

Anthology of Anthologies

Best of 2006

GayAuthors.org

Edited by:

Cia Nordwell

Louis J. Harris

Andy021278

CDEJR Web Services, Inc.

300 Hylan Dr. STE180

Rochester NY 14623

www.gayauthors.org

Publisher's Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, or places and incidents are either the product of authors' imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher has no control over and does not assume any responsibility for any third-party websites or their content. Distribution of this free eBook is permitted, where allowable by law, by downloaders. Please share it with your friends, however, any distribution for profit is prohibited and punishable by law.

eBook copyright © 2013 by CDEJR Web Services, Inc.

Days of Silence © 2006 Vivian Valenti *Reader's Choice Award*

Shout It Out © 2006 Lugh

JJ and the Boys © 2006 Camy

All Eyes Watching © 2006 Comicality

Just Say It © 2006 Vivian Valenti

Odiche Shamhna © 2006 Lugh

I Wish © 2006 Starry Night

All I Wanted © 2006 Vivian Valenti

Christmas Break © 2006 Colin Kelly

All Rights Reserved

Themes: Day of Silence, Going on Vacation, Halloween, Blizzard

Cover art by Cia Nordwell

ISBN-13: 978-1-62633-000-9

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes**  
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Days of Silence

Vivian Valenti

*Reader's Choice Award*

Shout It Out

Lugh

JJ and the Boys

Camy

All Eyes Watching

Comicality

Just Say It

Vivian Valenti

Odiche Shamhna

Lugh

I Wish

Starry Night

All I Wanted

Vivian Valenti

Christmas Break

Colin Kelly

Days of Silence

by Vivian Valenti

Lucas Ridgemont.

I had watched him try out more looks and more styles, trying to figure out a way to fit in over the last four years that I was seriously beginning to wonder what happened to the Lucas I knew before I stopped being his friend and started being...scared.

Normally I would have gone with selfish there, but the reality of it is, that from the moment I realized that I had been caught—in the seventh grade—I was scared, and in the four years since, I was just as scared, maybe even more so. It may have taken me the last four years to figure out that the real reason I hadn't said two words to the guy who had been my best friend since we had started school was that I was scared. The truth is that I knew now, and I was becoming more and more disgusted with myself every time I lied or made up a lame excuse to explain away the one relationship that had meant the most to me in all of my sixteen years.

It was easy to place the blame on Lucas, but as much as I told myself this was his fault, I was the one who had screwed up. The one who had made himself unavailable, too busy to spend any time with him, let alone talk to him. The one who wouldn't take his phone calls or come to the door. I avoided any place he might be, and I found ways to occupy my time that didn't involve him. It wasn't that I didn't want him around, that I didn't enjoy every second of every minute I spent with him, but I was afraid. Afraid of what it meant. Afraid of how I felt. Afraid of what it made me, and that fear provoked me to do the only thing I thought would stop those feelings.

Total and complete segregation from any and all things Lucas Ridgemont.

I cut him off, and in turn, cut myself off from the one person that had always accepted me without stipulation, and no expectations. I had faults, things I lacked, and I knew it, but Lucas never cared. It didn't matter to him that there were things about me and my life that were complicated. He treated me like everyone else, except in a way, I was even more special.

Not that I had any right at all to wonder what was going on with him. I had been the one that pushed him away, the one that put up the gigantic wall that not even the best of the best could scale. I did care, even as I watched the Lucas I'd known and loved disappear, only to become replaced by the shells of different personas.

After it first happened, and while he was committed to find a way to talk to me, he was still the same smart and resourceful Lucas I had always known with sandy blond hair and investigating green eyes, but, from that time until this very moment, as he sat with his back against the tall shade tree in the park, there had been some dramatic transformations.

It was like each year he had tried out some new personality and by the end of the school year he was exhausted, recuperating over summer break and reinventing himself, and then reappearing at the beginning of the school year as someone new. It seemed to work for him, if what he was going for was to be alone. It took most people a few weeks to realize that it was the same Lucas, and usually it was only his name that alerted them, being called out in the beginning of each class as attendance was taken.

I don't want to say that I recreated myself, but in a way, that's exactly what I did that afternoon as I walked out of his bedroom. I acted as if it never happened, but worse than that; I acted as if he didn't exist. I had to. If he didn't exist then I couldn't love him or kiss him, and if that never happened, then maybe... just maybe, I couldn't be gay either.

The first summer before the eighth grade, it wasn't as drastic, but as the years went on, I think he became more desperate and the way he looked now, with long strands of black hair mostly covering his face, separating him from everyone, was evidence of that. At first, he tried getting involved in the drama club. He was in every school play that year and he was really good. I'm certain he thought I didn't care, but as nervous as I felt when my class fumbled its way into the school auditorium to watch each play, I too, was excited. It was like I was allowed to watch his every move. I was supposed to be looking at him and as torturous as that was, I relished in it. Even if for only an hour at a time, it was an hour I was allowed to look.

During the ninth grade he joined the swim team. His hair grew longer, and all the time spent in the pool immersed in chlorine had turned it from a sandy blond to a lighter blond, like it would naturally lighten in the summer sun. I didn't go to one swim meet all year. Lucas in a Speedo, as much as I imagined that over and over, was something I would not allow myself the pleasure of actually seeing up close.

The next year, during tenth grade, he joined the marching band. He had this ability to pick up everything he tried so quickly and then excel at it. It was almost unreal to me, and while he would spend hours trying to get me caught up to his level of ability, not because he felt sorry for me or thought that I was dumb but because that way we could do whatever it was together, I was proud that he was my best friend.

He played the clarinet. It was comforting to know he was sitting in the stands, or marching on the same field on which I played. Yet, I never got to see him perform, except for the national anthem at the start of every football game, but I'll never forget what he looked like as his red lips wrapped gently but purposefully around the reed of that clarinet, or the way they looked so plump, almost puffy, when he was through playing. That year, his long yellow locks had been traded for a short spiky hair-do, but you would know that only if you ever got to see his hair without the hat he continually wore.

I almost didn't recognize him today.

His dark, gray hood was pulled over his head covering his headphones as he drank from a bottle of water. A skateboard next to him lay upside down on the grass of the park. It was the picture on the deck that caught my eye as I walked toward him to retrieve our basketball. It had rolled right up to where his feet were planted firmly on the ground and his knees were pulled up in front of his chest.

I didn't know much about skating, but his board, with its intricate design, caught my eye. It was mostly black and white, but there was a red heart with a crack running down the center of it. Underneath the broken heart was the word, MYSTERY. I'm sure it was my subconscious that was drawn to it, but when I finally managed to pull my eyes away from the simple picture that had seemingly captivated me for the short amount of time it took me to jog over from the court to where he was sitting and locate the ball, I decided I had better say something, like apologize for intruding on his space.

"Hey man, sorry about that." I made an indication toward the ball that sat at his feet. "Nice board," I added, bending down to grab the ball.

He didn't say anything and I wondered if he had even heard me through his headphones, but when his eyes finally met mine through the curtain of black hair, I gasped aloud. I was hoping he hadn't heard that though, as I looked directly into his eyes for the first time in four years.

They were the same deep, brooding, emerald green eyes I had casually walked away from that afternoon and then methodically ran from for the next four years... until today. He didn't say anything in return but the look he gave said plenty.

"Justin, come on man, we're waiting for you," One of the guys yelled from the court. I took a quick glance at the guys and then back at Lucas. His eyes told me everything; I was not to even think about staying there with him. But they dared me to stay. I looked back at the guys again, but I couldn't do it.

I couldn't walk away again, not this time.

I threw the ball in the direction of the court and turned, taking a seat on the ground in front of him. And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I don't know how long we sat across from each other with only silence between us, but eventually I realized the sun had set and it was almost dark. I forgot what it was I was waiting for a few times until he glared in my direction with those steely green eyes. It had been at least three hours without so much as a word between us when I finally stood up to leave.

I had to be home for dinner or I would be explaining why I didn't call and let my mom know I wasn't coming, and besides, it was more than a little frustrating sitting across from someone I had cared so much about for three hours and having him not say a word to me. I don't know why I didn't say anything to him either, but I have a feeling it was the overpowering sense of guilt I felt every time I looked into his eyes, challenging me to give him a worthy explanation for my behavior over the past four years.

An explanation I didn't have.

The thought occurred to me on my walk home that I had no right being frustrated with him for ignoring my existence for three hours that afternoon, even though he could see as plain as day that I was sitting right in front of him. Then again, I was the master of evading and ignoring what was right in front of my face. I had hidden from, and ignored him for four years and I still didn't know what made me want to sit down and maybe, I don't know, talk to him, but I did. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the fact that he had clearly seen me, and I knew he knew it was me, so I couldn't just walk away again.

Instead, I sat down.

It was like that afternoon, lying next to him on the floor in his bedroom where we were about to watch a movie. Our sides touched innocently. Our bellies pressed into the carpeted floor. We propped our chins up on our hands and our elbows nestled against each other's. We had laughed about something that had happened on-screen when I looked over at his smiling face. I knew he was about the best, most loyal person I knew, but more than that, I realized that his crisp, green eyes melted my inhibitions a little more each time I found myself gazing into them.

We were laughing and I ended up shoving him. He rolled over and when he continued to laugh at me, all in fun of course, I decided that some payback was necessary right before I attacked him. Wrestling and rolling over one another until my size and strength won out and I had pinned his smaller body beneath mine, we panted breathlessly from the struggle and when he realized he was stuck, his hands pinned down to the ground by my own as I sat royally on his abdomen, he relented.

My eyes found his as I celebrated my victory. A victory that only lasted momentarily before I lost myself in their deep green that seemed to be an open book to his soul. I felt comfort, love, acceptance, and that feeling grew with intensity each time. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up a little as he grinned at me with his head cocked to the side, wondering what I would do with my new found status.

"Whatever you're gonna do, just do it Justin," he pleaded, probably in an effort to get me off his chest sooner rather than later.

So, I did. I was fully prepared to attack again with some form of tickling or even a wet willy, anything to make contact with his body, but in the end my brain, or more likely my heart, took over.

I kissed him.

Softly. On his red lips, slightly parted to ease his breathing.

And then I pulled away.

He didn't push me away. He didn't scream at me or get angry. He just smiled gently, my reflection shining back at me in his crystal-clear eyes.

I was scared. Confused and scared.

I didn't have the ability to do something lame like threaten him with bodily harm, or offer to do his chores or his homework for the rest of my life in exchange for his silence. No. Instead, I ran.

I ran and hid for four years, until today, when I couldn't bring myself to run anymore.

The trouble was, now that I was ready to face my true self, he hated me. My very existence had changed him into someone who hid from everyone or scared them into shying away from him.

His eyes were cold, and that same soul I once found in them and loved, was now hardened and protected by the shell he had created. I wondered, as I walked home in the cool evening air, if he'd not chosen a more unapproachable look this year—a more drastic statement—for a reason. I liked it. His raven black hair contrasted with his creamy skin, and the jade pools that were his eyes seemed to accompany the ensemble flawlessly. The black eyeliner that you could only see if he actually looked at you, and the black nail polish that donned his fingertips were just as shiny as the pencil sized plugs in his earlobes.

I remembered the way the sun shone off the ring he had pierced through his bottom lip as I studied this persona. You can see many things without even looking sometimes, and I had spent three hours looking, really looking, this afternoon. What I saw on the outside of Lucas Ridgemont was contrary to the Lucas I had known so many years before, but I also saw the pain. The anger. The reality that he still had not forgiven me for abandoning him, and as much as he tried to scare everyone away so no one could see it, so he couldn't be hurt again, I stared it in the face for an entire afternoon.

I think that scared him more.

The thought that I was finally making an effort and he didn't know the reason. Why I, all of a sudden, cared about what happened to him, and if he somehow found a way to forgive me, to let me into his life again, what guarantee did he have that I wouldn't run out on him again, crushing the miniscule piece of his spirit that remained protected by this hardened exterior? He had no way of knowing. His silence and his glares clearly told me not to even think about it, not to even try. This was his strongest defense.

It wasn't until the next weekend when I was at the park again with the guys that I saw him. I had looked for him at school, and I didn't see him at all on Monday or Tuesday, and by Wednesday I got the feeling that he was hiding from me, although as I reminisced over the last few months, I couldn't remember a time when I had seen him. That thought was disconcerting enough to make me actually wonder if he even attended school, and by Friday I had almost given up any notion that I would ever find him.

I supposed I could knock on his front door and act like the past four years never happened. I mean, he lived in the house behind ours, but that didn't seem like a good plan either. Our dads had installed a gate between the two backyards so that we wouldn't have to go all the way around the block each time we wanted to visit, and when it was time to go home, all we had to do was use the gate.

But, as I saw him gliding effortlessly along on that April afternoon through the park, his shirt flowing behind him, allowing the warm sun to glimmer off his skin, it occurred to me that he was stunning. His body was lean, not that you could tell under all the clothes he normally wore, but today the sun was warm enough to have coaxed him into sharing that eye catching sight with me. His hair feathered the wind as I watched, wondering how he could even see where he was going, and how it would feel to have that bare chest against mine.

I wanted to shout out to him, and I had some fantasy in my mind that he would hear me, ride up and smile. All the pain of the last four years would melt away with the power of a single kiss, like the one that had caused all of this to begin with. It was like everything would have come full circle, but I didn't call out to him, he didn't ride over to me, and we definitely didn't kiss each other. Instead, I stared openly at him, and, as usual, he ignored me.

We played our game, running up and down the basketball court more times than I cared to count, until the deep orange sun hung low in the sky. I was headed home, walking along and enjoying the way the cool spring breeze felt against my tacky skin before stopping at the drinking fountain. I saw it out of the corner of my eye first, before my curiosity won out and I lifted my head, licking the remaining drops of water from my lips. I recognized his form folded up underneath the same tree we had sat beneath the previous weekend.

I turned and headed for home, all the time wondering why I was going to put myself through this again, until I found myself standing in front of him. He didn't notice me with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the tree. I watched him, his foot tapping only slightly to the beat of whatever song was playing. I decided not to interrupt him. He looked so serene there, and that appealed to me in a way so much greater than the looks I had received the last weekend.

It seemed as if, at times, he wanted me to believe he felt nothing about me, just a hollow, vacant place remained where he once stored his emotions regarding me, and at other times he wanted me to know he was furious, hurting so much that he hated me for what I had done. I preferred the latter since at least he was feeling something.

He was more than a little startled when he finally opened his eyes and found me sitting patiently in front of him. The look of confusion was hidden, masked by the resolute glare he had perfected. There was a brief moment when he opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, probably something equivalent to 'fuck off and die', before he snapped it shut again with determination. Once again we sat there, me watching him, trying to find even the tiniest slice of the Lucas that I had once loved, grab onto it and never let go with him fighting for his life; self-defense to the greatest degree.

Eventually I stood up to go home. I hated that I wasn't clever enough to have asked my mom if I could skip dinner in case I ran into him, but I wouldn't make that mistake again. I hated walking away from him. He almost smirked, in a gloating manner, when he saw me fidgeting, trying to tell myself that I had to leave and that I was at least trying, even if he refused to talk to me, but I felt the guilt each time I stood up and walked away.

"I have to go," I stated clearly, even though I really wanted to sit here for as long as it took. The battle of wills raged on. "Maybe I'll see you at school."

He didn't acknowledge me or my previous statement, and it hurt. It was frustration at first, and then maybe an acceptance or understanding on some level, but as time went on, it just hurt. "Same time next week?" I asked, pulling out the one trump card I had left with a smirk on my face. A smirk that told him I was only half joking.

And then I walked home. Alone.

By the next weekend I had learned through sheer determination, that Lucas did, in fact, attend the same school, even though I never saw him. I looked for him in places I thought he might be, places he could hide. I checked various groups; the skater kids, the Goths, the library, the auditorium, and even the band director's office, but I didn't see him all week. I had been asking people too which earned me some disconcerted and confused looks, I guess that was to be expected though, since for the last four years I had told people to mind their own business or worse whenever they asked me about what went down between us.

But this Saturday afternoon, I decided that I needed to step up my game.

I arrived at the park around ten, and I passed the basketball courts. The guys assumed I was there for the game like every other Saturday, but today I declined. They were confused, they probably thought I was losing my mind when I walked over to the same tree we had sat beneath the last two weekends and sat down.

I left his spot against the tree untouched, and instead, took my regular spot facing him, only since he wasn't there, I was left to stare at the tree. I sat, keeping my vigil for hours that afternoon until I heard the unmistakable sound of the wheels on the sidewalk. I forced myself not to turn around, no matter how badly I wanted to see the look on his face. When the wheels stopped just behind me where the grass met the pavement, I smiled, only for a second, but I smiled.

Not to be outdone, he walked over and tossed his board down on the grass and sat, leaning against the tree in his usual spot. His eyes caught mine for just a second and as hard as he was trying to pretend I wasn't there, he looked away. I watched him and the little nuances that made him Lucas, and I realized that there are some things you can't stifle, no matter how hard you try.

I knew that it was presumptuous of me to think that he might actually say something, even if it was go to hell, or to inform me of just how much of a selfish coward I am, let alone ever be able to forgive me or consider us friends again, but I had to try. I needed something from him, and I knew my actions those four years ago had hurt him, confused him, and seemingly almost destroyed the Lucas I had known and loved.

Spring was coming to an end, and it was warmer this afternoon than it had been in a long time. The warm breeze blew, circling around in an effort to remind us that summer was indeed on its way. I wondered as I sat there that afternoon, where he spent most of his time, what did he do with his days and nights, and where was he coming from like clockwork every Saturday afternoon before he sat beneath this same tree.

I had no right to ask, and I was well aware that if I did, he simply wouldn't respond so I opted not to upset him any further. He would talk to me when he was ready and not a moment sooner, and besides, I was curiously waiting to see how he would react when I didn't get up and leave until he did. I made sure to let my mom know that I would be gone all day and not to expect me for dinner.

So I sat there, since ten that morning, all alone, until he arrived and silently sat down. He seemed to anxiously be waiting for the sun to dip down far enough and for me to stand up and leave him again like I had the past two Saturdays, but that wasn't going to happen today. I wondered instead, how long we would sit here, as it grew darker and darker until the night sky was as black as his hair.

It was odd, after our eyes adjusted to the darkness, how much we could still really see sitting under the stars. The subtle shadows created from the soft moonlight that cast down on his face were magnificent. We sat there, and it took every fiber of my being not to glance down at my watch. If I had I would have realized that I had been sitting there for almost twelve hours now and it was no wonder that when he finally stood up, reluctantly having to be the one making the move to leave this time, that I almost fell down as I tried to stand.

His eyes widened, maybe out of shock, maybe out of curiosity, perhaps even worry. I hoped it was worry, but he made no move to help me as I tried to steady myself. Once I was stable and standing on my own without the aid of the tree trunk I had just spent all day with, he walked toward the pavement, skateboard in hand. I followed silently.

When we made it to the sidewalk I was sure he would drop his board and take off, but he didn't, instead he continued to walk just a step ahead of me with his board tucked under his arm. We moved like this, silently through the night in the direction of our houses, and as we entered our neighborhood I was more than a little surprised when he headed down my street instead of walking one more street to his own, but I followed him still, my footsteps telling him I was still behind.

Two things occurred to me as we approached the front of my house that night. He was making sure I made it home safely, and I wondered to myself when was the last time he had seen this side of my house as I surveyed the front lawn I was supposed to mow tomorrow. When he stopped, I stopped, and I heard him sigh, probably frustrated by my unwillingness to give up, and by his inability not to care about me, as much as he tried.

I shivered slightly in the cool night air, not wanting him to leave, but knowing it was inevitable at the same time. Finally after what I'm sure was only a minute or two, even though it felt like an eternity of turbulence in my mind, he took a furtive step toward my back gate. I assumed he thought he could just go through the gate our dads had put up all those years ago and get home as quickly as possible, helping this night come to an end.

"Wait Luke." I reached out and grabbed his arm. That earned me an icy glare as he shook my hand away, like my touch was physically painful. Maybe that was the cause, or maybe it was how I had called him Luke while he insisted everyone else call him Lucas.

"Sorry." I shoved my hands in my pockets in an attempt to show him I wouldn't touch him again. "The gate's blocked. It has been for years," I said. "I'll move the stuff tomorrow." Too little, too late.

He dropped his board on the sidewalk, his foot landing atop it as he perched, ready for takeoff.

"Luke, wait!" I begged, having so much to say and knowing now was not the time for it. "Thanks... for not leaving me back there." I watched him until he disappeared around the corner before I went inside, exhausted and famished.

The next morning I was up early mowing the front lawn, and after I finished, I went into the back yard and made good on my promise. I cleared away all the stuff I had managed to pile in front of the gate. Once I was able to, I opened it and peered into his backyard, feeling altogether awkward about doing that since it had been four years I had last seen it.

I didn't see Lucas that morning as I finally walked away, leaving the gate standing wide open. He was sure to see that though, and would know that I had fulfilled my promise. Later that afternoon, as I was sitting in the living room watching TV, from the corner of my eye a movement in the back yard caught my attention and when I looked over to see what was going on, I saw him.

He was standing at the gate, almost refusing to step through it, as he surveyed my backyard again for the first time in a long time before his eyes settled on mine. His expression was unreadable as he looked at me through the large window, and after a few moments he reached out, grabbed the top of the gate and pulled it shut.

I didn't see him all week. It wasn't for a lack of trying. I had been all over that school and hadn't found him or anyone who could tell me where he might be, but I was not going to give up. I knew that he at least had to go home at some point.

I wondered if he would ever speak to me again, and, if he did, what would his first words be after so many years of silence? Granted, those years of silence and solitude were what I had wanted, but now I wanted more. I wanted to apologize. I wanted him to understand that as cliché as it sounded, it wasn't him, it was me. I wanted him to know that I never meant to hurt him, or to make him feel like he had to be someone he wasn't. I wanted forgiveness and the assurance that I hadn't driven the Lucas I once knew, and loved, away forever.

Maybe that sounds selfish, and it probably is. In a way, it lets me off the hook, knowing that I wasn't to blame for all of his recreations. The reality was, though, that I was to blame. I was responsible for it all. I was the scared one, the one who was too selfish and too afraid, wrapped up in his own feelings. I couldn't accept that I had feelings like that for another boy, let alone admit to myself and accept that I was gay, how then would I be able to make him understand and not hate me?

