A Not So Typical Love

by Tristen Rowen

  "Calm down," he said. I was so angry I wasn't sure what I was going to do. "Give me a minute and we'll talk about it."

  Shaking my head, my eyes watered and I didn't like it. I wasn't one to cry; I was one to fight.

  "Hey," he said and went to touch my face, maybe to stroke my cheek or do something comforting, but all I wanted to do was bite his finger. Fortunately I didn't bite his finger and spit in his face instead. Jamie stood there as shocked as the first time I did it. Before I did anything else, I ran off.

  "Is that the best you got?" Jamie shouted as I bolted down the stairs. If it wasn't still pouring outside, I would have run outside to hide in a spot only I knew, but since I didn't want to get wet again, I decided to go to the couch with my music. I figured my music would calm me down as it usually did.

  I wished Tim was home because I was afraid I was going to do something to hurt Jamie. A few minutes later, the houseguest made an appearance in the living room. He smelled nice. Curling up on the side of the couch, I refused to look at him, not wanting to do something I'd regret. Jamie wasn't afraid of me, though, and sat on the couch beside me.

  "Don't touch me," I said, feeling his eyes on me. Provoking me, he poked the side of my bare shoulder.

  "I'm touching you," he said, poking me over and over. "Ha, ha." I kicked his leg, but that didn't stop him and he continued to poke.

  "Stop it," I laughed, but I didn't want to laugh and was annoyed at myself for laughing. "Stop it," I said again. "Or I'll spit in your face again."

  "What if I like it when you do that?" he said. "What if I like it when you kick and shove me?"

  "Shut up," I said, not believing him and looked away again, turning up my music. Jamie snatched my headphones off my head and turned them off. Public Image Limited's Rise blared from my phone. Jamie instantly sang along to the song. He really knew how to get to me, but in a good way, and my eyes drifted to him. I sat as far as I could away from him, hugging the side of the couch, wanting to be angry and annoyed. He leaned into me and kissed the side of my face.

  “Jordan," he said.

  "Jamie," I said. He kissed the side of my face again, driving me crazy. "Don't touch me," I said as his hand moved to my bare chest, smiling against the side of my face. I didn't want to like it, but every part of me did. Every part of me liked him. "Don't touch me," I whispered.

  "You like it really," he said with his lips against my neck, his hand on my chest. He kissed my neck, then my shoulder, followed by my neck again. "I liked kissing you. You're a great kisser."

  It was happening again. I shifted in my seat, turning my head just enough to make contact with his lips.

  "Come here," he said, but I was already close to him so I wasn't sure where he wanted me to go. "Here," he said, tugging my arm.

  "What?" I said irritably. "Where?" Bringing his arm around my waist, he guided me onto his lap. He was impossible to resist. His hands roamed over my chest and up to my shoulders and neck and back down again.

  "I'm touching you," he said.

  "Don't," I said, swallowing hard even though he had been touching me for the past five minutes. I felt funny and was a little light-headed and dizzy. Trying to refocus, I sang along to the song.

  "I really like you, Jordan," he said.

  "Then don't leave," I said. "I don't want you to go. Don't." He ran a finger over my bottom lip. I grabbed his hands, clutching them in mine.

  "You're a lot tougher than you look," he said as I gripped his hands. Holding them even tighter, I kissed his mouth hard. "Ow...," he said as I bit his bottom lip. I kissed him again and again, bringing his hands to my back, eventually letting them go.

  Digging his fingers into my lower back, he kissed me harder and harder, accepting my tongue in his mouth as I accepted his in mine.

  My shorts grew tighter and tighter, so tight I couldn't stand it and unzipped them. I couldn't help it; I had to do it. I pushed down my boxers, freeing my erection. Jamie and I were so close, it pressed against his stomach. As he went to touch it, I grabbed his hands again because I wasn't so sure I wanted him touching me there. With my hands in his again, I kissed him. Kissing would just have to do.

  "I want to touch you," he said in-between kisses.

  "No," I said. I had to let go of one hand, though, because I needed that hand. As my hand slid up and down my erection, slowly at first, savoring every moment, I let go of his other hand. Bringing his arms around me again, my shorts loosened as Jamie slipped his hands in the back of them and inside my boxers. Reaching under me, he propped me up slightly, squeezing my butt.

