I PULLED into the driveway at Jody’s house and killed the engine. He’d probably be pissed at me ’cause I hadn’t done my homework. I couldn’t get past chapter seven for some reason. It was probably because I had a lot more on my mind than Shangri-La. The urge to tell Jody what I felt distracted me to no end. I couldn’t get it out of my head, and I wondered if today I would finally have the guts to say something.
I got out of the car just as he opened the front door. He stood there with a big grin on his face, wearing the black biker shorts with a white tank top this time. I was surprised again by his well-developed chest and arms. He had the physique of a gymnast, and the golden tan only enhanced his looks. It was hard not to stare, so I focused my attention on the elastic bandage wrapped around his ankle.
“You’re standing on your foot. That’s a good sign?”
“Yup.”
“No Lil?”
“Nah, he’s gone back to the city.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Hey!”
“I know,” I said, throwing up my arm in a mock stop sign. “He’s a great guy.”
“He is.”
“He’s also outrageous!”
“That too.” Jody laughed.
“I can’t believe he’s your best friend,” I said, standing in front of him. He looked up at me with those Tootsie Roll eyes and smirked, bringing forth that dimple that made him look so fucking cute.
“You got a problem with it, Mister?”
“And what if I do?” I said, moving my face that much closer.
“I may have to discipline you.”
“You think so?”
I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder, amused at his feeble attempts to escape. He was pounding me on the back and calling me a big lug. “Now what was that again about disciplining me?” I asked as I put him down, feeling his body slide against me, rubbing in all the right places.
We stood there looking at each other, clearly wanting to take this further, but no one willing to make the first move. I knew I had a raging hard-on, and I imagined he did too. We were both breathing heavily, and it wasn’t from the minor exertion of carrying him around. My face felt like it was on fire. He ran his tongue around his lips, a habit of his that never failed to make my blood boil. I had this horrible urge to grab his head and kiss him.
“You’re rocking my world without even trying,” I confessed, feeling all kinds of stupid.
“Clark?”
I spun away from him and crossed over to the other side of the room, kicking my book bag, which I’d dropped when I’d slung him over my shoulder. I sat at the table in an attempt to hide the boner straining against my pants. It was bad enough that I had to have a tutor, but I would be damned if I was going to let him see that I was lusting after him, like some pathetic fourteen-year-old schoolboy.
He remained where I’d left him, a pained look on his face.
“Well, are we going to study or what?” I asked, slamming a book on the table.
Chapter 8
I SPED up I-80, heading out to Folsom. I’d been in a miserable mood since I left Jody last night.
We’d sat for an hour, attempting to read through a few chapters, but the dynamic between us had changed after the close body contact. We were like two prizefighters, tiptoeing around each other, afraid to meet in the center of the ring for fear of the explosion that would occur. He must have been able to tell I was at my breaking point, as I clenched and unclenched my jaw the entire time we were reading. I couldn’t bear to look at him, and when his hand accidentally brushed mine, we both jumped in shock.
It was torture in the most erotic, mind-bending way. I would have probably disgraced myself if he touched me again, and so I just stood up, kicked back the chair, and told him I had to go. He sat there and nodded, looking the other way. I knew he was as affected as I was because his hands were trembling when he held the book and his eyes were shimmering.
I pulled into my parents’ driveway, completely unaware of the distance I’d traveled. The house seemed unoccupied, and I yelled out for Mom, getting no response.
Hunger seized me suddenly. I couldn’t remember when I’d last eaten, so I pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed the essentials of a sandwich—the cold cuts, the mayo and mustard—and a bottle of Corona, balancing everything like a circus juggler. By the time I’d polished off my lunch, the troops were starting to arrive.
“Dude, when’d you get in?” Zach grunted out, looking like he’d been through a war.
“What’s with you?”
“I’ve been out helping Robby lay carpet in the baby’s room.”
“Talk about last minute.”
“I know.”
“Did you get it done?”