Tomorrow was his birthday. I never forgot April 27th.

I secretly wished him a happy birthday every year since the last one we celebrated as best friends. Guys tend to quit having birthday parties as they get older in exchange for hanging out with friends or going somewhere to celebrate, and I had no idea what he had planned for his birthday, but I wasn't about to miss another one.

I had been to the mall, searching for a gift, and I had absolutely no idea what to get him. He had changed so much over the last four years, that I didn't have a clue what would make a good gift. I refused to settle for something cheap or corny like a CD or a t-shirt, although I was certain I could find something like that he could enjoy, if he would even accept the gift from me at all. But those things, those irrelevant objects that would only reflect the Lucas I had stared at the past three Saturdays weren't acceptable to me, in fact, they were almost hurtful on some level.

I was sitting on the blanket I had laid down on the ground, the gate held open with a small brick I found lying around the flowerbed in our backyard. The blanket was equally in between both of our yards, and I sat on my side trying not to impose on his space as I waited. I had no idea what his plans were, or if he even planned on coming home at all tonight, but I was fully prepared to sit out there all night if that's what it took.

At some point, while I was scrunching down further into my jacket in an attempt to keep warm, I saw his mom stick her head out the back door. She flashed me a small, understanding smile when she saw me before retreating into the warmth of the house, closing the door and leaving the porch light on. It was a clear night and the stars twinkled in a way that was calming.

I glanced over to my left at the picnic basket I had packed with a small birthday cake and hot chocolate. I decided not to put it all out there at once. I was worried he would think I was trying to buy his forgiveness or guilt him into it, so I just had the small, white square box with the red bow on top placed in front of me, and hopefully he would walk out and sit down, and maybe even open it.

At around eleven thirty the back porch light turned off and I was beginning to worry. A minute later the light flickered on upstairs in his room and his silhouette strode across the room. I only allowed myself to gaze longingly for just a minute before I forced myself to give him some privacy. I wondered if he even knew I was sitting here before allowing myself one more glance at the illuminated window.

He was looking down at me through the window as he held the shades back just enough and I found that icy glare I had become so familiar with over the past three weeks when our eyes met. I looked down at the box, wishing, hoping that he would come sit with me. I watched dejectedly when he walked away from the window and switched off the light. I had known it was a possibility, more than a possibility that he would not come and find me, but I tried to think positively.

Another ten minutes passed before the back porch light came on again. It was the longest ten minutes of my life, and when he stepped through the door pulling his jacket over his shoulders, I was relieved. He stood there, silent in the night, and I thought that maybe he wasn't going to come over, maybe he was gonna slam the gate in my face instead. I really didn't know, and any relief I felt when I saw the porch light turn on again or the relief I felt when I saw his face appear from behind the door, was quickly swallowed again by more worry, fear, and anger.

I was angry at myself for allowing it to get this far, this out-of-hand. That has to be the understatement of the century; I scolded myself, as I focused again on the box in front of me. It was eleven forty-five when I finally saw his feet as he stood in front of the blanket, deciding if he should sit down or tell me to just give it up. Just get over it, realize that he was never going to forgive me or talk to me, never listen to my meager explanation, my poor excuse for the years of heartache, pain, and destruction I had subjected him to.

I wasn't sure if his sigh of pity masked by annoyance, or my sigh of true pain and helplessness was more noticeable, but I suddenly didn't care when he sat down across from me. He didn't say anything at first, probably waiting for me to say something, to explain just what the hell I thought I was doing. But I didn't, the words wouldn't come from me, not for another fifteen minutes at least.

Finally, after gently fingering the red bow on top of the box, I held it out for him.

Reluctantly, he took it from my open palm, and he acted like he was accepting something tainted. I looked up and found his eyes focused on mine instead of the small box he now held, questioning me. I allowed myself to plead with him silently, to understand, to open the box, to give me a chance.

"I can't believe you remembered," he said so softly I almost didn't hear him. I wanted to scream out that I had never forgotten, that I had wished him a year of happiness and strength each birthday I missed, that it almost killed me not to be able to tell him how much I cared the past four years, but I didn't. He had come outside and sat down and accepted a gift from me and even spoken, although I was still wondering if his words were meant for me or for himself.

Carefully, as if opening the box he held would cause him harm, he removed the lid.

Inside, he found a bracelet with a black leather band. The silver face was engraved, etched in black, it simply said, TRUTH. He looked up at me confused but it was clear that I was offering to give him the truth, if he wanted it, and I would, if he listened. He lifted the bracelet from where it sat atop a piece of white cotton and examined it closely.

He seemed to like the style, when I noticed the outer edges of his lips curl up, but that lasted only a second before he remembered where he was. I reached out and gently took it from him, opening the silver clasp that connected the smooth black leather ends, and held it up in a way that made it clear I was offering to put it on him. Eventually he held out his left arm so I could fasten it around his wrist, making sure the word would be upright and clear. It fit like a band more than a bracelet as it clung to his skin and left no room to dangle or turn around his wrist.

"What does it mean?" he asked after spending another minute looking at it, confused by the relevancy of the word.

I reached over and grabbed the picnic basket from behind my side of the fence and he regarded it curiously. I pulled out the cake. It was simple and small, round with white frosting and a black border around the top edge. I had asked the woman at the bakery to write the word LOVE in red icing in the middle, and as I placed it in front of him, he seemed frustrated. He looked to me for an explanation, but I couldn't say anything yet, not for another... ten minutes I realized as I glanced down at my watch. He let out an exasperated sigh before he spoke again.

"Love?" he asked. "What, you think you... love me?" he asked in disbelief, trying to figure out what was going on. My lack of speech was, quite frankly, beginning to piss him off after the four weeks of almost stalker like behavior that had preceded tonight. "Bullshit! You don't even know me anymore," he said harshly. I flinched because, in a way, he was right. "What the fuck Justin? I mean we were best friends, _best friends_ , and then you fucking _kiss_ me, and then... you disappear out of my life like nothing fucking happened, and now... now you want me to believe you _love_ me?"

I nodded, it was all true, every stinging word of it. This wasn't going well, but then again he was talking to me, even if it was the harsh reality of our situation being provoked out of him by frustration. I wanted so badly to tell him how I felt, how sorry I was for letting my fear and hesitation deprive us both of the best friendship I had ever known.

I had... eight more minutes... eight more minutes of silence before I could finally give him the truth I had just offered him. My eyes pleaded with his, begging for him to be patient with me, to just give me a chance, to wait eight more minutes before telling me to fuck off for good, and I desperately hoped that after I did tell him the truth, the real reason why I abandoned him and our friendship, that he would be able to accept that truth and not hate or be disgusted with me.

I hoped he could love me too, like I had loved him since we were twelve.

"I mean, what's your deal anyway?" he demanded. "First you run off, and then you won't talk to me and then you pretend I don't even exist, and then after four years, _four years Justin_ , you just show up out of nowhere and expect me to forgive you. What the hell is that?"

Okay so he was upset. That was to be expected, and understandable. He was more than justified in his reaction, and it was becoming harder and harder not to tell him right away what was going on. But I had to wait... six more minutes. I made a promise to myself and I was going to do this, and hopefully six minutes from now Lucas would understand.

"Whatever. Why don't you just leave me alone then?" he asked before answering for me. "Oh right, because you _love_ me," he said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. I flinched again, he wasn't holding back was he?

He stared off into the night, probably wondering why he even came out here in the first place, and I reached up, pointing at a star. We spent many nights looking at the stars together, camping out in the backyard, sure we were going to get to see them up close one day, and secretly wish on them too, or at least I was. He looked confused, but willingly took the distraction from trying to figure out why I was being so obstinate.

I used to wish that we would be friends forever, as hard as it is to imagine what forever is when you're twelve, that I would always have him in my life, that I could love him forever and never be without him. I found out soon enough that I was stuck in a broken life and I couldn't wish it away. My only escape was hiding, running from him and myself ultimately.

I returned the cake to the basket for the moment and retrieved a card I had made. It was simple, but I hoped it would prove that I had noticed things about him and how they applied to me and my own life as I sat across from him during those afternoons. It was made of black construction paper and I had glued a red heart, just like the one on his skateboard with the crack running down the center, on the front.

On one side of the heart it said Luke, and on the other side of the crack it said Justin, but instead of the word MYSTERY, like his skateboard said, it said TRUTH. I handed him the card and he shrugged as he took it from me, like maybe it had some answers for him since I was being less than forthcoming. I borrowed some song lyrics and used them inside the card since they fit my feelings perfectly.

He thumbed the card open and read.

_Dear Luke,_

_All the days collided_  
 _One less perfect than the next_  
 _I was stuck inside someone else's life and always second best_  
 _Oh, I love you now, cause now I realize_  
 _That it's safe outside to come alive in my identity_

_So if you're listening_  
 _There's so much more to me you haven't seen_  
 _Living in the shadow_  
 _Of someone else's dream_

_Trying to find a hand to hold but every touch felt cold to me_

_I'm living in a new day_  
 _I'm living it for me_  
 _And now that I am wide awake_  
 _Yeah I can finally see_

_My chains are finally free_

_I loved you,_

_Justin_

When his eyes managed to find mine, they were wide with possibility. I'm sure there were a million ways he could interpret what he had just read, and I was hoping that in the... one minute I had left in silence, that I could remain strong and hold onto the courage I had found. The same courage I felt that first afternoon in the park when I sat across from him instead of running.

I watched his face, the reaction after having read those words, and the troubled expression that he wore told me he needed clarification; he had questions I was certain he wanted answered. I looked down at my watch one more time. I watched the second hand tick by, like I was waiting for New Year to arrive, and in a way I was, but my new year had begun today when I promised myself I would do this, and now I was just waiting to see if Lucas Ridgemont was going to be a part of my life and my new year or not.

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

"I'm gay, Luke, and I loved you... and I'm sorry, more than you will ever know, for being so selfish and so scared, so stupid, that I actually thought pretending I never met you would change that."

In the first ten seconds of the new day, of his birthday, I had said more to him than I had said to anyone on the matter since that afternoon in his bedroom. He sat there across from me, awestruck by the explanation he had finally received after four long years, and I saw his mouth open and then close again several times in an effort to say something, but not being able to find anything appropriate to say.

"I wish I was braver, like you, or smarter, and I wish I could take back all the hurt and the pain and the confusion and the loneliness, but I can't, and I'm not," I said ashamedly, and the cool night air found the tears that were silently streaming down my cheeks.

"You're not stupid," he said adamantly, like he always had, and he would insist that I not call myself that, and it was about the only time I would ever believe it. It felt so good to hear him tell me that again, and I couldn't help it when I impulsively threw my arms around him in a hug meant to make up for the last four years of missed hugs. I retreated to my side of the blanket when I felt his body go rigid against mine, and it occurred to me that maybe he wasn't okay with me being who I was now.

"Stop crying Justin," he said almost as if it was not a request and coupled with a sigh of something closely related to aggravation. "What did you mean when you said you loved me?"

"I meant just what I said. I loved you. Seeing you, the way you looked at me with nothing but total appreciation for our differences, the way you weren't at all afraid of me, you had total trust in me, I loved that. I loved you."

"I don't understand. If you knew I wasn't afraid of you, that I trusted you no matter what, then why? Why did you run off and not give me a chance to show you that you could trust me, that I loved you too?" he asked, the years of hurt sounding clearly in his voice.

"Don't you see? If I didn't acknowledge you and my love for you, maybe... maybe I wouldn't have to acknowledge that I was gay either." I tried not to let myself feel as ridiculous as that sounded.

After a minute of careful consideration he said, "You know that's lame, right?" He rolled his eyes in his sockets. I nodded; I did know it... now. "So what was with all that not talking crap earlier? I mean I finally come out here and talk to you and then you won't talk to me?"

"Day of Silence," I said. "But it ended at midnight and now it's your birthday."

"That's true; it is."

"Cake?" I offered again. "It's your favorite, or... what used to be your favorite anyway." I felt almost ridiculous not knowing anything that had happened in the last four years or what he liked now or disliked

"And that would be?"

"Carrot?" I answered, suddenly unsure of what I thought I knew.

"Okay, you win this time, and yeah sure, I guess you're supposed to eat birthday cake on your birthday, even if it is... almost twelve thirty in the morning and it doesn't even say Happy Birthday on it," he teased.

I pulled out the cake again, blushing when I saw the word LOVE. "Hot chocolate?"

"With carrot cake?" He paused. "Maybe afterward," he smiled. I cut and served two slices.

"Oh, be careful. The girl at the bakery said the black frosting will turn your mouth black," I said. I figured he wouldn't appreciate walking around for the rest of his birthday with a black mouth, then again, what did I know?

"This is really sweet Justin," he said after a few bites.

"It is?" I asked, since it seemed like your average carrot cake to me.

"Yeah, the way you planned this whole thing... you're pretty sweet too," he added, and the way his lips brushed gently across mine, only briefly, left me blushing furiously.

I reached up, feeling the place where his lips had touched mine and he laughed gently at my shock before he said, "Eat your cake."

"So, what's this Day of Silence thing?"

"Well, it's like a holiday... sort of. I promised myself that I would make it through today in silence, to honor and support tolerance and acceptance, _including self-acceptance_ , and overcoming homophobia and prejudice, and in general, just supporting the right of every human being to be themselves in peace. Yesterday was the Day of Silence, but for me, it was more than that. It was my day of reckoning, my day to face up to the person I had wronged so badly for so long. The person I loved," I admitted.

"Loved? Like you don't love me anymore?" he asked sadly.

"Truth?" I asked, smirking only slightly at the obvious connection.

"Truth."

"I'd really like to find out," I said, hoping he couldn't tell how badly I was blushing in the moonlight, "'cause you look really hot like that."

"Yeah? Well, we could camp out like we used to, and maybe work on that," he suggested.

I nodded before he stood up to get more blankets from the house.

And I wished on a star one last time.

The End

Author Bio

A member of GayAuthors since 2005, Vivian Valenti is a popular Hosted Author with over 50 stories to her credit. They're masterful tales of personal interaction and complex relationships, stories that will move you, lift you up, and push you to the very crest of an emotional precipice, reminding you what's important in life. You can find her stories and discussion forum at GayAuthors.

Return to Table of Contents

Shout It Out

by Lugh

Dan couldn't quite figure out what was going on with his best friend Gabe. Gabe had arrived at the bus stop a little later than usual wearing the normal combat boots, baggy jeans, ratty jean jacket with patches all over it, and a semi-faded black t-shirt that had 'Shout It Out' emblazoned across his chest in bright pink lettering. But that wasn't the thing that was unusual; it was the mittens. The late April weather had been a little unpredictable lately, but the past few days had been in the lower seventies.

The bus had not arrived yet, so Dan took a moment to ask Gabe about the shirt. He assumed it referred to a band. Gabe had many band shirts that no one at their high school had heard of before, but then again, Gabe had been places that no one in their high school had been before. Gabe just smiled and held up his mittened hands.

"What the hell kind of response is that?" Dan signed as the bus pulled up. Gabe shook his head and got on the bus, passing Dan who was obviously saving him a seat, and sat beside Patricia Goldman. No one sat beside Patricia Goldman.

"Get up, perv," she yelled at him. Gabe smiled and held up his mittens.

"You know he can't hear you, Patricia," Dan told her.

"He can damn well better understand this then," she said, giving Gabe a shove. Gabe fell into the aisle and the kids on the bus laughed. Gabe laughed too, in his own way, then got up and sat down beside her again. By that time the bus driver had stopped the bus and told the kids to settle down, glaring at Patricia in the process.

Peter, another of Dan and Gabe's friends, got on at the next stop, saw that the seat next to Dan was open, and took it. "What's up with Deaf Boy?"

"Why do you call him that?"

"He can't hear me, besides, he don't care; he knows he's deaf."

"How would you like it if people called you Blond Boy or something?"

"So? People are weird." Peter shrugged. "What's up with him today?"

"He won't say."

"Well duh." Peter rolled his eyes.

"I mean, he's wearing mittens and hasn't even said hello. I wonder if he's mad at me or something?" Dan looked back over at his best friend.

"Did you do anything to make him mad?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Then don't sweat it, you know how he gets sometimes. Remember when he thought he could listen to our music if he got it loud enough?"

Dan laughed. They had not only blown the house fuse, but the block transformer as well to get enough amps for Gabe to enjoy one rock song. Since then, he was an avid concertgoer. He claimed he could feel the vibrations and enjoy the music that way. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, maybe he's doing something on sensory deprivation for school; it would be like him to choose a topic that he's already familiar with and go at it from another angle."

"Yeah I guess. He's just acting strange, is all."

Once the bus arrived at school, the students debarked and Dan lost Gabe in the crush. He wasn't too worried, though. He would see him at lunch; they always ate together.

It wasn't until halfway through first block that Dan noticed that there was something strange going on at school. His teacher had called roll, but some of the kids only raised their hands instead of saying the usual 'present'. This caused some of the other kids to snicker. The teacher didn't say anything or act like anything was unusual. Besides, they were the weird kids anyway, so it didn't really matter if the cool kids snickered at them.

Four groups were to give their presentations today. The first two were typical, which meant they were pretty boring. The third presentation caught his attention. Only one of the four people in the group spoke, although it was obvious that they had all done equal parts of the work. Dan mentally reviewed the directions again; he could have sworn that part of the requirement was speaking, not just standing in front of the class.

Then the fourth group stepped up to do theirs. No one spoke. Instead, there was a presentation on a computer screen that was projected on the whiteboard. Why couldn't his group have thought about doing something like this? Dan wondered. He was sure that group would get a good grade. In fact, he was so engrossed in their project that he seemed to have forgotten that they didn't speak at all.

The halls between classes were always loud, yet today, they seemed eerily subdued. Dan hurried to his next class, which was all the way on the other side of the building and up a floor. He barely made it in time for the bell and was still organizing himself when a sheet of paper was placed on his desk. Pop-quiz. Dan groaned. A whole block of silence as everyone worked to write out long answers to nearly twenty questions on the American Civil Rights Movement. It was the last one that caught his attention though. Dan had no answer. It was 'How have you involved yourself in defending the civil rights of yourself or others?' He didn't think it was a fair question. He didn't want to seem self-centered and put 'I haven't', but it was true. He could lie and make himself seem like something he wasn't, but that wasn't him either. Dan sighed. He told the truth and mercifully, the bell rang.

Dan hurried to his locker and emptied his arms of his morning books. Lunchtime—forty-five minutes to sit and chat with his friends without anyone asking him tough questions. A few minutes later, he was standing in line. There was the usual pushing and shoving going on, and the usual obnoxious behavior by certain groups, but then he noticed that there was also a lot of silence. Whole tables where kids weren't saying a thing. They were looking at each other and smiling but not talking. It was weird. He got his food and headed over to the empty table where he usually sat with Gabe. Peter had a different lunch.

He didn't have to wait long before he spotted Gabe walking across the room with another boy that Dan didn't know. The other boy was dressed very differently from his radical friend in khaki cargo shorts, dark green button-up shirt, and name-brand sneakers. In fact, they looked quite mismatched, with Gabe's long black hair clubbed back contrasting smartly against the other boy's close-cropped blond locks. Dan had gotten so used to the dark smudges of black eyeliner around Gabe's green eyes that he didn't even notice them anymore; they were just another part of his very unusual friend. However, there was something about the way the other boy's blue eyes were looking at Gabe that made him take notice. That, and the fact that they had sat down and still hadn't said a word.

The silence at his table was frustrating. It made no sense. Gabe had the mittens off and still he refused to talk. Finally, Dan put his fork down and cleared his throat. "What the hell is going on?" he asked as he signed the words, even though he spoke them clearly enough that Gabe could easily read his lips. Gabe looked at the friend he had failed to introduce who smiled reassuringly, then pointed to his shirt, and grinned.

"'Shout It Out'? I don't get it." Dan scowled, as the other two boys seemed to fall into a fit of silent giggles. Then the other boy pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the table. Gabe smiled calmly as Dan picked it up and read it. "So, you're being silent for gay rights?"

The blond boy nodded but Gabe shook his head and pointed to his ears.

"I don't get it," Dan said.

Gabe shrugged, cleared up his lunch tray, and stood up. His friend, whom Dan still didn't know, followed. Dan sat, frustrated as he watched the two of them toss their trash, and then he hurried to follow after them. "Wait . . . ."

The boy got Gabe's attention and they both turned around and looked at him expectantly. "I don't know what to do," he signed to Gabe. Gabe smiled and walked over to his friend, and held out his mittens. Dan took the mittens with a smile and placed them on his hands and together they walked out into the hallway. He still didn't quite understand about the silence, but he did understand about the teasing that Gabe went through and he didn't like it. If being silent for a day would help stop it and help out other kids too, then he could do it. He would do it, even if he did get a late start. He smiled over at Gabe, and Gabe smiled back. Yes, his best friend was weird, but that is what he liked the best about him.

The End

Author Bio

Lugh

loo - noun

[1] an adult humanoid who lives on the east coast of Turtle Island with its spawn, two doggerals, and a pair of felinish creatures. It can most commonly be found haunting the internet, most especially the chat room of gayauthors.org, or tip-tapping on the keyboard which is permanently attached to the lazy boy chair arm

[2] hunter of plot slugs

[3] muse-slayer extraordinaire

[4] primary consumer of books and tea

[5] to trap -- lure with chocolate covered men

Return to Table of Contents

JJ and 'The Boys'

by Camy

"Take your hands out of your pockets when I'm talking to you, and don't shuffle about. Stand still." I was addressing a group of four Upper Fifths who should have known better. It was mid-afternoon; I had caught them ragging in an empty classroom, and though I was pretty sure I knew what it was about, I hadn't actually seen anything to warrant any punishment greater than detention.

Sidney Barrat was the ringleader, the lippy one, the one who all the Prefects would have liked to have sent to the Headmaster, but who was always lucky enough not to get caught. Neil Cuddington and Brett Jones were his henchmen, and the fourth, Jimmy James, known as JJ, was... the boy I was in love with.

I locked glares with Barrat. "Well? Explain what was going on, Mr. Barrat, if you please."

