Superhero

by Eli Easton

  “Fine,” I screamed back. He grabbed my hand and danced with me.

  We danced for a few songs, and soon he was behind me spooning me as we danced. I could feel his erection. It turned me on. I mean, he was pretty hot, and it really had been way too long since I’d been with anyone.

  He yelled in my ear, telling me I was beautiful, gorgeous. I knew it was just a come-on, but it was nice to hear. He kissed my neck. I let him, sinking my body back into him as he ground against me. He tilted my head and kissed me, deep and dirty. When the song ended, he pulled me toward the door.

  I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, but I didn’t want to leave the club. I pulled back.

  “Restroom?” I shouted in his ear, inclining my head that way. I was hoping for mutual blowjobs in the back. By this point I was really hoping for it.

  He shook his head and shouted back in my air. “Crowded and hot. Let’s get some air.”

  I let him pull me outside.

  The bouncers checked me out as we passed. It was a little embarrassing. Yes, thank you, I am a total slut. The guy led me around the corner of the building and then another corner until we were in an alley behind the club. There was a big Dumpster there and a back door. The night air was threaded with wafts of onions, piss, and puke. There were three other couples getting it on. One guy was being fucked and another was getting a blowjob. I quickly looked away. I didn’t know what the etiquette was for gay alley sex, but I really didn’t want to see others going at it. The whole thing felt… it felt pretty slimy, honestly. I thought about Owen’s warning, and I shivered. But this was just sex, right? Just a little mutual pleasure, and then I’d go back in the club and wait for Matt to be done so we could go home. Soon.

  This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? Why I’d come? Then why did it feel so not-very-great?

  The guy gently pushed me against a wall.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I managed, my ears still ringing from the club.

  He grinned. “Call me John.”

  Yeah, fake. But so what? He kissed me, all tongue, a little sloppy but erotic, and it was doing its work. I started to forget the fact that we were in an alley and just focused on kissing him. He rubbed my crotch, grunting his approval. Then he undid my belt and sank to his knees. He put a condom on me and followed that with his mouth. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see where I was, or who might be watching. I tried to just feel it. I kind of wanted it to be over with. But then, it did feel—Oh, God—it did feel pretty nice.

  I’d only ever gotten a blowjob from Matt and this—this was like a professional vacuum cleaner versus a handheld min-vac. John was relentless, almost too rough. It wasn’t long before I felt my balls tighten and my thighs started to shake.

  He stopped before I came.

  I was feeling light-headed when he stood up and spun me. He pushed me up against the wall. The brick rasped against my face.

  He started yanking my jeans and boxers down, hard. They were around my thighs before I knew what was happening. I clenched my legs together trying to keep them from going down any farther. I was embarrassed being so completely exposed in public like that, with other people around. I turned to look at another couple. One guy was going down on an older man with gray hair, and gray-hair was staring at my ass and panting. He was going to get a free show.

  I started getting a little annoyed. Even if I wanted to give my ass cherry to aka John, and I didn’t, no way in hell was I going to do it in a dirty alley with an audience. I put both palms on the wall and pushed off.

  “Not that,” I said, managing to move myself, and him, back a foot.

  “Come on!” John pushed me back against the wall and held me there while he rubbed his hard-on in my crack. “Don’t be a baby. I’ve got to have that sweet ass of yours. I’ve got lube, and I’ll wear a jacket.”

  He fumbled in his pocket.

  “No,” I said loudly. “I’ve never done that, and I’m not doing it now. You can… you can do it between my legs if you want.”

  “You’re gonna love it. Just let me get my fingers in you. You’ll be begging for my cock once you feel how good it is, and I’ll jerk you off when I’m inside.” He stuck his tongue in my ear. His fingers, cold and slick, groped between the cheeks of my ass. Oh, God. This guy had a serious hearing impediment. I started to feel a bit of panic, and my dick was rapidly losing interest in the whole thing.

