by John Goode
“Stop,” I protested, afraid to fight back but wanting him to stop.
“You sure you want me to?” His voice sounded like it was inside my head. “After all, isn’t this what you deserve?”
There was a tapping sound on my window, which woke me up instantly.
I jerked away in a blur and ended up slamming my knee into the steering wheel. “Motherfucker!” I called out as a light blinded me from my left. I held up my hand as images of being raped by a cop flashed though my head.
“Brad?” a voice asked from the other side of the light. “Brad, it’s Officer Miller. You okay?” I fought away the images of the nightmare when I realized the strange cop had been a figment of my imagination. “Brad?” he asked, this time concern lacing his voice.
I nodded and rolled down my window. “Sorry, bad dream.”
I saw the sun had just gone down over the lake and the sky was still a strong cobalt, making it maybe between six or seven.
“I saw your car parked out here and just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Which was probably a half truth, since Miller had personally taken me home in the back of his squad car more than once.
I nodded and rubbed my eyes. “I cut school and fell asleep.”
He chuckled to himself. “Son, it’s Monday. Kind of early to start skipping, isn’t it?”
I nodded as I checked my phone to see if I had any missed calls. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a bad week.”
“Oh, come on, son. It can’t be all that bad. How bad can it be at your age?”
Instead of answering, I just turned the engine over. “Thanks, Officer Miller, I better get home.”
“Stay out of trouble, Brad,” he said, putting his flashlight away. “And get home safe, okay?”
I nodded as I rolled up my window and waved to him as I drove away.
The town was packing it in for the night as I drove home. I was surprised that we didn’t roll the sidewalks up after a certain point. It was dark when I pulled into the driveway. My dad’s car wasn’t there, meaning he was working late or just decided to drink at the dealership. As I walked in the door I could smell something cooking, and my stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and even then, I hadn’t finished it. I slipped my shoes off and hung up my jacket.
“Bradley?” I heard my mom call out from the kitchen.
I slid into the kitchen on my socks. “Food?” I asked eagerly.
She laughed as she shook her head. “How was school?”
My mind froze as I debated what to tell her. My first instinct was, of course, to lie, that being was what I always did. The word “fine” was halfway to my lips before I stopped myself. She knew about Kyle, and if anyone was going to not lose their mind over baseball, it would be her. What did I have to lose?
I did not like the answer of nothing that came to mind.
“Not good,” I said sitting down at the table.
She paused serving for a moment. “Define ‘not good’.”
“Well,” I said running a hand through my hair, “the coach found out about Kyle and um… kinda kicked me off the team.”
She put the plate down and turned toward me. “What?”
I swallowed hard as I tried struggled not to just break down. “He said that I couldn’t change out in the locker room because of—well, you know. So I can’t be on the team.”
Now, I have seen my mom mad before, in fact most of the time she was around my dad she was pissed, so I assumed that I had seen it all. I had seen her scream, cuss, and throw dishes across the room. I had seen her grab my father’s clothes and throw them over the stairs into a pile in the foyer. I honestly believed that I had witnessed every conceivable shade of anger that might come from her. But as she stared at me from the stove with cold fury in her eyes, I realized up to this point I had never really seen her truly angry.
“He said that?” she asked, her voice sharp and clipped. “He actually said you couldn’t play anymore?”
I nodded.
“What time is it?” she asked more to herself as she grabbed the address book from the phone. She began to slap through it angrily as she pulled the phone from the charger. I watched her stab in a number and wait for an answer. “Carol? Hi, it’s Susan. Are you still on the school board?”
I waited a few seconds, but it was obvious if I wanted dinner, I needed to get it myself.
Today had seriously sucked.
Kyle
I WOKE up to my mom knocking on my door.
I sat up, confused, since seeing her awake this early was akin to having Bigfoot do a soft shoe shuffle across your campsite. “What’s wrong?” I asked instantly, before I was fully awake.
“Nothing,” she answered, smiling. “Brad is here.”
I started to say, “Tell him I’ll be right out,” but she stepped away from the door and he walked in. “Nice hair,” he said with that damn grin.
I fell back onto my bed. “Does anyone understand the concept that I might not want to see people right after I wake up?”
He closed my door and shrugged his jacket off. “Well, if you weren’t so cute in those boxers…,” he said, lifting my covers.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, slapping his hand away.
I saw him pause for half a second. “Or lack of boxers….”
My face burned with embarrassment. “Can you please hand me something out of the top drawer?” I asked, trying to force time to go backward so the last thirty seconds were just beginning to happen.
He opened the drawer and began shuffling around. “White. White. Gray. Oh, look, striped!” he said, holding up a pair with thin blue lines.
I wrapped my blanket and bedspread around me and jumped out of bed. “Seriously?” I grabbed for them, but he pulled them away playfully.
“Why are you so bent out of shape?” he asked sincerely. “You do know I’ve seen you before, right?”
“Please just give them to me,” I pleaded, trying to grab them again.
In one movement, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. I was trapped in the cocoon of my bedding. “I really want to know… what’s so horrible?”
