, he tried to right his equilibrium, to no avail. His ass hit the ground, not really hurting anything besides his ego. Face flaming in embarrassment, he glanced up and around, trying to see who or what he’d run into.

&nb
sp; The first thing he saw was the neon purple surfboard he’d tripped over. Right next to it sat the owner. Cole blinked and did a double take, seeing the flesh and blood version of his every fantasy sitting in the sand, smiling at him.

  The man was the epitome of everything Cole had ever dreamt of. Sun-bleached blond hair, sheared close to the scalp on the sides and longer on top, fell into a face so classically beautiful it rivaled Michelangelo’s David. Sharp cheekbones and a straight, tip-tilted nose led down to a full mouth the color of fresh strawberries. His neck was long and graceful, leading to leanly corded shoulders. His skin gleamed golden-bronze in the sunlight. His pecs and biceps were nicely defined, not too much muscle, just enough to broadcast health and fitness. Tiny copper nipples, pierced with silver barbells, sat above a chiseled, washboard stomach.

  Heat rushed from his face to his groin, filling Cole’s shaft with blood. He was damned glad he wasn’t standing up. The pup tent in his shorts would have been mortifying.

  Cool azure blue eyes, the color of the freshest mountain stream, met his and he could’ve sworn he felt the earth move. So what if it was just the tide hitting the shore? It felt a hell of a lot more life altering than something that simple.

  “Cole? Cole Winchester? That you, man?”

  Cole’s brow wrinkled in confusion. How did this kid know his name? He couldn’t be more than twenty years old, if he was a day. Studying the man’s face more closely, he saw a familiarity in his features, but was unable to place him as anyone other than the specter haunting his fantasies. “Uh, yeah, it’s me.”

  “You all right?” the man asked, in a tenor voice that straddled the line between masculine and feminine. “You took quite a spill there.”

  “Yeah,” Cole replied, still unable to figure out who the guy was, but not wanting to admit he didn’t recognize him. He found it hard to believe that he could’ve met this guy and not remembered his face. “I’m good. Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there.”

  “No problem. I know how it is. You look out into the water and you’re miles away, right? It’s cool.” His smile kicked up a notch. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  Damn. Busted. “Uh, well, not really. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I think the last time you saw me I was about twelve and skinny as a light post, all teeth and limbs. I’m Eric Radcliff, Beau Radcliff’s little brother.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember you. Senior year, you used to tag along behind Beau everywhere he went. You followed him to all of the football team’s home games and stuff. He was always bitchin’ about how you ruined his chances of scoring with the cheerleaders.”

  Eric laughed. “Yep, that was me. I was a regular little buzz kill, the way Beau tells it.”

  “Oh man, how is Beau? The last I heard, he’d settled down with that Sherry chick he started seeing in college and was selling insurance or something.”

  Eric nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right, except him and Sherry divorced a couple of years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” But he wasn’t real surprised. Beau had always been a bit of a ladies’ man, so it wouldn’t exactly shock Cole to hear that marriage hadn’t stopped Beau from getting a little action on the side.

  The conversation tapered off and Eric turned away from him, glancing out over the incoming waves. Cole took that as a dismissal. He sat for a moment, giving his erection a chance to subside, before he climbed to his feet and brushed the sand off the seat of his shorts.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Eric. You take care and tell your brother I said hello.” He turned to leave, but he didn’t get more than a few steps down the beach before Eric’s lyrical voice stopped him.

  “Hey, Cole?”

  “Yeah?”

  Eric ducked his head, his gaze not quite meeting Cole’s. “You want to maybe catch a drink tonight? There’s a pretty good band playing over at The Razor, the grunge bar over on Eighth Street, you know, and the buddy I was planning to take bailed on me this morning. Said he had to work tonight or something. Anyway, if you want, you could go. You don’t have to, mind you, if you have plans or something, but it might be fun. We could have a couple of drinks. Maybe catch up on old times or something?”

  Though he wasn’t into grunge music—so much so that he’d never even heard of the bar Eric named—he found himself wanting to go. It would be fun. They could kick back a few Buds, catch up, and maybe scope out some chicks. Or, well, he could pretend to check out women.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. The last thing he needed to do was keep pretending. He needed to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Not put on another production of “Cole Winchester, straight guy extraordinaire”.

