And that’s where Lisa comes in. I spent my entire freshman year avoiding the subject of sex. I changed clothes in a bathroom stall in gym. I only went to dances with a large group of friends. I daydreamed during health class. I wouldn’t even watch romantic comedies at the movies. But I couldn’t avoid it. Sex was literally everywhere, and it seemed like everyone around me was pairing up. By sophomore year I had given up avoiding sex and decided that what I really needed was a girlfriend.
I guess part of me thought that if I got a real girlfriend I would stop being attracted to boys. Of course, in order to not be attracted to boys I would need to be attracted to girls, and I have finally concluded that I am not and never will be. And it’s not like Lisa isn’t a great choice for a girlfriend either; most of the boys in my high school class would give their left nut to date a girl like Lisa. Of course, it’s this eagerness that gave me such an advantage in the first place.
Let me explain. Lisa is a girl with what she calls “morals.” In other words, she is intending to wait for marriage before having sex, and I think she feels that some horndog who is constantly pressuring her for sex would be too much temptation to handle. So, of course, I’m the perfect match for the chastity-challenged. No pressure here. Sex with Lisa isn’t even on my radar. Although I do actually kind of enjoy kissing. It’s just that every time she takes my hand and tries to slide it under her shirt, my mind starts to drift somewhere else, somewhere more . . . masculine. I fantasize about the washboard abs and firm pecs of any one of a dozen teen idols or Abercrombie & Fitch models, but never once does my mind land on Lisa. But how do I tell her that?
I take some deep breaths. There’s plenty of time to figure that out. Lisa is safely away at summer camp. I look at my bedside clock. It’s two thirty. My mom gave Becky a ride to her family’s cottage almost three hours ago, but I just can’t get these thoughts out of my head. I have to work again tomorrow at ten thirty, so I really need to get to sleep. I close my eyes and try to force myself to relax.
“I did it,” I say to the dark room. “I did it. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay.”
There’s power in those words. They’re comforting. They put me to sleep.
Chapter 7
“That’s the last one!” Becky shouts over her shoulder, sliding the little pass-through window closed with a cracking thunk, an exclamation point to end the shift. It has been an incredibly busy night, and we all smile with relief that it’s over. It’s still unseasonably warm, and it seemed like everyone had the same idea for how to cool off. We must have served cones to three-quarters of Bell Cove. We went through almost fifty gallons of ice cream.
After about twenty-five gallons, I started scooping ice cream with my left hand. It was hard at first, but after a little practice I declared myself an ambidextrous scooper.
When I was in fourth grade, we did this project where we had to read a book about a famous athlete and do a book report on it. I got some famous tennis player who I guess my teacher, Mr. Hanson, really liked. I had never heard of Roy Emerson. Anyway, the only thing I remember about the book I had to read was this picture that showed Roy’s arms, and in the picture, Roy’s left arm, his tennis arm, was twice as big around as his right arm. It was freakish. It was like he was some kind of Frankenstein’s monster and he had been put together with arms from two different corpses: one from a bodybuilder and one from some Joe Schmo. I couldn’t get that picture out of my head. I was terrified I would wake up at the end of the summer, look in the mirror, and realize I had turned into Roy Emerson. That I would have to go back to school and everyone would start calling me Frankenstein or something. So I learned to scoop with my left hand.
But seriously, scooping is way harder work than I thought it would be. Not only does your arm ache at the end of a shift, but you are sticky up to your elbows, and you can barely feel your fingers from the cold. I asked Jay how he can stand it, and he told me that eventually you get used to it. He said that your arm muscles strengthen and once you get the technique down the sticky part goes away, too. Of course, Jay never scoops anymore. He’s always the helper, making sure that the main freezers are stocked and that the right kind of ice cream gets made and the soft-serve machine doesn’t run out. The advantages of being the manager apparently include avoiding frostbite. I’ll remember that for next summer.
