by Susan Laine
Nick turned off the tablet, set it on the bedside table, and buried himself under the covers. If the world was going to take away the thing he loved the most, he could forget it for a little while longer. So he tucked his face against the pillow and cried silent tears.
No one should be forced to choose between the love of their parents and the love of their dreams, passions, and life’s pursuits.
Chapter 9
THE TOWN library had been useful. Tom didn’t regret spending his whole morning there. He did feel slightly guilty for ditching Nick when the guy was still asleep. But if Tom had stayed, with his morning wood hard and demanding, they would have ended up doing something Nick didn’t yet seem ready for. At least not between them.
Regardless, Tom had exciting news and wanted to share it with his best friend. He took out his phone and dialed. As soon as the line opened, Tom hollered, “Morning, sleepyhead.”
A pause of dead air made Tom think the line had disconnected. Finally Nick said quietly, “Hey.”
“Sorry for bailing on you so early but—”
“It’s fine.”
Tom frowned as he sat in the armchair in front of the balcony doors. Nick’s voice sounded so flat and disinterested. “What’s wrong? You sound a bit… off.”
Tom imagined hearing a deep gulp. Then Nick whispered, “Listen, I can’t go with you to the University of Idaho. I… I’m going to Harvard. To study… science.”
Tom gasped in shock. Nick had talked about nothing but pursuing his art degree since he’d learned he got into the college of his choice. “What? Why?” An epiphany clicked inside his brain. “What did your parents say to you?”
“Nothing,” Nick snapped back viciously. Then he sighed, sounding like a deflated balloon. “Dad just reminded me of the risks and dangers of an artist’s life, is all. It makes sense.”
While Tom was proud that Nick had finally come clean with his parents about where and what he wanted to study, he was also angry that Nick’s parents hadn’t seen a single merit in what their son longed to do with his life.
“Rational or not, you don’t want to be a scientist. You want to be an artist.”
“There’s no future in it.”
“That’s not fucking true.” Tom was getting really mad. How dare these damn adults ruin his best friend’s life and smash his dreams like they meant nothing? “And you know it. Come on, Nick. Don’t give up. You’re a great artist, and you’ll only be better with proper education. You’re already making money like with a regular nine-to-five job. One day you’ll be among the best in the business.”
A soft sob on the other end of the line broke Tom’s heart. “I don’t know….” Nick sounded so small and fearful; Tom hated hearing it. He had to find a way to console his best friend.
“Look, babe, don’t make any rash decisions until we talk, okay? You haven’t accepted the college yet, have you?”
Tom waited with bated breath. He realized his own plans depended on Nick following his lifelong dreams. Tom was only half-selfish, or perhaps more like one-third or a quarter, because deep down he just wanted Nick to be happy. And he wouldn’t be as a scientist, not really. He’d probably be good at it, sure, but happy? No.
“N-no.” Nick hesitated, his breathing loud over the phone. “I don’t want them to hate me.”
Tom clenched his fists to control his rising rage. “If your folks get mad at you for doing what you love and what you’re good at, then fuck them.” When Nick sniffled at the sound of Tom’s hoarse voice, Tom knew he had to try something else to alleviate his best buddy’s mood. “I wanted to thank you for last night. I was in a pretty dark place too.”
A tiny chuckle by Nick told Tom he’d made the right choice to change the subject. “You okay?”
Tom was touched. Nick still asked, even amid his own problems. “Yeah. And I love you.”
The silence stretched between them, but Tom pictured Nick smiling and blushing where he couldn’t see it. “I…. You too.” Then a sweet giggle followed. “Babe.”
Tom grinned. Nick had repeated Tom’s term of endearment. Yes, as a sort of joke, but still. “I knew you’d come round eventually. Honey.”
Nick laughed, and Tom patted himself on the back. “Stop right there, sweetheart.”
“Absolutely, darling.”
Nick sounded like he was choking on laughter. “Enough, enough. I can’t even….”
But Tom wasn’t done. “I really liked kissing you.” His dick stiffened inside his jeans, and he palmed his rising erection. “Keep thinking about what I’d do to you if we were in the same room.”
