Strong Signal (Cyberlove #1)

by Megan Erickson

  Kai: That was actually a super bad joke. Moving on…

  Garrett: Okay, so, what are you doing right now?

  Kai: Is this your way of asking me what I’m wearing?

  Garrett: Ha. Maybe.

  I smiled.

  Kai: Hmmm. Gotta keep some mystery. ;) How about I just tell you what I’m eating?

  Garrett: You can tell me whatever you want.

  I tried to picture his face in my head as I read his words. I imagined his voice. It’d be deep and smooth like honey, coating me.

  Kai: I have a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, and I’m chowing down while talking to some hot guy who wears camo.

  Garrett: You dig the camo, huh?

  Kai: Totally. Beards are in now too. I like it.

  Garrett: It’s itchy as hell.

  Kai: You can shave it off, not like I can see you anyway.

  There was a long pause.

  Garrett: Do you ever Skype?

  I froze and stared at those words. Three more dots appeared to show me Garrett was typing. Skype? Where he could see me in real time? There was no way I could do that, not now. Not yet. Yeah, he could see me in Twitch, but that wasn’t a one-on-one chat.

  Garrett: Look, forget I said that. That was dumb. Please don’t get scared off. I’m not a creep.

  If he’d pushed, I may have gotten creeped out, but this still felt safe. He clearly knew I had boundaries, and he was ready to respect them.

  Kai: It’s okay. I’m still here. Let’s just talk. I’m not saying no to Skype, but not…now.

  Garrett: We don’t have to at all. I’m sorry. I almost blew it, didn’t I?

  Kai: Um, there’s been no blowing. Of any kind.

  Garrett: Tell me about it.

  I laughed.

  Kai: What do you want to talk about? Your job?

  Garrett: Hell no.

  Oh, that made sense. The guy was living it twenty-four-seven. I didn’t want to ask him about his family, because that meant I had to talk about my non-existent one. No thanks.

  Kai: So tell me…if you could be any animal, what would you be?

  Garrett: Seriously?

  Kai: That’s not an animal.

  Garrett: Smartass. I guess a dog.

  Kai: A dog?

  Garrett: Yes. Is that a bad answer?

  Kai: No. It’s your answer. So what kind of dog?

  Garrett: Mutt. That growls a lot.

  I smiled, remembering his scowl in his picture.

  Kai: Why a dog?

  Garrett: Because dogs are loyal. Protective.

  That made sense too. The reason we were even talking was because Garrett was protective. Of me. Of some guy he’d never met.

  Kai: Suits you.

  Garrett: Glad you think so. What about you?

  I twisted my lips to the side and bit down on my cheek.

  Kai: A red panda

  Garrett: Is that a real thing?

  Kai: Yes! It’s this cute little…red panda-type bear thing

  Garrett: Thanks for describing that so well.

  Kai: Shut up, It’s cute, okay? I watched a video of two of them wrestling the other day. I wanted to snuggle with them.

  Garrett: I’m sorry you don’t have a red panda to snuggle with.

  Kai: I appreciate your sympathy. It’s a struggle.

  Garrett: So, what do you snuggle with in lieu of the bear? Stuffed animal or human?

  Kai: Is this where you ask me if I have a boyfriend?

  Garrett: Do you have a boyfriend?

  Kai: No, I have a wife.

  No response. For a full minute. I cracked up and slapped my hand on the desk before typing I’M JOKING GARRETT.

  Garrett: Wow. I was so confused.

  Kai: I’m so sorry.

  Garrett: Now I can’t trust anything you say.

  Kai: Aw, don’t be like that! I was trying to cheer you up with lame jokes.

  Garrett: You did. Trust me. But look I gotta run.

  I glanced at the clock.

  Kai: What time is it there?

  Garrett: Little after 7 in the evening. I need to eat and maybe lift before lights out.

  Kai: Ok, um, have a great night I guess.

  Garrett: Thanks for messaging me. It was a nice distraction. …I guess think of me when you’re snuggling your imaginary panda thing.

  Kai: I will.

