The Story of Us

by Logan Meredith

  Chapter Three

  The spring semester ended with little fanfare. I managed to squeak out As in both of my classes and work picked up to a point where I could only handle one summer class. I didn’t see or hear from Lucas, which didn’t surprise me since I was the one with the issue. Lucas was an almost-memory until the image of his naked body became inscribed into my brain.

  To explain what happened, I’ll need to introduce Kayla.

  Everyone knows that cartoon image of the angel and the devil that sit on someone’s shoulder and tell them what to do or not do. Well, that’s my Kayla. Only she isn’t the angel or the devil—she’s both. She is the only person I know who can have a full knock-down, drag-out argument with herself. I never understood how she could analyze a situation and advocate some well-reasoned advice, only to support the opposite point of view once I’d conceded to her line of thinking. It’s quite the skill, and trust me, it is as maddening as it sounds.

  I met Kayla in high school when she smoked clove cigarettes, dressed like Winona Ryder and looked down on people who couldn’t recognize the names of the obscure band T-shirts she wore. She’s always been that friend for me. You could say she won me over with her snarky rebellion. She knows every secret I have. When my first boyfriend wanted to fuck me, she shoplifted an enema kit because I was too embarrassed. If I were ever in a horrible accident, she knew to remove all sex toys and lube from my bedroom before my mom found them.

  After Matt and I had finally decided to split for the last time, I made Kayla promise to not let me get back with him. She hacked into my iTunes account and made me an ‘I think I want Matt back’ playlist. By the time I got to Beyoncé’s Single Ladies, she’d cured me of my post-breakup amnesia and prepared me to carry on alone. She’s the Grace to my Will. On the subject of me, she’s basically a genius.

  It all started with the selection of my summer course schedule. After having decided to take Mechanics and Materials, I surfed through the frustratingly slow website all Simmons’ students had to use to register. After twenty-plus years of working in the construction industry, simple engineering structures were kind of my thing, and even at forty, I, just like every student, wanted an easy class for the summer. I clicked on the series of drop-down menus, navigated to the class number and sorted through the possible sections.

  “Damn it.”

  Kayla lowered her phone and frowned. “Now what? Did it kick you off again? I told you being a first-year sucks. You don’t get to register until everyone else has.”

  “No. Mechanics and Materials is only offered during the daytime, and it’s once a week. My boss is flexible, but no way will he let me leave for three hours in the middle of the workday.”

  “Well, take something else.” Kayla shrugged and went back to scrolling through her Twitter feed. You’d never know from her ambivalence that I’d gone to college because of her. She’d spent six years listening to me waver in my decision to seek a degree. She’d encouraged me to follow my dreams, then right as I got up the nerve to fill out an application, she’d asked me if I was sure I wanted to incur debt with virtually no payoff. A fair point… There was no mistaking that the degree was solely for me. Not having one hadn’t held me back in my career and having one wouldn’t change my income potential enough to justify the expense. I could sock the money into a retirement account or do something fun with it—buy a motorcycle, a boat or take some of those trips Matt and I had talked about. The construction industry was ninety-nine percent reputation, which I had in spades. No one gave a shit about a piece of paper.

  Except me.

  I had no idea why. No one in my family had ever been to college. My father had delivered mail his whole career. My mother was a secretary for a trucking company. But I remembered my envy when Kayla had left for university and when she had talked about her classes. The desire to get my degree had never left me.

  “You should take another core class. If you take Mechanics and Materials, it won’t count if you change your major.”

  “I’m not changing my major.”

  “Well, business is definitely more marketable. You could start your own company and use all your contacts to make way more money. Why go to college if you can’t use it to improve your financial situation?”