I snap the lid tightly onto the last plastic container of ice cream and shut the door on the freezer. Jay walks out of the deep freezer and latches it carefully behind him.
“All right. Call it a night. Good work, you two. I’ll tell Renée she’s going to have to start scheduling an extra person if it stays warm like this. It’s a little early for the summer rush, but apparently the tourists don’t know that yet.”
“I’m wiped,” Becky says, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I swear, if I had to scoop one more cone, someone would have been walking home funny!”
“Becky!” I scold her, but I can’t help laughing at the same time.
“Well, as far as I’m concerned the night is just getting started,” Jay says. “It’s only ten o’clock. You guys want to hang out?”
Becky and I give each other a sideways glance. We’re both thinking the same thing: why would Jay want to hang out with us?
“I was supposed to go to a club in Manchester with a couple of buddies of mine, but I got a text earlier, and they all bailed. I don’t really feel like going alone,” Jay offers in response to our skeptical looks. “You guys are cool. We could pick up a pizza at Porfido’s Market and hang out on my boat.”
“I’m in.” I try not to sound too eager. I can’t believe Jay wants to hang out with me.
“It sounds like fun to me,” Becky says, “but I think I have to pass. A girl needs her beauty sleep. You two have fun.”
“Becky! You have to come!” I give her a look that I hope says, Don’t leave me alone with him. When it was going to be the three of us, it seemed safe and a little bit exciting. Without Becky, I’m afraid of making a fool of myself. I’m afraid I’ll have nothing to talk about, or worse, that I might try to talk and prove my loser status in front of Jay.
Becky tilts her head and lets her eyes do all the talking. She’s telling me that I shouldn’t worry so much.
“It is kind of late,” I say.
Jay has a half smile on his face. He shakes his head just a little, and turns to go to the back room to grab his stuff.
“It’s just an idea,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it.” He leaves the room and immediately Becky shoves an elbow in my ribs.
“Ow! What’s that for?”
“Stop being a baby. Go with him.”
“Not without you.”
“Sean, this is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”
“No, this is the chance you’ve been waiting for.” I can feel the heat rush to my face.
“He obviously likes you, otherwise he wouldn’t have invited you. You like him, don’t you?”
“You don’t even know if he likes guys. And anyway, he invited us.”
“He was being polite.”
“Becky, I can’t. I mean, I like him and all, but I’m scared to be alone with him. I mean, I’ve been—” I feel the word catch in my throat for just a moment. I’m still getting used to the sound of it. “—gay—for less than two weeks.”
“Sean, you’ve been gay your whole life. It only seems scary because you’ve never allowed yourself to feel what you’re feeling right now. What do you think is gonna happen anyway?”
Her question catches me off guard. What am I so scared of? Is it that a small part of me still thinks I can go back to pretending, that if I fall for a guy there’ll be no turning back? The only person I’ve come out to is Becky, and she’ll be gone at the end of the summer. She’s safe. I’m not sure I’m ready for the next step or even the possibility of the next step. I open my mouth to tell Becky this when Jay returns. He’s changed out of his gaudy Pink Cone T-shirt, and the tight black one he’s put on shows off his
muscled shoulders and toned chest. I swallow to keep my jaw from dropping.
“I brought this along because I thought I was going out tonight,” he says. “Have you guys decided what you’re doing? Porfido’s weekly special is Hawaiian.”
I can’t speak, but fortunately Becky is never at a loss for words. “Oh, I can’t do Hawaiian. Not kosher.”
I look over at her. Not kosher? As if.
“But you two go. I’ll tag along next time.”
She gives me a push, and before I can turn around to stop her, she’s out the door, leaving me alone. With Jay.
“Just you and me, then?” He walks past me and I can smell the cologne he must have put on when he was changing. He hits the light switch by the door. I stand there in the dark, frozen. “You coming?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” I turn around and follow him out the door.
Chapter 8
“Hold this.”
