by Kent Bushart
I nodded. “My family is. I was born here. My father married a girl from Iowa. My mom.”
Now the mixer was over, and people were clearing up. Suddenly I was panicked. I hadn’t thought of anything past just meeting him. I hadn’t thought about the next step.
“Looks like the party’s over,” I said.
Patton looked around. “Yeah, I should probably help.”
We looked at each other. I’d met him and I still liked him, and I wanted to talk more. But that was enough for now. Always leave them wanting more, my grandfather says.
“Hey, are you going to the basketball game Saturday?” I asked, in a flash of inspiration.
“I was thinking about it,” he said. “Some guys from the dorm are going together. I was thinking of going with them.”
“Want to go with me?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said immediately. “Let’s do it.”
We exchanged numbers, entering them into our phones, promising to text each other and make a plan. I waved good-bye to everyone, and left him helping the girls clean up.
As I left, I heard one of the girls say: “Oh, you’re so sweet to help, Patton.”
“Get used to it,” he cockily replied.
On the way back I entered ‘Patton’ into my contacts, and added it to my favorites, strangely elated. It was a good first meeting.
***
The following Saturday I did some catch-up studying, and worked out. It was getting late in the day, and I still hadn’t heard from him. I was worried he’d forgotten. College is so distracting, sometimes. I thought, If he forgot, maybe he’s not interested. Then I decided it wasn’t fair of me to wait around, expecting him to make the first move, so I texted: Are we still doing this?
Yeah! He texted back. When do you want to meet?
I told him I’d meet him in front of his dorm, since it was on the way to the arena. That would give us a little time to talk.
“Hey,” he said when he came out, and gave me a little smile. I smiled back.
“Hi,” I said, and we started out. I had on my White Sox cap, but he had on a woolen cap, which was smart. I was quickly regretting my choice, because my ears started to crack from the cold. Looking cool is tough.
“How have you been?” I asked, struggling for something to say.
“Okay, good. You?”
“Sure, fine. Just spent all day trying to figure out my Calculus.” I’d put off my math credit from the first semester, not wanting to have too heavy of a schedule during soccer season, but now I was having to deal with both Calculus and Chemistry.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yep.”
We walked along some more, joining a crowd of students headed the same way. He didn’t say much, and I started to wonder if he found me intimidating or something. I hoped not.
We stood in line and bought our student tickets, going Dutch. Once we got inside it was warm, which was a relief for me. He took off his cap and stuffed it in his pocket, running his fingers through his thick hair to fluff it up.
“Do you want a pop or something?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, and started for the concession stand. I stopped him. “I’ll get it,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said, when I returned with pops for the both of us.
“My pleasure,” I said, and smiled down at him again. The top of his head, hair included, only came up to about my chin. I hope he didn’t mind, because I didn’t.
We hurried to get seats, since the student seating is first come, first served. They don’t oversell, but if you don’t get there soon enough, you’re up in the rafters.
Once we found a place, I asked him: “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No,” he said. “I’m the only one.”
That was not what I was expecting. I thought he would be from a large family, and his big personality was because he was always having to compete for attention. But that bolstered my theory that it was all a put-on.
“What about you?” He asked.
“I have a brother and two sisters, all older than me,” I said.
“Really? A big family,” he remarked.
“Four kids is big? Not where I come from,” I said. “But it’s getting bigger. My brother and his wife are expecting their first baby, and my sister already has one.”
“So, you’re an uncle. That’s cool,” he said. “I always wanted a brother, when I was little.”
“And I always wondered what it would be like to be the only kid. Funny.”
Soon the game started, and it was too loud for conversation. That was what I was expecting. On the first date it’s good to do something that doesn’t require talking all the time, I think.
We were playing Western Illinois, and it was a good game. The lead went back and forth several times, and there were lots of distractions: the cheerleaders, the band, the crowd. Patton got into it, and yelled and cheered and screamed at the refs like all the other guys. I did my share too, for school spirit, but he kept it up. Maybe he was a fanatic, or maybe it was just another way to draw attention to himself. But we looked at each other a lot. Once I gave him a big wink, and he blinked, like he didn’t know what flirting was.
At the half we left our seats and milled around the lobby. Some of my soccer teammates saw me and came over. It was a quick exchange, and I didn’t get the chance to introduce Patton before they sailed away again.
“Who were those guys?” He asked. “Are they in your dorm?”
“No, another dorm,” I said. I almost stopped myself from telling him the truth, then I mentally slapped myself. To not be honest with someone I was interested in would be no way to start any kind of relationship, even if we were just going to be friends. Already I was hoping for more. “They’re on the soccer team with me.”
“You’re on the soccer team?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
I tried to read his reaction, but he played it cool, and didn’t say anything more. We went back to our seats and watched the rest of the game. We won, but just barely.
We filtered out with the crowd, talking about the game and listening to others do the same. Some other guys were hooting, and Patton joined in.
“Wooooo! We won! Go Cyclones!” He hollered.