“It’s all good. Are you staying the night?”
“May as well.”
“Is Nikki with you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not joined at the hip, you know.”
“You’re lucky to have her, dude. She’s hot as fuck!”
“We’re just friends.”
“What a dumbass!”
“Don’t call me that!” I spat out, just itching for a fight. I hoped he’d say it again, because I was in the mood to break something, and his face was as good as anything.
“What the hell is going on?” My dad had just walked through the door and caught my end of the conversation.
“Tell Zach to mind his own business.”
“Why are you in such a foul mood?”
“I’m just tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do.”
“Like who?”
“Like never mind!”
I stood up and walked out of the room, making my way down the hall toward my bedroom. I threw myself on the bed and put my right arm over my eyes, willing myself to calm down. I knew I’d overreacted to Zach’s few questions. I knew why I was in such a state, and it had nothing to do with anyone in this house.
After a few minutes, I heard a light knock on the door, and my mom popped her head in. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Why the fuck not.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her hand up and down my leg. “What’s bothering you?”
“It’s nothing, Mom.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’re in one of your moods again, and I really don’t want any problems this weekend.”
“Then tell Zach to leave me alone. Tell everyone to leave me alone and get out of my business. You included.”
“What the hell have I done?”
“Nothing! Just go, Mom. I’m sorry.”
“Sweetie, is it Nikki? Have you two had a fight?”
“Oh, please, give me a break.”
“What then?”
“Nothing. Just go!”
“Fine!” She stood and walked out the door, slamming it in a childish fit of temper.
It’s funny that she would accuse me of having a “mood.” Everyone around here was into door slamming and yelling. We were not the most peaceful household in the world, and I suppose with five sons, any gentleness in my mother was soon replaced by the need to be as tough as nails so that her boys wouldn’t ride roughshod over her. The only time she showed her gentle side was when we got sick or hurt. The rest of the time she was all business, which brought my thoughts back to something I’d questioned many times before.
Why did I have these feelings for other men? It’s not like my mother dressed me in pink or played with tea sets around me. I was handled in exactly the same manner as my other brothers, except for the special attention to my schoolwork. Maybe it had something to do with the ADD? Was that same gene the one that made me think about guys the way my brothers thought about women?
I wondered what Jody would think of my family. He already disliked my father for the mishandling of my attention deficit. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up in a family as accepting as Jody’s. For a father to a
ctively educate a gay son about safe sex was mind-boggling. Neither one of my parents had given us any sex education. They just assumed we knew what we were doing. The only time I heard anything about sex was when Magic Johnson resigned due to his HIV status and my father sat in front of our TV set and called him a fucking queer. He then turned to us and said, “See, this is what happens when you stick your dick in the wrong places.” The fact that Johnson contracted HIV from a female meant nothing to my dad. He heard HIV, and he assumed Magic was queer.
I was around ten or eleven at the time, already harboring a few man fantasies, and as soon as I heard that I shoved them so far back in the closet they were buried for years. All my efforts to be “normal” in that area of my life were successful due to the countless number of females who threw themselves at me. Every time I’d start thinking of a male body, I’d actively seek out a female or watch a girly video or read Playboy; anything to keep the visions of men out of my brain.
This brought me to the real reason why I was so angry I was vibrating in place. All my efforts to be like all the other men in my family were useless, because I wasn’t like them. I was a twenty-two-year-old jock on the brink of an NFL career, daydreaming about kissing Jody on the mouth. In truth, I wanted way more. What would he taste like? Would he let me run my hands over his chest and down his abs, and finally grip that hard-on that had pressed up against me on at least two occasions? I imagined sinking down on my knees in front of him, sliding the zipper down his khakis, and freeing his cock. I was certain it would be as perfect as the rest of him. Could I handle him without gagging? Did spunk taste sweet or salty? What about swallowing? Oh God…. I was so fucking hard I had to get off. I flipped over and pressed my monster cock against the mattress, knowing this would never happen because I was too chickenshit to do anything about it.
