“Shh. You’re okay. Put your head between your knees if you need to.”
Jeremey didn’t, only shut his eyes tighter and tucked his chin to his chest as his breath came faster and faster. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Mom stroked his shoulder, moving her hand to his back. I could tell she was trying to nudge his head down without making him do it.
Normally I worry when Jeremey has panic attacks, but my mom is a doctor, and she’d take care of him. I counted the different kinds of shoe insoles on the wall behind the bench while I waited. Beside me, my dad stood quietly, waiting to see if my mom would tell him to do anything. She did—she told him to go get a bottle of room-temperature mineral water from the shelf in the food section. The pharmacist brought out a cool hand towel, and my mom draped it over Jeremey’s neck. He’d put his head between his knees twice now, and his breathing was normal. But his eyes were full of water, and sometimes tears leaked out.
Six tears by my count, though one was large and might have been three or four tears in one.
“I tried so hard.” His voice was a whisper, all ragged and uncomfortable. “I thought maybe with you guys it would be better.”
“You’ve been through a lot lately.” Mom kept rubbing his back. It would have made me crazy, that much touching, but Jeremey loved it. “Do you want to keep trying, or do you need to rest?”
“Rest,” he said, no hesitation at all.
“That’s okay. We’ll try again once you’ve settled into your new place and are feeling confident.”
Jeremey didn’t say anything else, and after my dad returned with the mineral water, we walked them both to the food court area, which is mostly a Starbucks and an ICEE machine. My dad offered to take Jeremey to Icarus, or to drive him around in the car, but Jeremey said no.
“I can sit here and not freak out.” He sounded angry when he said it, which confused me, but Mom didn’t argue with him, just told my dad to text her if they needed anything.
We picked our cart back up, and once we were away from the food court, I texted her.
Mom, this is Emmet. Why is Jeremey angry? Why won’t he go to the car so he doesn’t have a panic attack?
She read her text, then glanced at me. “Can I answer you out loud, or do I need to text too?”
I glanced around us and shook my head before I texted. Too many people can listen. I don’t want them listening to Jeremey’s business.
Mom texted me. This is Mom. Jeremey is angry with himself. He wants to stay in the food court because he knows he’s lost the war, but he wants to win a battle.
I read her text three times. Finally I said, Mom, you don’t make any sense. Jeremey is not at war with anyone.
She made a winking Emoji. He knows he can’t shop with you, but he wants to challenge himself to simply stay in the store. That will make him feel as if he accomplished something.
That made sense. I wished he could have shopped with us. Doing it alone meant I would pick everything, which I enjoyed, except I wanted Jeremey to pick some things too. I tried to think of how we could modify shopping so he could participate.
“Maybe we can give him some choices,” I suggested. “We could take them to the food court.”
“That’s a good idea, but you told me he gets nervous when people make him pick.”
This was true. I frowned.
“Maybe you could take photos of things you thought he might like and send them to him for approval. He’ll probably say yes every time, but it will make him feel more a part of things. You could also ask him what his favorite color is and use it to make choices, and ask if he prefers big towels or regular-sized towels for himself. Things that won’t make him feel as if he has to guess the right answer.”
I thought it was a good idea, and it worked pretty well. I texted a lot of pictures to Jeremey, and like Mom said, he said they all looked good, but it included him. I already knew his favorite color, but I asked him anyway so he could still participate. Eventually I put my headphones in and called him, and I told him about the things I was looking at for our apartment. It wasn’t the same as having him there, but it was better than nothing.
We did more than shopping to get ready to move into The Roosevelt, though, and Jeremey was able to participate in all the other preparations. Althea and Mom gave us cooking lessons, and my dad showed me how to keep a spreadsheet for my bills. We made a lot of checklists so I wouldn’t forget to do anything, and we devised a new schedule which included doing laundry and going grocery shopping. Usually new things and change upset me, but this was an exciting shift.
I think Jeremey was excited too, but he was also nervous. His mom was definitely nervous, and she still didn’t like me. His dad’s mustache twitched all the time.
The day we moved in I had move in on my schedule for nine in the morning. We were there on the dot, and so was Bob, smiling and holding up two sets of keys. He’d aired out the apartment so it didn’t smell like paint anymore, but the leftover smell worried me a little, because it wasn’t the right smell of my house. It got better as we brought the boxes in, and my clothes.
I set up my bedroom first. We’d bought a new bed so I could still have my other bed at home. My new bed was a double bed, so I could have sex in it if I wanted. I told this to Mom, but she told me not to tell her those kinds of things. I told her she doesn’t make sense, and she said she understood but still didn’t want to hear about me having sex.
I’d asked Jeremey how we should set up the main living areas, but he said he didn’t care so long as he could sit on the couch and see the TV, and that there was a couch and a TV. He said I cared about setup more, so go ahead and take over. If anything bothered him, he’d tell me, but he said he doubted it would. So I positioned everything up exactly the way I wanted it.