  Garrett’s circle went gray.

  Smiling faintly, I sat at my computer for a long time after that, and felt my grin grow. I liked talking to Garrett a lot. Almost too much. I’d gone from being wary of him and his intentions to…genuinely wanting the conversation to go on. And wondering what had caused a guy who seemed so curt and sarcastic to go on an emotional rant via email.

  Besides that, what did he do over there? Who was he talking to? What was he eating? I hoped he was having his dinner with a smile on his face, because I sure as hell was starting my day with one.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Garrett

  Costigan was on my last nerve.

  The first half of the day had been spent doing odds and ends while a convoy went on a patrol of the region. A lot of guys got hyped up about patrols because it was an opportunity to get off the base, and a lot of the younger guys took the opportunity to pose for pictures to send their girlfriends while they were looking tough behind a SAW or in the helicopter. I hated it, because any movement behind the wire was a risk. My last deployment, I’d gone out a lot to pick up or repair vehicles damaged on patrols, but this deployment I’d gone off base considerably less.

  Because of that, I wasn’t seeing even an eighth of the action here that I’d seen on my first tour, but a guy had been killed on a patrol a few months before I showed up on the base. It was the kind of thing that stayed in the back of my mind despite the fact that most days were spent with me doing maintenance on the vehicles or working out and playing FWO. Or, now, talking to Kai.

  This patrol had been pretty mundane, though. No combat or alerts. So by the time the guys arrived, we only had minor service to perform on the vehicles. But there had been plenty of time for Costigan to smirk at me after Ramirez had walked by. I wanted to knock his teeth out. Before this shit was over, I was almost convinced it would happen.

  As the shift was ending, Costigan blew me a kiss. Yeah, he’d be getting his face tattooed with my fists real soon.

  I reeked of sweat and anger by the time I was back in my tent. I stripped down to my underwear and a filthy tank, and sat in front of my laptop.

  Gchat had become the only thing saving me from imploding into a supernova of frustration, homesickness, and self-loathing.

  Why couldn’t I be like the other guys who felt pride in their choice to join the Army? Was I the only bitter fuck out here, who’d done it purely for lack of a better option in life? Or maybe I was the only dickhead who did an awful job of hiding it. For every a guy like me there were probably thirty more who’d grown up dreaming of becoming GI Joe. And for every queer guy like me, there were a couple of assholes like Costigan who were just dying to make my life hell.

  After this deployment, my enlistment was up. At twenty-six, and after eight years of active duty, I was over it.

  Garrett: Fuck this place, Kai. Just fuck it.

  Kai: Is everything okay?

  Garrett: No. Well. Yes. I’m fine. Sorry, I…tend to forget my angry rants can cause actual alarm.

  Kai: It’s okay. Lately you’ve been in a better mood though.

  That was very true. We’d been chatting for a couple of weeks now, and I’d begun greeting him with Army memes or lame jokes. He seemed to appreciate them. Or at least pretended to. It was easy for someone to type “lol” or “haha,” but I had consistent doubts that he actually found me interesting or amusing.

  Garrett: I’m just tired of being here, Kai. I want to go home.

  Kai: Did anything in particular happen today? You never really talk about being there so…I don’t push.

  Garrett: I guess. I hate being here in g
eneral. Sorry, that’s shitty to say but I only joined the fucking Army because my family is poor, I couldn’t afford college, I had no skills, and I hated my father. Now, I’m just waiting to finish my service so I can go get a job as a mechanic somewhere.

  Kai: So that’s what you do out there? You’re a mechanic?

  Garrett: Yeah, I service the vehicles.

  Kai: Is that what you do when you’re home?

  Garrett: Yeah, I work on base when I’m not on active duty. After this tour, I don’t plan to re-enlist. I’ll probably get a civilian job as a mechanic somewhere since it’s my only fucking skill. And I’ll be away from the idiots on this base. Sick of this shit.

  Kai was silent, and I knew he was waiting for me to elaborate. He almost never asked a question he would consider prying, even though there were times when I wished he could rip it out of me. I said more via text than I ever would in person, but there were still parts of me that hesitated. Wondered if he’d judge me for something, or whether he’d take it wrong, or just be completely unimpressed.