“You’re pretty loud, for a little guy,” I said when he was done. There, I’d broken my own rule already, and called him little, but he was unfazed.
“Get used to it,” he said.
We joined groups walking back to the dorms, but soon the crowd thinned as people went their separate ways.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way back,” he said.
“It’s cool, I want to,” I said, although my ears felt like they were going to fall off again.
Soon we were standing in front of his dorm.
“Well, thanks,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for going with me.”
He looked up at me, and I looked down at him. I don’t know if he was expecting me to kiss him good-night, and although I wouldn’t have minded that at all, I wasn’t ready to do it out in the open, yet. Maybe I never would be.
“See ya later,” I said, and thumped him on the shoulder.
“Sure,” he mumbled. “Good-night.”
Maybe we could have hung out some more, and gone out for a burger or something, but I had to get up in the morning, and book it to Des Moines. It’s time for my once-a-month trip home, to go to Mass with my family, and have Sunday dinner with my grandparents.
And always leave them wanting more.
***
A couple of days into the next week, I was walking back from one of the dining halls with some of the guys from my floor. We passed a group of Sigma Chi’s going the opposite way, a clot of braying jackasses. I didn’t rush. Some guys from the soccer team did, and a guy actually tried to recruit me, but I decided it wasn’t for me. First of all, those guys on the team were wiped out from all the activities and pledge week, and soccer team and keeping up with
my studies were enough for me. You hear stories about people flaming out in the very first semester, and I didn’t want that to be me. I was totally paranoid about not being able to make the grade, which was silly, looking back at it. I probably could have done it, but then again, I don’t think it’s the place for a gay guy. I’m sure there are gays in frats, but I didn’t want to be one. All that keeping up appearances in a homophobic atmosphere. Soccer team was enough. And was no foregone conclusion that I’d make the team next year, either. I’ll have to try-out again with everybody else. I’d have to work on keeping up. And then there’s the expense of a fraternity, also. My parents are taking care of my tuition and student fees, but I have to buy my books and anything beyond that, and fraternity dues, well, why go there. I’d rather be free.
I hung back from my group and texted Patton, the first contact I’ve attempted since the basketball game.
WRUD, I sent. That’s ‘what are you doing?’ I don’t know why I’m explaining that. This is just for me, but I guess that’s my English essayist coming through.
I was almost at my door before I got a reply.
In the computer lab, working on something, he texted.
Want to take a break and meet me, for coffee or something? I sent.
There was another annoying lag while I waited for his response.
Sure, want to meet me outside the computer building?
I know I’ve explained, Iowa State is massive. Even though it was my second semester, I still got lost, especially when I had to go somewhere I’d never been before. Plus, it takes forever to walk anywhere. Sometimes I just think it would be faster to jump in the car and drive around to the other side of the campus. But the time it takes to walk to the parking, then try and find a place to park where you’re going, you could probably walk to the moon.
Can we just meet there, then I’ll walk back with you? I sent. I didn’t want to try and find someplace new in the dark.
So we picked one of the coffee shops on campus and I headed that way.
I picked an empty table for two in the crowded shop and waited a few minutes before he arrived. When he did, I waved him over.
“Hey,” he said as he shed his jacket and revealed another one of his Iowa State sweatshirts that swallowed him. He could probably wear a size small, but didn’t.
“Hi, what would you like?” I asked.
“I can get it,” he said.
“No, I will. You hold the table.”
When I returned with our orders, he said. “You don’t have to keep buying for me.”
I smiled. “It’s no big deal.”
“Well, thanks.”
I asked about what he was doing in the computer lab, and as he talked I watched his pouty lips, lips I was dying to kiss. I decided then and there that I would, that night.
His talk about systems and circuits went over my head. If he was talking about chemical reactions, or cell structures I might have followed him, but computer hardware leaves me behind. I can usually figure out what’s wrong with my laptop, but beyond that, I’m lost.
“So, do you like sports?” I asked, when he finally wound down. “You seemed pretty into the basketball game.”
“Eh, I follow the Bears, and the Bulls, and the Cubs, all the Chicago teams, but beyond that, not so much.”
“That sounds like a lot. What about the White Sox?” I asked, pointing to my cap.
That opened another avenue of discussion, on the differences between American League and National League teams, and the designated hitter rule. We were firmly in different camps on the subject.
“The designated-hitter rule is a bastardization of the game, it’s not the tradition,” he argued.
“It protects the pitchers from injuries, and makes the game more exciting,”
“Exciting? Baseball?” He scoffed. I laughed. He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. We held each other’s eyes a long time.
“Did you ever play anything? On a team?” I asked.
“Little League, and wrestling,” he said.
“Wrestling? Really?” I asked, interested. “In High School?”
“For awhile, but I quit.” He looked uncomfortable.
“Why?” I asked. My coffee was about drained, and now I was worried it would keep me up, leaving me to lie awake, listening to Carlton have another go at himself.