"We were just having a bit of fun, Palmer," he replied in a smarmy tone that spoke volumes. His two henchmen "yeh'd" their agreement.

"James?" I queried in a slightly milder tone.

Jimmy James was shy. He couldn't help it; it was just his nature. But the amount of grief he suffered because of it was slowly turning him from the bright, sweet, blue eyed towheaded boy I loved into a morose, maudlin wreck. I had just about had enough.

"Yes, Palmer," he replied, his eyes downcast, looking at his shoes.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, we were just having a bit of fun." The last word came out as a whisper, as if fun were the last thing he was having.

"So you were all having fun?"

"Yes, Palmer," they replied in unison.

"OK. When you've finished putting the classroom back together you can go," I paused, "and all meet back here at seven for detention, which I will be taking personally."

"Oh, sir!" Barrat pleaded, "It's the dance tonight."

"Tough. Break the rules and pay the penalty. See you all here at seven." I walked out of the classroom and closed the door behind me.

I guess I should introduce myself. I'm John. John Palmer. I'm in the year above JJ, and as such I don't have an awful lot to do with him, except love. And that has been from afar, if you see what I mean. I'm just seventeen, in the Lower Sixth, and I was made a Prefect at the beginning of the term which gives me the power to hand out detentions, and put other students on report; I was told 'being made a Prefect is a sign of maturity'. Ha! If only they knew. JJ is sixteen, in the Upper Fifth, and according to the laws of the land, we are both old enough. I think you know what for.

JJ and I are in the same house. I should explain that as well. I go to a boarding school in England. I've been a boarder since the age of seven, when my parents got a contract that takes them all over the world. My parents, bless and curse them, have always held that the best education is English, and that to promote self-reliance in their son an English boarding school was the ultimate choice. Personally, I think they say that because they have to assuage the guilt they feel every time they set off gallivanting. They always argue the point.

The school is set in a hundred acres of parkland stuck in the middle of a valley surrounded by hills. It used to be the country estate for a wealthy Victorian industrialist whose ancestors finally couldn't afford the upkeep and sold it to a charitable trust. The school is split into five houses, each with around a hundred boys from twelve years to eighteen. The houses are frighteningly competitive, each with their own teams, out of which the school teams are picked.

Pashes are common place, but except for JJ I've never indulged, never felt the need, as from the first time I saw him I knew he was my future. He knows. He has to, though I've never actually come out and said it. He lives a couple of streets away from me, and it was my parents who persuaded his to try him at boarding school. He hated me then, thought I was to blame for ripping him away from his local school and safe home life. Still we'd always got on, and after a month of moods, the rest of the summer before he came to school was fine... I think it was probably then that I found I was in love with him.

The bell for six o'clock had rung, and I had just finished the junior inspection and was sitting in my study with a cup of tea and a toasted crumpet, when there was a peremptory knock on the door. Before I had a chance to answer, Dan, my oldest and best friend, came in.

"Jimmy James is missing."

"Hmm?" I replied, inwardly panicked but trying to hide it.

"Don't be an arse, John," Dan replied softly. "He's missing, and I know... I know what you feel for him."

Dan and I had played around when we first arrived at the school. It's what all pubescent boys do, and especially those in a boarding school. But as our friendship grew, the sexual element was replaced by an emotional one. Dan was straight and I wasn't, though I never let him know. I thought I'd played my part well.

"But...." I blustered, blushing.

"I should have said something before." Dan sighed and sat down on the bed, the only other comfortable spot to sit since I was in the armchair. "In a nutshell...." Dan paused and took a breath before continuing. "Jimmy came to me a week ago, just after his birthday. He knows I'm your best friend and he wanted to know if you," Dan stopped, ran his hands through his hair and continued, "He wanted to know if you liked him... if you cared as much as he does... if you—"

"Love him?" I looked at the floor; looked at the tattered posters of Halle Berry and Milla Jovovich stuck haphazardly on the off-white wall; looked briefly out of the window at the fourth formers playing tag in the long grass of lower field. I felt my safe world begin to crumble into little pieces around me. Finally I looked at Dan. "How long have you known?"

"Forever." He sighed again. "I don't care. You're my best friend. You tried to hide it, and to the best of my knowledge I'm the only one who knows, but man," he smiled, "sometimes you are so obvious, it surprises me the whole world doesn't know."

"You know, and you don't care...." I was starting to cry, which is not something I normally do. Dan got off the bed, walked over and knelt by my chair. He put his arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug.

"I don't care, John. I don't care 'cause I love you, too."

I broke away from the hug and looked at him quizzically. He eyed me back. "Eeww, not like that. I love you as a friend. What we did back then was fun 'n' all, but I'm totally straight. K?"

"K." I pulled him back into the hug, kissed him chastely on the cheek, and pushed him away. "Thanks, Dan."

"No probs," he said, handing me a hankie. "Except JJ is missing."

I was on my feet in a second. "Any idea where he's gone?"

"No, except Farzid told me he thought he was being bullied, and Neils said he had a bottle of his mother's pills."

"The bullying I knew about, but the idiot won't accept any help. The pills I didn't... Dan, when he asked you about me... What did you say?"

"I... erm... I didn't know what you wanted, so I told him probably not. I'm sorry."

"Shit!" I paused, wanting to find JJ, but not knowing where to start looking. Missing an inspection was a serious matter, and he was probably... What he was probably doing was freaking me out.

"His blog!" I said, booting up my computer.

"His blog?" Dan replied.

"Yes. He writes a blog on livejournal. His writing's been getting darker recently, and I've tried to keep his spirits up, but it's difficult."

"So he knows you know?"

"No! Don't be daft. I log on under a pseudonym." The PC had booted up, and I logged on to the school's WiFi network, and out to JJ's livejournal.

Its timestamp was 17:45. Fifteen minutes before inspection.

It's obvious now he doesn't care. I'm bullied and then get detention as well. I thought I saw a glimmer in his eyes, but then I think I see other signs as well.

It's all a mistake. The world isn't fair. I don't think I was ever meant to be part of it. To love someone so much and not be loved back is too much. I can't cope for much longer. I don't want to live here anymore.

If there was a PFLAG or even a Day of Silence like they have in America it might be different, but there's no chance of that here. I have no one to talk to.

Sorry, Fluffy. I know you tried to help me, and what you say makes a lot of sense. If I met you in RL I'd prolly fall in love with you too, though I love him more. I love him so much it hurts. Goodbye.

"Who's Fluffy?" Dan asked quietly, his hand on my shoulder, as I started sobbing.

"I'm Fluffy!" I wailed.

"Pull yourself together, John, it's not helping." Dan was serious now, and had slipped into his 'in charge' mode. "Where would you go if you were...?" He left the sentence unfinished.

"No! Dan, he wouldn't." I was appalled at the thought.

"He might, so let's be safe rather than sorry. We have to ring the alarm."

There were consequences to ringing the alarm. Not the least of which was the whole house, and shortly thereafter, thanks to a great rumour mill, the rest of the school, knowing why it had been rung. It would end up being an 'outing' of unprecedented proportions, and though I could care less for myself, there was still JJ to consider.

"You're right, Dan. I'll ring it."

I strode out of the room, knocking an unfortunate fourth former out of the way as I made for the red alarm bell button on the wall down the corridor. I was just about to break the glass when Dan's hand clamped on my shoulder.

"Hang on a tick, John."

"Huh?"

"There has to be another way to...." He paused and glared at Gilbert, the fourth former who was now standing, watching us. "Go away."

"Yes, sir." Gilbert replied, giving us both a strange look before he scuttled off.

"Let's go back into your study." Dan took my arm and dragged me away from the bell, walked me back into my study, sat me on my bed and closed the door.

"OK," he said, looking at his watch, "inspection was ten, no twelve minutes ago, and JJ's blog entry was time stamped fifteen minutes before that, so at most he's only got a half an hour's head start."

"Huh?" I replied blankly, my emotions refusing to let me think about anything other than JJ. His smile, his laugh, the way he'd look at me as I took the dormitory inspections. I started to sob again. I'd had the most precious thing in the world offered to me, the love of another human being, and I hadn't had the balls to do anything about it.

"Ow!" I couldn't believe Dan had slapped me. "What the fuck...?"

Dan held me by both shoulders and looked right into my eyes.

"Now is not the time for that. Now is the time to find him, and bring him back... I'm going to call The Boys."

'The Boys' were what everyone called our loose collective of friends. I say loose because we really didn't have anything in common except for an uncommonly tight friendship forged during a Cadet Corp exercise in our first year. We had been mercilessly picked on by another platoon a year our senior, had fought back, and with more luck than good judgment had captured their flag. As bonding goes that sounds rather mild, but the torture those bastards put us through for the rest of the year forged a bond that was nigh unbreakable. We watched each other's backs, and though we were spread around the houses, Dan and I were lucky enough to board together.

Dan gently let me go, took his cell phone out of an inside pocket and hit speed dial. Cell phones were forbidden, but then a lot goes on under the murky waters of a boarding school, especially if you're in the Prefecture with outrageously wealthy friends.

Ten minutes later, 'The Boys' had arrived and my study suddenly seemed really small. Dan—his surname is Smith, which ticks him off for reasons no one has been able to fathom—and I were sitting on the bed whilst Alexander McAlister had taken the armchair. A red-haired freckled faced Scot, Alex often wore a kilt for no other reason than it was frowned upon. Martin Trubshaw, a small blonde boy whose voice hadn't broken until he was nearly sixteen, was pacing. Martin was always quiet, thoughtful, wore glasses, and had an IQ that Einstein would have envied. He was also shy and generally underestimated, until you got to know him. Sellick Rhodes, the lithe blonde six-foot son of a South African cattle rancher, and Jamal Al-Keif, the son of a Saudi prince, were sitting cross-legged on the floor. We were an odd bunch, to say the least.

"So, John," Sellick started. "What's up?"

"Shut the door, Martin," Dan said and looked at his watch, as Martin closed the door and then opened the window, explaining, "Sellick farted three times on the way over here, so better to be safe than unconscious."

It was then amid their laughter, as sounds of the game of tag from the lower field started intruding along with faint bird song, that I realised I was about to 'out' myself. There were no two ways about it. The clock was ticking. Either I forsook the boy I loved with all my heart, or I became a social pariah. Surreptitiously, I looked at them all, one by one. They were my friends.

Sellick finished glaring at Martin and was getting impatient, though to be fair, it was his way.

"We're altogether, for, might I add, the first time in yonks, and called with the 'get here now or else' message that we're only supposed to use in dire emergencies...." he paused. "So what's up?"

I didn't know where to begin, so I didn't. I started blubbering instead. Sellick looked at me oddly.

"JJ's missing, and time's a wastin'," Dan said firmly, glaring at Sellick and wrapping his arm comfortingly around my shoulder.

It's odd. You never know quite what people are going to do, what they really think. I knew we had a tight friendship, but still I thought Sellick would walk out in disgust, probably slamming the door behind him, Jamal would be understanding in his slightly aloof way, Alex would bluster it off as a 'wee bit of a laugh' and Martin would be completely understanding. I was wrong on two counts. There was, however, the classic silence, in which had there been a pin it would have been heard dropping, before Sellick chortled.

"Finally he sees sense."

"Uh huh," Jamal and Alex echoed in unison, whilst Martin... Martin just looked confused. "What?"

"What 'what', brainiac?" Sellick retorted, chortling harder, with Jamal and Alex joining him. Even Dan was trying hard not to laugh at Martin's confused expression.

"I don't understand; who's JJ, and why is he missing?"

"JJ is...." All eyes were on me as I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"Yes? JJ is?" Martin hated not knowing.

"JJ is the person I love, and we'vejustgottafindhim," I finished at a rush. I didn't time Martin, but it felt like it took about a decade to sink in.

"Ah!... 'k... I'm with it." Martin's expression had turned noncommittal. I couldn't tell what he thought, which was odd in itself, as he was usually as open as a book. "So let's find him then. When did he go missing?"

Dan took over. "He missed the six o'clock, and John found a blog entry written fifteen minutes earlier, so 5.45ish, we think."

"Did he make the entry from his own computer? Because otherwise he could have been anywhere at 5.45. The Internet café in the village for instance, and if...." He paused as there was a scrabbling sound from outside the window followed by hurried footsteps, and seconds later a knock on my study door.

"Come!" I said in a voice that belied the way I felt. The door opened and the Gilbert brothers were standing there. Ray Gilbert, who was in the upper fifth with JJ, looked grim, whilst his younger brother Giles, who I'd knocked into the corridor wall a few minutes earlier, was hoping from foot to foot in excitement.

"Beat it, Giles," Ray said peremptorily.

"Aww but—"

"Go on. I'll see you later."

"Yes, brother mine," Giles mumbled as he walked away dejectedly.

"Yes?" I said, thin lipped. This was almost the final straw; he had been eavesdropping at the window, and the only reason I was trying to be polite was that I knew he was one of JJ's friends.

"JJ told me he was...."

"Come inside and close the door... please," I added, as he looked a little unsure of entering a room full of seniors. Dan nonchalantly removed his arm from over my shoulders as Ray hesitantly came in, closed the door and cleared his throat.

"JJ told me he was leaving. He tells me most everything. He's...." Ray looked sheepishly down at his feet. "No matter what he is, he's my friend; he's my best friend!" he ended defiantly. The younger boy took a deep breath and angrily looked me straight in the eye. "He told me he was in love with you. I said he was mad, I nearly hit him... I said that he couldn't possibly be in love with you, it would mean that he was... he was... gay... and I'd have known. Surely I'd have known?"

Martin stepped forward. "Yeah it's odd, and to be honest I thought I'd have known too... but I didn't." He turned and looked at me, blushing slightly. "It doesn't mean you love your friends any less."

"He showed me his blog," Ray continued, "the one you've just been talking about, and he told me how he's been talking to a guy called Fluffy who had helped him," Dan caught my eye and I swallowed guiltily, "and that he wanted to say goodbye." He paused and then became so angry he seemed to vibrate. "He wrote the entry just after you gave him a detention, you sanctimonious bastard!"

I interrupted before Sellick could rip his head off. "Leave it, Sell. He's right. I'm a fool. Such a fool." I was starting to lose it again.

"So it's true, then?"

"Yes," I felt tears welling up, "it's true." As I spoke I felt a sense of rightness sweep over me. The first tear rolled down my cheek and I did nothing to stop it. "It's true, I love him; I love him with all my heart." There was a pause as Ray, red faced, stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a rather mangy looking hankie. I took it gratefully. "Thanks." I started to gather my thoughts. My problems weren't important.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Ray said.

"No. I haven't told him. I hadn't told anyone until ten minutes ago." Strangely it didn't bother me. I felt happier than I had in ages. I'd gone through months of suicidal angst-ridden shit coming to terms with who I was, followed by a few minutes of stupefying terror outing myself to my friends, most of whom seemed to know already. Now all I wanted to do was tell the boy I loved that I loved him. "Please, Ray, where is he?"

"I don't know... he wouldn't tell me where he was going." Ray looked worried, and the happy feeling swiftly faded.

"But you must have an idea," I stated.

"No." Ray gulped, and I saw a slight quiver in his lower lip. "He just hugged me, said goodbye and left shortly before inspection."

Sellick leapt up. "O.K. so let's go get him back then!" He looked at Martin, who was seemingly examining a patch of my study wall with interest. "Have you put a plot together yet, Martin? Martin?"

"Hmm...?" Martin shook himself, and took a cursory glance at his watch. "Yes, it's obvious. The station is too far, and no trains at this time anyway, and no busses for another..." he looked at his watch again, "forty minutes, but he wouldn't go to the bus stop anyway, he's too bright for that. He'd know that's where we'd start looking. So he's either still in school, somewhere in the village or in the hills. Take your pick." He turned away and sat down at my computer.

The situation finally sank in, and I was horrified. The village, which was the only real habitation other than an odd sporadic barn, was five miles down the valley, the train station another mile further on. In every other direction were hills, and the light was beginning to wane.

"Right then," Dan took charge. "There are six of us—"

"Seven" Ray interrupted. I was about to thank him when Dan put his hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, Ray, but I need... we need to know a couple of things. I was told that JJ had a bottle of his mother's pills."

"Yeah he did."

"Do you know where he kept them?"

"'Course. I'll go and look." Ray opened the door and left.

"What shall I get Rajit to do?" Jamal asked quietly. Jamal was always quiet, though not shy. He was gorgeous, with an olive complexion, raven black hair and the friendliest pearly white smile. He was actually a prince of some minor Arab royal family, and as such he had diplomatic immunity and a bodyguard/factotum called Rajit. Rajit was only a couple of years older than us, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and though from a different caste, he was readily accepted by Jamal as an equal, which was something frowned upon by both his and Jamal's parents. When Jamal had first arrived at school, by helicopter no less, he'd been rather aloof, and it had taken quite a while for him to be accepted and to accept us. The fabled Cadet Corps exercise had finally broken the ice. He was filthy rich and very generous too, which made some of our less legal exploits possible.

"We split into three groups," Dan said. "Rajit can take you and Alex in the car to search the village and the station, Sellick, Martin and Ray can search the school, and John and I will take the hills... we're the fittest."

"Balls!" That from Sellick. "I'm as fit as either of you two, and I'll be damned if...."

"Now is not the time to have a pissing competition," Martin butted in, "and it's not necessary if I can only hack into this damn site."

"Oh, sure," Sellick said sarcastically. "I forgot Brainiac can find him on the computer."

"Actually, I can if he's got his mobile with him."

I squirmed at Dan's outraged expression. "Since when have upper fifth's been allowed mobiles?"

"Umm... since I'm in love with one?" I poked my tongue at him.

And the room exploded with laughter, and released tension.

"Fair do's."

There was a knock at the door and Ray came in without waiting for a reply.

"I checked. The pills, they're gone."

"Oh, Christ." I kicked the door shut angrily. "If only I'd...."

"Don't, John." Alex turned from where he was watching Martin on the computer. "Regret is pointless, and I think Martin's just about cracked it."

"Ray." The not knowing was tearing me apart.

"Yeah?"

"When he said goodbye to you... when he left... was it... was it an 'I'll see you later' goodbye or a 'goodbye' goodbye?" I was shuddering with apprehension.

"He was really sad."

"Yes! I'm in!" Martin yelled. "So give me his number, someone." I gave it from memory. Jamal smiled at me.

"I told you phones were a good idea. Next term Blackberrys."

"Thanks, Jamal." I was beginning to relax.

"No problems my friend, your lacuna will soon be filled."

"Huh?"

"JJ will be found safe and well, if it is Allah's will."

"Oh yeah? And is it?" Sellick snarled at Jamal. Ray backed into the door in fright.

"Is it what, my friend?" Jamal's smile wavered.

"Is it...." Dan grabbed Sellick by the back of his jumper.

"Stow it, Sellick, now is not the time for one of your religious debates."

"Well fuck, man, he just goes on and ...."

"JJ's still in school!" Martin's timely interruption had me smiling broadly. "I triangulated his position. As you know, cell phones give off a constant homing signal which enables the transmitters to know where it ...."

"Aww. He triangulated JJ's position. Bless!" Alex said in his broadest Scots.

Martin harrumphed and then continued, "He's in the theatre."

"Um... has anyone tried calling him?" We all looked at Ray askance, and I was mentally kicking myself. Stupid. Stupid and so obvious, why hadn't I...

"Yeah, I did before I tried the triangulation," Martin said, cutting through my thoughts. "There was no reply."

Five minutes later, with the sun sinking low over the head of the valley, the seven of us were standing outside the school theatre. It was more an auditorium than a true theatre, being used for morning assembly, gymnastics, fencing and music, too. JJ had always loved working backstage, and he was on the lighting crew, so I was kicking myself for not thinking of it earlier.

"So, do we all—" Dan started.

"No! Thank you. I need to do this alone." I looked at each of them in turn, gauging their thoughts.

The wind had picked up, and it was actually pretty cold. Cold enough that we were all starting to shiver.

"If you guys wouldn't mind waiting in the foyer ...."

"Ah warmth!" Sellick said as we trooped in through the outer doors. "Thank you, kind sir."

"Don't be such a tart," Alex said, punching Sellick lightly on the shoulder. The mood was getting light-hearted.

"Shhh!" Ray said, and we all shut up. "Can anyone hear anything?"

We listened for a few seconds before Martin spoke up.

"No, but then the doors to the auditorium are closed, and JJ will be backstage anyway. Go on, John... and good luck."

The rest echoed Martin's sentiment as I left them with trepidation, entering the auditorium and closing the slightly squeaky door firmly behind me. It was much dimmer inside, the setting sun throwing the last vestiges of daylight feebly through the top windows, leaving large areas in pools of darkness.

I knew the auditorium well. I knew that the stage and proscenium arch were at the farthest end, with the backstage beyond, yet I couldn't really see them. I made my way onto the stage more by feel and luck than sight and pulled aside the curtain. Backstage was almost pitch black.

"JJ?" I called out quietly. "It's John." Silence, but more than silence; it was as if the theatre was holding its breath. Waiting.

JJ, please. It's John and I...." I heard a hitched breath from somewhere in front of me, a hitched breath I had only heard once before when having crashed out of a crazy stunt on his bike right in front of me, JJ had badly hurt his hand and was trying hard not to cry. I had helped him up and hugged him as he cried on my T-shirt. I hadn't washed it for a month afterwards, and was livid when the maid returned it clean and ironed.

"JJ...?" It was no use. I had 'outed' myself to my friends, yet here I was frightened to take the last step. Frightened to tell the boy I loved that I loved him.

"JJ, I love you." I held my breath hoping the Gods held my hand. Quietly, almost too quietly, his sleepy voice answered.

"Why?"

I answered without hesitation as I walked to where his voice had come from, knelt down and, fumbling, found his hand. I took it in my own.

"I love you for who you are, the way you are. I love you for your smile, the looks you give me every now and then when you think I'm not paying attention." My index finger started to trace a pattern on his palm. "I love your humour, I love your moods, even the ones where the clouds seem to blot out the sun. I love you unreservedly, and... oh, JJ, please say you haven't taken those pills." I was crying openly now, tears streaming down my face, and he must have heard the worry in my voice.

"Sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, John, I...." His voice faded away. He was dying. I could hear it.

"Help!" I shouted as I got up. I went to the curtains and managed to drag them further apart just as the fluorescent house lights flickered on and my friends came charging into the auditorium. "Help!" I repeated, turning around. I could see JJ now slumped against the back wall, his legs outstretched, bangs obscuring his wan face. I walked in a daze, automatically, and knelt by his side, cradling him in my arms as the others all arrived on stage. A small brown pill bottle rolled off his lap and came to a stop by his shoe.

"He took the pills," I said, pushing his bangs aside and brushing his face with light kisses. "He took the fucking pills. Someone get some help. Quickly." Jamal got his phone out and started dialing as Martin leant down and picked up the bottle. I sat down next to JJ with my back against the wall, and pulled him onto my lap. He was so fragile, so beautiful. I started rocking him and crooning.

"Is this what he took?"

"Hmm?... Yes, yes obviously." I was almost too distraught to talk. "When's the ambulance going to arrive? He's still breathing, what should we do? Oh, JJ, please, please." I ended the sentence by placing a few more feather-light kisses on JJ's lips and nose. I could smell him, could feel him, could touch him and yet he was dying. It was unfair, all so unfair.

"Umm. Wait a second, Jamal," Martin said, looking at the bottle, then shaking the last pill out of it and examining it closely. "If he took these he's going to be asleep for a while, but honestly, he'll be fine."

I was stroking JJ's hair when Martin's words filtered through. "W-Wh... What did you say, Martin?"

"I said these pills he took won't kill him. They're Nytol. Herbal Nytol. My mother takes them, which is how I know. Sure they're in an unmarked bottle, but they contain," he paused, cleared his throat—which drove me nearly insane—and closed his eyes, which is how he accessed his eidetic memory. "They contain Hops, which are sedative and hypnotic, Dogwood Jamaica, which is both a sedative and an analgesic, Wild Lettuce, which is mildly sedative, analgesic and induces sleep. Passiflora and Pulsatilla, which are sedative and analgesic too. No problem, other than a good night's sleep and maybe, 'cause of the amount he's taken, he'll sleep through the day too."

"Are you sure, are you absolutely sure?"

"Absolutely. You can't overdose on them."

Sellick, the bastard, started laughing. I was outraged, but damn me if it wasn't addictive. Dan kicked off next with his belly laugh and soon the rest of us followed. Jamal was the funniest; having realised during our first term that laughter with friends was a good thing and not embarrassing, he always went totally overboard and let himself go. Now he was rolling on the dusty stage clutching his sides with a high pitched squeak. Alex guffawed and slapped his knees whilst Martin tittered. Ray on the other hand was just grinning happily, whilst I was laughing so hard that I nearly dropped JJ.

I rearranged us so he was lying between my legs, with his head laid back on my chest. I stroked his hair slowly, gently running my fingers down his neck, tracing over his clavicle to his shoulders and back up again as I kissed the top of his head, all the while inhaling pure JJ—a fantasy that I'd dreamt of many times. Now that the panic was over, I found I was unashamedly hard, too.

Then I discovered a new passion, his ear. He had the smallest, cutest ear lobes. My laughter drained away and I gulped in awe as I realised that his eyelids were fluttering. He opened one eye blearily.

"'Sup John?" he said quietly and went straight back to sleep. The laughter stopped. I looked up to see the others staring at me, at us, and I became protective, and oddly angry.

"What?" No one said anything, just continued to stare. "What?" I repeated, getting panicked. There was definitely an odd vibe, and I noticed that Martin was studying Ray surreptitiously.

Dan broke the awkward moment. "We've got to get him back to the house now before anyone stumbles in here for a secret cigarette or something."

"How touching."

Out of the darkened prompt corner walked Barrat, followed by Cuddington and Jones. "Well, well," Barrat continued sarcastically, "what do we have here? The famed 'Boys', loitering back stage watching John Palmer and Jimmy James kissing. Practising for a new play were you, Palmer?" he said, as I noticed Ray, who had been on the far fringe of the group, disappear behind a large scenic flat.

"Fuck off, Barrat," I enunciated carefully. I was incandescent with anger but caught Dan slowly shaking his head at me, his finger subtly pointing at Jones. Jones, who had a mobile video phone pointing at us.

"Ah, but we're only here for your detention, Palmer, sir," he hissed, "and what do we find? A bunch of sixth form benders about to get it on, watching a drugged fifth former being molested. Tsk, tsk, tsk," he clicked his tongue, "naughty, naughty." He wagged his finger melodramatically.

"What do you want?" Dan asked tiredly.

"What don't I want!" Barrat spat back. "I can't tell you how happy this makes me. Hmm... let me see. There's a song by the Rolling Stones you should really listen to. It's called 'Under My Thumb'!" He laughed, though it sounded to me like more of a cackle. Cuddington and Jones sniggered. "I so want to broadcast the footage; I really want that badly, but now you know I have it, I'll settle for...."

Ray Gilbert was magnificent. There's no other way to describe his admission as the seventh member of 'The Boys'. He appeared from out of the darkness behind Cuddington and Jones, wielding a broom handle high in the air like a katana. He brought it down on Jones's phone so fast it was a blur. There was a crack of breaking plastic as the phone hit the stage followed by Ray, who jumped and landed with his right foot squarely on top of it. Barrat's jaw dropped as Ray knelt down and picked up the shattered mobile, removed the memory card, and snapped it in half.

"Transmit what? You little fucking shit."

No one moved, then as Alex started clapping, Sellick and Dan grabbed hold of Cuddington and Jones, neither of whom tried struggle, whilst Jamal caught hold of Barrat by the wrist and put him in a half Nelson.

"Ow, let go, you Arab Camel Fucker."

Jamal laughed unpleasantly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What was it you said? Naughty, naughty." Jamal punctuated each "naughty" with pressure on Barrat's neck, causing the younger boy to scream. "Wimp," Jamal added mildly, letting Barrat go and kicking him in the arse, forcing him to fall to his knees at my feet. He was panting with fear.

Gently I got out from under JJ and, giving him one last kiss on the head, I got slowly to my feet, dusted off my trousers and then in one swift motion I hauled Barrat to his feet and slammed him against the back wall, holding him there by his throat.

"As I said earlier, fuck off. Let's consider today's detention over, but if I ever," I paused and slammed him into the wall again, "if I ever have any cause to put you in detention again... you won't be happy." I was inches from his face and could smell his minty breath, but I could also see that his look of unbridled fear was mingled with something much more malevolent, something deeply, deeply disturbing. I knew that this enmity would not end here, and I felt that whatever I did, I had made an enemy for life.

I didn't care. Right by my feet was the boy I loved. When I woke up this morning, I had thought I would never ever in a month of Sundays admit my sexuality to anyone, and I had. I thought I would never ever be able to tell my friends I was gay, and I had. I thought I could probably cope with one more major life situation. "So. Detention's over." I paused, looking Barrat in the eye. "OK?"

"OK," Barrat breathed back.

"Just so as we're straight, causes for detention are, and not limited to, anything I, or we," I gestured to my friends, "don't like." I let him go and patted him on the back. "I think that about covers it." I nodded at Sellick and Dan, who released Cuddington and Jones.

I bent down and in one fluid movement picked up JJ and put him over my shoulder in a fireman's lift. He was sound asleep, and I knew I had never carried anything so precious in my entire life. "Come on boys," I said quietly, and we trooped from the stage, leaving Barrat and his cronies standing there.

Jimmy James knew he was dreaming when he woke up under a duvet in John Palmer's bed. He dreamt about John an awful lot, but that was only natural; after all, he was in love with him. Jimmy still felt really tired and vaguely remembered having some very weird dreams. This just seemed like a natural extension to them. It all seemed hyper real.

Early morning sunlight was streaming through John's study window and Jimmy was examining the posters on the wall, the sort of odd thing you do in dreams, when he realised that someone was spooned up behind him. Jimmy was stiff as a plank with his usual morning wood and thought that this was probably, hopefully going to turn into a wet dream, which was nice as he never normally remembered his wet dreams, just the memory of coming.

Carefully, trying not to disturb the balance of the dream, he rolled over to find that the person spooning him was John Palmer. No weird dream shimmy there, he thought; after all love was love, who else would he be dreaming about?

John was breathing gently, his lips parting slightly each time he exhaled. Jimmy thought they were the most beautiful lips, really very kissable lips with just a soft trace of dark blonde hair above. He snuggled closer, hoping the dream wasn't going to change anytime soon. He liked dreams like this.

Jimmy managed to untangle his right arm and brought his hand up to touch John's cheek. It was soft and warm. He moved upwards and slowly ran his fingers through John's hair, across his forehead and down his nose. He leant forward, closed his eyes tightly, and, going with an overwhelming feeling of rightness, kissed John lightly, firstly on the cheek and then on the lips, nibbling ever so gently at his bottom lip. John groaned and responded, his tongue darting into Jimmy's mouth. Then he drew away and stretched, his arms coming up from under the duvet and reaching for the head board. He wasn't supposed to do that, Jimmy thought. It's my dream and that was just unfair and wrong.

"Hi, JJ, that was such a nice way to wake up."

Jimmy's eyes flew open. "Um... hi. This is one cool dream."

John's green eyes crinkled as he smiled. "This is no dream, JJ; this is no dream."

The End

Author Bio

_Camy Sussex is the author of over forty short stories featuring various diverse gay characters. He also co-edited 'Midnight Dude', an anthology of gay fiction published by Awesome Dude Books. At present he's fighting to finish his first novel. If he wins it will be published later this year._ _Check out more of his fiction, poetry and music at www.camysgaff.co.uk_

Return to Table of Contents

All Eyes Watching

by Comicality
They say that it gets easier every time you tell somebody you're gay. I don't know . . . I'm still just as terrified now as I was doing it the first time. I still feel my heart throbbing away to the point of almost being painful, and I can hardly get enough breath in my lungs to speak. When I first told Summer, she took it extremely well. Then again, I expected her to. We had been friends since, like, forever. So she really didn't have much choice. But she's been great. And when I told my cousin, Bobby, he wrestled with the idea for a bit . . . at first thinking that it was all a big joke. Until I actually started to cry a little bit, and he realized I wasn't fooling around. It took a bit of 'adjustment', but he got used to the idea pretty fast, and in a week or two . . . he couldn't tell the difference between regular me and gay me. I think the hardest so far was my mom.

The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint her by telling her that her little boy was a homosexual. I had no idea how she'd take it. And considering that she was my only source of food, shelter, and family affection, it was a huge risk telling her something that I was sure she didn't want to hear. But . . . she was ok with it. I mean, she was a bit shocked at first, and I saw her wipe a few tears away from her eyes. But after that, the only question she asked was, "Are you sure?" I told her that I was pretty certain, and she got up and hugged me tight with a few sniffles from the both of us. She told me, "It's ok, baby. I love you for everything you are. And this doesn't change anything". You have NO idea how GOOD that felt. I felt like I had taken my very first breath ever when she accepted me so easily. I can't even say whether or not I expected her to take it well beforehand. I can only remember the hug afterwards, and how much comfort it brought me at a time when I felt too weak to stand anymore. It was like, being reborn, walking out of a hot and sweaty sauna and into a breezy autumn day. Her reaction gave me the courage to go further. I doubt I ever would have told another soul if she had rejected me.

Since then, however, my mom has gone a bit overboard with the concept of being 'supportive' for her gay son. I practically had to side tackle her at the front door one night to keep her from wearing a larger than life rainbow-colored 'Parent of a gay teen' button to parent conferences! I'm not quite THAT free of spirit yet. If I'm not careful, she's gonna run an ad during the freaking Super Bowl. I'm glad she's understanding, but geez . . . let's slow things down a little bit. I'm not exactly the type to dance on top of the biggest float in the gay parade. It's just not me. But, despite her often frightening enthusiasm issues, she's still the one that felt the best out of the few people I told. So . . . there we have it. That's three people who now officially know that I'm the fifteen year old oddball that they make the typical after school specials about. Sighhh . . . three people down . . . only 6.2 BILLION left to go.

Anyway, Jason was a really good friend of mine, and I have to admit, I've had an on and off infatuation with him for years. I couldn't help it, he was gorgeous beyond belief, blond and affectionate, and he played on the high school basketball team. Not only was he quite possibly one of the dreamiest boys in junior high, but high school has only helped him to fill out even more, transforming his face and body from cute to sexy right before our eyes. I think even Summer had a crush on him at one point. But he's undeniably straight. There's no chance whatsoever for me to have him. And that just . . . sucks. I should have jumped on that sensual delight when we were both twelve years old. At least then, I could inspire him to 'experiment' a little. Ah well, live and learn. But despite the crush I had on him and the many nights I prayed to the angels to make him suddenly fall in love with me and not ask why . . . Jason was a good friend, and I was pretty sure that telling him that I was gay would be ok. At least I 'thought' it would.

The only thing that bothers me is that . . . if I tell him . . . he's gonna think back to all the times we spent together, and he's gonna know how I used to feel about him. I mean, it wasn't such a subtle hint that I was macking towards him over the years. That's going to be awkward. I don't need him worrying about me lusting after him every time he bends over to tie his shoe. Of course, I WILL be! But I don't want him to know that. There's a very delicate balance that I have to keep here. And as I sat there on the foot of his bed, watching him type away on his keyboard to show me some funny clips he found on the internet . . . I struggled with the idea of this being the moment for me to let the truth spill out of me before I chickened out again. I've been trembling over it for two whole weeks now, and it's driving me crazy. But I've gotta try. It'll bother me forever until I do it. Sighhhhh . . . why is it always so hard to tell the cute ones?

"Gabe, you gotta check this one out, dude!" Jason grinned, turning to look at me. I had to peel my eyes away from him quickly, realizing that I was staring again.

"What is it?" I asked nervously.

"Come here." I got up and looked at the screen over his shoulder. Wow, he smelled good. "It's called 'Must Love Jaws'! Dude, it's hilarious," he said.

Was this the moment? Do I do it now? Should I tell him that we need to talk first? Or do I just blurt it out? I wonder what he would do if I just sorta . . . leaned in and kissed him on the side of the neck, right now? What if he, like, reached up and ran his fingers through my hair while I sucked on his smooth soft neck. Wow . . . that would be so hot.

"What are you doing?" Jason said as he leaned away and looked at me to find out why I was so close.

"Uhh, nothing. Just . . . watching the . . . the screen." Shit, I should be focusing here.

"Well . . . back up a little bit. You're practically kissing me over here," he joked. But if only he could feel the little jolt of excitement that went through me when I heard the words leave his mouth.

"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to get myself back on track. Trying to keep his beauty from distracting me to the point where I couldn't concentrate wasn't easy. Sigh . . . look at those lips. I'd give ANYTHING to kiss those sweet pink pouty lips! Ok, Gabe . . . focus on coming up with a gameplan here. So . . . yeah . . . I'll just tell him. Exactly how do I do that? Arrrgh! It's never easy to start a conversation like this. There's no real formula for it. No build up. No clever transition from any other topic of normal conversation. You just kinda have to 'unleash' it on people when they least expect it. They basically get slammed with the news by surprise, and it's so fast that they have no choice but to react like they had just stepped on an emotional landmine. Sighhhh . . . I guess I should just tell him. Yeah . . . yeah, I should tell him. I told myself that I was gonna do it tonight, and I'm . . . I'm gonna do it. Ok . . . here goes.

"Um...Jason...?"

"Here it is!" He laughed, and that deep breath I had just taken to tell him was wasted. I silently thanked fate for giving me another few seconds, and watched the screen over Jason's shoulder. The clip actually WAS pretty damn funny, using clips from the Jaws movie to make it look like Roy Scheider had fallen in love with the shark. He-he-he! But . . . even through a few giggles, my thoughts were still firmly stuck in that terrifying mindset of outing myself to one of my best friends in the world. I never know for sure what's going to change between me and the person I tell from that moment on. But . . . I had to do it. I got tired of being locked away, suppressing everything I was, and everything I felt, in front of the people I cared about most. It's true, you never really notice how HARD you have to work to appear straight until you lift that weight off of your shoulders. You never realize how much it hurts to hide that part of yourself away from the rest of the world until you get a small taste of what it's like to be free of it. And once I told one person . . . just ONE . . . I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop there. I'd have to keep going, keep pushing, keep striving to finally be what I always wanted to be.

Myself.

"Jason . . . we have to . . . that is . . . dude, do you remember a few years ago, when we came back from Boy Scout Camp that one year, and you accidently hit me in the forehead with a rock from that slingshot that you made while the scoutmaster wasn't looking?"

"Aww dude . . . I'm still SO sorry about that. It was an accident, I swear."

"Yeah . . . well . . . I'm gay."

I waited for him to say something, almost locked in a 'cringe' position, with my eyes closed. Nothing. Jason didn't even move at first. He peeked at me out of the corner of his eye for a second, then looked back at the screen, his index fingers lightly tapping the spacebar. I don't think it really penetrated for about thirty seconds or so. Then his forehead wrinkled up a bit in confusion. "Wait . . . huh???" he said.

"I said," lowering my voice, ". . . I'm gay, Jason. I . . . I like boys." And now was that short silence that always seemed so eternal to me. Where they try to mentally process what I just told them, and I wait in misery for some kind of definite answer. Even if that answer is a bad one.

Finally, after a few moments of thought, he squinted his eyes a bit and replied, "What the hell has that got to do with me beaning you with a rock after summer camp?"

Now it was my turn to be a bit confused. "Oh . . . um . . . nothing, I guess."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"I dunno. I guess . . . I guess it was just the first thing that came to mind," I answered.

"'The first thing that came to MIND'? Dude, you are just plain WEIRD sometimes, you know that?" he said, and then he just turned back to the computer screen. He started randomly looking for another internet clip to show me, and didn't bother to say anything else. I waited in silence behind him for a full minute before I found myself ready to burst.

"Jason??? Did you hear anything that I just said to you?"

"Yeah. I heard you. You're gay. So . . . ?" He was stalling, I could tell. But he didn't seem angry. Or disgusted, for that matter. So that was good.

"So . . . I mean, what do you think about that?" I asked, hoping that I wasn't pushing it. But I had to know. This silence was killing me.

"S'ok. It's cool." He said it without much emotion, and without looking at me. I looked closer at his eyes, hoping that he wasn't lying to me. I could take a rejection to my face. But to have him suppress it now, only to find out later from Summer that he doesn't wanna be friends with me anymore? THAT would pretty much break my heart for good. "Really, Gabe . . . it's cool."

"Are you sure?" I asked again, almost disappointed in his lackluster reaction.

"Yeah, I'm sure. We're buds," he said, but then he sorta turned to look at me sideways. "Wait . . . I mean . . . you're not, like, in love with me or anything, are you?"

I blushed a bit, but was happy that my answer was the truth. "No, Jason. I'm not in love with you." Not anymore, anyway. But then, just to be absolutely SURE, I added, "Unless . . . unless you were . . . uh . . . you know . . . interested in . . . maybe . . . ."

"No. Totally not. Not at all," he said abruptly. Damn . . . well, you can't say I didn't try.

"Yeah . . . that's kinda what I figured." But as he went back to typing away on his keyboard, clearly not one hundred percent over the shock yet but hiding it well, a devilish grin broke out on my face. "I DO think you're hot though. Just for the record."

"Gabe . . . ."

"EXTREMELY hot!"

"Dude . . . don't . . . ," he said with a slight grin of his own, shrugging away from me.

"If you ever feel like you need a really long, really wet, blowjob from somebody who's ACHING to do it for you . . ."

"DUDE! Ewww! Ok, that's enough gay talk for right now! Don't make me grab the slingshot!" We had a few giggles over it, and I knelt down beside his chair as he started searching the website again.

Waiting for some of our friendly comfort to return to us took about ten minutes or so. I guess that's to be expected though, I did drop a pretty big bomb on him out of nowhere. I wondered if he meant what he said. If it really was ok that I liked other boys. God he was cute. So cute that it almost hurt to be this close to him and not have my lips touching him somewhere. I won't lie . . . for the first few minutes, having him know that I was gay . . . the urge to kiss him was damn near OVERWHELMING me! Almost to the point where I thought I'd have no control over myself.

But as we began to melt back into our normal behavior again, Jason looked at me and shook his head as he mumbled, "Summer Camp . . . psh! You're SUCH a weirdo." And I couldn't help but let a small grin spread out on my lips. I guess I didn't need all of that mushy romance and candy kisses from Jason just to be absorbed in his company. Besides, at this point, it would probably be like kissing my brother or something.

So I suppose a part of my heart finally let the fantasy go, at long last. But I had enough goofy memories to keep me grinning the rest of my life. A few moments later when he saw my smile, Jason turned to me with an even bigger smirk. He put his arm over my shoulder, and with a giggle, he gave me a boyishly affectionate gesture that was somewhere between a tight hug and a tight headlock. I laughed as he shook me in his manly embrace, basically letting me know that we were still cool. And always would be. Thank God. Whew . . . ok, so I didn't get to wrap my lips around what must be the most incredibly DELICIOUS boner in high school . . . but I feel like I got an even better friend than I had before. One that now understood me a LOT better than he did a few hours ago. And somehow, that was just as satisfying.

Still wish I could've given him that blowjob though. He can be SOOO sexy!

The next day, when I saw Summer before first period, she was teasing her short dark hair in the mirror she had set up in her locker door. I walked up to her with a giant grin on my face, and she made me wait until she fixed her bangs before turning around. "What are you so happy about?"

"Life is great! That's what!" I smiled.

"Life is great? Curious." Then, she examined my face a bit closer . . . and I watched as her eyes popped open wide. "Omigod! No way! You told Jason???"

"Yep! I did it! Just last night!" I could hardly contain myself.

Summer gave me a short-lived scream before covering her mouth with her hand and looking around the hall to make sure nobody was staring at us. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a hug strong enough to almost knock me off balance. "Wow! Oh Gabe, I can't believe you did it! Do you know how awesome this is? That means we can all be on the same page when we hang out now!" She beamed. "That's so sweet! What did he SAY?"

"He didn't really SAY much of anything. I mean, I think it kinda surprised him a bit . . . but, once it sunk in, he just kinda gave me this 'hug' and everything was cool after that."