  Garrett: Look, it’s like this…I’m gay. And there’s a good amount of straight dudes who get thirsty enough to give me a shot once they’re stuck out here for almost a year.

  Kai: Um, I assume “give you a shot” means they’re sleeping with you unless “shot” is, like, some military lingo for becoming really good pals.

  Garrett: LOL.

  As pissed off as I was, Kai could always be counted on to pull a laugh out of me.

  Garrett: More like giving me a shot of their jizz.

  Kai: Ahhhh. Weird slightly gross mental image. Like a jizz gun.

  Garrett: Haha. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m usually careful about the straight dudes I mess around with. I have to verify they won’t try to beat the shit out of me later.

  Kai: How do you do that? Also, I’m confused by you saying they’re straight if they’re fooling around with another guy.

  Garrett: Because these aren’t dudes that find me attractive. They wouldn’t take me out on a date if we were back home and we ran into each other. They’re not interested in romancing a guy. They’re just looking for a tight grip or a tight hole.

  Kai: So…denial?

  Garrett: Maybe. But if they call themselves straight, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong about it. You know? Friction is friction and fucking is fucking for some people.

  Kai: Okay, so I can buy that. Maybe. How do you pick?

  I worried my lip between my teeth and reread the last few parts of our conversation. Had I said anything stupid or offensive? I wasn’t too good with the gay pride stuff and even worse about knowing the right way to express myself when it came to people’s identities. My family seemed to have been born without sensitivity chips, thrived on redneck “no PC in this house” values, and my father had been a raging homophobe. Such a homophobe that I almost suspected he’d been protesting a little too much. Trying to be better than them wasn’t easy when I had no frame of reference, but Kai didn’t seem upset.

  Garrett: Guys here tend to watch a lot of porn. It’s the best time to make a move. Or talking about sex in general sometimes gets a rise out of them. But the oldest tactic in the book is mentioning guys I’d heard about who’d gone Tour Homo, and seeing the reaction. You’d be surprised at how fast some of them are quick to be like “shit, I’m so horny I don’t blame them.”

  Kai: OMG

  Kai: It’s like an Army porno! My favorite fantasy.

  Garrett: Sounds like it, right? But in reality it’s less sexy. It’s just fast and desperate and not that satisfying.

  There was another pause, and the antsy feeling returned. Why was I talking about this with him? Fuck. I had absolutely no social skills. Or flirting skills. I had zero experience, and there was no denying my game was weak. If we’d been face-to-face, I likely wouldn’t have gotten this far at all. Not that complaining about my tawdry base sex was winning him over.

  Which brought to mind another question: what exactly was I trying to win him over for? E-dating? Cyberfucking? Long-distance infatuation?

  Not that he lived too far from my home in Pennsylvania.

  Kai: I think I understand.

  Garrett: Do you?

  Kai: Well, I think. I mean if they’re just in it to blow their load, they’re not…making a connection with you? Just because something feels good for a few minutes doesn’t mean it can um…do anything in the long term?

  Garrett: Yes, exactly. My entire life as a gay guy has been spent fooling around with guys who won’t look me in the eye again after we fuck. But that’s another story. And no, that type of hookup is not satisfying.

  Kai: I’m here to listen to your stories, you know. Any that you want to share.

  If that was true, I wondered if he’d give me his own stories in exchange. For all that Kai was brilliant at listening to me, he rarely talked about himself.

  Garrett: You got it.

  Kai: So is that why you’re so upset?

  Garrett: More to it. One of the guys I was fucking around with has decided to go into jackass mode. Keeps throwing subs and making comments about me being a queer. Might have to put him in his place, which I was trying to avoid. I have five months left on this goddamn base. I don’t need this shit.

  Kai: He’s a jerk. I’m sending him bad karma.

  I pictured Kai with his nose scrunched up in an adorable mad-face, and smiled.

