by Amy Lane
That was the whole reason he was going to take his life into his hands and approach the doctor now.
His mother would never understand.
Of course, since his father had finally moved out of the house and into a crappy apartment in Roseville, which was all he could afford while he kept his ex-wife and kids in style, his mother was the only person he had to talk to, and he was sort of pissed about it. Jesus, Dad hadn’t even asked Evan if he wanted to move out with him, which Evan would have done even if the apartment was so small he had to sleep on the couch, and that really made him pissed. Not that his mom had left enough of a relationship for Evan to talk to his dad anyway, but yeah, pissed. Pissed enough to stand up for himself for once and actually play the divorce card so he could keep visiting rights to Dr. Stottemeyer, who had been enough a part of his life after ten years that Evan felt like he might be an uncle or something. In fact, thinking about him like an imaginary relative was probably the only thing that kept Evan from crushing on him for real, because as Evan got older, he was starting to think Dr. Stottemeyer was a real hottie.
But he didn’t need a hottie right now. He needed a shrink, because there was some stuff he needed to work out.
Dr. Stottemeyer could see him before five, which was great because he’d been able to work out first. Belladonna was the sister who drew the short straw for the drive from school to the shrink’s office in Roseville. She drove a little white Ford POS with a black interior that reeked of smoke and felt cheap. He used to wonder how many guys his sister had laid in this car, and then stopped because the number depressed him.
“Aren’t you getting a little old for this?” she asked, tossing her straight black hair and wielding her cigarette like a weapon.
“Aren’t you getting a little old for pretending it’s Trisha who smokes in your car all the time?” Evan asked irritably.
Belladonna glared at him. She was twenty-two, not nearly out of college, and she had a collection of old boyfriends that looked like a reunion from that old show Cops. “Have fun seeing the shrink, you little psycho,” Belladonna snapped, tapping her ash outside the car window. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half.”
“Be sure he leaves a twenty on the dresser,” Evan snapped back.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Make that three hours, if you’re fucking lucky!”
“Mom’s cooking dinner tonight. If we’re not home by seven, she’ll kick you out.” He smiled smugly. God, Belladonna pissed him off. Allie was the mom, Mina was the good student, Danni was the princess, and Belladonna was the bitch who worked the hardest for attention.
And Ev was the freak with the penis.
“God, do you have to be such a little asshole?” Belladonna snarled, taking a deep drag off her cig. “Your whole life, it’s all about Evan, Evan the baby god, Evan the boy, Evan the victim—Jesus, can’t you just be fucking normal?”
“Donna, if I could be fucking normal, would you be dropping me off at a fucking shrink’s office? Jesus. How ’bout I get hooked on meth and steal all Mom’s money for my habit. Would I be any less irritating then?”
Brittany had given him a little tchotchke to hook onto his backpack. It was pink and fuzzy and part of it was smooth rubber, and it was supposed to look like a lemur or something, and as Evan argued with his sister, he twiddled it until the damned thing fell off the hook.
“Goddammit,” he muttered. “Be here or not. If you’re not here, I’ll call someone else for a ride.”
He turned around and stalked into the complex for his appointment, ignoring her horn blare as he went. Just once it would be nice if his family wasn’t such a pain in the ass.
By the time he got called out of the waiting room where the little shrink co-op put their patients, he’d managed to turn the little toy into fuzz and dirty rubber, and he’d never been so glad to see Dr. Uncle Stottemeyer in his life.
After Evan wrecked his umpteenth pair of jeans while sitting on the couch, Dr. Uncle Stottemeyer started pulling out the teddy bear he used with his younger patients and giving it to Evan. Evan had been grateful. He combed that little animal’s fur and squeezed its squishy little body until it fell apart, and Stottemeyer got him a new one. He was on his fourth teddy bear, but this one—this one looked like it might last a while.
“So, Evan—what’s the—”
“I think I’m bi. Or, well, probably more gay than bi, but I’ll be bi for now, because girls deserve a chance. And I’m about to lose my virginity. And I want to make sure that’s not bad.”
