by Gene Gant
I do remember taking more selfies for the memory book. Toff took some too. But mostly I remember us holding hands across the table as we ate.
Holding hands with him still felt strange.
AT TOFF’S house I went straight to his room and threw myself on the bed, like always.
Annnd… that was probably not the wisest thing to do under the circumstances.
I jumped up and stood at attention as Toff walked in. “You want a Pepsi or something?” he asked.
“No, I’m cool.”
Toff liked to get comfortable once he was home. The first thing he did when he made it in from school was to trade out his uniform for something loose and light. Standing barely three feet away from me, he kicked off his sneakers at once. He proceeded to pull his polo shirt over his head and toss it aside. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Then he unbuckled his jeans.
Oh, God, please let him have on drawers!
Off came the jeans, revealing a pair of striped boxers. Hm. When did he trade in his tighty-whities for boxers? And when did he get all those muscles in his legs? Lean, hard muscles that flexed so magnificently when he—Oh look, there’s a Godzilla poster on the wall over his desk. Isn’t that interesting? I’ve only seen it like, a thousand times.
“Geordi, hand me that shirt over there.”
I grabbed the tank top he’d left draped over the headboard of his bed and turned back to him as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts. He slipped into the tank top. His hair had started sticking up in spots again. I reached out impulsively and vigorously mussed his hair with both hands.
He laughed. “What’re you doing?”
I stood back, looking him over with his hair spiked in all its glory. “I like you this way.”
He stepped in and kissed me. “Mm. You taste like strawberry ice cream.”
“So do you.”
“I’m thirsty. I’m gonna have some water. You sure you don’t want anything?”
“Now that you mention it, I’ll have some water. With lots of ice.”
“You got it.”
Toff left for the kitchen, and I ambled over to his desk. Sketch pads of various sizes were stacked at one side of the desk. Several pencils—color, charcoal, and regular old graphite—were scattered across the desktop. Toff was an artist. He’d been drawing since he was old enough to sit up and put a pencil to paper. When we were in elementary school, he drew a lot of comics that were funny as hell and got passed around, keeping me, Jess, and many of our little friends entertained. Now he did mostly still-life drawings.
He’d labeled each of the pads with the dates he started and finished sketching in them. The pad on top was the most recent, with a start date of March of this year and no end date yet. I picked it up and began flipping through it.
First was a picture of the main entrance of our school. Next was a picture of an old, unlaced work boot, then a mailbox mounted on a post in the middle of grassy field. A wine glass lying broken on a table, a car on an empty road with its driver’s door open, a teddy bear sitting in a chair with its eyes torn out—my chest grew heavy with emotion as I looked at them. Toff had managed to infuse each drawing with a misty sense of melancholy, of loneliness. His talent amazed me.
The still lifes gave way to drawings of guys. Naked guys. Toff had drawn plenty of cartoon people, caricatures like the ones you see in comic strips, but this was on a totally different level. These drawings were realistic. Anatomically correct. Practically three dimensional. The guys in the pictures were of all races, some young, some older, tall, short, lean, thick. Each face bore an expression of aching solitude.
And then there was… me?
Oh, shit. There was a drawing of me in the sketch pad. Naked like the other guys. I was standing on a grassy expanse near a row of towering hedges. There was darkness in the background but a light seemed to be shining on me. Drawn in side view, my body looked about like it did in real life—which is to say my arms and legs were firm and strong from playing sports but a bit on the thin side, my pecs were just okay, my ass was small, and my junk was average. My face was turned toward the viewer. Unlike the faces in the other naked dude drawings, my expression was one of surprise.
My first reaction was pure embarrassment. It felt as if I’d just seen an actual photograph of myself sans clothing. I also felt bewildered. Why did Toff draw me that way? There was nothing about the drawing that creeped me out; in a way, it was flattering. When somebody pictures you in your birthday suit, it means you’re hot, right? But then, the guys in the other drawings looked great, all rugged and handsome and seriously adult. In my drawing, I came off as some chump teen dork who’d for sure be easier on the eyes dressed than undressed. I mean, really, what the hell was I in there for? Was Toff going to stick a caption above my picture that said, “Don’t let this happen to you”?
“What do you think?”
I jerked so hard the pad flew out of my hand. “Dag, Toff! You scared the crap out of me.”
He smiled. “Sorry, man. Here, have some water.” He handed me a glass and then reached down to retrieve the sketch pad.
“You’re really good, dude. You’re doing some serious art now.”
“I’ve always been serious about my art.”
“No, I mean you’ve got real talent. You can actually put feelings into your stuff.”
“That’s what art’s all about. Putting feelings into the stroke of a pen or a brush.”
“Well, you should major in art when you get to college. Going for anything else would just be a waste. In my opinion. For what that’s worth.”
Toff drank some water and put his glass on the desk. Then he opened the sketch pad again to the drawing of yours truly. “I was worried this would creep you out when you saw it.”
I shrugged. “No, nothing like that. But… why did you draw me that way?”