  I was about to open my mouth and start making my point of view really fucking clear to John and to anyone within a hundred yards, which hopefully included the bouncers out front, when suddenly he was pulled off me.

  I grabbed for my pants and pulled them up as I heard the sounds of a scuffle behind me. Somebody yelled. I turned in time to see a guy in a gray, hooded sweatshirt—Owen—get John in a headlock. He gave two short but brutal punches on the guy’s trapped chin and let him fall. John went down on the asphalt and lay there, shaking his head in a daze.

  I buckled up my belt. I didn’t know if I was more relieved or angry. I settled for humiliated.

  “Jordy, are you alright?” Owen got in my face, looking all upset and worried.

  I covered my face with my hands. I didn’t want to look at him.

  “Come on,” Owen said. “We need to get out of here before the cops arrive.” He led me from the alley by my arm. He took me to his truck, which was parked down the street. He opened the passenger side door and shoved me in, slammed it.

  He climbed in the driver’s side, started the truck immediately, and peeled out. We had to avoid the cops. If Owen was caught fighting outside a gay club, it would be a disaster. I didn’t say anything as we wove through the streets headed for the freeway.

  I took out my cell phone. I texted Matt, let him know I didn’t need a ride. My hands were shaking.

  We were on the freeway for a good ten minutes before either of us said a word. A dozen things crossed my mind, but I couldn’t think straight. I was so, so embarrassed that he had seen that, my throat was swollen with it. And I was frustrated that the night had gone so badly. But I was also pissed. Pissed was easiest.

  “Why did you follow me?” I finally asked in a dark voice.

  “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. Thank God I did.” His tone was a bit insulting on that last, as if I was an idiot caught out doing idiotic things. My temper flared.

  “I had it under control.”

  “Oh? How did you have it under control, Jordan? The guy was forcing you up against a wall, and he was going to fuck you without your consent. At least that’s what it looked like to me. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “I was about to scream, fight back. I wouldn’t have let him do that.”

  Owen huffed. “Yeah, and do you think any of the other guys in that alley would have raced to your rescue? Or do you think they would have put up a rope and charged admission?”

  “Not all gay men are like that,” I spat out angrily. “You just assume because they’re gay they’re all abusive perverts.”

  “No, I don’t think all gay men are like that, no more than all straight men are like that. But guys who fuck in alleyways are probably not high on the role-model end of things.”

  I didn’t have any answer for that. In truth, I thought I could have gotten myself out of that situation back there, but I had no way of knowing for sure. Still.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you followed me,” I said.

  He was silent for a minute, then: “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

  “No, clearly.”

  “Jordan, I’m not sorry that I care about you, and I’m not sorry that I was worried about you. Obviously I was right. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you!”

  I looked out the window. The whole thing was so fucking ironic I wanted to laugh—or cry. “God forbid anyone hurt me but you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The lights of Jefferson were coming into view. I felt like I was being smothered in that way I’d been f
eeling with Owen, more and more. That feeling—I both loved it and hated it. But lately the tide had definitely been turning toward it just being damned unbearable. It was time to be completely honest.

  “There’s something I need to tell you, Owen. I applied to the School of Visual Arts in New York City, and I got in. They’ve offered me a partial scholarship, and it’s a really great program. I’m going there in September.”

  “What?” He nearly drove off the road. He kept looking at me, face slack with disbelief. Okay, bad idea, telling him while Owen was driving the truck. Stupid Jordan.

  “Just watch the road, okay?” I said. I dug my fingernails into the dashboard in a pointless bid for life.

  “But… we’re going to Madison. We’re going to room together.”

  “No,” I said. “We’re not.”

  I’d been dreading this moment. I knew he wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t want to fight with him. But I couldn’t back down either.

  He suddenly jerked the wheel and took an exit ramp. A moment later we pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot, and he shut off the truck. We sat there.

  “Why would you want to do that?” he said, still in disbelief. “I mean, I know Madison doesn’t have exactly the program you wanted, but they said they could work with you. And if you’re in New York, we’ll never see each other. I thought we were going to stick together.”