“I think we’re going to need an entirely different teddy bear.”
Evan squinted at him. “If you try giving me one with nards, I’m gonna call bullshit.”
Stottemeyer laughed and beckoned him in.
By the time Evan was done talking, Stottemeyer was leaning forward, clasping his hands, and Evan was clutching that poor teddy bear to his chest like he was saving it from bad people.
“Okay. So… so far, so good. You saw some artistic porn, it turned you on, your buddy said, ‘Let’s do this thing!’ and you’re on board.”
Stottemeyer had relaxed a lot more since he’d gotten all gay. Evan approved.
“Pretty much.”
“So the bad thing is….”
“I don’t think my folks are all good about that.”
Stottemeyer “hmmd” in his throat. “You could be right about that,” he said reluctantly, and Evan knew without a doubt that they’d said something to him.
“That’s why I got to keep you as a shrink, isn’t it?” Evan tried to take his big, muscular body and disappear into the corner of the couch, hiding behind the damned teddy bear.
Stottemeyer shrugged. “I told them there was nothing wrong with the liking boys, but your mother—”
“She thinks the stupid teacher’s aide made me this way. God, I hate my parents.”
“That’s not fair.”
Evan glared at him. “Fuck fair. I’ve got this sweet kid who could keep being my friend, and he’s thinking of maybe doing some of that cool shit we saw in that webcomic, and you know what? My life is suddenly all about what happened when I was five years old. You know what I’ve gotta say to that?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“Fuck that,” Evan muttered, cuddling the teddy bear closer. “Just fuck that.” Static. Static and stuck. Moving caught everyone’s attention. Hiding worked best, like he was a mouse who wanted to live through a snake attack.
“Evan, I’m not saying that having sex is a bad thing—there’s perfectly normal ways to explore your sexuality. But do you really think having sex to spite your parents is the way to go?”
Evan glared at him, wanting to hide under a mountain of teddy bears. “I wasn’t even thinking about them before this happened.” His scowl intensified. “I’m not going to think about them now, either. In fact, my parents can pretty much forget being something I think about for pretty much the rest of my life.”
Step 4—backpedal
DR. STOTTEMEYER cautioned him to use lubricant and condoms. Evan bought them at the pharmacy on the way out.
Belladonna was probably on her third cigarette by the time he opened the car door, but he didn’t yell at her for being a nicotine whore like he usually would. Instead, he was really quiet for most of the way home.
She shot him an annoyed look about halfway there. “So, how bad could your shrink session possibly be?”
Even grunted, which was as close to being like his father as he ever got. “How much of all that shit you do—smoking, drinking, the constant walk of shame—how much of that is to tell Mom and Dad that they fucked up your life?”
Belladonna took a deep breath and then coughed. He handed her the Red Bull in the cup holder and waited, and she rewarded him by swerving off the road into the first parking lot she could find, one in front of a 7-Eleven.
“Jesus, Ev—”
“Look, I’m just asking. You doing that—is that why?”
She took a gulp of Red Bull, and he was pretty sure she wished it was something stronger. “Did your shrink tell you that?” she asked bitterly when she could get a word out.
He shook his head. “No. I figured it out myself.”
“Well, you’re really fucking smart, Ev, but maybe you keep that shit you figure out for yourself to yourself, okay?”
Evan sighed. “I’m trying to say….” And then it hit him. He’d known for five minutes that his parents were fucked up. She’d known for at least ten years. “Never mind. Just don’t hurt yourself on account of them, okay?”
She looked at him sideways. “That’s… that’s sort of sweet, Ev. I mean, don’t write that in blood or anything, but… thank you.”
Evan shrugged. “Don’t mind me,” he muttered. “I’m just the idiot with the shrink.”
Belladonna laughed, although that wasn’t even funny, and took him home.