  "I'm touching you," he said.

  "Don't," I replied half-heartedly and didn't do anything to stop him. I actually really liked his hands down there, squeezing and pushing my cheeks apart. More and more sounds escaped from my mouth, especially as he ran a finger down the middle. I didn't freak out; I liked it. I unzipped his jeans because it felt like the right thing to do and I wanted to.

  "We should probably go upstairs," he said against my cheek as I exposed the tent in his boxers.

  "Why?" I said, looking down and contemplating touching him. He withdrew his hands from the back of my shorts and took out his erection, rubbing it against mine.

  "I'm touching you," he said. I could barely stand it. "I want to go upstairs with you." Shaking my head, I concentrated, on the verge. My hand pumped faster and faster until I couldn't take it anymore. Crying against his lips, my body shook as more and more liquid came out.

  As we kissed, I diverted my eyes to his hand as it moved just like mine did. He shot it straight up and against my chest, kissing me hard, moaning against my lips. After he finished, he abruptly threw me on my back on the couch. I didn't fight it, letting him kiss my chest and stomach, licking the areas where he got me.

  "Oh...wow..." I muttered.

  With his chin on my stomach, he smiled up at me. Although I had tucked myself back in, he pushed the front of my shorts back down, exposing some tufts of dark hair. He kissed all along my waist. As he pushed my shorts further down, the front door opened, which only meant one thing: Tim was home. I wanted him home earlier, but not now. I jumped up and got off the couch, quickly fixing myself. I ran upstairs to my room, forgetting my phone and headphones down there. Safely in my room, I heard Tim's voice down below, followed by Jamie's quieter voice.

  My knees bounced up and down while I sat on my bed, thinking about what just happened. My body wanted more. I really needed my music. Music would calm me down and get my mind off Jamie and sex and everything else I wasn't used to feeling. Unable to stand being alone without my music, I ran back downstairs, finding Tim sitting on the couch talking to Jamie. He quickly glanced at me as I entered the living room.

  "Hi," Tim said to me. "Have you been behaving?" He really did think I was still ten years old.

  "He's not a toddler," Jamie said in my defense as I grabbed my phone and headphones that had fallen on the floor while Jamie and I were doing our thing.

  "How were the fireworks?" Tim asked, ignoring Jamie, choosing to change his line of questioning.

  "Good," I said, putting my headphones back on.

  "We had a good time," Jamie said.

  "Hey, we're going to play mini golf later," Tim said. "Wanna come?"

  Tim must have forgotten what happened the last time I played mini golf. Because I was losing (and badly), I flung my putter across the green, nearly striking another player. Not only that, as Tim walked me out of the mini golf range, I knocked down rows of different colored golf balls, causing a mess and a huge scene. Even with his blue eyes and contagious smile, Jamie couldn't convince me to go.

  I pretended I didn't care they were going out; they were friends after all, but I did care because I only wanted to be with Jamie. No matter how many walks through the woods I took, I couldn't get my mind off him. My body did things whenever I thought of him.

  Was I gay? What would Mom think if she knew? If she could speak, I bet she wouldn't care one way or another, as long
as I was happy.

  Girlfriend in a Coma

  Jordan

  Jamie and Tim were up late last night. I waited as long as I could before falling asleep. Some time during the night my door opened once, but I was too sleepy to know if it was Jamie or Tim. Sometimes Tim would check on me for some reason, always worried about me.

  As usual, I woke up early, a little after Tim. Before going downstairs, I peeked in Jamie's room, finding Jamie sound asleep, his bare chest and legs exposed, the covers tangled around his waist. My heart skipped a beat seeing him like that, half naked.

  Before going downstairs, I grabbed my music and put my headphones on. I was in the mood for the Smiths. Since I was starving, I made my way downstairs to have some breakfast, music playing in my ears.

  Tim sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and bowl of Frosted Flakes. After pouring myself a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, I sat down across from him.

  "You were up late," I said. "For a work night."