I’m standing in Jay’s boat as he hands me the pizza box and the bag with the sodas we picked up at Porfido’s. I can feel the warmth of the pizza seeping through the thin cardboard. It smells of melted cheese and warm bread, and I realize exactly how hungry I am. Scooping ice cream can really make you work up an appetite.
Jay runs around to the front of the boat and unties the bowline. He runs back and jumps down beside me in one practiced motion. I’m impressed with his agility. I’ve been in boats plenty of times, heck, I grew up on the lake, but Jay moves with a confidence that eludes me.
“You just gonna stand there all night?” Jay asks with gentle sarcasm. He is reaching over the back of the boat and untying the aft line. His loose-fitting cargo shorts have slipped down a few inches, and I can see he is wearing a pair of blue-and-black plaid boxer shorts. Thank goodness I have the pizza to distract me.
“What? Oh. The pizza.” I turn in circles looking for a place to put the pizza, but every surface of this boat seems to be curved and futuristic. I feel so helpless.
“Here.”Jay turns and pulls out a collapsible table from some mysterious hidden panel. He takes the pizza from me, and his hand brushes mine. Was it my imagination or was it on purpose? I let my hands drop to my side and turn away, embarrassed. They’re shaking, and I stick them into the pockets of my shorts. Why is this so nerve-racking? It was never like this with Lisa. With her, I knew she liked me, and I knew what to do.
“You gonna eat? Sean, you still with me?”
I turn around to look at Jay. He’s holding a piece of pizza in his hand, carefully folding it so the sauce doesn’t drip. He smiles at me. My stomach does a somersault, but his smile puts me a little more at ease.
“Yeah.” I take a piece out of the box. The cheese has cooled enough so it breaks away easily from the others. I can smell the salty Canadian bacon slices and spicy tomato sauce. Porfido’s Hawaiian is the best in town because they use real Canadian bacon instead of regular ham. It makes all the difference.
Jay pats me on the back before heading to the controls. My skin tingles through my shirt where he touches me. It’s only a pat on the back, I tell myself, but somehow it feels, I don’t know, deliberate, like he went out of his way to do it. I still don’t know why Becky is so sure that Jay is into guys, but with every brush of a hand, pat of the back, I wish harder that she’s right. Jay turns the ignition and the inboard motor sputters to life with a low gurgle.
“You might want to take a seat,” Jays says. He waits for me to find a perch on the leatherette-covered bench at the back of the boat and then guns the throttle. The motor behind me roars, the bow lifts out of the water, and we are off. Suddenly, the lights of the marina are a hundred yards behind us, and the darkness is only broken by the boat’s running lights. It’s a quiet night, and the lake surface is glassy. The night air is warm, but a fine mist floats up from where the boat’s hull breaks the water. The mist cools my face, and the breeze created as we speed around the point pulls my hair back off my forehead with dozens of invisible fingers. I look behind us and watch the wake spread out in a frothy fan, marking how far we’ve gone. I turn back and catch Jay looking at me over his shoulder. His face is pink in the glow from the running lights, and I can see he is smiling. But he turns away after a second, and I’m not sure if he was smiling at me, or what.
I take a bite of my pizza and look up at the stars above me. It’s funny, because as fast as we are moving in the boat, the stars are fixed points, stationary. There are no clouds to block the view, and the moon is only a crescent off to the east, not bright enough to outshine the stars. They look like tiny grains of salt spilled across a black tablecloth.
Jay pulls back the throttle, and the boat slows. He kills the motor, and suddenly it’s quiet, peaceful. The boat lurches slightly as our own wake overtakes us, but then we settle in the calm waters that splash against the hull in whispered gurgles. Jay comes to take another slice of pizza. He takes a bite and stands over me, chewing. I look up, smile slightly, timidly, without showing any teeth. The white running light on the back of the boat illuminates his face. He is looking at me.
“Beautiful,” he says.