“I don’t know, I guess I got interested in other things. Computer club, chess club.”
“Chess? God, I’m terrible at that,” I confessed.
After a few more topics he said he should probably get back. I felt I should go do some studying myself. Midterms were not that far off.
I like that he had at least some sport experience. It probably contributed to him being a confident, cocky little guy, but I don’t think I got the whole story on why he quit wrestling.
“You don’t have to walk back with me,” he said.
“I’d like to, if you don’t mind,” I said.
“It’s way out of your way,” he said.
“It’s cool,” I said.
But it was cold, and we hurried.
“Want to catch a flick this weekend?” I asked.
“You mean on campus?” They did play movies on campus, but I had something else in mind.
“No, off campus. Maybe get a bite.”
“I guess so,” he said. Not the enthusiasm I was looking for, but he probably wasn’t sure where I was coming from. He would find out.
We took what he said was a short-cut, behind some of the older buildings on the north side of campus. The whole campus is pretty well lit up at night, for the safety of the girls, but it was dark behind those buildings, and we were alone. The ground was frozen, which I was glad of, since I was wearing my fairly-new trainers.
It was a facilities building, and there were lights around it, but in one corner the lights were out. I slowed down and pulled on his arm.
“Over here,” I said.
“What? Why?” He said. He was maybe even a little alarmed. All that stuff about campus-rape, perhaps.
“Just, come on.”
He complied, and allowed himself to be directed where I wanted to go. I pushed him up against the wall and stood close.
“What are we doing?” He asked. In answer I pushed my cap back and leaned my face in close to his. He finally got the idea and turned his face up to me.
I just let my lips get really close to his and paused for a few seconds, building anticipation. I felt his breath on my cheek.
We touched lips gently at first, then parted. He didn’t seem to mind, so I went in more firmly, fully covering his mouth with mine.
It was sweet, and I loved it. His mouth was pink, and soft, as I had observed, and tasted a bit like coffee-latte. I breathed in his essence, clean skin and the cold, sharp night. He put his hands on my waist.
I wanted more, but I eased off, keeping my face close. I had to bend down, a bit.
“Oh,” he sighed. “That’s what.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Do you mind?”
“No,” he husked.
I squeezed him tight and kissed him again, then took his hand and led him back in the direction we were going, but I dropped it once we were out in the lights again.
“Text me,” I said, once we were at the computer lab building.
“Okay,” he said, and went inside.
Then later I laid the dark, listening to Carlton paw himself, caffeine still coursing through my body, and thought about the kiss.
I really liked it.
I liked it because it was just a kiss. It wasn’t the prelude to hook-up sex, with a stranger just picked up on an app. There was no expectation of anything more, just a kiss, with a promise of maybe a deeper relationship, or maybe not.
Just a kiss.
***
I tried to concentrate on classes, and study the rest of the week, but our plans remained in the back of my mind. I wished a couple of times that I would hear from him, that he would text me, but he didn’t
. I could have texted him, but I didn’t. Texting chit-chat constantly can be a big distraction, and I know I piddle with my phone too much, but nothing like some other people, who walk around campus running into lamp posts. I text with my sister, my mom, a friend from the soccer team, who keeps me up with them, and my best friend from back home, and that’s about it.
That Saturday afternoon I looked up some movies, and texted suggestions to Patton. It was awhile before I heard from him, and I was just starting to wonder if he had blown me off, when I heard from him.
How are we going to get there? He asked, via text.
I’ll drive, I sent.
We arranged to meet at a spot near the parking lots, and I was only there a couple of minutes before he strutted up.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, how’s it going?” He said, cocky and cool. We fist-bumped. He had on a jacket, but no hat, and I liked seeing his nice, thick hair. I’d also left my hat behind.
“So, you have a car?” He asked.
“Yeah, my brother’s,” I said as we picked our way through the parking lot. “You don’t?”
“No,” he said. “I have a junker back home, but it’s not trustworthy enough to drive all the way out here. It’s got a lotta miles on it.”
That told me something. Maybe he wasn’t another spoiled, rich kid. The kind that got new cars for high school graduation, and drove them around like their shit didn’t stink. Another reason to like him.
“Do you miss it? Your car?”
He shrugged. “It’s a drag, not having a car sometimes, but mostly it’s okay. But I have to catch rides home. I know some kids.”
We found my car and climbed in.
“This is pretty decent,” he said, as he fastened his seatbelt. Nice of him to say so, but it’s nothing to be proud of. It’s an old Honda, a manual, but it’s reliable.
I briefly gripped his hand and smiled at him.
“Are we on a date?” He asked, bold as brass.
“Sure. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “Absolutely.” Was he expecting it not to be, after I’d kissed him?
People are more casual about these things these days, I guess. It’s all hook-ups, especially if you’re gay. But I didn’t want that. I’d already decided, I wanted a boyfriend, but I guess I wasn’t picturing someone like Patton. A jock, or something. I don’t know.