  "I guess," he said. "You should have come. You would have loved it. Jamie kicked my ass." Smiling down at my cereal, I wished I had gone to see him beat Tim. "What are you up to today?"

  "Swimming," I said.

  "What's new? Maybe Jamie can take you somewhere beyond our backyard. He has nothing else to do." Tim got up and carried his bowl and mug to the sink while I thought about what we could do today. Nothing came to mind. "You can go to the beach or maybe to Maine or the Cape...just somewhere different. You seem to get on well with him."

  "Yeah, he's alright," I mumbled, not letting on that I thought he was more than alright. "Art never took us fishing."

  "Art never took us anywhere," he said. "Maybe Jamie can take you. I bet his dad used to take him fishing and camping and did things normal dads usually do with their sons."

  Tim and I never knew normal.

  "I want to take some classes on campus this year," I said, changing the subject.

  "You want to take classes on campus? But you don't drive," he said.

  "Yeah, I know that. I want to live on campus," I said. Shaking his head with a laugh, he searched the kitchen for his car keys. "It's not funny."

  "I thought we've talked about this," he said.

  "Three years ago," I said. "Anyway, you talked and I listened. You always tell me what to do."

  "I don't have time to talk about this right now. We'll talk about it with Art." Art. The only thing he was good for was paying the bills. I hadn't seen him since Christmas. At most we talked once a month and he did most of the talking; I did the listening. Everyone expected me to listen all the time. "I gotta go," he said, finding his keys under a pile of junk mail. "Have fun and be good." Be good. He always said that to me, making me constantly feel like an annoying, bratty, little kid.

  After Tim left and I finished my cereal, I ventured back upstairs. Instead of going to my room, I went to Jamie's room. He was still asleep in the same position he was in a little while ago. At the foot of the bed I spotted an open sketchbook that I found him doodling in from time to time. Getting a closer look at it, I recognized that black and white portrait to be me.

  Sitting down on his bed, I examined the portrait closer. It was good; I wondered if he'd let me keep it. Still holding the sketchbook, I scooted back on the bed and sat beside Jamie as he lay on his side, asleep. I ran my hand over his bare shoulder and down his arm that was so much more muscular than mine.

  "Hey," he said with his eyes closed. "You went to bed early."

  "No I didn't," I said. "You were up late and I fell asleep. Someone checked on me last night. Was that you?"

  "Maybe," he yawned, draping an arm over my lap and over the sketchbook. "I hope you don't mind that I drew you. Tim never told me he had such a cute brother."

  "I'm not cute," I muttered.

  "Fine," he said. "You're not cute. So...what are you listening to?"

  "The Smiths," I said.

  "What's your favorite Smiths' song?" he asked.

  "Girlfriend in a Coma," I replied. "What's yours?"

  "Panic," he said.

  "Interesting," I said instead of my usual response of "typical." "Do you sleep naked?" I asked.

  "I love it when you flirt," he said with a laugh.

  "I'm not flirting,” I insisted.

  "Yeah, right," he said. "Do I sleep naked? Well, that depends. I didn't when you chose to sleep in my bed."

  "Are you naked right now?"

  "No," he said, tossing the covers off to show me. Like me, he was in his boxers. Unable to resist much longer, my hand roamed down his bare back and over the back of his boxers. "Hey," he said against my stomach. "You've never done that before. It's okay. I don't mind." Since he didn't mind, I kept my hand there.

  "Have you ever gone fishing?" I asked.

  "Fishing? Yeah, when I was a kid. Why, you wanna go fishing?"

  "Maybe," I said, slipping my hand inside the back of his shorts. Sighing quietly, he shifted a little. I liked touching him. With his head at my waist, he kissed my lower stomach while I squeezed his butt cheek. He slowly scooted up my body, forcing me to withdraw my hand. Face to face, he pushed the sketchbook off the bed.

  "Can I kiss you?" he asked, but before he got the whole question out, my lips were already on his, my hand on the back of his neck. Our kisses turned hard and heavy quickly, our tongues wrestling with each other. As we kissed, he brought one of my legs over his and up to his hip.