All the floors were hardwood. Bob preferred them for dust control, and they were mostly the same hardwood floors the school had when it was a school. The kitchen had heavy tile, durable and easy to clean or replace. I put a soft rug down in front of the couch and between the TV because it was good for yoga. It was exactly four inches from the TV and four from the couch. The couch would move, since hardwood floors are slippery, but we put a heavy table behind it and anti-slip pads underneath. We had small end tables on each side of the couch, which was blue-green and soft to the touch. The fat stuffed chair matched it.
We bought all these things new. Mrs. Samson had said she would give us her living room furniture and get replacements for herself, but my mom explained I’m sensitive to fabrics, so she bought them all. Also Mrs. Samson’s furniture is ugly, but Mom said I couldn’t say that.
The living room had one not-new thing: a rocker. It was the rocker from my room, but I wanted it in my living room now, by the window so I could watch the trains. We put our new dishes in the cupboards and our pans under the sink. These were some new dishes and some old, some from my house and some from his.
We went shopping at the co-op and filled our pantry and our fridge and had fruit on the counter. We had our own TV and DVR and Roku box, and I had my computer set up in my room. Everything was clean and amazing and wonderful.
Jeremey’s face was difficult to read. He carried boxes into his room, and he helped his dad set up his bed, which was his from his parents’ house. It was a double bed, like my new one. Except he wouldn’t have one at his house now, so if he got nervous and wanted to go home for a night, he’d have to sleep somewhere other than his room. That would make me sad, but I couldn’t tell if it made Jeremey sad.
I stayed away from Jeremey’s mom, which wasn’t hard since she barely looked at me, and when she did, her lips went flat like she was holding back angry words. Dad and Althea left as soon as things were unpacked, but Mom didn’t leave until the Samsons said goodbye. She was there in case Gabrielle was weird. Except some day Mrs. Samson would come over when my mom or Althea wasn’
t around. I decided when that happened I would go to my room and put on headphones and write code.
Eventually the parents were all gone, and it was only Jeremey and me. He stood in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, and I stood by the window in case a train came. It had started to drizzle, so if a train came, it would be perfect—but I was more interested in watching Jeremey at that moment. He had his arms wrapped over his belly, but his face was flat, and his eyes behind his glasses were too complicated to read. I wondered if we were going to stand there until it was time to reheat the dinner my mom had put in the fridge.
I wondered if we would have sex today.
“So.” Jeremey’s shoulders hunched forward. “What do we do now?”
I wanted to suggest sex or kissing, but I was nervous. If he said no, it would be awkward, and I didn’t want anything to be awkward on our first day. “Dinner isn’t for two hours. But we could have a snack.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
I wasn’t either. I was horny, but still scared. “We could watch a movie, or we could play a game. On the computer in my room or on the Xbox in the living room.” We’d brought my Xbox from home.
I still couldn’t read anything on his face. “How about you show me your room?”
I did. We stood in the middle, and I pointed everything out. My bed, my dresser, my desk and computer, and another rocker in case I wanted to rock in here, though sometimes I used the floor and made my body the rocker. I didn’t tell Jeremey about how the bed was new and big for sex because I was still nervous. Except now that we were in the room, sex was all I could think about.
Jeremey didn’t seem to be thinking about making out. He put his hands in his pockets and turned around, looking at everything. Even the ceiling. But not me. “It’s nice. A lot like your old room, but different.”
That didn’t make sense, but I was too overwhelmed to point it out. All I could think about was how I wanted to ask him if he wanted to have sex, except I was too nervous to talk out loud. I wondered if I could write it.
Then I realized I could sign it.
“Jeremey, I want to teach you some more ASL.”
He stopped looking at the ceiling and turned to face me. “Okay.”
“Four words.” I made my hand flat and moved my fingers from my mouth to my cheek. I did it several times so he could learn it. “That one is kiss.”
His cheeks got red. “Okay.”
I felt embarrassed too, but I pushed the feeling away and focused on the lesson. “Next word.” I held out my hands, palms up, with my fingers open. I pulled them to my body, tightening my fingers a little. “Want. That sign means want.”
Jeremey nodded. His face was redder still, but he didn’t look upset.
“Third word.” I put my hands together like I was praying but placed them beside my ear and tilted my head. “That’s bed.”
He smiled. “I think I sort of knew that.”
“Last word.” I made the sign for the letter X with my right hand and moved it from my cheek to my mouth and back again. I did it several times. “That word is sex.”
Now I could tell Jeremey was nervous. Neither one of us could talk out loud, and he didn’t know enough sign. “Jeremey, go to your room and log in to IM chat.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
Jeremey laughed. “But we’re here, in the same apartment. We’re talking right now.”
“It will be better for this conversation if we have space. Go log in to IM. I’ll wait.”
He left, looking uncertain, but I ignored this and sat at my computer, where I was already logged in to iMessage. He still used an IBM computer, but Dad had helped him set up a Yahoo! account, and I had his account plugged into my iMessage. When I saw him come online, I sent him a message.
Hi Jeremey. This is Emmet.
He typed back. I know. This is weird when we’re in the same house.
I can’t tell you what I want to tell you to your face. We’re both too nervous, and you’re embarrassed.
It took him a second to write back. Are we going to talk about sex now?