“I drew it right after I left your coming-out party. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how much you turn me on. And then I remembered that pool party your dad threw for your twelfth birthday. That was the only time I’ve actually seen you naked—”
“Jeez!” I growled, letting my head fall back. “I thought that was dead and buried.”
“You thought wrong.” Toff patted me sympathetically on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’m doing nudes now. And remembering that incident at the pool party sort of inspired me.”
“But why draw me naked when my body is so freaky-looking?”
“Come on, Geordi. You’re not freaky-looking. You have a nice body.”
“I have a nice face. My body’s a different story.”
“You’re hot. Take off your clothes and I’ll prove it to you.”
I shoved him away with my shoulder, he shoved me back, and we both laughed. And for that brief moment, things were normal between us again.
WE PRINTED the pictures of our date from our cell phones and Toff put them in his memory book, along with the ticket stubs from our golf game and the cash register receipt from our visit to Otherlands. After that, we started a game of Street Fighter.
The sun had set and the windows in Toff’s room were starting to grow dark. As we played, I glanced at the clock on his nightstand: 8:29. Mr. Toffler hadn’t come home yet.
“Have you talked to your dad, man?”
Toff didn’t take his eyes off the television screen. “No. I sent him a couple of texts. He hasn’t texted me back.” His hands visibly tightened on the controls, a stranglehold that was a sure sign his mood had just taken a deep dive.
I didn’t ask any more questions about his dad.
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, Toff suddenly switched off the game console.
“We’re through playing?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Now I wanna play with you.”
Uh-oh.
He stood up, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet. For a few moments, he let his eyes roam all over my face as if trying to memorize what I looked like. His eyes closing, he slowly moved in, slipped his
arms around my shoulders, and kissed me. He kissed me again and again.
As the minutes ticked off, his kisses went from tender to aggressive, and my level of discomfort shot up like a bottle rocket on the Fourth of July. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the kisses, per se. I’m totally and exclusively into guys. Toff is a guy, and he’s cute. What totally and exclusively gay teenage dude wouldn’t like kissing a cute guy? But I felt as if I’d been caught in a trap that was steadily tightening around me.
Okay, don’t panic. You can do this. Just go with the flow. I had my arms around Toff’s waist, and I was kissing him back. I closed my eyes and settled into the action. When Toff slipped his tongue into my mouth, I barely flinched. It’s good. It’s all good.
Slowly, he moved his arms from my shoulders. I felt his hands slip onto my back. His fingers dug into my lats, massaging deeply. It felt pretty damn good. After a few minutes of that, he moved his hands down… and down….
My eyes flew open.
I pulled my head back, breaking the kiss. It felt as if I’d plunged deep into some crazy alternate universe, as if rain had started falling up from the floor right there in the room. I was horrified. “Are you… feeling my ass?”
Toff’s eyes were closed seventh heaven style. “Oh hell yeah,” he growled. Then he seemed to register my discomfort. He opened his eyes and gave me a worried, questioning look. “What? Am I doing it wrong or something?”
“No. You definitely seem to have the hang of it.”
He took one hand off my butt long enough to grab the back of my head and pull me into the kiss again, and then he returned his hand down south. He pressed himself roughly against my thigh, and that’s when I felt his—uh, shall we say—“enthusiasm.”
Please, a little help here, God, Allah, Yahweh… Satan. Somebody!
Toff fell back on his bed, pulling me down with him. His tongue seemed to have lodged halfway down my throat, swabbing my tonsils.
Okay, it was definitely time to put a stop to this.
I pushed him away with both hands. “Toff…. Toff, wait. Wait a second.”
He opened his eyes and looked at me as if I’d cut off his air supply. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you think this is going too fast?”
“No, not fast enough.” He eagerly reached for me again.
I pressed him back to the mattress. “Stop. Slow your roll, man.”
He squinted at me, confused. “Geordi?”
“What if your dad comes back and catches us?”
“Don’t worry. He won’t.” Toff lunged up to kiss me again.
I pulled away. “What do you mean?”
“My dad does this all the time. He’ll take off somewhere for hours and hours and won’t answer my calls. He’s not coming back, not anytime soon, probably not until sometime tomorrow.”
“Dag. That’s messed-up.”
“Yeah, well it is what it is.”
As before, mention of Mr. Toffler took Toff’s mood down. Still holding me by the waist, he lay back on the bed, looking tired suddenly.
Could this situation get any more awkward? “It’s after nine. I should get home.”
“Yeah….” He let me go, rolled away, and sat on the edge of the bed.
I stood up and straightened my clothes. I held out my hand to him. “Come on, walk me to the door.”
He took my hand and led me to the living room. At the front door, we stopped. Toff kissed me, just a peck on the lips. “Thanks for going out with me, Geordi,” he said with the tiniest of smiles, “and for the memory book. I won’t ever forget this.”
“I had fun with you tonight, Toff.” And that was true.
We looked at each other. Toff seemed so small. Afraid. Broken and thrown away. Out of the blue, I grabbed him in a tight hug. I didn’t want him to be alone. “Come to my house,” I whispered at his ear. “Spend the night.”
“Do you, do you think that would be okay with your mom and dad?”