  Kayla’s suggestion was one I’d heard before—from her, from Matt, from my parents—everyone who’d heard me talk about my job. My boss was an imposing brawler type from Pittsburgh named Rocco Salvatore. Raised in the housing projects of McKees Rocks, Rocco frequently spoke of people from his neighborhood like they were part of a large extended family. Besides construction, he knew Steelers football and not much else. He drove me crazy sometimes with his appalling lack of social graces and tendency to hire skilled laborers based on little but gut instincts, but we had an arrangement. I did the work and he earned the money.

  Can I own my own business? It wouldn’t be impossible, given my contacts, but the idea terrified me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever possess the confidence necessary to strike out on my own, and even if I did, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn’t mind most aspects of management, but getting that far away from the hands-on work? Nah. That wasn’t for me. There was just something in me that needed to see concrete, tangible results at the end of the day—something I could point to and say, “That’s where my effort went.” In my current role, I was often at a job site, pitching in or double-checking my guys’ work, but I was equally likely to work a twelve-hour day and have literally nothing to show for it.

  I clicked links and reviewed the classes that worked for both business and engineering degrees. Kayla continued perusing her phone. She tilted her head to one side, flung her feet up onto my ottoman and smiled. “Of course, you have great instincts, so if engineering is where your heart is, you should follow your passion. You’re so good with your hands, and your brain is wired to think spatially.”

  I ignored Kayla and continued my search. Unfortunately, the schedule made the decision for me. Most of the engineering classes I had the necessary prerequisites for were offered either during the day or were already full. “There are a ton of open evening business intro classes and let’s see…” I clicked through the requirements, mentally eliminating those that sounded dreadfully boring. “There is an Introduction to Entrepreneurship. That sounds kind of interesting.”

  “Well, you should definitely explore classes that are of interest. You don’t want to get to your last year and switch majors. The first year is the best time to confirm which program fits.”

  “So, you think I should take it?”

  “I think you should, but taking classes outside of your major is like throwing money away. It might be better to take something basic, like English. It would work for any major. But like I always tell you, you are too risk-avoidant. This could be good for you. Step out of that comfort zone.”

  “Kayla, really? Can you not ever give me a straight answer?”

  She smiled innocently. She put her phone down, relocated to stand behind me and rubbed my shoulders like she always did when we did that dance. “You asked my opinion. I’m your friend, and you work so hard. I don’t want you to waste your money.”

  “Well, is it wasting money to take one business class I may not need or to take two years of engineering classes and change my major?”

  “Give me your computer.” She tugged my laptop off my lap and sat back in her chair. She clicked around while I grabbed a beer from the kitchen. “Okay. It’s done. You’re registered for the class.”

  “Which one?”

  “That business class. You clearly wanted to take it.”

  “But I thought I was wasting my money?”

  “You are. He might be in it, though.”

  “He who?”

  “Kyle, you didn’t look up the requirements for a business degree. You searched the requirements for a business marketing degree. That’s Lucas’ major, right?”

  “So?”

  “So,” she mocked. “You don’t give a shit
about marketing. You want to see Surfer Boy again. Why didn’t you say that? You could call him.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “You should, and you should watch his porn so you can stop thinking about it.”

  “I most certainly don’t want to see his porn.”

  “You do, and it will be good for you because you’ve built it up in your head as a horribly seedy thing, although it’s quite tasteful and smoking hot.”

  “It would be too… Oh my God, did you watch it?”

  “Of course. How could I tell you to watch it if I haven’t seen it? I mean, if it were like incest porn, it would scar you. It’s mostly standard jock-on-twink porn. He’s aggressive for sure, but not any worse than David. Although, I gotta say, his thingy is quite impressive.”

  David, another ex, fucked me three times before I realized what I considered super intense S&M was his version of vanilla. Images of my brief time with David—my one toe-dip into kink layered on top of my memories from the library, Lucas’ pelvis making a subtle thrust into mine. My cheeks heated, and I closed my eyes and imagined him holding me down against the table. With David, I always seemed to ruin the mood with uncontrollable nervous laughter. With Lucas…I wondered.