JODY puttered around his garden with a hedge clipper, pretending to know what to do, but utterly clueless. He was really killing time, waiting for Clark to come and start the tutoring. He’d left work early, knowing this was a teaching night, wanting to shower and change before Clark’s arrival. He knew he was acting like a lovesick teenager getting ready for a date, but he couldn’t help it. His brain was so far up his ass these days, it’s a wonder he hadn’t accidentally killed a patient at work.
He hoped that Clark would be in a better mood tonight. The last time they were together, Jody finally got a glimpse of the famous temper that seemed to rule Clark’s life. He was visibly shaken by their roughhousing and unable to stay focused on the reading. He’d left in under an hour, avoiding Jody’s gaze and shying away from his touch.
This whole situation was a mistake. He should never have offered to tutor him. The close physical contact was torturing them both, and unless someone broke the standoff it would only get worse.
“You’re playing with fire,” Lil kept telling him. “He’ll never cave, and you continue to suffer. Why do this to yourself?”
This was exactly what he didn’t want to hear. His thoughts, verbalized in such a cold and matter-of-fact way. He didn’t choose this! The last thing he needed in his life was a closet case. Falling for Clark wasn’t something he’d planned on doing. It just happened, and now that he was caught in his web, he was unable to find a way out. The more time he spent with him, the more he realized what a great guy he was.
He was so much more than an athlete. He was funny and thoughtful and a really good son, respectful to a father who had mentally abused him for years. He’d put him down at every turn, reinforcing Clark’s belief that he was dumb. The truth of the matter was that most people with ADD were mentally above average but were so insecure about their capabilities that they never even acknowledged having a brain. This was compounded by the fact that he was a jock and no one gave him any credence, assuming he only had sports on his mind. If his family had bothered to dig a little further, they’d have realized Clark was far greater than the sum of his parts.
Jody gave up trying to find any easy way out. He knew there was none. He had to trust in his instincts, to continue to tutor Clark and make sure he passed the class. Everything else would have to run its natural course. What that was, he had no idea. He turned away from the rosebushes and made his way into the house.
Chapter 9
I’D DECIDED to end my relationship with Jody and gamble on passing the English class on my own.
It was just too difficult to be around him, and I needed to let this go before I did something stupid. I wanted to tell him in person rather than leave a message. It was the least I could do, considering how much time and effort he’d invested in me.
I’d made that decision over the weekend while I was in the hospital looking at Robby and Linda’s new baby. The kid looked like E.T., all eyes and hands, but I was sure that eventually he’d grow up to be good-looking like the other members of the Stevens clan. I glanced around the room and saw them all: my four brothers and my mom and dad gathered around my sister-in-law’s bed, kidding with her about the kid’s future Little League scores.
I tried to imagine what it would be like being among them, an out-and-proud homo. It was an impossible thought, as alien to my world as football pads were to Jody’s. It was never going to happen. I wanted to be like everyone else in the room, comfortable in my skin, and the only way to do it would be to shed the layer that was creating the problem; to cut off all ties with anything that made me question my role in life.
I climbed into my car and made the trek across town over to Oakland, turning left on Ashby, and then climbing up toward the hills. I passed the Claremont Resort Hotel on my left and then turned right onto Jody’s street. I parked the car, moving in slow motion almost like a man going to the gallows or the electric chair. This was not how I envisioned our next encounter, but I was determined to do this. I rang the front doorbell and almost passed out when he opened it. Jody was naked, but for the white towel wrapped around his waist, and I stood there paralyzed, unable to move, let alone breathe. His body was everything I imagined and more.
“Hey, come in. I’m on the phone with my dad.” Jody smiled. “Sorry about this,” he whispered, pointing at the towel. “I was in the shower when the phone rang.”
“No worries.”