  Cole opened his mouth, intent on saying he had plans. “Sure, that would be fun,” popped out instead. Well, shit, so much for erring on the side of caution. He’d just have to make sure he wore loose pants and a long shirt. Then maybe the boner he was sure to sport all night wouldn’t be so obvious.

  “Great!” Eric smiled, showcasing straight white teeth and a cute little dimple in his left cheek. “So, you wanna just meet me there, say around nine?”

  “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  Eric stood and bent over to pick up his board, giving Cole a full view of his firm ass covered by a thin layer of tight spandex. “Well, I, um, have some things to do, but I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

  “Oh yeah,” Cole replied, and then wanted to smack himself upside the head for sounding so eager. So what if the kid had an ass like two firm peaches, he was probably as straight as they came. For that matter, Cole wasn’t even sure if he himself was bent, or just more naturally curious than the next guy.

  As he stood watching Eric walk off, his pert bottom swishing from side to side, Cole wondered just how much trouble he was letting himself in for. One thing was for sure; it was bound to be an interesting night.

  Eric whistled as he strode across the scorching sand toward where his jeep was parked alongside of the highway. What started out as a relaxing day at the beach, meant to curb his escalating boredom, had turned out to be the start of something he’d wanted for years.

  Cole Winchester. Talk about a blast from the past. Eric shook his head and threw his board into the open backseat. Who would’ve thought he’d run into him again after all this time? Sure, they lived in the same general vicinity, but Tidewater was a big area, covering several counties and small coastal towns, plenty big enough that you never had to worry about running into someone you were trying to avoid.

  Not that he was trying to avoid anyone, least of all Cole. That man, with his broad shoulders and fine ass, had single-handedly spawned more jack-off sessions during his adolescence than Blue magazine and porno combined.

  He slid behind the wheel, the hot vinyl seat against his back making him wince, and started up the engine. Flipping through the CD case lying open on the passenger seat, he chose an old Stone Temple Pilots album, popping it into the player before pulling out onto the road.

  He hadn’t lied to Cole when he’d said he had plans. He’d just come out of the water and flopped down on the sand, trying to catch his breath after riding in one particularly awesome wave, and was preparing to haul his ass home, when Cole had sauntered by and almost stepped on him. Now he was running late for a lunch date with his brother.

  Truthfully, he’d just as soon cancel the lunch and spend the rest of the evening daydreaming about his outing with Cole. Or speculating about whether or not the hunger he’d seen reflected back at him from Cole’s chocolate gaze was real or imagined. He’d always had the notion Cole was straight, but a man’s body wasn’t designed to hide his needs and Cole’s had been screaming, do me. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder any of that. Ever since Sherry caught Beau banging their eighteen-year-old babysitter on the living room sofa, and moved herself and their four-year-old son, Bradley, into her mother’s house across state, Beau had been a pitiful replica of his former self. The whoremonger Eric kn
ew and loved was gone, replaced by an empty shell that moped and drank himself to sleep every night.

  Eric turned into his parents’ driveway and killed the engine. He stared at the home he’d grown up in, a two story Tudor with rosy bricks and hunter green shutters, and felt a nagging sense of suffocation. In two weeks, he would be back at school, and thank God for that. While his childhood had been a good one, it was filled with the typical teen angst, ramped up a few pegs because of his sexual orientation. With time, his parents had finally accepted him for who he was, but that hadn’t stopped them from looking down their noses at him or referring to his homosexuality as a “rebellious phase”. As if he sucked cock just to piss them off or something.

  He jumped down from the jeep and marched up the cobblestone walk. The scent of the ocean and well-earned sweat clung to his skin. He needed a shower and a change of clothes before lunch. Sliding his key in the lock, he twisted the knob and shoved open the door. A rush of cool air hit his feverish skin and made him queasy as he climbed the stairs.

  Stepping over the threshold into his bedroom was like taking a walk back in time. The same twin bed sat against the wall, plain white cotton sheets and puffy, navy quilt spread over the firm mattress. Pale blue wallpaper bordered plain white walls, littered with framed posters of his favorite metal bands. Mother had insisted on the frames when she’d caught him trying to tack the first one up when he was eleven.

  That had been right around the same time he’d started lusting after Cole. A walking hormone on legs, he’d just begun to discover that while his pals were developing crushes on girls, he was more interested in hanging with the guys and sneaking curious peeks at their hindquarters. Eric grinned as he selected a pair of jean shorts and navy jersey from the closet and laid them out on the bed. Even back then he’d been an ass man.