I sighed and leaned my head into his chest. “I hate the way my body looks,” I replied in a miserable tone. “Please let me get dressed.”
When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds, I looked up. He was just staring at me, those green eyes almost glowing in the morning light. “You mean that? About hating your body?” I nodded, wondering if this was a world-record way for a day to become shitty. He dropped his hands and grabbed the front of the blankets. He began to pull them open as I freaked out. I clutched them shut as hard as I could. “Don’t,” he said softly. I shook my head as he slipped his hands underneath the blanket and moved them around the small of my back. “Let them go,” he said. “Please.”
This must be how rats felt when faced with a cobra, those eyes boring into you, freezing you in place. I could feel myself begin to shiver as my hands relaxed. The blanket and bedspread fell to the ground, leaving me standing there naked as the day I was born. He took a step back and looked at me from head to toe. His face showed nothing of what was going on that head of his, and I felt myself begin to shake harder.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, moving back toward me. His hands moved over my chest and then slowly down to my abs. “You have no idea how perfect you are.” His fingers traced over me from my stomach to my hips and then to my ass. Everywhere he touched goose bumps followed, making me shiver involuntarily. His lips touched my shoulder and began to move down as he talked. “You shouldn’t”—kiss—“hate anything”—kiss—“anything so perfect.” When he reached my belly button, I felt the warmth of his tongue and I heard a moan slip past my lips against my will. “Never hate anything about yourself,” he said, pushing me down onto my bed. I fell backward and he followed me, his head hovering over my growing member.
“My mom…,” I said, the words choking in my throat.
“I
locked the door,” he said, smirking evilly.
His mouth moved down and all I knew was ecstasy.
Brad
I LOVED turning him on.
I had never done this before; in the past I had always made sure that Kelly was the one on his knees. But as Kyle spread his legs, I didn’t care about what was gay or whether who did what made the other one in charge. His fingers skittered through my hair. I think he was trying to stop me, but when I moved my tongue I felt them clench into fists; he pushed me down onto him. Every gasp he made sent a chill through my own body, every time his hips left the bed, I could feel my own cock respond.
It wasn’t anywhere as bad as I thought it would be; if anything, it was fucking awesome.
My hands fumbled with my jeans as I pulled myself free of my boxer briefs. I heard him whisper my name, and I heard myself groan in response. Why hadn’t I done this before? Why had I always been so afraid that doing this would break me? As I felt him get closer, my own hand sped up. My entire life at the moment was composed of making him explode. I didn’t care about my ego, my reputation, or my masculinity. I loved him, I really did, and if I could make him happy in any way, then I was doing the right thing.
“I’m… I’m…,” he panted as I felt him begin to pulse in my mouth.
The second he went, I felt myself follow.
His whole body shook as his hands dug into my head. His hips were off the bed as he thrust again and again. I felt like I was floating as my own orgasm consumed me. I don’t know how much time passed before he fell back to the bed, his softening tool slipping out of my mouth. My hand was a mess, and I tried to catch my breath as he lay there, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
I found a bath towel on the floor and wiped my hand clean before climbing up onto the bed. I moved next to him, pulling him into me. “Good morning,” I whispered to him. His eyes were still closed as a wide, contented grin spread across his face. “You like that?”
He looked over at me. “Do you have to ask?” He lunged toward me, his mouth pressing into mine as he kissed me hard. “You… that was…,” he said between breaths.
“I love you,” I said, summing it up for both of us.
He paused and looked me straight in the eye. I had never seen a blue as perfect as his eyes. “You really do, don’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What else can I do to convince you?” I could see him beginning to tear up. “What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he lied. “I just… I just feel like I’ve ruined your life.”
He tried to bury his head in my chest, but I stopped him, holding his chin up so he would look at me. “Listen,” I said with as much honesty I could put into my words. “I didn’t have a life before you. All of that was… was just a waste of time.” I put my hand over his heart. “This, this is the first real thing I have ever felt. You didn’t ruin my life, dummy.” I smiled at him as my own eyes began to mist up. “You saved my life.” When he kissed me, I could feel all the words he couldn’t say move through us, and I knew for the first time since we met….
Things were going to be okay.
Kyle
WE BARELY made it to school on time, but I have to admit, I didn’t care.
As I sat in first period, I found if I thought about what had just happened for too long my mind would begin to fuzz up and I’d just sit there with a goofy grin on my face. I think I might have looked like I was in the middle of a stroke since Mr. Richardson stopped his lecture and actually asked me if I was okay.
No, that wasn’t embarrassing at all.
It was weird, because things seemed completely different than they had yesterday. I mean people still stared, and sure, they were whispering, but I couldn’t waste the energy needed to care. I just walked by them and thought about this morning, and suddenly, they didn’t matter anymore. I saw Brad in the hall between third and fourth period, and we just looked at each other as we walked toward each other. My cheeks hurt I was smiling so hard, and the twinkle in his eye from his grin made me want to jump him right then and there.
“Hey,” he said, his whole face lit up.