  Kayla laughed, and I opened my eyes. “You’re soooo adorable when you’re crushing on a guy. I haven’t seen you turn that shade of red since Matt gave you that Trophy Boy underwear and you opened them in front of your crew.”

  Lord! I relived the moment with a fresh wave of humiliation. Matt loved to give me sexy underwear and jock straps, but usually we exchanged those types of things in private. We’d planned to see each other before he left town to see his folks for Christmas, but a bout of bad weather had put an important project weeks behind, and I’d practically lived at the construction site to play catch-up. Matt had texted me that he’d left my Christmas present in my truck, and I made the mistake of following Kayla’s orders to open it when she stopped by to bring me lunch. The entire crew practically pissed themselves laughing so hard.

  “He should have told me to wait until I got home—and I am not crushing on Lucas.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to know what his dick looks like?”

  I did. I so did. “I’m only human, but I’d like to find out like normal people, after a few dates, certainly not from my best friend…because eww, we’ve already had that moment. Need I remind you of Judd Fisher?”

  Kayla sighed with nostalgia. “The only man we’ve ever shared.” Her tone implied the memory was a fond one, which it most certainly was not. “He was a sweetheart. Too bad he was gay.”

  “My team does not claim men who sleep with men but have online profiles seeking women. We had a meeting.”

  “He could have been bi,” she said defensively. “Don’t be one of those gay people who think bisexuals are closeted gays. I think he was still figuring himself out. Not everyone’s sexuality fits into such a rigid little box, Kyle.”

  “I don’t care what identity he claims—bi, pan…whatever. He’s still a creep, and he wanted to have a threesome with us. That was… Just no.”

  “I would have done it.”

  Utterly horrified, I gawked at Kayla, and she burst into laughter. “Do my girl parts gross you out that much?”

  “Girl parts don’t gross me out. I could probably sleep with a woman if I had to, to like repopulate the earth or something, but you’re like my sister. Are you telling me you could actually have sex with me?”

  She giggled. “I could have sex with this…” She flipped my laptop around and there was Lucas in all his ‘holy shit, he’s gorgeous’ glory.

  “Give me that,” I squeaked and yanked the computer onto my lap. “Where did you find this?”

  The splash page of a porn site called Goldenboys.com featured Lucas’ image by a pool, his skin glistening with drops of water that seemed to be cascading down his perfect torso. The picture kicked off a chant of ‘I want, I want, I want’ in my brain.

  “Fuck.” I trailed my finger over his picture. “I knew his stomach was the eighth wonder of the world.” His abdominal muscles were every bit as sexy as I’d imagined them to be. Lucas’ skin was a deep shade of bronze like he’d been kissed by the sun’s rays. I choked on my saliva, trying to swallow. My audible gulp coincided with Kayla’s supportive hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “Click on his picture,” she said.

  The screen brought up a profile of Tommy Bruiser and a full-frontal image of his body. “His… Oh my God.” I pointed and mourned the loss of an opportunity.

  Kayla sighed. “It’s a goddamn work of art. It should be in a museum. Have you ever seen one that…?”

  I shook my head and gestured, unable to find the word to do it justice. “You?”

  “Long? Yes, but not in person. But thick? No. Sadly, I think he holds the record.”

  “It’s perfect,” I sighed. Lucas was perfect. My attraction was not only off the charts but the wall the charts were hung on. And we’d connected so well. I couldn’t explain why. We just had. The hours we’d spent together that night had been nothing short of fantastic until I’d stumbled into the landmine of his career choice.

  “I know, but could you? I mean they don’t call him Tommy Bruiser for nothing. It seems like it would hurt.”

  The truth was that it probably would. I’d done my fair share of bottoming, but like everything in my life, I was cautious and methodical enough to not impale myself on a super-sized penis without a whole lot of preparation. The work-up to it, though… That thought had me forming an immodest amount of wood.

  “So, are you gonna call him?”