That night, they all sat down to dinner at the elegant lacquered table with the chairs that had those ornate die-cut designs in the center of the backs. His mom liked fancy, right down to the ebony color of the table and the hospital-white tiles, with blood-red napkins for accents. Military colors, yes, but his mom always had directed the whole dinner thing like a general, from when to start the salad to how long to let the lasagna settle before serving to whether milk or juice would be the more responsible drink for the minors in the house. Evan looked at her critically, trying to decide when she’d become the enemy.
She didn’t look like the enemy. She was wearing a sweater and a stretchy wool skirt with wool tights in the January cold, and she was still pretty. She had a strong chin and high cheekbones and a bold nose, as well as the classical deep dark-brown eyes. Her hair had started out a dark brunette, and she’d dyed it that same color. No messing around with blonde or red or highlighting for Evan’s mom. Nope. She was gonna be that strong-boned, bold Italian woman until she got so old she forgot what dye she used.
“So, Mom,” he said, ultracasual. “There’s a GSA at school. A lot of the anime kids are in it—I thought I’d join.” This was not a stretch of the truth, actually. A lot of the anime kids did do double duty in both clubs.
His mom wrinkled her long nose. “What’s a GSA?”
“It’s like, a Gay Straight Alliance. It’s to keep the gay kids from getting bullied.” Evan flexed his muscles, pleased because his body was getting tighter by the workout. “I figure I’m good enforcement for that, right?”
“You know, Evan, I don’t know if you want to have anything to do with those people,” his mom said carefully, and Evan looked around at his sisters to see what they thought. Interesting. Allie was looking at their mom like she disagreed but didn’t want to say anything, Belladonna was looking at her like she disagreed but was bored with being pissed off, Mina was looking at her like Mom’s words were from the Blessed Virgin herself, and Danni was busy texting on her little jeweled smartphone and ignoring the entire fucked-up thing.
“What people? They’re my friends, Mom.”
“Ev, it’s not a good idea to hang out with people who remind you of that man.”
Evan closed his eyes, opened his eyes, and said very slowly, “Gay people are not child molesters, Mom. Child molesters are child molesters. It’s two separate things.”
“Evan, don’t talk to your mother that way—”
And for a moment, the unfairness about knocked him over. “Mom, I’ve been talking about this with a professional for ten years! Don’t you think I know—”
“Stop it! I’m your mother and I know what’s best for you, and you need to stop pissing me off, I mean now!”
Evan took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m not eating cheese right now,” he said, looking at the lasagna and yearning. It was true—he’d given up cheese as part of his diet to get down to 4 percent body fat so he could get six-pack abs—but mostly he didn’t think he could look at his mom’s cooking anymore and not get sick.
“Evan, come back here—you heard what I said—”
“Yeah, I heard. I’m going to a friend’s house tomorrow after school for anime. See you tomorrow night!”
And with that he turned and stomped off to his room, for once grateful he was the only boy, because it meant he could lock his door, turn on his computer, and study the holy fucking shit out of how to do what those guys did on Starfighter.
That night he heard that shrill pitch in his mother’s voice that she only used when she was trying to rip out his dad’s eardrums from twenty miles away. As he sat there at the computer, wondering if Cain’s cock was really that big and if his measured up (he’d gotten out a ruler and made himself hard—he figured eight inches was nothing to sneeze at when you were fifteen), his phone buzzed next to his computer.
He hit Ignore.
He figured his dad wouldn’t have anything better to say to him than his mom did, and he really didn’t want to hear it.
CURTIS’S house was… well, nice. His mom had flowered draperies and used softer colors, including a less severe kitchen table. They had three cats and two dogs, and Curtis even had a little white rat running around a cage in his room.
Evan wanted to pet them all. In fact, for an hour, all they did was bullshit about manga, the nonyaoi kind, while Evan pretty much molested all of the animals in a nonsexual way. He petted the dog until it lay panting at his feet, and found the sweet spot behind all the cats’ ears, and just… just ingratiated himself to the animals until they were passed out and drooling all over him.
