by K. C. Wells
Robin was coming up the front path with his bike.
Okay. Now what?
Dean went to the front door and opened it as Robin was leaning his bike against the house. “You’re back. You’d better get in out of the cold.”
“Thanks,” Robin murmured. He stepped into the house and Dean closed the door.
Dean folded his arms. “So, what is it this time? Let me guess. You’ve got something that needs unscrewing, and you want to borrow a screwdriver. Or maybe you’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar?”
Robin frowned. “Why would I be here for sugar?”
The question only served to demonstrate the gap in their ages. “Why are you here, Robin?” He knew it sounded harsh, seeing as the last time Robin had been there, they’d departed on more cordial terms. Except now, he was seeing that visit in a different light. That supposed Kris’s theory was correct, of course, and Robin really did have a crush on him.
“There’s something I need to clear up before we go any further,” Robin blurted out.
“And what’s that?”
“You are gay, right?”
Dean stared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”
Robin looked relieved. “Okay, good.”
To Dean’s way of thinking, it sounded as if Robin was mentally checking a box. “Now suppose you tell me why it’s good.”
Robin’s breathing sped up, and Dean swore he was shaking a little. “Well… It’s like this… I wanted to ask…”
“For God’s sake, spit it out.”
Robin swallowed hard. “Okay. I’m… I’m a virgin.”
What the fuck?
Dean took a deep breath before replying. “That’s not only none of my business, it’s way too much information.”
“Please, don’t kick me out,” Robin pleaded.
That stopped him dead in his tracks. “I’m not going to do that,” Dean said quietly. “But I think you’d better go into my living room and sit down, and then we’ll talk.”
Robin nodded and dashed ahead of him into the living room. When Dean got there, Robin was sitting on the edge of the seat cushion, his hands clasped between his knees. Lady came over to sit at his feet, gazing at him, but he made no attempt to pet her.
Dean sat on the sofa facing him. He felt it was better to put some space between them. “Why are you telling me this?”
Dear God, Robin was shaking.
“This is the situation.” Robin swallowed hard. “I’m eighteen, I’m a virgin, and I don’t want to be one anymore.”
Dean frowned. “You say this like you expect me to do something about it.” Then it dawned on him. He leaned forward, his head in his hands. “Oh my God.” Everything his friends had said was true. I’m never gonna hear the end of this.
“Dean? Talk to me, please?”
He straightened and sat back against the cushions. “Robin… You’re cute and all, but… you are way too young for me.” Except that hadn’t stopped Dean from fantasizing about kissing him, had it? And not just kissing.
“I’m eighteen.” Robin’s eyes flashed. “I’m legal.”
“Legal is one thing, but…” Looking at Robin’s crestfallen face make his chest tighten. There had to be a way forward from this. “You’re gay.”
Robin nodded.
“Okay then. Do your parents know you’re gay?”
Another nod.
“When did they find out?”
“I told them at Thanksgiving.” Robin flashed a quick smile. “Over Thanksgiving dinner, actually.”
Dean chuckled. “Nice timing. How did they take it?”
“I didn’t actually come out with it and say ‘Hey, guess what? I’m gay.’”
“I’m intrigued.”
Robin gave him a word-for-word account of the dinner, and Dean had to admit he’d chosen a pretty unique way of doing it. He snorted when Robin related his comments to Ryan. “That sounds like your brother. So this is all new?”
“For them, it was. I’ve known for a while.” Robin’s shy smile was adorable. “You have no idea how long I waited for the perfect moment to tell them.” He cocked his head. “Your parents know about you, right?”
Dean laughed. “For a long while now.”
“How did you tell them?”
“I wasn’t as… circumspect as you. My mom caught me kissing Darryl Jacobs on the back porch. In my defense, I thought she wasn’t home. He’d come back with me after school, and we were out in the yard messing around with a ball. He looked so gorgeous in the afternoon sunlight, and I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. It wasn’t the first time we’d kissed, you understand. But it was definitely the first time for my mom.”
“What happened?”
“Darryl said his goodbyes and scooted out of there like his ass was on fire. Mom took me in the kitchen, sat me down at the table, and asked how long it had been going on. She wasn’t angry. In fact, she was very calm. I got the idea she’d been sort of expecting it.” He grinned. “I think your parents betting on when you’d come out is hilarious.”
“I didn’t think so at the time,” Robin retorted. “And now, Mom wants to know if I’m seeing someone. They’re discussing me, if I’ve got a boyfriend I’m not telling them about.”
“So what was the plan with the ski instruction?” Except he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew.
Robin scowled. “I should never have listened to Ryan. It made me feel so awful, lying to you like that. I knew I had to be honest, which is why I came round this evening.” He shook his head. “I almost changed my mind. The thought of telling you all this terrified me.”
“I appreciate your honesty. And I am flattered. I’ve never been asked to be someone’s first before.” He locked gazes with Robin. “That is what you want, isn’t it?” If it wasn’t, Dean was going to look like a total idiot. An arrogant idiot at that.