Nick’s voice dropped to husky levels. “Oh yeah? What would that be?” Tom heard rustling in the background, so clearly his buddy was making himself more comfortable.
Tom leaned deeper into the warm softness of the armchair and stared out through the gap in the balcony doors to the blue waters of the bay. “Well, first I’d take you in my arms and pull you close.”
“Oh.” Tom could hear the smile in Nick’s voice and was proud of himself for making him feel better despite his difficult circumstances. “What else?”
“Then I’d kiss you, long and deep, till you’d moan and squirm.”
“Uh-huh.” Nick’s voice took on a breathless note.
“I’d undress you, real slow, take my time, and kiss every spot I expose.”
“Ngh…” came Nick’s eloquent response. He was panting on the line.
Tom’s blood ran south of his belt and his mouth felt dry, but he wanted to continue, maybe take them both to the edge and then push them over. He shoved his phone between his head and his shoulder, unzipped his jeans, ripped open his fly, and pulled out his cock. Stroking helped to soothe the ache and need but only moderately.
“Then, Nicky, once you stood before me naked as the day you were born, I’d lick you all over, from head to toe. I’d suck your nipples into hard burning peaks, I’d swallow your balls whole, I’d lap up your juices from your cock like a delicious melting lollipop.”
“Gah….” Nick made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. A faint fleshy sound came from the background, so faint Tom almost missed it. But apparently Nick was beating his meat too.
Tom groaned with satisfaction and fisted his dick tighter. A yearning for real contact grew within him. Too bad Nick’s place was too far to walk with a hard-on. Tom would so get arrested. And prison porn only looked hot.
“And then, when I had you all hot and dripping, I’d shove you on the bed on your stomach, part your asscheeks, and tonguefuck your hole like nobody’s business.”
A burst of laughter came over the air. “What the…? How do you even know about…?”
Tom beamed with joy. “I did some research, picturing all the things I’d do with you. Will do with you and to you. It’ll be epic, baby, I promise.”
“You’re crazy.” But Nick’s tone suggested he was happy. “Tonguefucking, oh my God.”
Tom grinned and went on, hell-bent on making them both shoot like rockets. “Your sweet little hole would call out to me, beckon me to do nasty, dirty things.”
Nick giggled. “Shut up.”
“When you’d be all relaxed and open, I’d shove my monster dick inside your butt, all the way in, buried so deep you could taste me in your mouth. Then I’d cover your back like a blanket, a man-blanket, and fuck you good and slow and deep. I’d ram into you like a damn bull, and you’d be begging me for mercy, for me to stop and never stop.”
“Oh God…,” Nick murmured, his voice choked as if he were straining to come.
“Yeah, baby,” Tom muttered back, smiling wide, jacking off fast, need building inside his balls, practically boiling over. “I’d fuck you so good, Nicky. Long and hard and deep. I’d hold you down with my weight and press you to the mattress. You’d whimper and shake, a hot and sweaty mess.”
“What if… what if I wanted to… to fuck you?” Nick asked over the line, so out of breath Tom nearly creamed himself then and there.
“We can do that too. We’ll do everything, babe. Absolutely everything.”
Tom arched up off the armchair, his hips rolling to accommodate the urge to thrust, which he couldn’t quite do alone. He closed his eyes and imagined plunging his dick deep into Nick’s hot, plump, willing ass. He had no trouble picturing the tight velvety grip of a man’s channel around his cock even though he didn’t know for certain how different a man’s ass was from a woman’s pussy.
“I’d hook my hands under your shoulders and hold you down while I fucked you. Would you like that, Nicky? Do you want my cock inside you, huh?”
Tom was so out of his mind with lust that he almost missed the dark growl behind him. As he glanced over his shoulder, though, mind numb with sexy thoughts and vision glossy from a haze of desire, Tom saw the glowering form of his dad towering over him on the threshold.
“Oh shit.”
Chapter 10
“NICKY? SORRY to leave you hanging but… I gotta go.”