After the first hour, Curtis looked at the happy-animal mayhem and laughed.
“You really like them,” he said softly, and Evan nodded.
“I like touching them,” he told Curtis, absolutely earnest. “They… they don’t mind hugs, you know?”
Curtis nodded, but he was looking at Evan with a hungry fascination that was starting to make Evan squirm in his pants. He thought of sex as hands on his skin, a touch on his cock, coming. It was clear that Curtis thought of it as more.
“Do you… did you see the rest of Starfighter?” he asked, his voice shaking a little.
Evan knew he blushed. “Uhm, yeah. I did. I read the whole thing.”
“Uhm, do you want to read it again?”
“Uhm, yeah,” he said, knowing where this was going. That was okay. He was getting sort of excited just thinking about it.
Curtis had a desk and a laptop and a little chair, and Evan sat there and then spread his legs so Curtis could sit between them. For a moment it was awkward, and then Evan thought, Hey, it’s a friend, like one of the girls, and it was okay. He leaned his chin on Curtis’s shoulder and let Curtis go back to where they’d left off the day before.
Right where Abel was fingering his own asshole.
Curtis sucked in a breath. “Have you ever done that?” he asked, and Evan shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly. He’d thought about it the night before, and he thought he might like to try it. “I was waiting for my next long shower.”
Curtis nodded. “Yeah. I’ve done it. It’s….” His voice dropped. “It doesn’t hurt when you let it get all soft and slippery. It would be outstanding if someone else did it!”
His voice pitched with excitement, and Evan thought, This is it! And then he realized he couldn’t do anything sexy without touching in better ways first.
He wrapped his arms around Curtis’s waist a little tighter and rubbed his cheek up the defined column of his spine. His shirt was softly laundered cotton, a T-shirt that listed ten reasons Kirk was more badass than Picard, and Evan breathed in the smell of fabric softener and bitter sweat. He realized Curtis’s armpits and the sides of his shirt were sopping in it.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to.”
“I want it,” Curtis said sharply, and then he breathed in on a gasp. Evan thought he would enjoy the hell out of this. He closed his eyes and thrust his hands up the front of Curtis’s shirt, gorgi
ng himself on the smoothness of skin beneath his palms. It was clammy, and for a minute that was unpleasant, but then Curtis made a sharp gasp and started grinding up and back against Evan’s crotch.
Evan’s cock hardened immediately and painfully.
He clasped Curtis tighter and, without ceremony, thrust his hand down Curtis’s pants and grabbed his erection, which was hot against his hand.
Curtis relaxed against his back and ground up, and for a moment… for a moment, it was really good. Curtis’s ass against his crotch, his cock in Evan’s hand. Evan had his arms around another human body, and all the touch, all the skin, it was just so goddamned good….
And suddenly Curtis was tumbling on the floor and scrambling backward, scuttling like a crab, until his back was against his wall and he was pressing his palms flat like he was trying to escape.
Evan stood up, surprised, and took a step forward. “Curtis—”
“Don’t touch me!” he breathed, and Evan could see the pulse throbbing in his throat.
“Okay,” he murmured, a little lost. “Okay. I’m just going to sit down here, at the foot of the bed, okay? I’ll pet the cats, if that’s all right. We can do that until your mom gets home.”
Because the truth was, he was terrified. Curtis looked really scared, and what was he going to do? Call his mom and tell her he’d scared Curtis by sticking his hand down his pants? His mom would assume that he’d become her worst nightmare, that he was an abuser and a molester—and that the stupid teacher’s aide had made him like this.
So he did what he did best. He settled down, made himself solid, a slack, calm entity at the foot of the bed. The cats were good, though—they came and sat on his lap, and he petted them in relief. He sensed a movement from the wall behind him, but he didn’t look up when Curtis materialized at his knees and sat down, legs crossed, petting the cats.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“I said we didn’t have to do anything,” Evan said, trying not to snarl. His cock still hurt.
“Yeah. I know. But I… I chickened out. I’m sorry.”