Is he talking to me? “What?”
“The stars. I like to come out here at night. The lake is the best place to see the stars. There’s no trees or streetlights, and if the moon’s not too bright, you can see everything.”
I adjust my gaze upward from his face to the sky. He’s right; growing up in New Hampshire, I’m used to starlit nights, but out here on the lake is incredible. I wish I had my star chart, or even my telescope, a birthday gift from my father, who also sent me to astronomy camp last summer.
The leatherette squeaks with Jay’s weight. I’m aware that he’s suddenly right beside me. Close. I get a whiff of his cologne again, sweet and spicy like sandalwood.
Having Jay so close to me is exhilarating but scary. Certainly he wouldn’t be so close if he wasn’t interested in me, a little voice inside me whispers. But a much louder voice screams in my ears, Don’t assume anything!
Jay throws his crust out into the lake. The splash shatters the placid surface. “Look, it’s Orion.” He points off to the right to the telltale stars of Orion’s belt hanging just above the trees.
“Still pretty low in the sky,” I say. “It’ll be higher up in August.”
“You’ve done this before,” Jay says, turning to face me.
“Yeah. I mean no, I haven’t been out . . . I mean, well, my dad sent me to astronomy camp last summer.”
Jay chuckles. “Well then, Galileo, where’s the North Star?”
“Over there.” I point to a star almost directly above the boat. Suddenly, I feel Jay’s head on my shoulder. He’s using my arm as a sight, and his ear is right on top of the rounded part of my shoulder. His soft, sun-streaked hair tickles my neck. I can’t control myself, I jerk away.
“Sorry,” I say, embarrassed. “You surprised me.”
“It’s okay.” Jay smiles. He seems unfazed by my dorkiness. “Show me.” He drapes his left arm around my shoulders and with his right he gently takes my hand in his. I can feel the muscles in his arms, the warmth of his body against mine.
He raises my arm toward the sky, and I point out the North Star for him again. This time I don’t panic at his touch. “It’s not that bright,” he says.
“No, it’s not important because of its intensity. Sailors used it because its relative position is always the same so they could navigate with it. It’s like a natural compass. The other stars change position as the seasons change, but Polaris, I mean the North Star, doesn’t—”
Jay’s hand leaves mine and lands on my lips. “Shh.”
I freeze. Was I talking too much?
“Shh,” Jay says again, but this time he lowers my hand and turns me to face him. The leatherette squeaks. What a stupid thing to notice when a gorgeous boy is staring directly into your eyes. And he is. Staring. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says.
I swallow. Did I hear him right? I croak out a weak, “Okay.” And before I know it
Jay leans in and his lips are against mine. They are soft but firm like a ripe plum, warm and dry. They carry with them some mysterious power that fills me from the head down. I’m reminded of Rogue from the X-Men, how she drains the life from anyone she touches. This is the opposite. He keeps his mouth closed, but he holds his lips against mine, pressing slightly, and I’m aware of his hand on my neck, his fingers creeping through the short hair on the back of my head.
Then he parts his lips just slightly. It feels natural for me to match his movement. I feel his tongue slide between my lips and run along my teeth. The electricity surges through my body, down through my chest, my stomach, and suddenly to my legs. The reaction is almost instant, and I feel myself pressing against my shorts. I open my eyes, which I didn’t even realize were closed. I pull back. Jay doesn’t fight me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks with genuine concern.
I stare back with an open mouth. I can still feel his heat pulsing on my lips. I can’t say anything, but somehow he reads my mind.
“Have you ever kissed a boy before?”
I shake my head.
He smiles and covers his mouth with his hand. I think he is laughing at me, and it hurts. I try to turn away, but there isn’t very far to go. Jay reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. When he speaks he is close to my ear.
“Sean, I like you, but I didn’t know you hadn’t . . . I mean, I should have guessed, what with your girlfriend and all, but . . .”
If I Told You So Page 5