by J. M. Colail
Mark had a wicked grin on his face. “You’re both going to need best men, guys!”
Which made Liz answer from across the room, “Who says the men should have all the fun here?”
“Well, you better go pick out your tux then, Liz,” Lucas teased his best friend.
Jack and Lucas hugged with AnnElise between them. “Happy now?” they asked the young lady.
AnnElise ruffled both men’s hair. “Yes!” she shouted. “I’ll no longer be a child from a broken home! Now can we go check on dinner? I’m starving!”
Epilogue
“COME BACK to bed, Luke,” Jack said lazily. He was stretched out on the bed they had spent the last six and a half years sharing.
“Can’t,” Lucas answered determinedly from the small balcony. He was gazing out over the city, sipping from the cup of tea in his hand.
“What’s wrong?” Jack wasn’t entirely sure if Lucas was joking or not.
“I promised myself nine years ago that I would never sleep with a married man again.”
Jack chuckled. “Imagine how I feel. I told myself thirty years ago I was never going to sleep with a man and now I’ve fallen in love with one and married him, too!”
“So you’re still in love?” Lucas asked as he casually let his bathrobe slide open, revealing his long legs and slender thighs.
Jack wanted to joke about being ruthlessly seduced by a beautiful body, but decided against it. Right now he wanted to get Lucas in his arms as fast as possible. He wanted it to be his hand rubbing Lucas’s flat stomach and sliding down his treasure trail. “Yes, I am,” he answered, lifting the duvet for Lucas to crawl underneath.
Lucas’s skin was cool against his and they snuggled close together in each other’s arms until it was time to get up.
THEY WERE married that morning at a friend’s house in the Hamptons. It had been an informal gathering, a small ceremony with their closest friends barefoot on the beach.
Mark, now married to Zanna and with a baby on the way, was Jack’s best man.
Liz had shown up in a tuxedo, complete with glittery top hat, looking deliciously androgynous except for her burgeoning stomach, a testament to the happiness bestowed on her by Rodrigo, a Brazilian/Portuguese UN interpreter, and with whom she had indeed eloped the weekend after Jack and Lucas’s New Year’s Eve party.
The six of them, along with AnnElise and Liz’s two sons, celebrated with an elaborate picnic lunch on the beach, joined by Sean and his girlfriend and Maria and her Doctors without Borders boyfriend. The atmosphere had been relaxed and happy with alcohol consumption at a minimum because of the pregnant female company, but with lots of speeches and ribbing from all the friends who had been party to the different stories that had shaped their lives.
Now in the early hours of the next day, they were making love in the bed that had always been their haven.
They took their time, slowly kissing, touching and rubbing up against one another. They each knew the other well, knew what felt good and what felt like heaven, all this familiarity representing warmth and safety.
Jack looked up at Lucas’s dark lust-filled eyes as his lover impaled himself. He felt the deliciously warm tightness surround him as Lucas adjusted to the welcome intrusion.
As Lucas began to move, Jack could see the young man would not last long.
“Come for me, Luke; come for me, my husband.”
Lucas smiled at the word “husband,” unable to respond in words as his movements became more urgent. He leaned forward, taking Jack’s head in his hands and whispered, “Come with me, Jack. Please.”
Jack had a hard time keeping his eyes open as the familiar bliss tightened his groin, but he didn’t want to miss the beauty of his husband’s face as they convulsed through the abandon of their mutual orgasm.
They woke up a few hours later, the rising sun shining in through the half drawn curtains.
“I’m glad you said no to the President,” Lucas lazily admitted to Jack.
“I figured our lives were pretty perfect just the way they were,” Jack whispered as he kissed Lucas’s hair. “I like the anonymity; I like the fact that we could get married without causing a stir. I like the idea that AnnElise is growing up with friends she’s known since nursery school.”
Lucas just smiled as he snuggled up closer and drifted off to sleep again. Yes, life was pretty perfect just the way it was.
ZAHRA OWENS was born in Europe, just before Woodstock and the moon landing, and given a much less pronounceable name by her non-English speaking parents. Being an Aquarian meant she would never quite conform and people learned to expect the unexpected.
She started writing fairy tales in first grade; the same year she came into contact with her first group of English speaking friends, a group which would eventually grow to include people from all over the world. On the outside she was a typical only child, accustomed to being with adults most of the time. On the inside, she sought ways to channel her wild imagination.
Becoming an Intensive Care Nurse only kept her interested for so long, the same was true for being a Computer Specialist. According to her mother, her hobby is collecting college degrees, but it wasn’t until she was in her thirties that she realized what life was all about. By then she was making a decent living during the day and honing her writing craft at night. She wrote in English of course, which was also her preferred reading language. The final piece in the jigsaw of her writing career was provided when she met her editor, something she felt was essential for a non-English speaker.
The fact that the Internet has made the world a lot smaller, gave her access to readers from all over the world. And she couldn’t be happier.
Visit Zahra’s Website at www.zahraowens.com.