He’d spent the night with me dozens of times while we were growing up. This wouldn’t be any different. I let him go, stepped back, took out my cell phone, and dialed home.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mom. I’m at Toff’s. His dad had to go out of town and won’t be back until tomorrow. Is it okay if Toff spends the night at our house?”
“Of course, honey. You know your friends are always welcome.”
“Okay, thanks. Toff’s gonna grab a change of clothes and we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Fine. We’ll see you guys then.”
As I disconnected the call, I gave Toff a thumbs-up. “It’s all set, man. Let’s get outta here.”
He beamed at me.
BY THE time we made it to my house, Dad had already dug out and inflated the air mattress, and Mom had it on the floor of my bedroom, all made up with fresh linen.
“Thanks for letting me sleep over, Mr. and Mrs. Quintrell,” Toff said.
“We’re always glad to have you, Toff,” said Dad. “It’s nice to have someone around to keep ol’ Geordi here entertained.”
“Yeah, and I really like playing with ol’ Geordi.” He winked at me.
I choked.
“Are you okay, honey?” Mom patted me on the back.
“Yeah. That just went down the wrong way.”
“But… you aren’t drinking anything.”
And yet it felt as if I were drowning. “Toff and I are gonna watch a movie before we go to sleep.”
“Something loud and full of explosions, no doubt,” Dad said. “Well, keep your door shut so you guys don’t disturb your mom and me.”
Toff saluted. “Will do, Mr. Quintrell.”
Mom gave Toff a frown. She stared intensely at him for a few moments as if studying his face. “Toff, come here,” she said, waving him toward her.
Toff walked over to Mom. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him warmly for what seemed a long time. When she let him go, Toff’s face had a puzzled expression. “What was that for?” he asked.
“You just look as if you needed it.” Mom patted his cheek tenderly. “Go. Go watch your obnoxious movie.”
Mom and Dad headed for the living room. I closed my bedroom door, and Toff tossed the backpack with his clothes, toothpaste, and toothbrush into the corner by the air mattress. I walked over to my bed, grabbed the remote control, turned on the television, and pulled up the menu of movies currently available for streaming. “What do you wanna watch?”
“How about Justice League vs. Teen Titans?” said Toff. He hopped in my bed and pushed his back up against the headboard. “I haven’t seen that one in a while.”
“Cool.” I punched up the movie and settled in the bed next to Toff.
The movie started. We watched for a while, saying nothing.
“You didn’t tell your mom and dad, did you?” Toff asked abruptly without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Tell them what?”
“That I’m gay and that we’re dating.”
“Uh, no, I didn’t.”
“I figured that. Otherwise I don’t think they would’ve been too keen on the two of us sleeping together in your room with the door closed.”
“Just to be clear, we’re not sleeping together. You’re sleeping down there on the air mattress, and I’m sleeping up here on my bed.”
“Okay, I get it. We’re not rushing into anything. I can do with kisses.” He flicked a devious smile in my direction. “For now.”
I got a chill when he said that. I couldn’t tell if it was a good chill or a bad chill.
We fell silent for another while, watching the buildup for the title showdown between the Titans and the Justice League. We both laughed at the scene where shape-changing Beast Boy morphed back to his human form naked in front of Raven.
“You’re gonna tell ’em, right?” Toff asked. “About you and me.”
“You and me. Yeah. Lots to talk about there. I’ll get around to it.” I reached over and patted his knee. “Now le
t’s shut up and watch the movie, okay?”
Chapter 7
MONDAY MORNING, Toff and I slept in. By the time we finally crawled out of bed, Dad was at work and Mom was off to the gym for Pilates. We ate a breakfast of Pop-Tarts—which Toff brought from his own kitchen because he knew what he’d find in mine—and then we got into our swim trunks, went into the backyard, grabbed the hose, and started filling plastic bazookas for a water gun fight.
While we were loading up, I casually said, “I have to get you back home about 11:00 this morning, Toff. I promised a friend I’d hang out with him at his place today.”
“Yeah? What friend?”
“Jake Butcher. You never met him.”
“Oh, you mentioned him before. He’s the son of your dad’s boss.”
“That’s him. We’ve known each other all these years, but we’ve never really gotten together outside of functions at the Pink Palace. We decided it’s time to change that.” I watched Toff’s eyes carefully as I spoke; he showed no sign of being upset.
“That sounds good. While you’re at Jake’s, maybe I’ll hang out with Jess or Carson.”
“Carson? As in Meyer?”
“Come on, Geordi. Carson’s not that bad. He’s kinda cool actually. And you must think so too or he wouldn’t have been at your party the other day.”
“My dad invited him, not me.”
“Whatever. Hey, Geordi.”
“Yeah?”
“Suck on this!” He hit me dead in the face with a blast from his bazooka.
Water shot up my nose so hard and fast I was sure it went straight through my sinuses and spewed out my ears. I fell back, snorting like a drowned hog and laughing at the same time. Once my nose was clear, I looked at my friend with water dripping from my head and play murder in my eyes.
“Toff, you are so dead.”
“Promises, promises,” he quipped as he fired off another blast.