Tom hung up fast while scrambling to stand and shove his wilting erection back inside his jeans. He was still reeling from the shock of having phone sex with Nick, the easy flow of it, how it had felt completely natural, a continuation of their relationship from friends to lovers. His father interrupting him, sort of in flagrante, took nothing away from the epiphany that Tom had zero qualms left when it came to getting up close and personal with Nick. Whether Tom was bi or gay didn’t matter. Tom had feelings for Nick, and that did matter.
Charles grimaced and looked away, arms crossed over his chest, his face red with fury, a huff of indignation like a dragon’s breath. “Looks like being a gay Buddhist monk is allowed, then.”
His sneer made Tom stop dead in his tracks. How dare his father judge him? Like he was Mister Perfect. “I’m nearly nineteen. You should knock before coming into my room.”
Charles shot daggers at him with his glare. “While you live under my roof, boy—”
“I’m not a child, Dad. And if you want, I can just as well leave.”
At least half of that was an empty threat. Tom had no other relatives in the area now that his mother was dead. There was just him and his dad. Everyone else in the McAllister family lived either on the East Coast in Maine or back in the old country in Scotland. Hardly convenient travel distance.
But Tom was livid and beyond caring. His father clearly didn’t know the first thing about his son, and what he did know about he obviously didn’t approve. Never a word of encouragement—just snide remarks and open disdain.
“And where would you go?” Charles asked with a derisive scoff. “To that monastery in the mountains where your poor mom—”
“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, you son of a—”
The slap landed across Tom’s face too fast for him to see or stop it. His vision wavered, his face shook, pain jolted him and washed over him in waves, finally to rest throbbing in his jaw, under skin that burned and itched.
While Tom was well aware his dad and he didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, he’d never have imagined Charles would resort to actual physical violence.
They stared at each other in shock.
Tom held on to his cheek, hurting.
Charles blinked, eyes wide, mouth agape, appearing as stunned as Tom felt.
Unable to fully digest what had just happened, Tom couldn’t stay a moment longer. With determination of the mind and weak knees, he turned around, headed for his closet, pulled out a big suitcase, and started to throw clothes in. Bunches of clean socks rolled on the floor in his haste. But he couldn’t stop. He had to get out of there. Panic compressed his chest, making his vision blur. He saw spots.
Clean underwear, socks, shoes… what else did he need? A shaving kit? A wallet with cash at the very least. To the best of his recollection, he hadn’t maxed out his credit card yet. A jacket, one for winter, one for summer, an intermediary season coat—what the fuck was that, even?
A trembling hand landed on his shoulder. Tom shrugged it off vehemently and dug into his sock drawer again. He needed to grab his laptop, his cell phone charger—
“Tom? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
For the first time in his entire life Tom heard his dad’s voice crack. Not even when Monica had died had Charles’s steely veneer so much as quivered. Tom was at a loss. Tears filled his eyes, and he wanted to cry and rage and shout and punch the wall or his dad or something.
“Tom, please don’t leave. Don’t go like this. I’m sorry.”
Tom halted midmotion. Could he get through to his dad? If not now, then never.
Without turning around and facing Charles, Tom declared, “I’m only gonna tell you this once. You wanna know the real reason I went to see Master Oshin? It’s because you don’t know me or want to know me. Ever since I was a kid, you had my future planned out for me, like I was nothing but a copy of you. You don’t care if I have plans of my own. I went to see Oshin because you never want to talk about Mom. But I do. I miss her so goddamn much. And it’s like you don’t.”
“That’s not true.” Charles sounded pained, his voice gravelly and gruff. “I loved her more than you could ever….” He didn’t finish, a stifled sound emerging from his throat. Was he crying or about to cry? Tom could scarcely believe it.
“If you loved her, then how can you belittle her faith when it was so important to her? It was a part of her. The best part. It made her a better person.”
Charles grunted and wheeled around but didn’t leave the room. Tom saw the movement as a shadow on the wall and glanced at the man over his shoulder. Charles shook visibly. Tom should have felt guilty. And surprisingly, a part of him did. Then his jaw throbbed with pain, and he shoved those thoughts aside.