  I made a noncommittal sound and took another glimpse at the website. Lucas—or Tommy—wasn’t the only image. There were three other men—all young, like Lucas, and gorgeous. I closed my eyes, shut the laptop and tried to picture myself with Lucas—him meeting my folks, me meeting his. They’d probably be close to my age. We couldn’t hang in each other’s social circles. His friends would wonder what Lucas was doing with me and mine might recognize— Oh, God.

  The thought of my friends knowing what Lucas did for a living and having ready access to watch him have sex? They’d never let it go. No matter how badly I wanted him—and sex with Lucas would be incredible—it couldn’t work. I’d been on plenty of dates, and I’d learned some things about myself over the years. When I brought up my dream house or my desire to get my degree, I was investing in the long term. It meant I cared enough to know if my two non-negotiable goals would be compatible with theirs. I’d told Lucas about both on our first date.

  Even if I wanted, I couldn’t go back. I didn’t work that way.

  Chapter Four

  Introduction to Entrepreneurship began on a balmy Monday evening in June. I’d spent the day with a client and still had the remnants of a stress headache I’d developed after explaining why the kitchen in her plumbed and wired home couldn’t be relocated without an impact on her budget.

  Summer classes, especially those held in the evening, meant little traffic and easy parking, so I arrived with plenty of time to spare. I spent my found minutes indulging in an iced coffee from the campus Starbucks and people-watching in the quad. Lucas had been on my mind since my conversation with Kayla, and I couldn’t deny every blond head caught my attention. When I thought about what it would be like to be with him, my entire body responded.

  Class time approached, and I stood and stretched, noticing that I’d sweated through the semi-nice, button-up shirt I’d worn for my client meeting. Searching my bag for the faded T-shirt I’d stashed in anticipation of a late-night workout, I made a quick pit stop to change on my way to the Business Building.

  I was on my way out of the empty restroom when I saw him. A fountain of perspiration erupted from every pore and I sucked in a breath. I sought the safety of the bathroom, splashed some water on my face and composed myself like the adult I fucking was.

  Okay. So, that’s a lie.

  In all honesty, I gripped the sink and sucked
in breaths like an asthmatic in a perfume factory. The water helped calm me enough that I could text nine-one-one to Kayla. My phone rang instantly.

  “What?”

  I regretted my text at the genuine sound of concern in Kayla’s voice.

  “I saw him. What do I do?”

  “What?” I could hear the wind rushing past her phone and her breath while she walked, so I knew I’d caught her on her way out of work.

  “Him. I saw Lucas.”

  “Oh yeah. Shit.” Kayla’s car beeped in the background, a door slammed and static filled the phone. “Hold on,” she shouted. The car started, her seatbelt clicked and the radio blared briefly before falling silent. “Okay, talk. What did he say?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t gone to class yet.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “I was leaving the bathroom.”

  “Well, this is good. Go talk to him. Restart the conversation. But calm down first, Jesus. You’re such a spaz.”

  “’Cause he’s gorgeous.”

  “So? You’re gorgeous, Kyle. Go be gorgeous together and have gorgeous babies.”

  “Not helpful. And I’m not ‘Lucas gorgeous,’ I’m like average-guy attractive, at best. Plus, I’m forty-year-old attractive, not twenty-whatever-year-old Lucas attractive. It’s mildly offensive to put me in the same category. That’s how wrong you are.”

  “Kyle. Honey. I hate to minimize this little panic attack you seem to be hell-bent on working yourself into, but calm your tits, okay? He’s just a guy. He told you he likes you. If you like him back, then what is the problem? Go find him and ask him out. I have real problems.”

  “But he…. Wait. Real problems? What real problems?”

  “Patrick’s finally marrying the hoe and I know my mom is going to force me to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Would you please stop referring to Tracey as ‘the hoe’. She’s nice.”

  “My little brother wouldn’t know nice if it slapped him in the face.”

  “You set them up. She was your college roommate, for God’s sake.”