Robin gave a slow nod, his face flushed. “Ryan made it sound like being a virgin was a bad thing.”
“He’s wrong,” Dean said decisively. “But I do know how you feel. I remember being in such a hurry to lose my virginity, I didn’t stop to think about what it meant.” He didn’t care that this was extremely personal information he was sharing. Robin needed to hear it.
“What do you mean?”
“I get the impression that nowadays for a lot of young people, sex is simply something you do. You know, like, ‘What are you doing this weekend?’ ‘Doing my homework, doing my chores, getting laid…’” Dean sighed. “It wasn’t like that for me. I wanted my first time to be with someone I cared for, someone who cared for me. Only, it didn’t happen quite that way.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
Dean nodded. “I think it’s important you hear this from someone. It was a snatched moment, over way too soon, with a boy who just wanted sex. So did I, for that matter, despite my wishing for it to be special. We didn’t take our time. Probably because we had no time. And if I could go back, I would do it differently.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” Robin stressed. “I want to take my time. I don’t wanna be like you, looking back and regretting it. No offense.”
“None taken. So now, you’re going home.” Robin’s face fell, and Dean’s heart went out to him, but he had to be honest. “You said you need to take your time and think about it. So that’s exactly what you’re going to do—at home.” He felt confident he hadn’t given Robin any false hope, or made any promises he couldn’t keep.
Robin jerked his head up. “But does that mean—?”
“It means you’re going home,” Dean said firmly. Then he relented. “It doesn’t mean, however, that you can’t come back here, or that we’re never going to talk again.” He smiled. “Lake Placid is a small place.”
Robin got to his feet, and Dean walked with him to the front door. Robin paused, gazing at Dean’s face. “Do I get a kiss goodbye?”
Dean rolled his eyes before leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When
he straightened, Robin pouted adorably. “That’s it?”
Dean laughed. “Don’t push your luck. Now get your ass on that bike and pedal out of here.”
Robin’s smile was such a relief after the misery Dean had seen there a few seconds ago. “Bye for now.” And then he was climbing on his bike and pedaling like fury away from the house and along the street.
Dean closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it, his forehead kissing the glass window.
Now what do I do?
Chapter Eight
Dean poured himself a coffee, then sank into one of the chairs. The staffroom was about half full, and the lunch break had about twenty minutes left to run. He’d tucked himself away in a corner, hoping not to invite conversation.
Dean had a lot on his mind. Well, one thing in particular, about five-feet-six, light brown hair, light brown eyes, cute smile, gorgeous bod…
What am I going to do with you, Robin?
“Penny for them?”
Dean jerked his head up. Kate stood there, a plastic box filled with what looked like pasta salad in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. He stared at her blankly.
“Your thoughts. I’ll give you a pen—” She sighed. “Never mind. Are you okay? You looked like you were deep in thought over here.”
“I’m fine,” Dean assured her.
Kate arched her eyebrows. “Okay, as our students are so fond of saying… pants on fire.” She tilted her head. “You want me to leave you alone?”
“Actually? No. Can we go someplace and talk?” Maybe another perspective would help.
“Sure. Your classroom is closest.” She grinned. “Unless you really want to have a conversation next door to the girls’ locker room?”
“It wouldn’t be my first choice, no.” Dean got up, and they left the room. When they reached his classroom, they went inside, and Dean closed the door behind them. He sat at his desk, and Kate grabbed a chair and pulled it up.
She opened her lunch box, took a fork from her purse, and sat back. “Okay. Spill.”
He told her about Robin’s visit Monday evening and their subsequent conversation. Kate listened while she ate, nodding occasionally, and snorting at least once, fortunately not at a moment when her mouth was full. When he was done, Dean took a drink. “So there you have it.”
“What’s next?
Dean widened his eyes. “You’re asking me? Why do you think I’m in such a mess? I don’t know what to do.”
Kate pursed her lips. “Let’s try this from another angle. Tell me about Robin. The Robin you know, not the one I remember as a student.”
“That’s the weird part. When he was a student here, I hardly noticed him—well, certainly not like I’m noticing him now. He was merely another student. Oh, he was good at building the sets and painting them, but as for him being someone I’d be interested in?” Dean shrugged. “You don’t see students like that, right?”
“You and I don’t, sure, but there are some twisted fucks out there who do, unfortunately.” Kate ate another bite of her salad. “Okay, back to Robin.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, how does he act around you?”
Dean considered the question. “Well… when he’s not tongue-tied or coming out with requests for me to fuck him… He can be focused, mature… There’s a depth to him.”
“Do you think he’s attractive?”
Dean smiled. “He’s gorgeous. Those eyes, that smile…”
Kate chuckled. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said airily. “It’s this look you get when you talk about him. So tell me… if you were to follow through on his requests… would it be just sex? Because if that’s all it is, and you’re interested, I’d say go for it. Like we said on Sunday, he’s legal. But if it’s more than sex… there are ramifications.” Another wry chuckle. “I have to say, I like his approach. It’s a little unconventional, yet clichéd at the same time.”
“Isn’t that what I said? I’ve become a walking cliché.”