  "Wait," I said, bringing my leg down to take off my shorts. Jamie's eyes met mine as he did the same. I brought my leg over his again, rubbing my arousal against his.

  "Touch me," I said as my body shook slightly against his.

  "Yeah? Where?"

  "Everywhere," I said, my body burning hot and it wasn't because it was hot in his room. His hands slid down my back and over my butt, then up again, and back down. I moaned into his mouth as his finger dragged between my cheeks. My body grinded against him, back and forth slowly while his finger trailed along my crack and over the back of my balls.

  These unfamiliar feelings were almost too much for me to take and I accidentally bit down on his bottom lip.

  “One day you're going to bite my lip right off. Relax," he said, guiding me on my back. How could I relax at a time like this? He brought his hand between my legs and touched me lightly, too lightly. Still, I gasped, holding my breath for a few seconds. Kissing my neck, he pushed my erection back and forth with his hand. His lips trailed along my collar bone, over my shoulder, and down to my chest.

  "What are you doing?" I asked as his lips made their way lower and lower. He kissed my lower stomach, right above my pelvis. I propped myself up on my elbows, looking down at him, watching him closely. He kissed one inner thigh, then the other.

  "Can I kiss you here?" he asked, circling the tip of my erection with his finger. It was too much; I couldn't breathe.

  "Yeah," I squeaked out. As his lips made contact, I inhaled deeply, so deeply I held my breath for a few seconds. "Oh wow..." I breathed as he took more and more in his mouth. "That feels so good," I said, intense heat running through my veins, something I had never felt before in my life. "How are you doing that?" Releasing me, his tongue slid up the shaft before he snaked up my body to kiss my mouth. "I didn't say stop," I said. Smiling, he backed away from my lips to resume where he left off. He kissed all around it, eventually taking the whole thing in his mouth. "Oh fuck," I muttered.

  My back arched, holding the back of his head as I came right in his mouth. Ordinarily I would have been embarrassed or I would have run away, but my body was paralyzed yet satisfied and content in a strange, unusual way. Jamie didn't break away from me and didn't seem disgusted by any of it. He held me there until I was finished.

  “I'm dizzy," I said, closing my eyes, breathing heavily once again, nearly panting as my heart beat wildly. The mattress shifted and I knew Jamie had gotten off the bed. I opened one eye to see him leave the room. He returned with a glass of water and handed it to me. I gladly took it, my eyes
following him around the bed until he plopped back down beside me. My eyes wandered down his body, which still stood at attention. "I liked that," I said, taking another sip of water. "What you did. I liked it."

  "Yeah, I could tell," he said.

  "Can I touch you?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "Please do."

  My hand shook as I went to touch him. I suddenly stopped, having second thoughts, afraid I wouldn't do it right. Jamie sensed my hesitation and placed a hand over mine, guiding it down to him. As my hand landed on him, he brought his lips back to mine. He moaned against my mouth as my hand slid up and down, pumping faster the harder we kissed. His body suddenly jerked into mine, possibly coming quicker than he expected. We kissed and I held my hand there until he was done. As his body relaxed, I removed my hand and wiggled my gooey, sticky fingers in front of Jamie's face. As I went to bring my fingers to my mouth, he pulled my hand away, bringing it to his lips instead, kissing and licking each of them.

  "That was so much fun," I said, but noticed a weird look in his eyes. They almost seemed teary as he nodded. "Are you sad? Did I do something wrong?" He shook his head and curled up beside me, resting his head against my chest. I found myself singing the Smiths’ Girlfriend in a Coma. Jamie half-laughed.

  "What a fucked up song, huh?" he said.

  "Jamie?" I said, stroking the back of his head.

  "Jordan," he said.

  "Let's go fishing."

  Blitzkrieg Bop

  Jamie

  He's not like Gavin. He's nothing like him...I kept telling myself. While Jordan was nothing like my deceased boyfriend, I hadn't felt anything like this since him. The feeling was the same and it happened so fast. I was afraid to fall in love again, convinced I'd never survive another heartbreak or loss. It was easier to have a "friends-with-benefits" type of relationship or better yet, one with no strings attached like Brendan. With Brendan, there were no expectations; just sex.