  I crumpled and slumped against the window. This was way, way, way too hard. I’d read somewhere that animals would chew off their own leg to get out of a trap. I knew exactly what that felt like now. I stared out at the glare of a streetlamp and felt my throat clog up. I turned my head so he couldn’t see the tears, but I couldn’t stop my shoulders from shaking.

  “Jordy, come on!” He shifted over and tried to pull me into a hug, but I resisted, clinging up against the window like I was stuck on it with suction cups. He stopped pulling and just left his hand on my shoulder.

  “If this is about tonight, I’m sorry. I really thought you needed my help.” His voice cracked.

  “You just don’t get it!” I said, loudly, my voice choked with tears. “I have to get away from you!”

  I looked at him then. His face was slack and white, shocked. “Why? Why do you have to get away from me? We’re best friends.”

  I took a deep breath and turned toward him. I wiped my face and then grasped both his hands in mind. I had to make him understand.

  “No, Owen. That’s what I am to you. I’m your best friend. But that’s not what you are to me.”

  He shook his head in denial.

  “What you are to me is the guy that I’ve been madly in love with since sixth grade. You’re the guy I think about every night when I’m in bed by myself. You’re the one who doesn’t want me but insists on keeping me tied so close that I can’t have anyone else, who keeps one hand on my collar and the other hand up his girlfriend’s skirt. And I can’t do it anymore!”

  “Jordy….” His lips quivered, and his eyes grew bright. I felt like I’d swallowed ground glass, there was such a painful lump in my throat. I could see how much that hurt him. But I guess I was like a cornered wolverine at that point. I had to get it through his head.

  He reached out and touched my cheek. “You know that’s not fair.”

  “Don’t touch me!” I yelled. I batted his hand away.

  “Why are you so upset?” he asked miserably. “Jordy, please. I’ve always been up front with you.”

  I shut my eyes. That stung. Because he had, and that just made the hope I’d kept inside me all these years even more feeble. “I know that,” I said. “You’ve been a fucking prince. Look, you’re a great person, Owen, and a fantastic friend, you really are. It’s not your fault that you’re straight. But I need to get over you. And I can’t do that without putting some space between us. Please, please understand.”

  He looked down at my hands and gripped them tighter. His face wavered on the line between desperation and despair. I hated seeing him like that. I could have gone happily to my grave never seeing that look on Owen Nelson’s face.

  “Just tell me how to fix it, Jordy. You want to date other guys? I’ll throw a party and put up flyers in all the gay clubs. You want to get a separate room at Madison so you can have men over? Okay. Just don’t throw out everything we are to each other. Please.”

  I leaned back against the door, suddenly exhausted. “Just take me home, okay?”

  He drove me home. We didn’t talk all the way back. I thought about what he’d said. Don’t throw out everything we are to each other. It hurt so fucking bad, it was ripping me apart. I wished that were possible, but wasn’t that what we’d been doing since forever? Me taking what he could give me and accepting what he couldn’t? And here I was, my senior year, still desperately in love with him, no matter how much I tried not to be. And there he was, following me to gay clubs like my own personal ass chastity belt. It just wasn’t working anymore.

  He was shaking when he parked in my driveway—literally, his teeth were chattering. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so messed up. He shut off the engine and started to reach for his door handle, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t come in. Not right now.”

  He nodded and just stared out the front windshield.

  “Thank you for helping me tonight. I… just thanks.” I got out of the car.

  Owen

  Thankfully, my parents were gone for the weekend. I didn’t know how I could have explained what I looked like when I came in if they hadn’t been. I chugged a bottle of beer left over from a summer party, and then I lay on my bed in the dark.

  My mom has this saying—sometimes you need to break a few eggs to make an omelet. That night I felt like someone had placed every egg in my carton onto a wrestling mat, smashed them with a baseball bat, and then pissed on them.