I swear, I thought Summer was going to tear up and ruin what little make up she had on her face. "That is just PERFECT, Gabe! It really is!"

"Yeah . . . ," I started, then shrugged my shoulders a bit, ". . . Well . . . not PERFECT . . . but it's cool. 'Perfect' would have had an entirely different outcome. But . . . you know . . . ." Summer looked at me for a moment, and I blushed, turning away from her.

"What are you trying to tell me, here?"

"Nothing. Come on, we've gotta get to class."

She giggled, her accusing eyes focused on my bashful grin. "I don't even wanna know, dude," she said.

"No . . . no you don't. He-he-he . . . it would have been nice though," I said.

"Well, at least I know you've got good taste in boys," she said, and gently took my arm as she walked with me to our first class of the day. "We totally have to compare notes on who's cute in this 'zoo'!"

"Whatever."

I swear, I smiled for the rest of that week. And the only problem that Jason seemed to have with the whole situation was that I told Summer first. I think, over time, Jason took to the idea of me being gay much better than I expected him to. If anything, he was the first one to make it ok to kinda joke about it. I'll have to admit though, the fact that he took no interest in even 'trying' to be gay . . . even for a little fifteen minute roll in the hay or something . . . stung a little bit. I couldn't help but feel a pinch of disappointment. I mean, that was a few years worth of fantasizing that I had to erase now. But, what can I say? He got used to me being gay, and I got used to him being straight. And when we finally came to terms with each other, there wasn't really much difference at all.

Things were great. The people closest to me knew who I was. And in some strange way, that was helping ME to find out who I was too. It was an experience that I never expected to be so easy, and so fulfilling. It was so uplifting that I never really expected things to change.

Things always change.

It had been maybe a month since my confession to Jason, and the three of us remained just as close as we always had in the past. And then . . . came the cafe. "You're gonna love this place, Gabe. They've got this really awesome hot apple cider in this big mug, with whipped cream on top, and this warm caramel swimming around at the bottom of the glass. Dude, it's mindblowing!" Summer said, holding my arm as she always did.

"Where did you guys hear about this place again?" I asked.

"A friend of mine told me about it. It's cool," Jason said, but something about the look on his face was . . . I dunno . . . 'different'.

"Ok," I said. "So it's just us three, right?"

"Dude, stop it! What's with all the questions today???" Jason snapped. What the heck has gotten HIM so wound up.

"All of WHAT questions? That was, like, TWO," I told him.

"Don't worry, you'll love it. This place is great." Summer was trying to distract me, and now I was wondering if this was more than just us 'hanging out' on a Saturday afternoon.

It wasn't my birthday, or any kind of holiday, so it wasn't like a surprise party or anything. But SOMETHING had to be up. From the second that we walked in the door, I was scanning the cafe for a familiar face or some kind of clue that would give their secret away. Nothing. Nowhere. This was weird, but I played along. I suppose I'll find out eventually.

We sat down at one of the large wooden tables of the place, and absorbed the laid-back atmosphere of the place. We ordered three of the giant caramel ciders and the waitress told us that it would be a five to ten minute wait while they got a new batch ready, and then we could order. Any place where a glass of apple cider takes THAT long . . . it's GOTTA be good! So we just sat at the table and joked around a bit for the first fifteen minutes, laughing and teasing each other as we always did. And then . . . I think I got my surprise.

"What's up? Sorry, I'm late. Work kept me for a few minutes more to fix up the comic book section," came a voice from over my shoulder, and a 'boy' sat down at our table, right across from me. My first glance was flooded with a level of beauty that was almost too much to handle without warning. I made sure to yank my eyes away and close my open mouth before he caught me gawking at him helplessly. I had never seen him before, but my smile disappeared, and I clammed up immediately. "Hi . . . ," he said, looking me right in the eye. It felt like I had swallowed a brick when his eyes first connected to mine, and I shimmied in my chair a little as my limbs turned to jelly.

"Hi . . . ." I answered him, but my voice couldn't have been much more than a whisper. I think . . . I think his presence just really caught me off guard, is all.

"This is my best bud, Gabe, and this is Summer." Jason did the introductions, and the other boy happily shook hands and gave us a polite smile. His soft skin came into contact with mine, and I was almost afraid to hold his hand for more than a split second because it was making me blush. I think that my brain suddenly froze up on me, as I couldn't really get past the initial first glance of him, and yanking my hand back so fast from his shake made it look like he had burned my fingers.

He was wearing black jeans that hung a little low on him, mostly because his stomach was so incredibly flat, and a button down black denim shirt that he wore open to reveal a gleaming white t-shirt underneath. And a cute shark tooth necklace around his neck, hanging just below his collarbone. To be near him was a breathtaking experience. Yes, I was definitely . . . 'impressed'.

"Guys, this is Niles. I met him the last couple of times our school basketball team beat the pants off of his! Not that they had much chance to begin with!" Jason said with a smirk, and Niles didn't have much choice but to shrug in reluctant agreement.

"You guys could attribute some of those points to LUCK, you know?" he said, a gentle Irish accent gliding over certain words when he spoke. His voice was a bit lighter than I expected it to be, but I thought it was really cute. Each and every syllable seemed to slide gracefully off of the tip of his tongue with this seductive sense of grace, you know? The rhythm with which he spoke made his words dance across the table, and I was entranced. I already knew that I could just listen to him talk for hours, and he had only been talking for a few seconds.

"Yep! And the 'rest' of the points belong to me." Jason let a cocky grin cross his lips, and posed a bit with his 'beginners biceps' flexed for effect. "Meaning that we have just enough points to beat you, three games to your . . . um . . . ZERO!"

"Whatever. We'll see what happens when your luck runs out, and you're forced to score on 'skill' alone. Then we'll see." Niles smiled, and his eyes connected with mine briefly before I forced my gaze downward again. I'm pretty sure that he noticed me. But what else was I to do? You could feel his every glance in your lower abdomen, for crying out loud! It was terrifying! It was like having someone put an ice-cold stethoscope to your nuts and watching you flinch and cower from the sensation. "So what did you guys order so far? I have no idea what to get." God . . . his voice was so enchanting. Almost erotic in its delivery. It made me fidget again just to hear it.

"The cider! You've GOT to have some! Trust me on this!" Summer said happily.

"Oh, all right. If that's the recommendation of the day, I'm all for it," he said.

Niles was slightly taller than me by a few inches, but the same weight, if not less, from the looks of it. But he was . . . REALLY cute. The kind of cute that you only see in magazines and boy band album covers. He had this medium length, super soft, dark brown hair, that was just a little bit longer in the back than up front. And it was like . . . 'perfect', you know? Straight, and light, and 'touchable'. And since his hair was so dark, it was an amazingly beautiful contrast to his eyes. His eyes were huge! Like a baby deer, you know? And they were this spectacular mix of ice blue and mint green that was more than intimidating to look at. And yet, those giant pools of expressive majesty just seemed to pull you in to stare at them longingly, whether you wanted to or not. And his voice.

That angelic voice, his accent only really strong on little words and phrases here and there. Just strong enough to make a presence while he was speaking. I loved it. He was really slim, his body looking almost serpentine in his clothes, his belt . . . merely for show on his trim hips. You just wanted to run your fingers lightly up and down the center of his flat chest, and down over his soft stomach, that looked almost sucked in at the waist. But it wasn't the kind of body that looked like he put a lot of 'work' into it. It was still sweet, and pure, with the kind of visible sponginess that allowed him to walk that thin line between the high school athlete and the proverbial boy next door sweetheart. It was the kind of gorgeous package that inspires love, lust, and a never-ending infatuation from all angles of the room. Jesus . . . what the hell was he even DOING here?

"I don't think I've ever had apple cider in this place before. So, I'll have to take your word for it, I figure," Niles said, his eyes, once again, sweeping over secretly to connect with my dreamy haze for a quick second before looking back at Jason.

"It's good. I like it," Jason said, and Summer smiled.

"Actually, you know this is Gabe's first time having the cider too. In fact, he's never been here before," she said.

I suddenly felt this imaginary 'spotlight' suddenly shift to me, and the pressure of the situation suddenly fell down on me like an avalanche of bowling balls. My breath simply rushed out of me in one swift gasp, and my heart felt like it was trying to pump liquid concrete through my veins. And to make things worse, Niles looked over at me with an alluring smile, his big bright blue green high beams almost blinding me from their brilliance, and he said, "Is that so? Well, good. I won't be the only virgin here today, then." And his smile widened while I blushed and forced my eyes back down to the table again. There was a pause where nobody said anything, and then Niles said, "Well . . . I'm gonna go up and order one so we can all get them close to the same time. You said it takes about ten minutes, right?"

"Yeah, about." Summer answered.

"Ok. I'll be right back then." Niles got up from his seat, and his eyes glanced at me again. "Do you want anything while I'm up?" Was he directing that to just ME?

"Um . . . no. I'm fine," I muttered under my breath.

"Ok then. I'll be back." He grinned a bit, and backed up a few steps, before turning around to go to the counter. I would have kept my eyes on him the entire walk over there, but I didn't want Jason and Summer to know I was watching. Wow . . . .he's . . . um . . . .he's . . . nice

I let my eyes wander over to Niles as he was ordering his cider. Damn . . . he was really stunning to behold. Summer surprised me as she yanked my attention back to the table and said, "Earth to Gabe? What's wrong?"

Trying not to look phased at all by the overwhelming emotional crash that their new 'friend' had caused inside of me, I tried my best to look unimpressed. "Nothing. Just thinking about . . . something. Something 'else', I mean." I shrugged it off, and waited a second or two for their attention to leave me for a moment so I could take another peek at him. I couldn't help it. My eyes gravitated to him helplessly, as though my vision couldn't believe his beauty was real. He was at the counter, leaning on it with one elbow as the lady at the register went to get more change from the back. I watched his super slim profile just stand there and peacefully 'exist' for a few seconds. He reached up a hand, and let his long thin fingers run through his shiny dark hair to tuck it gently behind his ear on one side. It only took a second, but to me, it was in slow motion. I had to fight just to keep from gasping. And then, he turned his head to look back at me from across the room . . . another gentle smile crossing his thin kissable lips. I looked away quickly, and Summer was giggling sweetly to herself while Jason looked out of a nearby window to hide his grin.

"WHAT?" I asked, hoping that it didn't sound too accusatory.

"Nothing. Relax," Summer replied. "Geez, paranoid much?"

I was glad to let it go. But so help me, I'll KILL them both if they start teasing me about it! They shouldn't be 'watching' me anyway. They should be minding their own business. I took another short peek, and this time, Niles was the one to turn away. Was he watching me? I couldn't tell. It might have just been because the lady returned with his change. Still, it gave me a chill, you know? This shiver that seemed to affect my soul more than it did my physical form. It was like this . . . cool giddy sensation that kept me grinning without the added relief that a grin usually brings. Ugh . . . I always get like this around cute boys. It must be a defect in my hormones somewhere. I timidly asked Jason a question, attempting to appear as uncaring as possible. "So . . . is Niles a friend of yours?"

"Sorta. I just know him from playing against his school in a few games. Sometimes a few guys from his bus hang out with us after a victory. I couldn't even BEGIN to tell you why, though. But he's good people. We hung out once or twice, and he's cool. Besides, he works at the newsstand across the street. He's never been here before, so I figured I'd invite him along," Jason said. "So . . . do you like him?"

"I don't even know him," I replied.

"Well, give it a while. You will. But so FAR . . . I mean, he's pretty cool, right? He just turned sixteen a month and a half ago. He basically told me that if HE gets a car, then we ALL got a car. Really nice guy."

"Yeah . . . he seems friendly."

"VERY friendly. And he's not your average dumbass either. He's way smart. AND he can draw anime too! I've seen his stuff, it's good! Isn't that cool?"

"Sure . . . I guess." I looked at Jason sideways for a second.

"Well, I just figured that since you like anime and all that stuff, you'd dig it. You should bring that up when he comes back."

"Bring it up?" I asked.

"Yeah . . . well . . . I mean if you want to. It's your call," he said, and I could have sworn that I saw Summer give him a hidden signal to shut the hell up.

I was a bit suspicious about this whole thing, as Jason doesn't usually care one way or the other what we think of other people he's 'affiliated' with. Not to mention that he hardly ever turns down the opportunity to be the center of attention. I know Jason, and he doesn't usually just 'give' me the green light, and then simply 'chill out' in the background of a conversation. I don't know. Something about this just really felt . . . off.

"Yeah. I guess so," I said, and looked back over at Summer who was cheesing a silly grin like the joker in a deck of cards.

"S'all set," Niles announced as he came walking back to our table. He had such an awesome 'stride' when he walked. Even THAT was cute. "It shouldn't be too long now. So you better be telling me the truth about this cider, because it wasn't cheap." I was instantly drawn to him all over again, and stared at him, unable to do anything more than smile.

Just then, our eyes met . . . again, and it became obvious that our eye contact wasn't as 'accidental' as I had originally thought it was. He was definitely trying to get my attention. I began to feel uncomfortably stiff under the table, thankful that my lower half was hidden from view. It wouldn't go down. The erection swelled to its full length, and I closed my legs tight, leaning forward so I could hide my hardness from any roaming eyes in the room. But I felt awkward and clumsy, trying to look normal as my mind was wrestling with ways to calm the savage beast below. This had to stop! I distracted myself a little by talking to Summer, trying to physically wiggle my way out of feeling that intense pressure that Niles was putting on my emotions. And my heart. Wondering if he could see my sudden attraction to him. Wondering if maybe Jason let it slip that I was gay, and he was watching me to make sure I wasn't being a pervert or anything. I mean, Niles was fucking gorgeous! Gay boys must lose all control whenever he walks into a room. I'm sure he's always on the lookout for some homo to be staring at his ass. Little did he know, that it was eyes alone that had captivated me to the point of almost falling out of my chair.

We entertained some small conversations back and forth until our cider came. The waitress set them down in big mugs that almost took two hands to hold, and they were almost hot enough to burn our fingertips . . . but not quite. You could not only see the caramel in the glass, but you could see the bittersweet runoff that dribbled down the outside of the mug, and puddled on the napkin beneath it. Then there was the slowly melting mountain of whipped cream at the top. It was so tasty that you didn't mind the discomfort it took to sip the hot liquid from the edge of the glass. Jason and Summer weren't kidding . . . this was EXCELLENT! I'd enjoy it a lot more if my emotions were in working order. But I did get a slight sexual thrill out of seeing Niles continually lick the whipped cream off of his upper lip time and time again. And the tang of the cider displayed the most 'subtle' dimples in each of his cheeks. How can he possibly get any cuter?

I did what I could to get myself comfortable and stop fidgeting so much. But his every movement was like a wet dream to me. It tingled all over and made me weak from the inside out. It was a struggle to keep from withdrawing away from the rest of the group. I tried, but when you're in the presence of something like . . . like . . . HIM . . . everything you want to say comes out wrong. Even when it's right, it feels wrong. His sweet accent didn't help matters any, because it was sexy as hell. When combined with the delicate melody of his voice, it was like a weapon against every ability that I had to keep from squirming in my seat.

His tongue could just 'angle' words in the most adorable way, and even when he was talking fast, as he tended to do every now and then, you could understand every word. Or maybe I was just paying him more attention than anybody else at that table, sighing to myself at the end of his every sentence. I took as many opportunities to glance at his smooth face as I could. It sounds weird, but if I could just press my cheek up against his and hold his lithe body up against me . . . I'd be in heaven. No other boy has ever captured my hormones and shaken them up so quickly before. I used to pride myself on being intelligent and selective enough to not let a pretty face rattle me this way. But everything about him was beautiful, from his looks to his mannerisms to the way he sometimes had to tilt his head to keep the fringe of his hair from dipping into his cider. The whole package sent me spiraling down into a helpless infatuation from which there was no escape. And that made me even MORE nervous.

As our stay had reached over an hour, I felt slightly more comfortable just having Niles at the table with us. But it was only because I was getting used to talking to him as little as possible. I shared a laugh or two with him, sure, and he made sure to ask me questions directly if I got too quiet. But deep down, I knew that the only way for me to keep from becoming even MORE of a love-struck puppy over this boy was to avoid any kind of connection with his seemingly infectious personality. He just had this sweet sense of charm that radiated off of him with little to no effort at all. It shined in his eyes, it glowed in his smile, it pranced around playfully with every witty second of his almost unnatural ease with conversation. His very aura hit you from all angles. And he had the cutest laugh. I swear, you could even hear a bit of that Irish lilt in his chuckle. It was beyond adorable. The thing that really got to me, though, was the fact that his eyes were constantly gliding over to look at me the whole time. I mean, not like he was sneaking a peek or anything. It was more like he wanted me to see him. And if I ever got up enough courage to let my eyes linger on his stare for an extra second or two . . . he wasn't afraid to hold the contact. In fact, once . . . he even SMILED at me, with an almost non-existent blush in his cheeks.

At that point, I tried to take a sip of my cider and missed my mouth completely. Luckily, it was just enough to dribble out of my lips and drip down to my chin. We all got a giggle out of it, but it was Niles who was first to offer me a napkin to wipe it off. He laughed at my jokes, and was always glued to me when I spoke. It was like he really took an instant liking to me, and it only made the rubbery feeling in my lower abdomen all the worse as I wiggled some more in my seat to keep my guts from twisting up too tightly. Wow! He's really got me doing backflips here, and he doesn't even know it. Geez, I hope Jason and Summer don't see me making a fool out of myself. I think I was trying even HARDER to hide my infatuation from them than I was from Niles. They already KNEW that I was gay! And they know when I'm not being myself. Sit a cute boy in front of me, and witness any weird behavior, and the next thing I know they'll be poking fun at me from now until we're ALL 103 years old! I can't have that. So I worked up whatever mask of normality that I could, and attempted to slow down my racing heart to a speed more manageable.

"Hold on a sec . . . ," Summer said, and reached in her jacket pocket to get her ringing cell phone. "Hello? Wait, I can't hear you," she said. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back, you guys." Then she got up and left the table to go stand right outside the front door of the cafe so that she could talk on the phone.

Then, a second or two later, Jason got up and said, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back." And then he patted me on the shoulder on his way out. Leaving me there alone with Niles. Alone. And nervous beyond belief.

I think my hands were the first thing to tremble. The sudden silence was so thick that I could barely breathe. I began tearing my napkin into little shreds just to keep my fingers busy and my eyes down, but then my feet started to nervously tap on the floor beneath me. And I was SURE that Niles could hear it. I didn't even know I was doing it until the sound reached my ears. That only made me more nervous, and I had to consciously make an effort to stop. It was a chain reaction that got my stomach to flutter wickedly beyond my control. And when I peeked up into his bright blue green eyes, he smiled at me. I instantly slammed my gaze back down to the table, and my trembles got worse. I didn't know what the hell else to do or say, so I let a soft giggle escape my lips, and shrugged my shoulders timidly. Not that it had any meaning, or that I had anything to laugh about, or . . . sighhh . . . I didn't know how else to break that silence! Ok? That was all my tormented sexed up mind could come up with.

"So . . . Gabe, is it?" he said, his sweet voice tickling the whole of my insides all at once.

"Y-y-yeah?" I stuttered, clearing my throat.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"Do? What do you mean?"

"What's your thing? Everybody's got one. I figure you're hiding a little special gift or talent in there somewhere. I'm curious as to what it is."

I looked up at him briefly, and his eyes nearly paralyzed me. But I fought to look him in the eyes anyway, for the sake of not appearing terrified. And, BOY, was THAT a fight! "Oh . . . umm . . . I dunno, really. Nothing, I guess. Or . . . at least, I haven't found it yet."

"Ahh, well that can be admirable, believe me," he said, turning my lame answer into something cool. This boy was pure magic. "The ones that take their time and define themselves before their goals often have the most passion when it comes to doing what they really wanna do. So cheers to that." He raised his mug of cider, and after an awkward moment of not knowing how to respond, I raised mine as well. We clinked glasses and took a hearty sip of the cooling cider with a smile. Our eyes met again for a brief moment, and something deep in the pit of my stomach felt like it was shrinking to the size of a marble. The strange thing is . . . it felt kinda good. Almost like it tickled. And I giggled a bit to myself again. My cheeks were burning. I had to have been SO red in the face at that moment.

Attempting to return Niles' friendly conversation, I swallowed hard and asked, "So, Jason says you work at the newsstand across the street, huh?"

"Yeah. I like it. It's nothing special, just a temporary gig to keep some dollars in my pocket. But I get free snacks, I can read all the magazines I want when it's not busy, and at the end of the month, whatever they don't sell . . . I get to keep if I want to."

"Really? You get to keep 'em?"

"Sure. All we do is tear the front cover off and throw them away anyway. So anything I want, I just take home."

"Cool," I said, feeling the increase of pressure as I realized that Niles and I were actually getting . . . 'acquainted' here. With no one else around. It was like an advanced game of hackey sack, with him speaking, and me trying to speak back to him, so scared that I was going to screw up and drop the ball.

But the further the game went, the more it felt like my chest was tightening up. And shameless flirtatious grins seemed to appear on my face all by themselves, even though I didn't mean to do it. And just seeing that Niles seemed to get boyishly flustered by every one, only produced more effort on my part. Wow . . . this is so unbelievable. If Niles isn't careful with all of this charm, he's gonna end up with a hopeless gay crush on his hands. "Sooo . . . maybe I can come in and get a 'hook up' some time, then?" I smiled.

"Actually . . . . Niles leaned closer to lower his voice, and motioned for me to lean closer too. You have NO idea how freaked out I was to bring my face even closer to his than it already was. I swear, my heart was about to explode at this point. Not to mention that he had the faintest scent of almond and vanilla on the collar of his shirt, or maybe it was his hair, and it was like candy to my senses. ". . . Your friend, Jason, he really likes the nudie mags we've got in there," he whispered.

"He-he-he, are you serious?" I chuckled.

"DEAD serious! I mean, we met during the basketball games, sure. But the real reason we started talking to each other is because he can't browse through the adult section of the store. So at the end of the month, when the new mags come in, and the old ones go out . . . I make sure to go in the trash and snag him a couple. So . . . ."

"You're his 'porn' dealer!" I giggled.