I was trying not to stare, passing by him and acting as nonchalant as possible. I went to the living room and threw myself on the sofa while he finished his phone call.
“Okay, Dad. The twenty-third it is, leaving to come back on the twenty-sixth. That should put me ahead of the holiday rush.”
He paused for a minute. “I’ll take a cab. Don’t worry about picking me up. Okay. Later, Dad.”
He hung up and smiled at me, the Jody combination of dimple and white teeth, knocking me on my metaphoric ass. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Going someplace?”
“Home for Christmas.”
“Oh. I’d forgotten; it’s just weeks away.”
“Yeah—will you excuse me while I go and put some clothes on?”
“Umm, sure.”
“Do you want a beer while you’re waiting?”
“Okay.” I went over to him and watched him pull a beer out of the fridge. I was devouring him with my eyes, and I’m sure he could feel me staring at him, even with his back to me. He turned abruptly and caught me looking. I could feel the heat staining my cheeks and the blood rushing to my groin. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.
He came up to me slowly and handed me the beer, clutching the bottle as I reached for it. He wouldn’t let go, so I had to grab his hand and pull hard until he was pressed up against me. We were staring at each other again, just like we’d done so many times in the past few days, but this time something shifted. I don’t remember who made the first move, whether it was him or me. All I know is that I moaned out his name. He reached up and grabbed my neck to pull me toward his mouth, and he kissed me.
It wasn’t a girly kiss, not soft or tender or romantic. It was an open-mouthed, hungry kiss, possessive and for
ceful. His tongue swept the inside of my mouth, probing and meeting mine. We danced around each other’s taste while we groaned out our mutual need. I could feel his cock, rigid against my leg, easily discerned under the towel.
I closed my eyes and let him take charge, lost in the feel of his lips sucking on mine. This was something I’d dreamed of for almost my entire life, and now that it was finally happening, I was blown away. I wasn’t put off by all the maleness rubbing against me. The sensation of his lips on mine wasn’t repugnant or strange; on the contrary, it had never felt so good or so right. We couldn’t get enough of each other; our hands were all over the place, exploring roughly.
There was a small nagging, way at the back of my head, telling me to be cautious, to not take this any further, but I couldn’t stop. Hearing him moan my name was only egging me on. I pulled him closer and kissed him harder. His hands slid under my shirt, running rampant over my chest, and my heart almost stopped when he reached down and cupped my package outside of my jeans, kneading forcefully and coaxing another groan out of my mouth. Bypassing my zipper, he eased into my briefs through the slight gap in between my stomach and waistband, and that’s when I realized this had to stop or there would be no turning back. I pushed him away roughly.
“Jody, stop!”
“Why?” His lips were swollen from the kissing, and his pupils were blown with desire. I had never seen him look this good.
“I can’t do this.”
“You want me as much as I want you,” he accused.
I turned from him, too embarrassed to admit I was terrified.
“Clark, please.” His hand held my arm, and I shrugged it off, desperate to escape from him and the truth. I felt his hot breath on my neck, sending shockwaves throughout my system, my erection bulging against my pants. I couldn’t catch my breath; it felt like I was drowning. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
I raced out the door and climbed into my car, fighting back the tears that always showed up during moments of high stress. I started the engine and the car careened down the hill. I kept hearing the desperation in Jody’s voice, and I was sick to my stomach, knowing I was the biggest coward in the world, because I was too afraid to admit I was gay. I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and I sat there with the engine running, fighting the same battle in my head that I’d been waging for years. I clutched the steering wheel so hard my knuckles faded to white. I kept telling myself to keep on driving, to get away from him and put this to rest, but my emotions were warring with my intellect, confusing me even more. I rested my head on my hands, waiting to see if I could get myself under control, but the only thing I could feel was a horrific sense of loss that kept pulling me in the direction of the house up the hill. I must have sat there for at least ten minutes, praying I’d come to my senses, but it wasn’t happening. The reality was that the battle was over, and it was time to surrender.
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