  Jordan. My Jordy. He was going to New York without me. I’d never felt such a deep sense of loss and panic in my life. I still couldn’t fully comprehend it. It was weird. I think there are some things we just can’t wrap our brain around, like dogs sitting up and talking to you or the sun falling down and landing like a big glowing volleyball in your yard. Life without Jordan was like that.

  What did he want from me? I’d given him everything I possibly could, put him above everyone else in my life—my folks, my brother, Emily, everyone. I gave him affection. I gave him support, even when nobody in my life wanted me to. I gave him all my spare time. I would die for him. But the one thing I couldn’t give him was the one thing he’d decided he couldn’t live without. And the most ridiculous, fucked-up part of it was, I wanted it, too.

  I was so tired of fighting it. I was tired of touching Emily and thinking about Jordan. I was tired of pretending I didn’t want him, even to myself.

  I thought about it all the time, like some endless rerun—the way he had touched me, licked me, his completely unguarded and enthusiastic lust, the way he’d worshipped my body like it was everything he’d ever wanted, the look on his face as he’d touched himself and came all over me. God! The more I thought about it, the more I craved it. There’d been so many times when I’d caught him looking at me when we were alone, and I’d come so close to caving. But the fear of what it would mean stopped me.

  I couldn’t have Jordan like that unless I was willing to go all the way and admit that I was, at the very least, bisexual. I would have to do right by him.

  It was like I was juggling a dozen knives—keep Emily happy when I really didn’t want to be with her, keep Jordan happy when he really wanted to be with me, keep coach happy, the team happy, my folks happy by obeying the rules. I was sick to death of it.

  Crying is a useless waste of time. I turned on my light and got up. I took a notebook out of my backpack and turned to a fresh page, sat down at my desk in my briefs. I drew a node at the top and curved a line down to the left. Path A, the path I’d been on all my life. I jotted a list at the end of the line.

  College wrestling
, UW Badgers (full scholarship)

  High school or college wrestling coach

  Married with kids

  I looked at the list. It all seemed so obvious, so who I was. And it was a good life, maybe a great one, one I looked forward to, one that would be smooth sailing, one my family would be proud of. I’d be a hero. The thing is, once I got my teeth in something, I never gave up. The papers called me “tenacious.” All I’d ever wanted in life was to have two things, just two—wrestling and Jordan Carson. I was determined to hang on to both no matter what the cost. But I finally got it—if I wrestled, Jordan would not be in that life.

  Oh, we’d still be friends. But Jordan would go to school in New York. He’d meet a guy and be dating. Maybe he’d get married at some point—it was legal in New York. Or maybe he’d go through a crazy string of lovers. But he’d be in that life without me. We’d see each other when we came home for holidays, maybe visit each other once in a while. It was hard to see me visiting Jordy at an apartment he shared with his boyfriend, or Jordy coming to stay with me and my wife. We’d grow apart. He’d become a comic book artist, and I’d follow his blog and buy all his comics, and maybe he’d watch my wrestling on some remote channel of ESPN.

  That was the cost of the road my life was taking. Even if there was a college wrestling team that would let me compete if I were gay, no one wants a homosexual man coaching young boys, especially not in wrestling.

  I went back to the node and drew a line that curved out to the right side of the page. My hand was shaking. I drew a circle at the end of the line, and I stared at it.

  I had never thought too hard about what a life without wrestling would look like. I finally jotted some words down.

  Degree in English or Creative Writing (no scholarship=student debt)

  Write for comics with Jordy—or—teach English

  Be with Jordan

  I stared at it for a long time. I tried to imagine that other life, the one where Jordy and I lived in New York City and were together. In that life I was not a star wrestler, just a big, beefy Scandinavian-looking dude getting a degree in English, one of millions of guys my age to do so. I really liked inventing stories and writing them. Jordy had brought out a lot of that in me. But I knew it was a much tougher path to success. And in that life, I would hurt my family. I didn’t think they’d turn their backs on me, but it would hurt them. My dad would not be proud of me like he was now, and my mom and Charlie wouldn’t know what to think of me anymore.