"He-he-he, SHHHHH! Yeah, basically!" he told me, and while the idea of Jason jacking off to porn was almost too hot for me to imagine, the fury of Niles' gorgeous eyes held my focus, his smile making them sparkle with a fascination that defied all reason. His teeth were so white, and the apple cider and caramel on his breath was intoxicating. When he leaned back away from me, I missed the closeness we were sharing for those few seconds instantly.

"That's so wrong, it's right!" I told him bashfully, leaning back to keep my composure. Niles laughed a bit, looking over his shoulder to make sure neither Jason nor Summer were on their way back to the table or not. "I'm sure you snag a couple for yourself too, huh?"

"Snag a few what?"

"You know . . . girlie mags."

"He-he-he! Oh, nah. I don't really go for that kinda stuff." Niles grinned.

"What? C'mon . . . every heterosexual man on the planet loves girlie mags."

"Yeah . . . well, I wouldn't know," he told me with a smirk.

Silence.

I don't know how long it took for what Niles just said to 'compute'. I don't know if time had stopped completely, or just for me. All I knew was that I had suddenly found myself on the other side of that eternal silence . . . where my brain is trying to figure out if my first impression of what this boy had just said to me was real or not. I felt my smile starting to fade, and I worked to keep it up at full blast so as not to let on that anything was wrong. Or . . . I mean . . . WAS anything wrong? Maybe not. I just . . . I didn't know what to think. So I just kinda sat there, trying to find a smooth way of getting our conversation back without drawing too much attention to the fact that I just totally tripped all over myself.

"Oh . . . ," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." My smile was getting harder and harder to hold up. Not because I wasn't happy. It's just . . . everything changed in that instant. Everything. "So . . . you don't like . . . girls. Right?" I asked. DUMB question, Gabe! Jesus!

Niles blushed a bit, and shyly looked down at his hands. "I like 'em just fine. I'm just not attracted to them sexually, you know?" he said. His eyes looked up at me briefly, and it felt like my very soul had just fallen out of my body completely and left a shell sitting there at that table with him. "I'm just not one for hiding it, you know? I'll never get a boyfriend that way." Niles let his smile warm my heart from across that table, and his lips never looked so soft.

"Oh . . . ," I said.

"He-he-he, again with the 'ohs'!" Niles giggled. "C'mon, it CAN'T be all that shocking, can it?"

"No. Not at all, I just . . . it's cool." I said, and then . . . smiled. "It's . . . it's REALLY cool, actually." I didn't know what to feel. I mean, at first, I was bewildered. Then I was kinda turned on. Then I was self-conscious. Then turned on again. Then . . . confused. And after that, something strange happened. All of that emotion seemed to swirl itself up into a big ball, and it turned into this polluted mixture of being hurt and angry. All of the sudden, it turned cold, and this new emotion hit me out of nowhere. But it clicked. I got it. Jason's friend, this cafe way on the other side of town, Summer's grin, and this heartbreaking teen boy model just so HAPPENS to be gay, and meeting us on a Saturday? I was being SET UP! Goddammit! My own friends set me up! They left the table and purposely tried to push me off on this guy, like some kind of desperate farm animal that had to be mated for better production of goods! I was SO humiliated at that moment that I didn't know what to do!

My eyes were weighed back down to the table for an entirely different reason this time, and I began ripping my napkin again. Just then, Jason came back to the table. "They are playing Wilson Phillips in the bathroom. That is SO not comfortable when you're trying to take a piss!" he said, patting me on the shoulder again as he passed me to sit down. I looked over at him, and frowned slightly. He had been busted, the scheming little bastard. And when Summer came back in from outside, she got more of the same look. This was a game. It was all a game. Something for the poor little 'gay' boy to get excited about. Oh gee, thanks for the pity date, I really appreciate it, you guys.

I don't think Niles really noticed much of a change in my demeanor, but Summer and Jason could tell. I wasn't playing their game anymore. I'm insulted that they thought to make my sexuality a game at all. I was definitely ready to go, and thank goodness, I only had another twenty minutes to wait before they got the message. So we paid our check and gathered our stuff up to leave. We huddled up out in front of the cafe to say our goodbyes. I watched as Niles gave Jason a sports-like handshake, then he gave Summer a little kiss on her hand with a smile, saying that it was nice meeting her. All the while, I was kinda standing off to the side, trying not to be noticed. My insides sulked and sagged, still magnetically attracted to every lovely quality that I could and couldn't see about that boy. But I felt as though I had been shamed beyond belief. As though . . . the whole 'magic' behind this seemingly coincidental encounter had been a fluke. The fantasy was gone. It's like being told that there was no Santa Claus all over again.

After saying goodbye to the other two, I could feel Niles watching me. I looked up sheepishly, and his eyes floored me again with their brilliance. He had purposely saved me for last. Niles walked over to me, and instead of a handshake, he gave me a loving hug around the neck. Wow . . . as much as the anger and the discomfort was building up inside of me over what had happened, I practically melted in his arms. That aroma of fresh vanilla seemed to wash over me, getting caught up in the fabric of my clothes, the soft scent filling my nostrils and making me sigh out loud. My arms instinctively went to his trim waistline, and my palms laid flat on his snake like hips lightly, almost afraid to touch him too roughly. It only took me a few seconds before I let my fingers slide further back around him to touch somewhere near the small of his back, and he lightly pushed himself into my embrace. Not enough so that our privates were touching, but almost everything above the belt was.

Gosh, he was so slim, so soft, and seductively sweet. Holding him and feeling the warmth of his body heat against my chest and stomach was, like, the most erotic thing I had ever done in my life. I could feel his chin resting tenderly on my shoulder, and he gave me a delicate squeeze before letting go. The hug itself was maybe all of a few seconds, but to me, it lasted a lifetime. Then it was over, and he backed up a step or two, looking at me with those sparkling sea green specs of his.

"I enjoyed meeting you, Gabe," he said softly. "Maybe we can do this again sometime? I'm not far away if you ever want to visit." He held my gaze for a short moment, and I was forced to look down at my feet before I started to tent out my jeans.

"Um . . . k," I said, still quaking from our physical contact. I could still smell his scent on me, and one of his dark brown hairs had been left on the collar of my shirt. I could feel it lazily grazing the nape of my neck as a gentle breeze passed over us.

"Ok you guys. I'll see you later. Bye, Gabe. Come see me some time, ok?" I nodded politely, even though the fact that he addressed me directly made me wiggle in the center of my being. And then Niles waved and gave me an adorable smile as he walked away from us. My heart swelled as my lungs deflated. The very notion that ANYONE that young and cute could possibly be available to someone with my apparently 'abnormal' tastes . . . was simply unheard of. But it was true. He liked boys. And if he's not with someone already, he will be soon. I can't imagine any gay boy in the WORLD would pass up a chance to be with something that incredible. And yet, even with a harsh infatuation pumping itself into my system to the point of overdose, I had other matters to attend to. And as soon as Niles was out of sight, my grin disappeared, and my scowl returned.

"Exactly what the hell did you think you were doing?" I asked. Both Jason and Summer looked at me.

"What are you talking about?" Jason looked innocent enough, his poker face spot on. But Summer knew better than to try to dig her way out of this now.

"You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. What are you trying to do???" I said louder.

"Gabe . . . take it easy. What's the matter with you?" Summer tried to keep me calm, but I didn't even want to look at her right now.

"What's the matter? With ME??? Do I look like a complete IDIOT to you?"

"Dude, we were just trying to . . . you know . . . ." Jason was trying to find a heterosexual way of saying, 'hook you up with another queer', I'm sure. ". . . I thought you'd be into it."

"Into WHAT? What are you, my PIMP now?" I said. "I can't believe you did that."

"Did WHAT?" Summer added. "Gabe . . . he was CUTE! EXTREMELY cute! And he was totally down for meeting you today. When we told him about you, he thought it was bullshit. Like nobody could be that incredible. But honestly, I think he likes what he sees. He was, like, smiling the whole time."

"You told him I was GAY???" I said, even more shocked than before. There was a pause, and neither one of them wanted to answer first.

Then Summer wrinkled her brow, and a pained look came over her face as she said, "Well . . . ."

"Omigod, you did. You told him." I pointed a finger at them, "I told you guys that in CONFIDENCE! And you run out and tell the first person you come across?"

"Niles was NOT the first person we came across! And except for Niles, we haven't told a single soul about you being gay!" she said louder.

"Great, Summer. Shout it out in the street now, why don't ya?" I said.

"Oh, get over yourself, Gabe. We were trying to help."

"You TOLD somebody that I don't even KNOW that I'm gay. How does that help?"

"We ONLY did that because Jason already knew that HE was gay first. You came out to Jason, Jason knew about Niles, we met him and talked about getting together, and we figured we'd put you two in the same room and see what happened. That's IT! It's not like I slipped a hundred dollar bill into his pocket and tossed him a half opened condom packet, saying, 'don't bruise the face, we need it to market him later'!"

"That's not even REMOTELY funny right now, Summer," I whined. "You could have told me. Now I look like a complete asshole."

"WHY???" She protested. "Gabe, honey . . . look at me, ok?" She turned my head and held onto my shoulders. "This guy . . . he's awesome. Do you understand that? He's a total BABE!"

"He's prob . . . sighhh . . . ," I said, rolling my eyes, "He's probably got somebody already."

"He doesn't have ANYBODY, Gabe. We checked. He doesn't like your average brainless supermodel type boyfriend. He's looking for someone with substance. That's got YOUR name written all over it! Did you see the way he was looking at you all afternoon? He thinks you're CUTE! And he was having a good time!"

"Yeah. Actually, he says none of the guys he's ever been interested in have ever made him laugh. You had him giggling all afternoon," Jason added.

Summer shook me lightly. "Come on . . . he's single, he's smart, and he just . . . he's fucking HOT, you know?" But, as much as it seemed like a good idea, I think I was too stubborn to give in. "He's looking for somebody, you're looking for somebody . . . "

"Who said that I was looking for ANYBODY? I'm not lonely, ok? I'm just . . . figuring things out, and you guys are pushing me into something that I'm not even . . . I don't even know if he . . . or if I wanna . . . whatever. I didn't ask you to DO this, Summer." I was SO humiliated. Why did they have to tell him about me? What did I do today? What did I SAY to him? I was staring awfully hard. He must have known the entire time that I was checking him out. It was all flirtatious and fun before, but NOW? Now I look like some kind of lecherous weirdo. And they somehow couldn't see how setting me up like this could possibly be uncomfortable for me. I mean, here's this wonderful, gorgeous gay teen . . . and he thinks I'm some kinda desperate loser who needs to have his friends set him up on a 'play date' like a toddler. How humiliating. "God . . . could you guys be any MORE embarrassing?" I said, turning around to walk away.

"Gabe. Don't be like that," Jason called after me. "Dude, we're SORRY, alright."

"Whatever." I sulked away from them, getting ready for the long walk back home. Sighhh . . . Niles . . . PLEASE don't think that I had anything to do with this! Ugh! I'm such a dork for even BEING here!

You would think that a forty five minute walk would do a lot of good when it came to clearing your head and working your way out of a confusing state of mind. But it really didn't. It's hard to explain, but . . . I felt so incredibly disconnected from what I was really feeling inside all of the sudden. It was like . . . there was this 'itch' inside, and I couldn't get to it. Some kind of foreign emotional parasite that was working all on its own, despite my attempts to get a hold of it. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. I felt embarrassed, but hopeful. Angry, but giddy. Sad, but inspired. Does ANY of this match???

I mean, without any kind of well defined reasons for what I was feeling . . . I didn't have any way to . . . you know . . . understand what the hell was wrong with me. Maybe I'm just being stubborn. I don't know. I just . . . I want to have some kind of clear definition of what is right or wrong here. What's going to be 'cool', and what makes me look like a 'dork'. But it felt more like being kicked out of an airplane, lost in this blind freefall with nothing to grasp on to, to stop me from falling or to even slow me down. And you wanna know what's REALLY fucked up? I kinda like it.

I made sure to avoid the phone that night, as I was sure that Summer was going to do her worst to bully me into saying I was sorry for the way I acted earlier. Even though . . . I kinda did. But no need for her to rub it in right now. Not until I figure things out a little bit better. And Jason? Well, I'm sure that Jason was going to be a 'guy' about the whole thing. You know . . . just wait a day or two, show up at my back door, and we go back to being buds without ever mentioning it again. I didn't really expect him to be too concerned with the emotional act of 'making up'. Our way of making up has always been reduced to a few well-placed curse words, a painful punch in the arm, and giggling while we look for a bruise to show up. At least THAT I understood. THAT I could handle. But this situation with Niles . . . that was something different.

My mind wandered over to him every five minutes, it seemed. I couldn't get him out of my head if I tried. I probably spent ninety percent of my Saturday night staring off into space, just trying to picture his smile. I remembered every detail. And every thought was sensual, erotic even . . . but not really sexual. I just . . . I wanted to touch him. I wanted to put a hand on his soft stomach and feel him breathing. Or feel the fabric of his shirt. Or maybe take a deep sniff of his soft hair. It made me quake inside to even picture myself kissing him on the cheek. And I found myself either smiling or blushing for no reason at all, over and over again. I thought about his voice, and his accent, and the way it sounded when he said my name, and the shine in his eyes.

He knew that I was gay. He KNEW. And he was smiling at me. I mean . . . do you have any idea how MONUMENTAL that is??? To suddenly be faced with an opportunity like this after spending a majority of your waking life wondering if it's even possible to find something this amazing? Being gay, and finding a boyfriend, and having . . . .sex . . . that was something that I always wished for, but never actually CONSIDERED before. It was a fantasy. Like wishing I was infinitely rich or wanting to be a cowboy when I grew up. You never actually expect something like that to step into the realm of reality or even NEAR it.

So when it does, it scares the hell out of you. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I have to actually work to be 'worthy' of it now. I actually have to deal with the idea that . . . there really is somebody out there for me. And there's such a pleasantly helpless feeling in knowing that. God, what if I'm not good enough? PLEASE let me be good enough.

My mom could tell that something was up when I was drifting during dinner. She kinda looked over at me and saw my attention span reduced to that of a goldfish. "Is it anything you wanna talk about, hon?" she asked out of nowhere.

"Wha . . . huh?" I looked back at my plate, and realized that I had been lazily pushing the same potato piece with my fork for about five minutes now.

"You seem a bit distracted. I just thought maybe you needed an ear." She always offered, never pushed. But there was a lot of stuff that I never expected my mom to understand. And yet . . . since I was hopelessly lost on this one . . . I thought she might have more of a hint than I did.

"Well . . . ." I started playing with my food a bit more, twirling endless circles with my fork, and tried to push far enough past the initial embarrassment to speak to her about it. "I was kinda thinking about . . . something."

"Something?" she asked.

"Or . . . someone."

"Ohh . . . someONE." She smiled, and I smirked a bit too, with a blush.

"Don't make fun of me."

"Who's making FUN? I smiled. I can smile at my son, can't I?" I looked away, but she did her best to hold back her grin. "So . . . who is this 'someone' you're thinking about?"

"He's just . . . he's some guy."

"Ok . . . that helps," she said sarcastically.

"He's . . . well . . . I met him today. So . . . I don't really KNOW him, know him. But . . . I kinda know him. You know?" I said, my words twisting themselves into a knot. I kept my eyes down on my plate, trying to keep my eyes from giving away more than I wanted them too.

"Ok . . . ." She said, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep me talking, but not too much where I clammed up and let it go. "So . . . this guy . . . is he cute?"

"God yes . . . ." I sighed, almost forgetting that I was talking to my MOM here. My eyes widened, and I blushed at the table. "Sorry."

She just giggled to herself, still trying to hold her chuckles in until we talked some more. "So? Do you like this 'cute' boy?" I nodded. "Does he like you?"

"I dunno . . . maybe. I mean, he might. But, I can't really tell. Probably not though."

"Why do you think that?"

"He's kinda . . . out of my league. You know? I mean, like, seriously out of my league."

"Somehow, I don't think such a category exists for you, sport," she said. She waited for a moment or two, taking another bite of food, before working up the nerve to ask me that one particular question. That 'extra step' that we gay boys always have to go through before we can invest any real emotions into anybody who catches our eye. "So what do you think about the odds with this boy? I mean . . . he doesn't have a girlfriend or anything, does he?"

"Oh . . . no. No girlfriend. No guessing game this time. I mean . . . he's . . . he's gay like me." I started twirling my fork faster, traces of that nervous energy still lingering in my limbs from his hug earlier.

"Really?" Her smile widened considerably. I got weirded out for a moment there, because I thought she was gonna cry or something. "He told you this?"

"Yeah . . . he did." She was melting now, and I just wanted to leave it alone at that point. I don't know what it was, but this wasn't a conversation that I should have gone into with her. And yet, now that I had the chance to talk to someone about him, I couldn't stop. "Anyway, so he's on my mind. And it's just . . . it's making me nuts. That's all."

"Aww, don't take a feeling like that and brush it off of your shoulder. You should be happy. He's cute, he's gay, you like him, so . . . tell me more. You've got my attention," she said.

"There's nothing to talk about, really. I'm just thinking about him." I started to get up from the table, but she wanted more.

"Wait. Where are you going? Sit down. Talk to me."

"I just did."

"No, you gave me an excuse as to why you were staring off into space. Now I wanna hear more about this boy you're 'thinking' about. What's he like?"

"Mom . . . ." I whined. "Don't, ok? This is weird enough as it is."

"Well, what's weird about it? I think it's great that you like somebody."

"It's NOT great. It's . . . confusing," I said with a pout.

"Yes, confusion can be a part of it too. But it's a good thing. The more someone confuses you, the better. It makes love fun."

"I'm NOT in love, either. So don't start getting all emotional on me. It's not like that. He's just . . . he's . . . ," I lowered my voice, ". . . cute. That's all."

"That's how it always starts." She smiled, and I playfully rolled my eyes at her. "So, after you guys talked for a while . . . did you ask him out?"

This strange rush of mild frustration washed over me all at once. "WHAT??? NO!!! Ask him out? Geez, Mom! Why would I ask him out?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because . . . ." I said, hoping that would be enough of an excuse. "Sighhh . . . you don't understand."

"Understand what? You said he was gay, right? What could it hurt to take a shot at asking him out?"

"It's not that easy."

"It's not that hard either," she said, and I huffed a bit as I started to walk past her chair.

"Just forget it, ok?" I sulked. But she took a hold of my arm and gently pulled me close to her. "Mom . . . ."

"Stop squirming!" she giggled. "Listen, don't ever sell yourself short, ok? You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful. And any boy with a brain in his head is gonna see that when they look at you. Even more so when they talk to you. So believe me when I tell you that you can have your pick when it comes to gay boys like yourself. Even the ones you think are so 'out of your league'," she said, hugging me and giving me a loving 'shake' to keep me from pouting stubbornly to myself. The shake helped to put a sly grin back on my face, even if it was against my will. "Don't WORRY, I'm not gonna go invading your privacy or anything. But you know you can always talk to me, because I tell you the truth, right?"

She looked up at me for an answer. "Yes, Mom," I mumbled.

"Good, now give your mother a kiss and then go pout in private like you always do." She had such an affectionate way of teasing me. But she was right . . . and she did tell me the truth whenever we talked. It just seems like a bit of a stretch to think that Niles would be that easy to snatch up. The words, 'too good to be true' never applied more than they did to Niles and me being a couple. I should have talked more while we were at the cafe. I should have been more friendly, and social, and funny. I just wish I could start this day all over again, that's all.

It was kinda hard to sleep that night. I got into bed at the usual time, and I was comfortable enough. But my mind was polluted with so much . . . 'extra' stuff, you know? I kept replaying my every minute with Niles earlier, and everything seemed to be off balance somehow. I did everything wrong, didn't I? I don't know. I worry too much. But it was all I could think about, and I was restless with the thoughts of how everything SHOULD'VE gone if I had been given enough time and warning to prepare for today's little visit. There was no way I was gonna be able to sleep like this.

So I just kept my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling in deep thought until my body had no choice but to pass out from exhaustion. I'd say it all took about an hour and a half of intense dramatic reflection before I blanked out. Did I dream about him? Who knows? I never remember that stuff anyway. But if I did . . . I'm willing to bet that it was hot.

When I woke up the next morning, I heard the doorbell ringing downstairs. I hadn't even gotten out of bed yet, and I hadn't planned on doing so for another ten to fifteen minutes. But my mom called my name from the living room. "Gabe, honey? You have . . . a 'visitor'." A visitor? What the heck does she MEAN, I have a visitor? The way she said it, I almost began to have visions of a police detective coming to haul me off to jail or something. I got up, patted my hair down a bit, and put on a pair of red sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I checked the mirror for a second to make sure I wasn't TOO terribly 'sleep-ugly' . . . and then left my room to come to the bottom of the steps.

I sorta peeked around the corner to see who it was, and I saw Jason sitting on the couch while my mom brought him a Sprite. "Aww, Mom . . . it's just Jason." I said. "Sighhh . . . come on . . . ," I told him, and he stood up to follow me back to my room. The weird thing is my mom had such a weird grin pasted on her face. What the hell is THAT about?

"I wanna talk to you," Jason said, closing my bedroom door.

"About what?" I pouted. I can't say that I was really angry with him and Summer, but it still doesn't erase the fact that I feel completely mortified from yesterday's events. I slumped back down on my bed, feeling the heat still radiating from my pillow. I could SO go back to sleep right now.

"Dude, don't be difficult, ok? You KNOW that me and Summer were just trying to make things . . . I dunno . . . better for you, or whatever."

I had my eyes closed, and sighed out loud. "I know you did, Jason. Just . . . don't do it anymore, ok?"

He was quiet for a second, and he asked, "So . . . I mean, what did you think of him? Niles, I mean."

"He's fine," I said.

"Just 'fine'?" Jason moved to sit on my bed with me. "I mean . . . you thought he was cute though, right? I'm not gay or anything, but I know cute when I see it. I think he's . . . you know . . . nice looking and stuff." He paused for a second. "Girls like him a lot." He paused again, waiting for me to say something. "Guys REALLY like him . . . ."

"Can you just . . . stop, please?"

"What? Come on, you can't tell me you weren't at least a LITTLE bit attracted to him."