By ZAHRA OWENS
Balance
Charity Starts at Home
Cleary Palit
Conflict of Interest
Diplomacy
Façade
Fine Line
For As Long As We Both Shall Live
Grand Adventures (Dreamspinner Anthology)
The Hand-me-down
Happiness for Beginners
I Can See Right Through You
With Stuart Wakefield: Isali Dreams
Postman Always Rings Thrice
Riding Double (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Santa’s Littlest Helper
You Can’t Choose Your Family • You Can Choose Your Friends
Clouds And Rain Stories
Clouds and Rain
Earth and Sky
Floods and Drought
Moon and Stars
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
To You and You,
You know who you are.
Chapter 1
WESLEY CARROLL trudged down the hall in his ripped jeans, white T-shirt, and old, red Converse low-tops. A grin lifted the corners of his lips and I felt my stomach twitter in reaction.
“S’up?” he said, passing by me. I felt my heart skip, my stomach drop, and my mouth go dry. He stopped beside me and flashed his grin again. “Cool shoes.”
I was wearing a pair of old, brown work shoes, clunky leather things with thick soles. I suddenly thought of an e-mail I’d received of ridiculous pickup lines: Nice shoes. Wanna fuck? I blushed deeper, like Wesley could hear my thoughts.
“Thanks,” I stuttered, trying to conceal my reddening cheeks.
Wesley smiled again, said “See ya,” and continued on his way. Everyone knew him because he was the troublemaker, the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, the risk-taker, the school’s pot dealer. I’d watched him from afar, a middling crush, but this was the first time he had spoken to me, and he left my stomach filled with butterflies.
After English Lit, Hailey stopped me and smiled, typically pretty and a little superficial, flashing her pearl-white teeth, and asking if she could borrow my notes from class. She touched my arm when I told her that she could and she promised th
at she would return them by the end of the day. I suspected that she was flirting with me, but Wesley was still on my mind and I blushed all over thinking about him.
I ate lunch outside in front of the school, sitting cross-legged on a cement rectangle that served as a giant planter for a tree and evergreen shrubs. It was unseasonably warm for spring but the ground was still thoroughly cold and transmitted the chill through the concrete to my thighs and rear end. I took out a book while I picked at my ham sandwich and ate my apple. I still packed juice boxes in my lunch and slurped it while I read.
I was used to eating alone; I preferred my own company to the loud and obnoxious kids that talked about nothing. I didn’t think I was better than anyone else (well, maybe just a little; I had some culture) but I was shy and often earned the epithet “nerd” for getting good grades. Solitude was better than being ridiculed any day of the week.
Before sixth hour, I went to my locker for my history book. It was a heavy tome that we mostly skimmed through, studying about every other chapter. I looked over my shoulder and Wesley was walking toward me. I quickly looked down but strained my eyes to the side to see him.
“Hey, Toren,” he said and held out a green notebook. “This is yours, right? Hailey borrowed it?”
I looked at the notebook and nodded my head.
“I told her that we had History together and that I’d give it back to you.”
“Oh, um, thanks.”
It was like he knew he made me nervous. Suddenly, he threw his head back and snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah. Hailey wanted me to tell you ‘thanks’ and that you were, what did she say? Oh yeah, super cool.” He laughed and I tried to laugh with him but my lips smiled crookedly. “Well, see you in class.” He waved slightly and walked away.
People were walking past me and fortunately, no one knew why my face was so flush. My locker was near the classroom and I went inside, sitting in the second row. Wesley probably went to go smoke or was skipping class. Mr. Hannity was a minute late and Wesley strolled in later than that, whispering, “Sorry.” He glanced at me as he passed, moving to his seat in the back row.
I went home with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Alycia was at swim practice, Mom worked the mid-shift at the hospital, and I was glad to have the place to myself. I did some homework, but my mind drifted to Wesley to the point of distraction.
After an hour, and an hour before Alycia came home, I found myself in the bathroom, clutching the sink, pushed in there by my own urgings that wouldn’t be sated with mere thoughts. It was the first time that I touched myself with an actual person in mind and I felt ashamed as if Wesley knew by some kind of masturbatory telepathy.
Alycia came home, kicked off her shoes and moved around the small kitchen, taking a can of tuna from the cupboard. She left the apron hanging on the hook inside the pantry and I warned her that if she spilled on her clothes that I wasn’t going to wash them. She made a face at me and then shook her head.
“I just don’t look good in an apron… not like you,” she said. “Besides, what could happen? Crumbs could fall on me after toasting the bread?”
“That’s another thing too,” I said, tapping the counter with my fingers. “You always make easy stuff when it’s your turn. Tuna sandwiches? C’mon, even Mom can make those.”
Alycia laughed and agreed, but didn’t offer to make any vegetable to accompany. I took out a can of green beans and put them over a low heat. Alycia groaned and rolled her eyes.
“I swear, you’re gonna make someone a wonderful housewife someday.”
I thought of Wesley and blushed; I thought of my affair in the bathroom and blushed deeper and upon realizing that I was blushing, I blushed even more. Alycia caught the guilt in my eyes and grinned from ear to ear.
“Tor? What’s that look for? Got someone in mind already?”
“Give me a break,” I groaned.
