by Anna Martin
“Yeah. I’m trying to do something about that.”
“Good.”
James moved to straddle Dylan’s lap, and Dylan kissed him again. It was a good kiss. James sank into the sweet tug and pull of lips on lips, pushing his fingers through Dylan’s thick, dark hair. He relished the slight stubble burn that Dylan was leaving on his chin.
“I’m not a virgin, you know,” James blurted when they pulled apart.
Dylan snorted a laugh, wrapping his arms securely around James’s waist. “Thanks for clarifying that.”
“I just thought… in case you were wondering.” James knew he was blushing. He tried to pretend that didn’t matter.
“Go on then, entertain me,” Dylan said, leaning back and pillowing his hands behind his head.
“What? Tell you about it?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. His grin was sinful.
“Ugh.” James groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, willing blood away from his groin and back to more useful areas of his body. “It was last summer. With Zara, who I’ve, like, known since forever. She’s friends with Frankie. Everyone else was doing it, and we got to the last big thing of the summer before we all went back to school for our senior year, and I knew Frankie had fucked her boyfriend a few weeks before, and I’m older than her—did I tell you that?”
“No,” Dylan said.
“Well, I am. By eight minutes. We were C-section babies.”
“You were telling me about Zara,” Dylan prompted.
“Yeah. It wasn’t great, to be honest.”
“The sex?”
“Yeah. I think we were probably both doing it to prove a point. I’m pretty sure she didn’t get off, and I was still partly dressed. I kept my socks on. And my pants. Sort of.”
For a moment, Dylan said nothing, and then he snorted again and buried his face in James’s stomach to hide his laughter.
“Don’t laugh!” James wailed. “I think I’m traumatized.”
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, but he was still laughing, his shoulders silently shaking.
“You’re not sorry at all.” But James conceded to pet his hair.
“Have you ever been with a guy?”
“No. I mean, what we’ve done is pretty much the extent of my sexual experience.”
“Okay.”
“Have you?”
“Been with a guy? Yeah.”
“Okay.” James didn’t mind. It was almost reassuring actually, but he didn’t want to say that unless Dylan got the impression there was something to mind in the first place. Which there wasn’t.
“Do you want, like, details?”
“Nope,” James said quickly. “No, thank you. Details will give me more masturbation material than my poor brain knows what to do with.”
Dylan dissolved into laughter. “Oh my God, James.”
“You’re welcome,” James said, irrationally pleased he could make Dylan laugh like that.
When they settled again, they were lying on the bed in a T-shape, Dylan’s head pillowed on James’s stomach.
“Hey, so I’m not going to be around next weekend.”
“Okay.” James gently stroked his fingers through Dylan’s hair. When Dylan didn’t protest, he did it again. “Where are you going?”
“To see my brother and sister.”
“Oh! That’s cool.”
“Yeah.” Dylan hesitated, and James decided to let him say whatever it was rather than interrupting. Like he usually did. “It’s my birthday.”
“You weren’t going to tell me that, were you?”
Dylan huffed a laugh. “No. I don’t celebrate it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Me and Steve do a thing on the anniversary of when he adopted me instead. But my brother and sister like to see me, so I make the effort to go to them.”
“Where are they?” James asked.
“Uh, near Santa Maria. It takes me about four hours to drive over there.”
“That’s not so far, not really.”
“No. I try to see them every few months. It’s a bit weird, since we got split up so long ago. But they’re the only connection to my biological family I’ve got left, you know?”
“Sure.” James wondered if it was right to press, but Dylan didn’t seem to mind the conversation, so he forged ahead. “How old were you when you… went into foster care?”
“I was four the first time, but I was placed back with my mom. For a few years, I got moved around between a foster family, my mom, and my grandmother. Then I got taken away from her for good when I was ten,” Dylan said. “So Erin would have been four and Jacob three. They were still young and cute, and I was labeled a problem kid almost right away, so they were adopted really quickly, and I got bounced from one foster family to another.”
“That’s awful.”
“It’s what happens,” Dylan said. “I’m not even mad about it anymore.”
“So they must be… thirteen and fourteen now?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said with a laugh. “Awkward teenagers. I think they see me as this cool older brother. You know, I have a car and a job and….”
“A boyfriend,” James supplied for him, teasing.
“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. “Can I tell them about you?”
“Sure. That would be cool.”
“I’m not actually out to them, so being able to tell them about you would kind of solve that problem.”
“Awesome.” James hesitated again and nudged Dylan until they were face-to-face. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Ask and I’ll tell you if I don’t want to answer.”
“Okay. Why were you taken into foster care?”
“My mom got sent to prison,” Dylan said. He didn’t sound particularly emotional about it. “For possession of and dealing drugs. She was an addict. None of her family wanted to take us in—my grandmother had died by then—so there was only one option left.”
“Is she out?”