Finally, I answered. "Of course I was attracted to him. He's . . . he's fucking incredible," I groaned, not wanting to really show him any enthusiasm at all. When I opened my eyes, Jason was grinning at me. "And don't you DARE tell him I said that! You got it? Or Summer, for that matter! I'll totally never speak to you again."

"So . . . do you think . . . you might wanna . . . ." Before Jason could finish, there was a light tapping at the door, and my mom asked if she could come in.

She peeked her head in, and at first she had her eyes closed. Then she opened them and saw Jason and I sitting on the bed talking. She smiled and came in to bring us a small plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. "I just figured you boys might wanna snack." She walked across my room and set the plate down on the bed, and then stood there and smiled at us for a second without saying anything. What the hell is UP with her today? "Ok . . . I'll be downstairs, if you need me."

Even Jason was giving me a weird look now. "Ok, Mom . . . thanks," I said confused.

"How's your mom doing, Jason? Good?"

"Um . . . yeah, Ms. Logan. She's great," Jason answered.

"Good to hear. You make sure to tell her that I still have that new margarita recipe if she still wants to have another girl's night out sometime soon." Then my mom, with a cheesy smirk, walked back to my door and left, but came back a second later and opened my door again. "Why don't you two just . . . leave this door open a crack. Ok? Just . . . get some air in here, or something." She propped my bedroom door open and then walked back downstairs again.

Jason gave me a crazy look and said, "I think your mom has been 'taste tasting' that margarita recipe herself this morning."

"Dude, don't even ASK me what that's about. She's being . . . wacky today."

"So . . . back to what I was saying . . . ."

"Jason . . . I know what you're gonna say. And . . . forget it. I mean, Niles is way out of my league. I'm gonna embarrass myself."

"What are you talking about? Are you crazy? GO for it, all ready! What are you doing?"

"I don't even know if he's . . . like . . . 'right' for me."

"You just SAID he was fucking incredible."

"YES! Yes, he's . . . incredible, in a super gorgeous 'everybody on the planet should BE so lucky' kinda way! But . . . ."

"But WHAT?" Jason interrupted, and I sat up in my bed. "Gabe, look . . . Niles called me yesterday, and I'm TELLING you, he's like totally interested."

"Whatever."

"NOT whatever! He asked me if I was sure you didn't have a boyfriend. He didn't really come right out and say it or anything, but he brought you up like FIVE times! And he was usually smiling when he did it." I got up from the bed, this weird vibration of sudden fear surging through me like a steady current of electricity. "Gabe . . . I think he . . . you know . . . wants to ask you out or something."

The fear got worse, and I started to pace back and forth nervously. "That's ridiculous. He only met me one time. I mean . . . did he SAY that?"

"Well . . . no. Not exactly, but . . . ."

"So, if he didn't SAY that, then what makes you think he wants to ask me out? Huh? You're just guessing, right?"

"Dude, I don't think you have anything to worry about," he said. Then he looked at his watch. "Shit, I've gotta get out of here. But here . . . take this." He handed me a slip of paper, and it had Niles' phone number on it. "Give him a call sometime this week."

"JASON?!?!?!" I shouted. "Give him a call . . . what the fuck is WRONG with you??? How did you GET this???"

He gave me a strange look, wrinkling his forehead at my reaction. "He gave it to me. He thinks you're cool. He wants to meet up again at the cafe this weekend, and he wants you to call him."

"I'm NOT cool! And I'm NOT calling him!" I panicked, feeling my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to slow this whole situation down long enough for me to think.

"Suit yourself. But me and Summer are going. And Niles will definitely be expecting you to be there," Jason said, getting up to leave.

"I never said that I would be there. YOU told him that I would be there! That's YOUR fault! You just tell him I can't make it."

"You've got his number. YOU tell him," Jason told me and walked out of my room.

I chased behind him. "This isn't a JOKE, Jason! I mean it!"

"Don't worry so much. It'll be fine. Come by, we'll have apple cider, share a few laughs . . . ."

"Jason . . . ."

"BYE, Ms. Logan!" Jason shouted to my mom in the kitchen.

"Bye, Jason! Say hi to your mom for me," she said.

"You'll be great, Gabe. I promise," he said, opening the front door and trying to escape me before I could make him change his mind.

"Summer sent you here today to aggravate me, didn't she?"

But as he walked down to the sidewalk, Jason just grinned at me and said, "Nope. Actually . . . she didn't. Later."

Arrrgh! I slammed the door shut! Why did he DO this? What are they doing to me? Niles doesn't really like me, does he? I mean, LIKE ME like me? What did he say? He wants me to call him? For WHAT? FUCK! Now I'm more confused than ever!

"You ok?" my mom asked.

"No. Actually, I'm pretty far from ok. I'm about as screwed up as I can get right now without actually being committed." I sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes, and trying to suppress the terror inside just long enough to breathe again.

"I think I understand now," she said, and stood beside me. "You know, hon . . . sometimes relationships . . . they can be difficult. But, when you love someone . . . and they turn out to be a good friend too . . . you can really make things work out for the best." I opened my eyes to look at her. She was being weird again. "When you're close to someone for a long time, and those feelings grow into something more . . . it can be hard to move from one emotion to the other. There are gonna be some 'bumps' along the way . . . ."

"Huh?" I said. "What are . . . ?"

"It's ok, honey. Jason's a good boy. You two have been close ever since you met. I should have known you two were more than just friends."

WHAT??? "Oh Mom . . . NO!" I said.

"It's all right! Really. I always thought that Jason was a little bit . . . well . . . 'you know'. But hey, I understand, he's cute. I think it's sweet. And if you guys ever want to go upstairs and . . . make out . . . or whatever, I'm cool with that."

"MOM . . . !"

"But the door stays open, and your clothes stay on. I don't want you two thinking that you can just . . . ."

"Mom! Stop! Please! I'm NOT in love with Jason. This has nothing to do with Jason. I swear," I said.

"You can tell me, you know? You don't have to keep it a secret. I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"Believe me, Mom . . . if I had the good fortune of having Jason Marshall as my boyfriend, I'd run through the streets naked, shouting it out to anyone who would listen," I told her, gently rolling my eyes. "This situation is . . . .a bit more 'complicated' than that."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I wish I could. I just . . . haven't figured anything out enough to talk about it yet. I just need some time to think. Ok?" She nodded, and then pulled my head toward her to give me a kiss on the top of my head. She started to walk back to the kitchen when she heard me snicker quietly to myself. She peeked back around to see what I was laughing at.

"What?"

"He-he-he, did you really think Jason was gay?" I giggled, and she smiled with a soft blush in her cheeks.

"I didn't say that."

"Well you implied it."

"I didn't . . . what I said was . . . I thought you were going to your room to 'think'." She chuckled.

"I'm gonna go to my room and think about you letting me and Jason 'make out' on my bed. He-he-he . . . geez, Mom," I said, laughing as I ran upstairs before she could throw something at me.

While a normal school week would slowly glide by like a ten ton glacier in the Atlantic . . . the first few days of this particular week zoomed by in minutes. It jumped from Sunday to Wednesday so fast that I couldn't even blink without losing a few hours. I attempted to keep a mask of total calm on my face, even though I was literally hysterical on the inside, not knowing what the hell I was going to do about this coming weekend. What's even worse, every day that I came home from school, Niles' phone number was staring at me angrily from my desktop.

Hounding me.

Haunting me.

Silently nagging me to call him already and get it over with.

And then, after chickening out completely, I tried to go back the next day and pretend to be normal again. But trying to hold this panic down in the pit of my stomach without letting it show was about as difficult as trying to hold down an angry cat in the bathtub without getting wet. Sighhh . . . I don't think I've ever been this stressed out over some cute boy before. What am I DOING to myself? Am I going nuts or what?

Summer and Jason made sure to remind me every single day that they were going back to the cafe. They even said that they might even make a weekly habit out of it. Just for the 'four' of us. But I didn't give in. I never once let them think that I was actually gonna 'show up' on Saturday. Even when they pushed, even when they teased. I didn't care. I already made a big fool out of myself last time, and if I screwed up a second time, he'd just gonna write me off as an idiot.

You know, you would think that this kinda thing would get so much easier when you were out of the closet and actually found another gay boy to talk to. You would think that having all the signals in your favor and actually being somewhat infatuated with a gorgeous dream boy who supposedly likes you too, would be a gay teen's ultimate fantasy come true. But . . . the truth is, I don't think I've ever been more scared of anything before in my life. This was like . . . 'Armageddon' to me. I didn't know what to do, what to say, how to dress . . . I could hardly tell left from right in his presence. How in the name of Christ am I supposed to appeal to a boy who's so . . . so . . . immaculate. It wasn't so much that he was unspeakably beautiful, or that he had a wit and charm that melted your heart within ten seconds of being around him, or that he has inspired every heart bursting mind-blowing emotional orgasm that I've had since the second he came to sit at our table this past weekend. All of that was intimidating, sure . . . but more than anything I found it alluring.

It was the fact that I just . . . wasn't. I wasn't ANY of those things! At all! How the hell am I going to be 'enough' to keep him even MILDLY entertained? It's like having God Himself tell you that it's up to you to save the entire planet from certain destruction. I mean . . . what would make ANYBODY think that I had the brains or the power to DO that? I just . . . I'm not sure that I can ever be anything other than a total fuck up in his eyes. And frankly, to even dream that I could live up to his expectations the way he's already exceeded mine . . . well, it's preposterous.

But the day had come where I had to make a decision. I could either NOT call Niles, and NOT show up on Saturday. Which . . . looks like a rejection. And I'm pretty sure I don't want that. Or I could NOT call, and THEN show up on Saturday. But that's gonna make me look like an asshole when he asks me why I didn't call. Or . . . I could just . . . you know . . . call. It seemed to have the highest fear factor of them all, but the least amount of consequences for later. So, even though I was gritting my teeth and frustrated with Summer and Jason for even putting me INTO this position . . . I decided to go through with it. God . . . just THINKING about talking to that boy makes me breathless.

I just remember sitting on my bed, staring at that stupid cordless telephone in my room . . . tapping my fingers on the back of a CD case. I must have laid there for 45 minutes or more before I even got the courage to pull the phone onto my lap. And even then, there was another twenty minutes of doubt. I kept watching the clock, knowing that I'd have to call before it was too late. I just . . . I was so nervous that I could hardly sit still. I had absolutely NO idea what I was gonna say after I said 'hello'. I doubt I'd have the courage to say anything if I DID know. But I was gonna have to do this sooner or later. And I had to admit, I did wanna see him again. I just . . . would rather duck behind the bushes outside of the cafe and see him through the window without being noticed. It would be so much safer than having to 'interact' with him. Ok . . . I'm gonna try this. I'll keep it short, and to the point, and then I'll hang up. It's no big deal, right? He's just a boy. He's just a boy.

I picked up the phone, and dialed his number, which I had been staring at so much for the past few days that I practically had it memorized. Is that his handwriting? God, even his handwriting is cute. Oh SHIT! It's ringing! Don't pick up, don't pick up, don't pick up . . . .

One ring, then two, then three . . . good. Maybe he's not home. "Hello?" came a voice on the other end. His voice. That awesome angelic voice, with that twinkle of an Irish accent. "Hello?" he said again. OK . . . THIS IS TOO MUCH!!! I hung up the phone instantly, and leaned back on my bed, my heart feeling as though it were being crushed in a vice. Jesus . . . I don't believe I just called his house! STUPID!!! Arrrgh! I can't believe I just hung up on him! Ugh! I squeezed my eyes tight in self-disgust, and pounded my fists on the bed while kicking my feet. Dammit! What the hell am I DOING???

Then . . . the phone rang!

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Niles' number on the caller ID. Oh God . . . .oh God . . . .what do I do??? Well, I HAVE to pick up! He KNOWS I'm here! I should just . . . well, I could maybe . . . FUCK!

I picked up the phone, and tried to keep my voice from shaking. "H-H-Hello?"

"Gabe?" Omigod . . . it was him! Damn he sounds hot! Shhh! Ok, ok . . . stay calm.

"Niles . . . hi."

"Hey! Did you just call me?" he asked.

"Um . . . yeah. Yeah, that was me. I thought . . . I thought maybe you weren't home or something," I said, so wiggly that I had to stand up and move around to burn off some of this extra energy that was suddenly filling me up inside.

"I'm sorry. I was actually just comin' out of the shower when you called." I immediately jerked my arm and accidently dropped the phone in the empty trashcan next to the desk when he said that. I cringed from the noise, sure that he was wincing on the other end of the phone as well. "Gabe? Are you still there?"

I picked the receiver up out of the trash and hit my forehead with my palm for being so stupid. "Yeah. I'm here. Sorry. I . . . uh . . . dropped the phone." I shut my eyes again. God, that must have sounded so stupid.

"It's all right. Listen, I talked to Jason and we were thinking about going back to the cafe this weekend. I thought . . . well I wanted to know if you were gonna join us again." The way he asked was so . . . 'normal'. But it had a cute little hint of bashfulness to it, and I suddenly found myself getting hard just hearing it. Not from any sexual stimulation or dirty thoughts . . . I think it was just on excitement alone.

"I . . . I thought . . . I might. Well . . . I probably will . . . drop by, or something. You know . . . for a little while." I was trying to speak while my whole body was going haywire. My tongue felt like it was twice its normal size, making it hard to articulate much of anything. And my lungs felt like they both had twenty pound weights tied to them.

"Aww, just for a little while? I kinda liked talking to you last weekend."

"Yeah?" I said, my hands trembling.

"Yeah. You make me laugh. I had a good time." I was breathing so shallow that I thought I was gonna lose consciousness any second. "I look forward to spending some more time with you. It'll be fun."

"Y-y-yeah . . . fun."

"Wicked!" he said, and I sat down on my bed for a second, until my legs started shaking and I had to stand up again to pace some more. "So, Gabe . . . is this your home number? Can I call you here if I need to?"

"Um . . . uhhh . . . yeah. This is . . . my bedroom . . . phone."

"Great. I'm writing it down now. I want to talk to you some more," he said, and I sat down in a chair for a few seconds more. Then that jittery sensation got to be too much and I had to stand up again. "So, how are you? We didn't get much chance to really talk the last time. Well, 'alone' I mean."

"Alone . . . ?" I whispered meekly.

"I wanna know more about you, Gabe. I hope you don't mind, but I kinda pushed Jason to giving you my number. I'm really happy that you called." I felt my stomach quivering, and tried to continue pacing as my knees went weak, and I had to use my free hand to reach out to the wall and hold myself up. I have never felt this way in my life. And he was making it so much worse. I didn't think I could handle this. My body was fluttering with a thousand butterflies at once. Not just in my stomach, but madly flapping their soft wings under my skin. In my arms, my legs, my neck, my chest. I was nearly choking on infatuation at this point.

"Maybe later! You know what, I've gotta go!" I said out loud in some kind of bizarre outburst that I wasn't really expecting to take hold of me that quickly.

"You've got to run?" he said, his accent making me so wiggly inside that I nearly folded in half. "Now?"

"Yes! I've got . . . a TON of stuff to do! And . . . and . . . well, just a ton of stuff. So I'll . . . see you this weekend, right?" It was like my mouth was running on some kind of adrenaline packed rocket fuel, and I couldn't stop myself.

"Oh . . . well, sure. This weekend then. I guess we can catch up then," he said softly. So softly. His voice was like wrapping yourself up in silk, and it gave me goosebumps. It was so sexy that I felt like I wanted to cry. None of my emotions made any SENSE at that moment. It was like a hundred different emotions all crashing into each other at once. "Well, I hope to see you soon." He said.

"Sure . . . soon. Great! I love it! This weekend! See you later, BYE!"

"Bye . . . ." But I barely heard him as I swiftly hung up the phone and slammed myself down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as I tried to catch my breath!

"Shit . . . .shit . . . .omigod . . . .wow . . . ." I whispered to myself, panting out loud. I was literally making myself dizzy from breathing so hard. I let the phone drop off of my stomach and it fell over the side of the bed, hitting the floor. I reached both of my hands up to my face to hold my cheeks together as my smile threatened to split my head open! Ok . . . ok . . . so I sounded like a big dork, and I TOTALLY freaked out in the end . . . but I TALKED to him! I really TALKED to him! And he wants to talk to me some more! And he wants us to . . . 'catch up' on stuff. My God . . . what is this FEELING inside of me right now??? It's like . . . shaking me to pieces! I heard myself giggle a bit, and had to cover my mouth to stop. I rolled over on my side, feeling my whole body tingle from head to toe, and buried my face in my pillow. Then . . . as if I couldn't help myself . . . I screamed into it! I laughed at the sheer 'goofiness; of it, but to hell with all that! I just got off of the phone with the more gorgeous gay boy in the WORLD!!! And he wants to see me!!! AHHHHH!!!!! I've gotta find myself something to wear!

"Gabe? Are you ok?" My mom knocked, but didn't open the door. "I heard a scream . . . ."

"I'm great, Mom. I'm . . . I'm great. He-he-he!" I sighed to myself. I couldn't have dimmed my smile even if I wanted to. I wondered if any of this would be possible if I hadn't told Jason I was gay. Or if I hadn't told Summer. Or my mom. I wondered what might have happened if I hadn't gone to the cafe that afternoon, or if I had chickened out at the last minute. I don't know, my mind was so out of focus on so many things at once that it hardly made a difference. All I knew was that I've got a weekend date with a HOTTIE!!! He-he-he, and . . . I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself when I get there, but I'm gonna take that first step towards being . . . 'with' somebody. Somebody who's . . . interested.

As I laid there on my back, grinning like an insane asylum's 'least likely to be released' patient, I felt a lot of that weird confusion melt away. I almost became ANXIOUS to see Niles again. Anxious to talk to him, anxious to hold him, anxious to maybe even . . . sighhhh . . . but I guess that's the part of the process I can save for another day. Right now? I just wanna 'float' for a little while.

Yeah . . . I'm just gonna 'float' for now.

The End

Author Bio

Comicality has been a member on GayAuthors since the very early days, all the way back in 2003. A Hosted Author, he's insanely popular with his own affiliated website, The Shack Out Back. A prolific author with millions of words of fiction to his name spanning multiple genres, Comicality has much to offer to his fans.

Return to Table of Contents

Just Say It

by Vivian Valenti
God damn it!

God dammed suitcase stuck in the god dammed overhead compartment! My freaking elbow is killing me because some idiot wasn't watching where they were going and bashed into it with their suitcase, you know, the one they managed to get out of the overhead compartment with no trouble at all, and...

Damn it, calm down. Just... calm down....

Take a deep breath Christian, seriously. Alex is out there waiting for you, to meet you, face to face for the first time, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to meet you like this.

It's funny how anxiety, nervousness, has a way of making every task seem a million times more difficult. Every feeling is magnified with apprehension; your heart feels like it's beating so hard and so fast that it's going to pump right out of your chest any second, and that's only if you can manage to not throw up before that happens.

Tension is slightly different and only slightly higher on the scale of uncomfortable feelings. Tension involves a tightness, a firm hold on your feelings, your emotions, working so hard, not letting your overactive mind and its vast amount of thoughts terrify you from doing anything at all. Immobility and indecision caused by the tight grip teeters back and forth between your head and your heart waiting for clarity to win out, hopefully before it's too late.

Clarity, and Alex McDermott, were standing somewhere out in that airport waiting for me to emerge from this airborne beast I had just spent the last five hours on, and while that thought obviously scared the hell out of me, it wasn't like a paralyzing, terrifying fear but more like an anxious, jittery feeling that left you with that permanent grin on your face, highlighting your perfectly blushing cheeks and leaving you breathless. I really couldn't figure out why I was so nervous; I mean it was a big deal getting to finally see Alex and look at him, face to face, instead of through some picture on some computer screen, but... this was Alex.

My friend Alex, my exciting, beautiful, amazing, intelligent, creative, funny, witty, loving friend Alex, with his brown hair that he kept cut short because he hated the way it would curl if he let it get too long and his chestnut eyes. They had those golden specks that seemed to float on the surface of that rich brown background, and his smile that would change depending on what mood he was in. It would go from sly, to one that looked like he was imagining something fantastic, to dreamy, but I think my favorite one was the one that he would get when he was excited, hopeful about something.

The one that I saw first when I finally managed to get my god damn suitcase out of the uncooperative overhead compartment and get my shit together just long enough to get my sorry ass off the plane and go find him, but I'm jumping ahead of myself here. It wasn't always this way, or maybe it was, I guess it depends how you look at it or which one of us you ask.

I met Alex one day in a chat that I was in, and while that wasn't anything spectacular or out of the ordinary, the rollercoaster my emotions went on over the next few months as I talked more and more with him was enough to thoroughly confuse and frustrate me to a point of what some might say could be classified as juvenile, or even pitiful, behavior. I can admit it now; I was an asshole a lot of the time, and I was lucky that he stuck it out and gave me enough space and room to explore to come to terms with my feelings and to not hold my past offenses over my head.

Maybe it was jealousy or envy, maybe it was my need to compete, or the way I hate to be wrong, but there was something so completely perfect about him from that very first day, from that very first conversation. He was just so secure, so sure of himself, so confident about everything, and I don't just mean the way he was always right about everything but the way people surrounded themselves around him, almost in an effort to absorb some of that magic he had.

He wasn't cocky about it ever, he wasn't overbearing or demanding. If you didn't agree with him, that was fine; all he really wanted was some space to believe in what he did and to give you that same chance to believe too. I'm not gonna say that he didn't love a good debate because the man was definitely a force to be reckoned with, but he was always so respectful of a few simple facts that you couldn't ever imagine him being anything other than the amazing man he was.

I can still remember the first fight we ever had. It's pretty funny now when I look back, but if you can imagine me cussing out my own computer because I was so pissed that he was so calm you'd have a small understanding of the affect he has on me. It's not even the fact that he was right... again, and I was so wrong, but the fact that he was so calm while I was thoroughly frustrated and working so hard to make him show even the tiniest bit of emotion.

I would have been so... I don't know, gratified maybe... to see him get frustrated too, angry, hurt, something, but it's like the man was untouchable. He was just so calm and collected, unaffected really, and I think at some point I realized that I wanted more attention than I was getting from him and so, I did anything I could to get it, good, bad, or indifferent. I was like that child that fought and argued and exhausted every possibility before finally giving up.