  Kai: I’m so sorry, Garrett. I wish there was something I could do.

  Garrett: You talking to me every day is enough. I don’t think you realize how much it means to me.

  Kai: haha yeah right, G. ;)

  My mouth tightened, and I leaned closer to the screen even though he couldn’t see me.

  Garrett: I’m serious, Kai. I’ve never known anyone like you before. We have so much in common in some ways but in others, you’re so much fucking braver than me or any of the guys I’ve been with. You’re not afraid of being yourself. You’re not afraid of being out. Or of your sexuality. And…

  There was a long pause.

  Kai: Ha, not sure if you’d say that if we met. But thanks. What were you going to say next?

  Garrett: And I haven’t had a friend in a long time. Maybe I’m just a loser, but this feels like friendship. I never confide in anyone like this.

  Why was I making this weird?

  Garrett: Uh sorry if that got awkward. I talk a lot online. Barely speak in person.

  Kai: No, don’t be sorry!! You’re not wrong. I…think of you as a friend too. And trust me, that means a lot to me.

  The smile stretching across my face was almost painful.

  Garrett: Good. I gotta go, okay? Almost time for dinner and I want to wash up.

  Kai: Okay. :)

  Garrett: Can we talk later?

  Kai: Yup! I’ll be here.

  Garrett: Bye

  I logged out of Gchat and pushed away from the desk with a slow exhale.

  Getting attached, and depending on these conversations to uplift my sucky days, had definitely not been part of the plan. Then again, I was making this up as I went along. It seemed like we both were.

  * * *

  Kai

  I paced my room and drew random doodles on my wall. I wrote Garrett’s name just because…I wanted to see it. I wanted to touch it, to assure myself he was real.

  He thought I was brave. Sure, I didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought about me being gay, but brave? I hadn’t even left my apartment in ages.

  What would Garrett think if he realized I was just some crazy hermit? He probably thought I went out, got laid, ate fancy meals, rode in Pride parade floats or what the fuck ever. The truth was so far from that, I didn’t even know where to start.

  He’d given me so much during our chats, particularly this one, and I hadn’t given him anything in return. Sure, I’d offered conversation and sympathy and an ear to listen, but I hadn’t actually said anything about myself.

  I really needed to, but the last thing I wante
d was to worry him. He’d been concerned about me when we were strangers, so I was sure he’d be mega worried now that we were friends. Worst—what if he didn’t understand and pitied me? Even so, he deserved more from me than jokes. I wanted to give him more.

  My heart ached at the possibility of him never having been touched by someone who cared. I’d never had that either, but Garrett was honest and loyal. He was a fucking hero. How had no other man noticed that about him? It was my choice to hide from the world and be alone. Garrett shouldn’t be forced into the same situation.

  I sat at my computer again and opened up Gmail. Email was easier. I could write everything and look it over and make sure I’d said exactly what I wanted to say.

  Garrett,

  I hope your day is better, and I’m glad you feel like you can tell me how you feel. I realized though…that I hadn’t given you much about me. So. Um. I guess I can do that? So here goes.

  I used to be a dancer. Not a stripper dancer, the other kind of dancer. I know! Don’t make fun, Mr. G.I. Joe. I was good. Really good. Got some parts in off-Broadway plays. And it was okay, great even. But the money wasn’t great. I made more money on Twitch and with my, uh, videos. Have you watched one yet?

  Was that dumb to ask? Was it so bad that I wanted to know if he’d seen me jerk off on camera?

  Uh, you don’t have to answer that. Anyway, so I kind of stopped dancing. I don’t record videos any more either, but I still make money off them. I spend a lot of time streaming so I kind of keep to myself.

  This wasn’t even close to the whole story but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him everything. About how I’d retreated so far into my online identity that I barely had a real world one anymore.

  And as far as growing up…I don’t know my mom, and my dad was in and out of jail. I was kind of bounced around among family members but no one really wanted to deal with me. That was how I got into gaming and dancing. Weird how I felt more at home in a made-up world with magic and dragons and Princess Toadstool than in a real house with my aunt and uncle.