“Monica….” It sounded like Charles had more to say but nothing came out.
Tom sighed, aching. “Dad, Buddhism didn’t make Mom sick. Buddhism didn’t kill her. She was sick, that’s all. She was sick. And then she died. It’s no one’s fault.”
Charles let out a bitter, watery laugh without an ounce of joy. “I’m surprised you’d defend her faith when you claim you don’t believe in God.”
Not this again? Tom groaned inwardly. “I’m not a Christian; I’m not a Buddhist. I don’t believe in any god. I’m not religious. I’m either an atheist or agnostic. I… I think I’m nescient. Nick taught me that word. Do you know what it means? Ignorant. But it also stands for a person who doesn’t believe in spiritual things but who gets that some stuff is unknowable because it’s not science or facts. An unbeliever, if you have to pick a term.” Then he sighed again because he had to. “As far as Christianity is concerned, Dad, I have to tell you—it’s not the faith itself. It’s the people. Some people can distort and twist and turn even the most beautiful things ugly.”
“Like me, you mean?” Charles spat out scornfully.
“If you want to see it that way, sure, whatever.” Tom was tired but he knew the day was far from over. “Despite my lack of faith, if you still want to know what’s going on with me, I have two things to tell you. And believe me when I say they’re nonnegotiable. Once I tell you, if you want to throw me out, that’s your call. I’m of age. Not like I can stop you.”
Charles straightened up, his back stiff and erect as if he were holding himself upright by sheer will alone. He said nothing, so he must have decided to wait for the other shoe to drop.
Tom braced himself for rejection and his last sight of home. “Firstly, I’m not going to Yale to study politics. I’m going to the University of Idaho to study comparative religion.”
Charles whirled around, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “What? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not personally interested in faith. I don’t have a calling. But… I am curious. I want to learn more about religions and faiths and beliefs. I want to understand why people choose to ignore facts and mock science for something they can’t ever substantiate or verify, not even rationalize to themselves. I don’t wa
nt to seek religion or faith for myself, but I want to figure out what drew Mom to Buddhism and you to Christianity.”
Charles frowned. “Do you think you might ever…?”
“No, Dad. I will never convert to anyone’s faith. It’s not who I am.” His face hardened, as did his heart. “And just for the record, Dad, how dare you place your faith over Mom’s and claim yours is the only one that matters? How dare you act like you’re better than everyone else, even me and Mom, just because you go to church, when we both know you don’t live according to certain tenets? At least Mom practiced what she preached. Oh yeah, that’s right. She never did preach. Not to me. She never force-fed her beliefs down my throat the way you do.”
Tom felt sickened by his dad’s actions and behavior. He wanted to throw up. He longed to rid himself of all those stupid teachings that hypocritical people evangelized but never practiced themselves. Tom wanted to learn about various creeds, but at heart he carried a lot of resentment because of the people who claimed to believe. He’d have to relinquish that animosity if he planned to go to college to study comparative religion. He could be open-minded… couldn’t he?
“Have I really been so bad?” Charles asked. There wasn’t a trace of anger left in his voice. He sounded sad and even a bit remorseful. Will wonders never cease? Tom thought skeptically.
“Kind of, yeah.” Tom didn’t want to lie or pretend anymore. “I’m not a kid. I don’t want to attend church, with or without you, ever again. I don’t ever again want to hear how that means I’ll go to hell or how only churchgoers are moral enough to go to heaven. That’s bullshit.”
“Mind your tongue.” Charles issued the warning, even though from the sound of it his heart wasn’t in it.
“Second,” Tom continued, changing the subject. “I don’t know if I’m gay or bi or what, but I am in love with Nick. I guess I always have been. I want to be with him for the rest of my life. We have a future together, first in college, then… who knows? But the point is, if you think that means I’m going to hell… I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t believe it’s true. But if you keep on saying it… I can’t stay here. I won’t. So say it now, and let’s get this over with.”