Yes.
He paused. You’re right. This is probably better. Though I still feel silly.
Jeremey always felt silly, so I ignored that. Jeremey, I want to kiss you. I want to have sex with you. In my bed. Now. But when I said the word sex, you got nervous. Do you want to have sex with me?
I hummed and rocked while I waited for him to reply. I could hear him clicking.
I do, but I’m scared. Not of you but of sex. I’m afraid it will hurt.
I frowned at his IM, not understanding what he meant, but then I remembered the boards I had read. Oh. You’re talking about anal sex.
Yes.
That was interesting. I hadn’t been thinking about that. I meant more touching cocks and maybe rubbing them. I wasn’t sure about oral sex. Sometimes cocks smell.
You’re supposed to call them cocks, not penises, when it’s about sex. I’m not sure why, but it appears to be the rule. But whatever you call them, they’re sweaty.
I wasn’t thinking about anal sex with Jeremey until he wrote that in the chat, because an anus is where poop comes out, and that’s kind of gross to put a penis there, even if the guys in porn like it. Except when Jeremey said he thought it might hurt, he meant anal sex with my penis in his anus.
My cock got hard thinking about it.
Emmet, you’re too quiet, and now I’m more nervous.
Sorry. I sent it fast so he didn’t worry. I was thinking about my cock in your anus, and it distracted me.
I heard him laugh from his room. Okay that’s a pretty good excuse. He clicked some more. It distracts me too, but it scares me.
I have to research anal sex before we can do it. We could look it up together, maybe.
More clicking. I assume when you say research that’s not a sneaky way to get me to watch porn with you.
I frowned. I don’t understand. Then I added, Watching porn would be fun with you though.
He laughed again. What kind of sex did you mean, if not anal sex?
He wanted me to list it? I tried to think of everything I wanted to do to him.
I want to kiss you for a long time, on the bed. I want us to not wear shirts or pants while we do it. Not even underwear, sometimes. I want to masturbate with you. I want to touch your penis and maybe rub ours together. If we take a shower first, maybe we can try oral, but let’s go slow there. But nipples could be good to suck on. One message board said if you suck on a guy’s neck, he melts in your arms. I know they don’t mean literally melt, but I wondered what that would be like. I also want to touch your ass. Not the inside but the outside. You have a nice ass, and I want to see it naked. Maybe I’d kiss it after a shower. I watched a video where a guy fucked the tight space between his boyfriend’s legs, and they both enjoyed it, but maybe that’s too far for today.
I considered a moment, then decided that was most of the sex I’d thought about. I hit send.
I didn’t hear any typing, but Jeremey’s desk chair creaked. He walked into my room and stood in the door. His face was red, but he looked at me the way he looked when he wanted me to kiss him. He didn’t speak with his mouth, but he used his hands to sign ASL.
I want you kiss bed sex.
It didn’t make a lot of sense, but I understood what he meant. I stood. My pants were tight because my cock was very hard now. When I stood and undid my jeans button, Jeremey watched. He looked excited and nervous, and when I thought about taking my clothes off, I got nervous too.
Jeremey stepped away from the door and undid his pants.
We pushed them to the floor at the same time. I wore briefs and so did Jeremey, except mine were boxer briefs and his were standard ones. His were white with a black band at the top. I could see
his cock in the pouch, poking toward his leg. It was long. So were his legs. Long and a little skinny, and pale.
“Sh-shirts too?” Jeremey asked.
I thought about Jeremey standing in front of me in only his underwear. “Shirts too.” I pulled mine off, then watched as he did the same.
His nipples were erect. I wanted to touch them.
I walked over to him, and I did touch. I pressed my thumb against the red bead. Jeremey shivered and put a hand on my hip.
“W-we’re still wearing socks,” he whispered as I kept rubbing.
“And underwear.” His nipple got harder and harder the more I touched it, and in his briefs his cock got bigger and bigger. “Should we take them off?”
He had his eyes shut and breathed rough and fast. “I…I don’t know. M-maybe not—oh—today.”
I wasn’t disappointed. Underwear was sexy too. “When I have an orgasm, I have to take my penis out because I don’t want to make a mess. But it’s okay. I have cum rags by the bed.”
Eyes still shut, Jeremey moved closer to me. He kissed my naked shoulder, then ran his tongue on the skin. It made me so hard it almost hurt.
“Jeremey, I want to lie on the bed with you and kiss you and touch your cock inside your underwear.”
He gasped and kissed my neck. “Yes.”
It’s true. A guy does melt if his boyfriend sucks on his neck. The veins stay in place because there’s definitely blood flow, but the muscles all relax like they’ve spent too long in the sun.
I’ve thought about sex for a long time. My parents let me watch some porn, but we had to talk about it after was the rule, since they said porn was unrealistic. We talked about condoms and sexually transmitted diseases and how they spread. Jeremey was a virgin and so was I, but I promised my mom we would get tested anyway, so Dr. North took the samples and took care of that before we moved in. We were negative. It was fine. I had done research about positions and how to not accidentally hurt someone. I knew a lot about sex.
Carry the Ocean Page 17