“Hey,” I said back, my chest swelling with emotion.
“Good day?” he asked. I saw just the hint of mischief in his eyes and I felt my body react.
“Better than average,” I answered, which made him laugh. “Hey, I know a place we can eat lunch in peace today.”
A couple of girls walked by, their heads turning to gawk at us as they passed.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be? Paparazzi?” Brad snapped at them. They turned and shuffled off quickly. When he turned back to me, I was barely holding back laughter. “What?” he asked. “Like they were looking at a traffic accident or something.”
“Yeah, so… lunch,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from the negative.
“Okay, wherever you want to go,” he said, distracted.
“Ignore them,” I said quietly. He looked back to me and I gave him a smile. “They aren’t worth getting upset over.”
I saw him sigh and nod. “See you at lunch?”
The tardy bell rang and people began to scatter. I took a look to make sure no one was looking before I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek quickly. “Love ya,” I said as he stood there in shock, a hand covering the skin where my lips had touched.
Brad
AND just like that, my mood changed.
I wandered through the rest of my classes, my mind lost in everything Kyle. I had no idea where he got the strength to put up with all this, but every time I felt like I was done, there he was. Anyone looking from the outside might think I was the strong one, but I felt like a little bitch next to him.
When the lunch bell rang, I saw the usual suspects assembling at The Round Table. Kelly had taken over my old seat. I had a feeling that should bug me more than it did but the only thing I could think was that I hoped he had more fun there than I’d had.
“You ready?” Kyle asked, coming up from behind me.
I nodded over at the table. “Did I look that arrogant sitting over there?”
He looked at Kelly and shook his head. “He looks like a punk sitting there,” he said with a warm smile. “You looked like a king.”
I hadn’t felt like a king, but it was nice that he saw me that way.
Instead of heading into the quad, we turned the other way, toward the auditorium building. I had to admit I never really found myself on this side of school, since at Foster baseball practice counted as a Fine Arts credit. Kyle seemed to know his way; he maneuvered down the halls without hesitation. We ended up in what used to be a balcony overlooking the stage. Now, however, it looked like it a storage room. “Ta-da!” he said, gesturing to the space.
I looked around as I walked in. “How did you know about this place?” I asked.
He shrugged as he took a seat. “Spent a lot of lunches by myself. I like exploring.”
I felt bad for a moment, but I saw that he wasn’t upset or even dipping a big toe in pity. He was just stating a fact; and that, for some reason, made it even worse. I sat down next to him as he dug through the paper bag he’d packed his lunch in. “Cookie?” he offered, a chocolate chip cookie in his hand.
“I love you,” I declared out of nowhere.
“It’s store-bought; trust me, it’s not all that,” he stated somberly.
I laughed and had leaned over to kiss him when the door opened.
“Oh,” someone said from behind us.
Three guys and a girl stood at the doorway looking in on us. They were all dressed in dark clothes, and the guy who had spoken wore dark eye makeup and had black lipstick on. The other three weren’t dressed as severely, but they were all clearly part of the alternative crowd. Foster didn’t have a huge goth population, but the few there were pretty militant. “What are you guys doing up here?” he asked, recovering from the shock of seeing intruders.
“Eating lunch,” Kyle sa
id, holding up his bag. “More than enough room,” he said, gesturing to the other seats.
The girl put her hand on his shoulder and whispered something, but he shook his head at whatever she’d asked. “No, we don’t have to leave,” he said, walking in all the way. “They’re the ones who are lost.”
I clenched my fists and began to stand up, but Kyle’s hand on my arm stopped me. He told me to calm down with his eyes before looking back at the other kids. “We’re not lost, we’re just looking for a place to eat lunch.”
Another guy had joined the original four; he called from the door, “Jeremy, let it go.”
Jeremy wasn’t going to let it go, though. “What’s wrong with The Round Table?” he asked, his disdain practically dripping from his lips. “Couldn’t get a reservation?”
This was ridiculous. I was not being browbeaten by a damn goth; that was where I drew the line. “Look, Jeremy,” I said, standing up. “We don’t want any trouble; we just want to eat lunch. Why don’t we just all calm down and think a second.” He froze, and I realized he had thought I was going to hit him. Instead, I put my hand out and said, “My name is Brad, and this is—”
“I know who the fuck you are,” he said, cutting me off. “You don’t even know who I am, do you?” I had to admit I didn’t. “You and your friends threw beer bottles at me last year outside the bowling alley. You guys screamed ‘drama fag’ and took off.” I felt my stomach plummet. “Ring a bell?”
I shook my head, feeling like a complete asshole.
He laughed, and I felt something in me cringe. “You don’t remember me? Or you don’t recall because you jerks have done it more than once?”
“Both,” I admitted, not able to look at him.
“Come on, guys,” Kyle said, standing up, moving between us.
“You can stay here, Kyle,” Jeremy said, not taking his eyes off me. “You, I have no problem with, but he is going to have to go.”
“You know me?” Kyle asked, the shock obvious in his voice.