“Nope,” Dylan said. “It was a big case. She wasn’t just some small-town weed dealer. She was dealing heroin, selling it to teenagers. One of the kids nearly died, ended up with serious long-term health issues. So she was prosecuted for that too.”
“Oh,” James said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago now.”
“Are you still in contact with her?”
“No. I wasn’t allowed to be for a long time. Then I got a really good therapist and decided it was probably a good idea not to. She, like, relinquished her parental rights to me and Erin as soon as she was sentenced. She tried to fight for Jacob since he was the baby, but since there wasn’t anyone in her family who would take him in, she gave him up in the end too.”
James winced. “Wow. Sorry this conversation got dark.”
“That’s all right. I was going to tell you sooner or later anyway.”
“So should I get you something for your birthday?” James asked, tugging at the hem of Dylan’s T-shirt.
“No,” Dylan laughed.
“That means yes.”
“You really don’t have to. Like I said, me and Steve celebrate my adoption. Which is in July, if you were wondering.”
“Okay,” James said. “So when do you leave?”
“Friday. I’ll head out after work. I should get back on Sunday night.”
“Well, drive safe. And let me know when you get there and stuff. And say hi to Erin and Jacob for me.”
“I will.”
James took that as a good cue to leave. He had less than thirty minutes if he was going to beat his dad home, and it was easier to be tucked away in his room rather than explaining to his dad where he’d been so late on a weeknight.
Dylan followed him to the front door and waited while James tugged his sneakers back on.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said when James was wrapped up against the rain that had started to fall.
“Thanks for
letting me. And for dinner.”
Dylan leaned in and kissed James’s cheek, very gently. It was sweet and romantic, a quiet reminder that Dylan was into James for more than just making out.
“I’ll text you.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“’Night, James.”
Chapter Eight
STEVE SUGGESTED they meet for a beer after work on Friday, partly because he really needed a beer and mostly because he wanted to see Mark. Mark already had plans to go hustle some guys at pool again, but he left early so they could have a beer, only the two of them.
“So I told my kids I’m dating someone,” Mark said as he picked at the label of his bottle.
They’d chosen to sit at the bar, just two buddies watching ESPN and ushering in the weekend. Totally hetero, as far as this audience was concerned at least.
“Oh? How did that go?”
“Frankie said ‘ew’ and looked at me like I had puked a bucket of slugs or something.”
“I understood that reference,” Steve said and elbowed him in the side. “And James?”
“Made me pinky promise he’d never have to know anything about my sex life.”
Steve laughed. “Congratulations. You have a teenager.”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve known for a long time I’m never going to be a ‘cool dad.’ I’m a teacher at their school; I don’t harbor any illusions. But sometimes it would be nice for them to think of me as something other than a literal space alien.”
“You don’t want to be a cool dad,” Steve said. “Trust me. I got accused of that a lot, when I was just trying to communicate with my kid on whatever wavelength I could get through to him on. He was never going to be the sort of kid who would open up as we tossed a baseball back and forth, you know?”
“I think if I gave James a baseball, he’d break something. Either one of his own bones or a window.”
Steve snorted. “Right. Even now people roll their eyes at me when I give Dylan a beer. You probably don’t approve of that, but the kid was smoking weed at thirteen. A beer now isn’t going to hurt him.”
Mark shrugged. “I don’t like people telling me how to be a parent. I don’t care what anyone else does with their own kids. Like you said, sometimes you just have to get through to them however you can.”
“Right.” Steve checked out the bartender, then mentally berated himself for doing it in front of Mark. Tacky. “Did you tell them I’m… not female?”
“Yeah. They’ve known for a while that I date men and women. Well, I haven’t dated anyone in a while. But I told them when they were younger, before someone else told them that it should be a big deal.”
“That sounds sensible.”
“It’s worked out well so far. I know both of them are dating right now too, and neither of them will tell me about it. I don’t know whether I should be relieved or worried.”
“They’re eighteen, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve had the sex talk.”
Mark groaned dramatically. “Oh yes.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. If they offer any information, then gently push for more. That seems to work with Dylan, and he doesn’t offer anything without prompting. If you already know they’re dating, then you’re a step ahead of me.”
“I’m used to being the person they confide in, you know? I guess I have to get used to letting that go.”
“Not necessarily,” Steve said. “My brother and my dad are still close. Dad was the first person David told when he decided to propose to Sandy, then when she got pregnant.”
“You’re not close to them?”
“I am… sort of.” Steve gently bumped their shoulders together. “I’m six years younger than David, so we weren’t ever close when we were growing up. I was closer to our mom, but she died a few years back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You’re out to them?”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve laughed. “I was a flaming little twink when I was younger. Watched too much Queer as Folk in my early twenties and decided that was how I was going to live my life, out and proud.”
“How did they react to that?”
Steve shrugged. “They didn’t understand, but I don’t blame them for that. They kind of had an idea about my sexual preferences way before I came out. I think my obsession with the Backstreet Boys was a strong indicator.”