Kate cocked her head. “Is it just sex?”
Dean snorted. “It isn’t even that yet. I think what bothers me most is the age gap.”
Kate put down her lunch box. “Can I tell you something? A couple of years ago, I went to the wedding of my eleventh grade English teacher, Mr. Matthews. And the only reason I’m mentioning this is because the guy he married—Kevin—was in the same class as me in high school. I thought how remarkable it was that they’d met up years later and fallen in love. What I didn’t know was that they got together when Kevin was twenty, two years after he graduated, and they’ve been together ever since. So fourteen years is not an unsurmountable obstacle. These kinds of relationships do happen, and they can go the distance.” Her gaze met his. “If that’s what you want.”
Dean was shocked into stillness for a second, bowled over by the very idea that more could come of this than merely a physical relationship. He couldn’t even contemplate such a thing.
“Robin’s eighteen,” he said at last when he found his voice. “So young, so impetuous…”
“Okay, but think about how he came to you and laid it all out. How mature do you need to be to approach this kind of situation head on? Not to mention damn brave. And all I’m saying is, go into this with your eyes—and your heart—open.” Kate smiled. “And now I’ll leave you alone. It seems to me you still have some thinking to do.” She got up, walked over to him, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.
As she closed the door behind her, Dean came to the conclusion he was still a mess, and that going over the situation over and over in his head was not the way to go. He pulled his phone from his pocket and found Robin’s number.
You got a minute?
Seconds later, a reply pinged back. Sure. On my lunch break. Something wrong?
Are we okay to talk? Dean figured his dad might think it weird for Robin to be getting a call from him. His phone buzzed, and he clicked Answer. “I guess that’s a yes.”
Robin laughed. “Make it quick. I’m outside, freezing my butt off. Dad’s in the office.”
“Could you come over this evening, after you’ve eaten? I think we need to talk.”
There was a pause. “Sure, I can do that.” Another pause. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. I guess you’ve been doing the same. It’s a no, isn’t it?” Fuck, he sounded so down.
Right then Dean had no clue what it was. “Just get your butt over to my house, okay? Any time after seven. I’ll see you then. Now get inside and warm up.” He disconnected.
A glance at the clock on the wall told him there was no more time for contemplation. He had a class to teach.
Thoughts of Robin would have to wait.
Robin studied his reflection in the mirror. His jeans were clean—now there was a miracle—and his cream sweater looked good on him. If anything, he thought it made him appear a little older, which was no bad thing.
God, why did you have to give me such a baby face?
Robin had never taken so long in the shower. So long, in fact, he’d expected a comment from his mom, but nothing had materialized. Maybe Dad had taken her aside after the last Kleenex comment and mentioned how she was embarrassing the fuck out of him. Not that he could imagine his dad using those exact words, but…
“Robin?”
“Coming, Mom.” One last glance in the mirror assured him he looked okay. He stuffed his feet into his boots, grabbed his coat and wool hat, and left the bedroom.
Mom arched her eyebrows as he came into the living room. “Going someplace?”
“Yeah,” he said as casually as he could manage. “Thought I’d go ride my bike.”
Dad glanced up from his phone. “Again? You on some health kick you haven’t told us about?”
“Actually, I got a call from… Ben Taylor. He said I could come over and play on his PlayStation with him.” He hated lying, but it was way better than telling the truth.
> Mom frowned. “Ben? I know that name.”
Robin nodded. “He graduated the same time as me. I ran into him when I went skiing on Saturday.” He held his breath, sighing inwardly with relief when no more questions were forthcoming. “I won’t be back late.”
“Be safe.” Mom always said that.
Robin went over to the couch, bent down, and kissed her cheek. “I will, I promise.” He gave a nod to Dad, and then he was out of there.
Outside, snow was falling, the first snow of December, and already Christmas lights were going up on some of the neighbors’ houses, so bright against the fresh white blanket that covered the roofs and sidewalks. Robin put on his helmet, switched on his light, and set off along the road.
He cycled past one house where someone had erected a giant inflatable Santa Claus, complete with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes. Robin smiled to himself. It had been many years since his last letter to Santa, but maybe the guy in the red suit was exactly what Robin needed right then. Because what Robin wanted was a little Christmas magic of his own.
He’d left Dean’s house with his head in a whirl on Monday. He still didn’t know how he’d found the nerve to say all that, and he wasn’t sure what he’d expected Dean’s reaction to be. But being sent away to think about it had been tough.
He thinks I’m a kid, doesn’t he? Some horny little kid who wants to experiment.
Well, he was horny, he couldn’t deny that. But in the three days since he’d last seen Dean, something had changed. Some of the things Dean had said had really hit home, especially when he’d spoken about his own experiences—and how he’d wanted his first time to be. Robin didn’t want a quick, fumbling fuck—he wanted to take his time, to burn it into his memory.
Most of all, he wanted to enjoy it.
Dean’s comments made him realize Dean knew how important this was to him, and that gave him a glimmer of hope. And after Robin’s… experiments of the past few days, he was more than ready to experience the real thing.