Chapter 2
MR. HANNITY was late to class and Wesley was later, repeating yesterday’s dialogue. Wesley smiled at me as he walked to his seat and my stomach fluttered. Mr. Hannity described the semester project in detail and then allowed us to choose our own partners. I hated when teachers did that; it reminded me of gym class in grade school. I stared at my desk, waiting for everyone to partner up so that I could be paired with the other person who wasn’t chosen.
“Mr. Hannity, me and Toren are gonna work together.” Wesley rapped his knuckles on my desk and Mr. Hannity looked at me before nodding and writing it down in his grade book. Wesley grinned and I stared back at him blankly. “You don’t mind, do ya?” he asked. I shook my head and blushed. “Cool. Wait for me after class.” I nodded and hid my face.
Mr. Hannity lectured for the rest of the hour, but I was too distracted to listen. I drew pictures in the margins of my notebook, but my mind always drifted back to Wesley. My heart was thumping.
Mr. Hannity asked me to stay after class. He was quiet until the classroom cleared, and then he leaned against his desk and crossed his arms.
“Thanks for staying after, Toren. I just wanted to talk to you briefly about your project…. Well, more just to give you a heads-up,” Mr. Hannity explained, looking down at me over his glasses. “If you have any problems working on your project, talk to me right away. Okay? Will you do that?”
“Um… sure. Thanks, Mr. Hannity.”
He patted my shoulder as I walked out of the classroom. He didn’t have to say Wesley’s name specifically, but the implication was there. I was glad that Mr. Hannity recognized that I might have trouble working with him and gave me some leeway with his expectations. I was a good student and worked hard to get good grades. Someone like Wesley could mess that up if he screwed off instead of working on the project, but I still felt excited that he picked me to be his partner.
“Hey. What’d Hannity wanna talk to you about?” Wesley asked after I stepped out of the classroom. He furrowed his brows and stared at me. “Did he give you a warning about me or something?”
“No. He—he didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, right. He already has me pegged for disaster. But you, you get straight As, right? So, I figure I got myself an A already.”
“You’re gonna have to do your share of the work too,” I said quietly.
“Ah, he did warn you about me. Seems like that guy has had it in for me all along. Look, I gotta get a good grade on this project or he’ll fail me, so I need you to get me an A.” Wesley leaned back against the lockers and crossed his arms on his chest. “So, you’re gonna do your part and not talk to Hannity about anything. Got it?”
My heart was beating wildly. He seemed so nice when I talked to him yesterday. “I’m—I’m not gonna do your work for you. You’re gonna have to study too.” My voice was weak and I was trying so hard to sound confident. A smile cracked Wesley’s lips. I was waiting for something; I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was coming.
“Yeah, okay,” he said after a long pause.
That wasn’t what I was expecting.
“So we have to present on June fifth, right? That’s gives us… what, about a month? Well, we should probably start thinking about a topic then.”
“I’m kinda interested in the building of the Transcontinental Railroad. Or maybe the Chinese Exclusion Acts of the 1880s,” I suggested. I had already thought about the topic for this project.
“Cool. Why don’t you follow me to my house and we’ll figure it out there.”
“Follow you?”
“Yeah. Don’t you have a car?”
My cheeks reddened as I shook my head. What a stupid thing to be embarrassed about.
“Hmph. I thought I saw you driving around in an old, blue Taurus.”
He noticed me? “That’s my mom’s car.”
“Well, I’ll give you a ride then.”
“But… shouldn’t we go to the library?”
“You wanna go to the library? C’mon, I don’t wanna be in school any longer than I absolutely have to be. Let’s
just go to my house.”
“Well, I kinda think the library might be better,”
“I’d rather go somewhere with a smoking section, ya know? C’mon,” he said, starting to walk away. He stopped and waited while I got my book bag from my locker.
We drove to a ranch-style house with an unmowed lawn, a broken shutter, and a torn screen door. The driveway was cracked and weeds grew in the cleavages between concrete slabs.
“You want a beer or something?” he asked, dropping his book bag inside the door.
“No, thank you.” I stood just inside the front door, gripping the straps of my bag tightly. I looked around at the mismatched furniture, the nicked-up coffee table with two overflowing ashtrays, and the gold shag carpeting from the 1970s.
“Have a seat,” Wesley said, coming from the kitchen with a brown bottle in his hand. “You’re so uptight.” He sat down on the shaggy sofa and patted the cushion. I sat down, pulled my book bag onto my lap, and pulled out a spiral notebook and folder from our history class. He held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger and put his foot up on the coffee table while I fumbled around for a pen.
“Relax. I don’t bite. Are you sure you don’t want a beer or something?”
“No, thank you.”
I watched him from the corner of my eye. He seemed different but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. He was one of the coolest guys in school, drawing attention whether he wanted to or not. He was the type of guy that would probably end up flipping burgers when he was forty with three ex-wives and a mountain of child support.
Maybe I was a little resentful because everyone liked him and I didn’t really have many friends. He seemed to have it so easy. Most teachers liked him even though he skipped class a lot and never studied. Even Mr. Hannity liked him, despite his constant interruptions and obnoxious behavior. Belittling his future was all I could do to keep my self-esteem from bottoming out.