Mark smiled at that. “I think everyone was obsessed with the Backstreet Boys at one point.”
“AJ.”
“Nick.”
Steve grinned. He’d been told more than once that he looked like Nick Carter. He wasn’t sure if Mark was flattering him. If he was, Steve would take it.
“How about you?” Steve asked. “You’re out to your kids. How about everyone else?”
“I lost both of my parents in my early twenties,” Mark said. “They died within a few months of each other, so it was just me and my sister after that. I never had a chance to come out to my folks, but Debbie knows I’m bisexual.”
Steve nodded. “She’s cool?”
“She’s a mother of five. She doesn’t have time to worry about who I’m sleeping with.” Mark laughed. “For a while she lived down in Phoenix with her husband, but they moved back to the area a few years back.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah. Karen knew.”
Steve had a strong idea who Karen was. He decided to ask anyway. “Karen?”
“The ex-wife,” Mark said wryly.
“I decided not to pry,” Steve said. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t insanely curious.”
Mark laughed. “Yeah, I suppose that’s fair.” He rubbed his fingers through his hair. “We met in grad school, got married a couple of years after we graduated. She knew I liked to ‘experiment’ with guys when we first got together, but I never cheated on her.
“Karen didn’t want kids. I had to really pester her about it. She’s a teacher too, but a college professor, not high school. We had an agreement that I’d be the stay-at-home parent after she had the babies, and she’d go back to work, since she earned more than me anyway. She left before their second birthday.”
“Oh wow,” Steve said softly. “That must have been hard.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was easier than if she’d hung around for another few years. I never had to explain to them why mommy was gone.”
“I guess. Is she still around?”
“She turns up from time to time. The kids stay in contact with her, text her and stuff. I don’t really ask them that much. Their relationship with Karen is almost independent of the one they have with me.”
“You must be a pretty great dad.”
“Oh, I don’t know….” Mark paused to drain his bottle of beer. “Frankie threatened to leave and go live with her mom at least once a week from the age of thirteen through fifteen. Karen’s the cool mom,” he added wryly.
“Ah.”
“She worked in Europe for a while, has traveled everywhere. She has tattoos.” Mark rolled his eyes. “And a boyfriend half her age.”
“I think I’m starting to get a picture.”
“Right. I don’t hate her, for what it’s worth. She gave me my kids.”
“Was it hard, raising them as a single dad?”
“Of course it was.” Mark began stuffing all the paper label he’d peeled off into his now-empty bottle. “But worth it. If I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe that one time James walked in on me fucking a guy.”
“No way,” Steve said with a laugh.
“Oh yes. He was only about twelve, but he knew exactly what was going on. That’s when I decided I wasn’t ever going to bring a hookup home until both of them had moved out.”
Steve finished his beer too, picking up on the vibe that their conversation was almost over.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He took a brea
th and glanced over at Mark, not wanting to watch his reaction in the mirrored bar. “Are you looking for a relationship?”
Mark nodded like this was a reasonable question. “For a long time, I’ve said no every time someone’s asked me that. I’ve been fine with hooking up in bars and clubs. That’s suited my life, you know? But I think maybe things are changing. So I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.”
He gave Steve a little smile.
“That’s a terrible answer,” Steve laughed. Mark smacked his arm and laughed too.
“Okay, yes. I’m interested in a relationship.” He bumped their shoulders together.
“Good,” Steve said.
“Good.”
They moved on quickly, Steve not wanting to linger on the topic any more than Mark did. Recent conversations had revealed a shared interest in sci-fi books, historical TV shows, and the work, the accent, and the face of Taika Waititi.
Hanging out with Mark was easy, like they’d been friends for years instead of hooking up for a few months.
Nothing like Jason, a little voice whispered at the back of Steve’s head.
He decided to ignore it, and signaled for another round of beer.
DYLAN ARRIVED home around three on Sunday afternoon, late enough that Steve had worked through the worst of his hangover. He wasn’t particularly proud of how Dylan found him—lazing around in his boxers, watching a period drama with definite homoerotic subtext, and eating Cheetos. It wasn’t his finest moment.
“How’re Jacob and Erin?” he called as Dylan dumped his weekend bag at the bottom of the stairs, where Steve would inevitably fall over it later.
“Not bad.” Dylan walked into the family room, rolled his eyes at Steve, then confiscated the bowl of Cheetos and took his place in the armchair. “Spartacus, Steve, really?”
“Don’t judge,” Steve said. He let Dylan take a handful of Cheetos, then gestured for the bowl back. “And Nicola and… damn, I always forget her husband’s name.”
“Brandon. Yeah, they’re good. Jacob and Erin had the whole day planned on Saturday. We went to the aquarium, then for lunch at this burger place that just opened up—they do fancy burgers, you know?”
“Fancy how?”
“Just, not your regular shitty burger. It was a good place, actually. If you’re ever in Santa Maria, let me know and I’ll find the name of it for you.”