I had nothing left to give, not one insult, not one taunt or tease, no fight left in me at all, and that feeling is beyond words. Helpless, unable to be effective in your own life, it's something I never want to feel again. I became withdrawn, I stopped showing up to chat every day, and when he was there, I said very little. I just couldn't understand why I wasn't enough, why he didn't feel anything at all when it came to me. I mean if he at least felt some frustration or anger or anything at all that meant there were some feelings there, all I had to do was figure out how to change them, but no feelings at all... that's a whole different matter, one that left me cold.

One day after I hadn't been to chat in a week at least, I got an email from him, wondering where I was and what was going on, why I hadn't been around lately. He said he missed me picking fights with him and being my arrogant and difficult self. I smiled all day, which I know sounds fucked up since the guy had pretty much just insulted me, but he emailed me—he missed me—he took his free time to seek me out and that meant so much to me.

Hey Chris,

He called me Chris; he knew I hated it. I think that's why he does it, but I guess if it was him I could deal with it, but then, he probably knew that too.

Where the hell have you been man? Things aren't the same around here without you always picking some fight or acting like you know everything so get your pain in the ass self back here. Besides... when you're gone, I don't have anyone to piss off.

Alex

PS. I hope everything's okay Christian, I miss ya....

I wanted to be stubborn, to ignore him and his email, to not totally give myself away and reply too quickly, but in the end I just couldn't. My heart wouldn't let me be obstinate and my mind wouldn't let me forget, and the smile that had appeared and then never once faltered was staring back at me, and I had to try. I had to. I didn't want to make excuses, but I had to say something; I had to give him some reason as to why I had been absent, why I had run and hid, why I was gone. I had been sitting there for months, day after day, trying to get some sort of response, acknowledgment from him, that I was something more to him than... nothing.

There were so many things I could say, and so many things I wanted to say, but I didn't know where to begin. I guess the truth would be a good place. After all, what did I have to lose? I already was hiding from him; I already didn't have his affections. I was already alone.

Alex,

I've been sitting here, thinking, even more so since I got your email. I can't get you off of my mind. I've tried my best to be strong; I've driven myself insane wishing I could tell you what's really going on. The thing is, I don't think I know where to start anymore. It's all like some crazy extension of my reality, and I don't know how to explain it to you.

Things are... okay, but if it's any consolation, I miss you too, more than you'll ever understand.

Christian

It was a cryptic message I know, and it didn't say much at all really that would be helpful or informative, but it was all I could bring myself to say to him at the moment. I didn't want him worrying, I didn't want to ignore him, but I didn't want him thinking everything was fine either, because it was far from it.

I was a total mess. It was like this torturous experience living each day and not being able to tell him how I really felt about him, and when it got so bad, I ran. I was scared and hurting and close to giving up, and I was so... alone and frustrated. It's not like I hid who I was from people. I may not broadcast it or walk around in a shirt that says 'I'm gay' or anything, but I've never hid it from anyone. If they asked me, I would always answer honestly.

Some people play the pronoun game, you know... I have this friend, or I'm seeing someone, or the other day we went out and that works for some people I guess but not for me. Alex and I had even danced around the topic a couple times, but he never came right out and asked me, and I never confirmed it.

He replied....

Christian,

It seems like it's been so long since we talked... really talked, about anything. Since you stopped coming around so much I feel like I just hang around waiting for you to show up; it's like you're hiding from me, and I don't know why. Did I say something to make you leave? I mean, you were acting so strange, always saying something dumb; sometimes you seemed so mad, and I never really understood why. I wish you would just talk to me, tell me what the deal is. I mean, if there was something I could do, I would do it. It seems like time passes so slowly when you aren't around, and I need you here with me. Please... give me a chance... tell me what's going on with you Chris.

Missing you,

Alex

Of course I'm acting strange! Of course I'm mad! Of course I'm saying totally dumb and irrational things and making pathetic attempts to get his attention. What does he expect me to do? Just come right out and say that I think he is the most frustratingly perfect man I've ever met, and I can't imagine him not being a part of my existence? Does he really expect me to tell him that I can't go more than a few minutes without thinking about him, or that I want to know everything about him, even the silly little things like whether he prefers air popped popcorn or microwaved?

This situation had rapidly become something that was forcing me into a corner. It was all or nothing and while 'all' would be beyond amazing, I didn't know how I would deal with nothing. Even the current situation seemed better than 'nothing' would be, but what do I do? What can I do, if I tell him the truth—the whole truth—and then he runs, or tells me to fuck off, or worse... What if he's straight?

Damn!

Dear Alex,

I really don't know what to say anymore... well, that's not exactly true. I do know what needs to be said; I just don't know if I can say it. It seems crazy to me that I'm having so much trouble this time, I mean, it's not like I haven't said before, a million times... but this time... It seems a million times harder. Maybe that means it really should be said, I don't know. I want to stop my suffering, but I guess the problem is that I can't decide if saying this to you would stop it or just create more. Maybe it's something I need to walk away from....

Christian

Why couldn't I just say it? It'd never been this hard before, then again, everyone I cared about was already so accepting and I figured everyone else could just fuck off if they didn't like it, but this time... damn! I guess that just further proves my point which is that I though I loved him and if he couldn't love me back I might just cease to exist. The pain of that moment; I'm sure it would do some amount of lasting and irreparable damage that I couldn't even begin to comprehend right then.

Even clicking send to deliver another not so informative message to Alex caused a battle in my mind. How could I make this so difficult when it really should be so simple? I learned that lesson a long time ago. Live for yourself, be yourself, and anyone who doesn't want to be a part of your life has that choice.

Chris,

Just say it...

Alex

Nothing like short and to the point. No way to evade that statement or misinterpret it, was there? It was going to come out sooner or later, or... I guess I was, but... in an email? If I was gonna do this with Alex, it was going to be while I could hear his voice, hear the feeling behind his words. Good or bad, I wanted to hear it for myself. There was no other way that would even be acceptable... So, after much deliberation, I called him. Really, that's an understatement. It wasn't a deliberation... it was a pity party and a temper tantrum and a freak out session like no other.

I can still remember every word of that conversation in my head, every emotion in his voice, every thought and fear in my mind. How do you go about telling someone you think you could be in love with that you're gay, and on top of that, you're hoping with all your heart that they feel the same way, which, how could they since they don't even know you're gay anyway? I think I made myself dizzy contemplating all the possibilities. Then again, how many ways are there to tell someone you like dick... and it's even simpler for him to tell you to fuck off or worse.

No one said it would be easy, I knew that, although it gets easier the more you do it—or so I thought—until Alex came along and turned my life upside down and my heart inside out. I don't think anything could ever prepare you for that, and when it happens, it hits you like nothing else ever has. You have no defenses; no chance to run. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even know if given the chance I would run, even if I could. All I knew was... This was Alex; and I was pretty sure this was love.

He made me feel funny, in a great way, he made me feel happy and frustrated and he knew what buttons to push and how to get just the reaction he wanted from me. He made my head spin sometimes; he knew things about me, not facts so much, but details about my personality and how my brain managed to barely function at times.

I'm surprised the guy I was sitting next to on the plane didn't reach over and smack me. I couldn't seem to sit still; I kept tapping my feet, and I swear I was clinging for dear life to my backpack that was on my lap. It was the longest five hours I think I've ever spent, and the little old lady to my right was talking nonstop about her trip to go see her great grand babies for the first time, I think. I couldn't really concentrate on anything for more than a second anyway, so I just started nodding.

All of that seemed to melt away though as soon as I stepped into the airport and saw him standing there, waiting for me, and wearing that excited, hopeful smile. There he was... Alex in his black jacket with his tight fitting ribbed shirt underneath and his even tighter jeans. His brown hair was cut a little longer and spiked up in the front and his eyes, once they spotted me, lit up. I saw him deciding whether or not to run over and jump on me or play it cool and wait for me to get to him and for us to be somewhere more private.

I didn't care, privacy or not... I was going to hug him and smell him and feel his body against mine, chest to chest, his arms around me, holding me close. We had talked on the phone almost every day since that day, since that first phone call, and we had exchanged pictures and sent gifts, but this was different. I mean, it was Alex, but in the flesh. Real and close enough to touch, to grab onto and never let go, to nuzzle into, to inhale and just breathe him in and make him truly a part of me.

I had imagined this moment more than a million times, even before I told him I was gay, even before he replied, "Yeah, I know." Before he said, "Me too," and before I couldn't stop smiling for at least a whole week. Before I finally was able to admit to him that maybe I was being ridiculous and juvenile because I didn't know how to act while feeling the way I was feeling, or that what I was feeling was love, but now, as I walked toward him as he stood there in the crowded airport with his hands shoved in his pockets and a shy smirk on his beautiful face, I knew my imagination was lacking.

Totally and completely lacking, from the way his arms wrapped strongly around my neck to the way his hips bumped mine unexpectedly. We both groaned out loud and then giggled to the way that our legs so easily slipped between the others' to get all that much closer. He smelled fantastic, clean and fresh and manly, just showered and his hair was still damp against my cheek. His back was warm and strong as my hands slipped up underneath the back of his jacket and I just held him there in the middle of the airport in a little world of our own.

I had underestimated it in every way. My heart felt fuller than it ever had before and this was just the beginning of the week that I had planned to visit Alex. Who knew how I would feel in a few hours or tomorrow or the day after or in a week, but what I did know was this was real. The man in my arms was real, and I loved him, and as he squeezed my neck even tighter he whispered, "I can't believe you're finally here Chris. God, I love you."

The End

Author Bio

A member of GayAuthors since 2005, Vivian Valenti is a popular Hosted Author with over 50 stories to her credit. They're masterful tales of personal interaction and complex relationships, stories that will move you, lift you up, and push you to the very crest of an emotional precipice, reminding you what's important in life. You can find her stories and discussion forum at GayAuthors.

Return to Table of Contents

Oidche Shamhna

by Lugh

Tomorrow is All Hallow's Eve—my last day to live. I'm not really sure why I'm writing this down, except that I want someone to know me for me, not for what I am to become, not for what I am to do, but for the life I have lived to get here.

Some would say my story began nearly a year ago, when, by virtue of a simple metamorphic flaw in a chunk of randomly chosen fieldstone, I became Devoted. Any of my friends could have chosen that stone, but they had not, and I had. Although I think they were more shocked than I was when we discovered the stone had cracked from the heat of the All Hallow's Eve bonfire. That bonfire had blazed hot and high that night to frighten away the boogies and other creatures of the night, hot enough to crack stone.

I believe my story began long before the inferno vaporized the trapped water causing it to expand and end my life... for I am Winterborn. My natal day is the Winter Solstice, an inauspicious day indeed to be born. Souls enshrouded in flesh that day hang in the balance between light and dark. While the gods fight to determine if the sun will rise in the east, parents are unknowing if the wildlings have touched the soul of the newly born, even if wardings have been placed and prayers prayed, there is still suspicion to be found in the Winterborn.

According to long held family tradition, my mother called me Sacrifice when my father refused me his name. He blessed me instead with the name Winter, in hopes that my ill-fortune would not also be theirs. As a small child I knew hardships but no more or no less than my peers. At least that is the way it seemed to me, and since this is my story, that is how I choose to have it remembered. As I grew, I learned that my name was not the only thing different about me. I could see things. Things no one else saw. When I mentioned this to my best friend, Bran, he told the priest who dunked me in holy water, prayed over me, blessed me, and finally cursed me when I would not refute the things I saw. How could I deny the grass was green or the sky blue? It would have been the same, although they did not agree.

I entered my pubescent years cursed. While my friends were taking communion, I was forbidden. Forbidden to taste the flesh of the Christ. Forbidden to drink of his blood. Forbidden to enter the realm beyond death where He shall reign. Cast out. I could sympathize with the Angels who Fell with Lucifer on that fateful day and wondered if they were Winterborn, like me.

While my friends attended Mass, I walked the hills and discovered things they will never experience. Simple things such as the reflection of dawn in a single drop of dew on the brink of falling, the pre-dawn caroling of the avian host heralding in a new day, the wobbly first steps of a newborn fawn still wet from its birthing waters. In these things, I saw god. In these things, I placed my faith, faith everlasting, faith ever-enduring. For these things, I would cease to exist. Yet, because of them, I would live on.

As I grew, I felt the call of the seasons in my loins.

On Beltane, my consecrated friends frolicked like the heathens they had been born, and I stood over them as their green-man. Except by this time I knew I did not want to chase the Lady-fair. My eyes wandered to the sweaty torsos of the men dancing wild in the night and to the lithe bodies of the others who came from the forest to join in our celebration. Ah, the others, those that I never saw in the blue grass with the green sky behind them, with their long manes and slanted eyes and alabaster skin. The others who took girls into the forest and lay with them ensuring there would be babes on the teat by Imbolic. Children of light and wonder, with forest-green eyes and spun-sunshine for hair. How I lusted after the others as I chased the Lady-fair. How I wanted them to take me into the forest and impale me upon their thick shafts causing me to bless my cursed nature. These were the images that danced across my mind as I seeded the earth in honor of the Lord and Lady of May. These are the images I will carry with me to my pyre of bone and wood.

This last season—the summer of my youth—passed as a thief in the night and now, on the eve of my death, I smile, content in the knowledge that I will pass from this world and not leave it unchanged. Perversely I sat and watched as the innocent gathered wood for my pyre, and I saw them watching me. The more pious of those participating in this pagan festival crossed themselves as I looked on. Those more in tune with the world around them made wardings similar to those to keep evil away and frowned when I laughed. Evil. Me? Cursed, yes, but evil? I am no more evil than the hollowed out turnips the goodwives carve to carry home their ember from the bonfire. No more evil than the costumes the children will wear to keep the boogies from seeing them as they frolic in the dark. No more evil than the tricks my peers will pull on the grown-ups between dusk and dawn. No more evil... than life itself, which I have lived to its fullest in the summer of my youth. But now it is gone with the dawn, and I face the knowledge that I have seen my last star rise, my last harvest moon, my last dawn—as the creeping fingers of the morning star creep along the edge of the earth. The gods have prevailed again over the evil creatures of the night and a new day begins.

This past year I have lived in a home of my own. The home each Devoted lives in until the day of their passing. When I took possession of it a year ago tomorrow, the small stone and split log structure had not been occupied for a generation. When I leave it tonight, another generation shall pass before it will be occupied again. I hope those of my generation remember me well, as my sacrifice is my gift to them. I go willingly, with my eyes open and my head held high. Some will say this is my darkest hour, but I see it differently. This is the moment for which I was born in the still of the night on the darkest of days—this moment—where I hold my faith in a god who does not know me, and I live up to the name with which my mother blessed me. I do it, not for me, but for those who will follow.

I stand in the sunlight and feel its warmth on my flesh knowing I will never grow cold again. The ice Winter placed in my veins will soon boil and I, like my stone, will burst open, cracked, flawed. I lean my head back and listen as the angels call my name... Sacrifice, Winterborn.

The End

Author Bio

Lugh

loo - noun

[1] an adult humanoid who lives on the east coast of Turtle Island with its spawn, two doggerals, and a pair of felinish creatures. It can most commonly be found haunting the internet, most especially the chat room of gayauthors.org, or tip-tapping on the keyboard which is permanently attached to the lazy boy chair arm

[2] hunter of plot slugs

[3] muse-slayer extraordinaire

[4] primary consumer of books and tea

[5] to trap -- lure with chocolate covered men

Return to Table of Contents

I Wish

By Starry Night

I have never told my story to anyone.

Maybe now is the time to let it out.

I wish someone would listen

I met him at a Halloween party. This silly, gay-lesbian, costume party my friend Chloe always used to throw each year. We all knew her real goal was to spend a night with her girlfriend without raising her parent's suspicions, but we came anyway. It was harmless fun. A friend brought a friend, and the party grew to quite large proportions, but as the night died out, only seven of us were left.

His name was Brad. It turned out Chloe knew him from her support group, though he no longer needed support. He was now one of the guys running it. I still remember the way he hypnotized me the first time I laid eyes upon him. His soft blond hair rested on his smooth beautiful cheeks. I wish I could feel it now.

He was sitting on the couch next to me now, and joined the debate on who has an easier life—gays or lesbians. All through it, I could feel his shoulder rubbing against mine. I couldn't get what was so special about him. What was it about him that drew me in like no other man could? But there was something. Something unseen to the naked eye, something that pulled me in so deep I didn't know how I would escape.

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and all those of us that still wore their Halloween masks took them off to eat. I only ate one slice. I wasn't really hungry. After finishing the pizza, we went to Chloe's fully equipped home theater. Some people are just so stinkin' rich. It was this huge room with a giant screen and the biggest, best sound system money could buy.

Have you ever talked to someone just by looking at him? When we went in, I couldn't help but stare into his eyes. His were the color of honey, like his hair. I wish I could stare at them now.

He stared back at me, and I could sense something in his gaze. It appeared he sensed the same thing in me. I never had such an experience. We would have kept at it, but one of my friends told me to sit on one of the fancy leather sofas that lined the room. Brad sat next to me without saying a word.

I can't even remember what the movie was about. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't stop thinking about him! Even his smell drove me mad. I know today my feelings back then were not one sided.

In the middle of the movie, I experienced one of the best things I ever felt in my life. When you see someone you desire, what is it that comes into your mind? Sex? Not with me. I'm not saying sex isn't awesome, but to me, the most important thing is the warmth and love I get from a man. The hugs, the soft kisses. Knowing he is there for you, thinking about you. During the movie, I didn't ponder how it would be to tear his clothes off. I pondered how it would be to gently stroke his hand

And then it happened. To some of you it might sound meaningless, but to me – it was everything. In the middle of the movie, he turned to stare at me with his sweet, honey eyes, and put his hand atop of mine. It's amazing how much can be said by one small gesture, without using any words.

After the movie, everybody retired to one of the guest bedrooms in the huge mansion. We both went to mine.

We talked all night. I will never forget it. Things just seemed to flow perfectly. Not one awkward pause found its way to our conversation. It was like God sent me my own personal angel.

At one point, I remember stroking his hair, telling him how soft it was. He took my hand then and told me again how he loved my touch. I never felt so important, so loved. I cannot describe it to you. I only hope you have felt it yourself at some point, and if not, will feel it someday.

We talked 'til our eyes would not stay open, and then we talked some more with our eyes closed. We feel asleep eventually, his head on my chest. I didn't think it could get better than that. I wish I could feel that way now . . . .

The next day, he told me he was going abroad with his aunt, but would be back in a week. We made a date to meet then at my house. I didn't know what to think, how to feel. I didn't think I could let him go for a whole week. What if he'll feel differently when he comes back? I mean, how could the day before possibly be topped? It couldn't . . . right? I didn't think I would get that "warmth" again. I thank God everyday for giving me one of his angels to hold me when I'm cold.

He did come back a week later. I could not stop thinking about him. All week I was terrified it was not going to work out, that we would not fit together anymore, that he wouldn't want me anymore. I wasn't usually so insecure, but something about him just released some hidden things inside me I didn't know existed.

It was evening, I still remember. I heard him come in the front door. I was in my room, trying to calm myself down. My hands were shaking; my legs were shaking. I couldn't think.

Pathetic? No? I don't know. But I don't want to conceal any facts from you. I'll let you decide if it was pathetic, or just love.

He knocked on my bedroom door, and I leaped to my feet. I opened it, and there he was, with his soft, beautiful hair, his amazing face, and those eyes you just wanna jump and swim in. He shut the door behind him, and without saying a word, he brought me into the tightest of hugs, and I didn't want to ever let him go. I wish I could hug him now . . . . We stayed that way for a few minutes. He told me how much he missed me, thought about me, dreamed about me. I felt my heart come to life with the most wonderful tickle.

That night he told me loved me. That night he told me he never felt this way towards anyone before. That night he held me in his arms and kissed me softly. That night he told me he was HIV positive.

Did you see that coming? I sure didn't. AIDS? Someone I know is HIV positive?

Brad?! This couldn't be happening. It was just too surreal. But it did happen.

We talked about it all night. He was not the kind of guy that slept around a lot, but as you know, it only takes once. His parents threw him out of the house and had disowned him. The only person in his family willing to take care of him was his aunt, who took him in.

You tell me—could these people even be called parents?! If any of you are in a similar experience, I would like to stop here to tell you how sorry I am. I know how sorry I was for him. But I also know how much my love for him grew then. If you are in that same dark place, never give up. Never quit trying to find the people who'll love you and accept you just the way you are.

We slept in each other's arms all night. He cried a lot, but I didn't mind getting my shirt wet. Not with his tears. I told him I would never leave him, that nothing would ever drive me away. Nothing. I didn't think I needed to stay away from him because he was a carrier. On the contrary, I felt I could give him more of myself, now that I knew how much he needed it.

It's those that are less fortunate than we are that need our love and support the most, yet it is those that we usually disregard and leave behind us. Those who do not fit the 'norm'.

Even gays, who themselves do not fit the 'norms' of society, tend to expel from their ranks anyone who does not fit their ideas of wealth, health or beauty. This is the way of most humans. Group the equals and throw away the different.

I decided that from that moment on, I would not be leaving his side. I decided I would stick by him for all eternity. I wish I was with him now . . . .

A year later, we both finished high school. We rented ourselves a small apartment with the help of my parents. All through our relationship, I felt bad about letting him see the good connection I had with my parents, after his threw him—their only son—out of the house, sick, like food that had gone bad. I was so mad at them. I told him to forget about them, but I knew he never would. How could he? Parents are parents, even those who do not deserve the title.

Living together was amazing. We never got bored with one another, and we tried to spend every free moment together. Talking to each other. Hugging each other. Kissing each other. Loving each other. I wish we could do that today . . . .

Have you ever felt like you could not possibly live without someone? I'm talking about people besides your family. This was another topic I was reluctant to discuss with him – it seemed his parents lived just fine without him. Selfish jerks! This is how I felt with him. I wish each and every one of you will get to experience that feeling. I don't think I'll ever get it again, not in this lifetime. Not until God will send me back my angel.

I think that at some point we simply became one. We were so in tune with each other's feelings and desires. And then things stopped being so good.

I still talk to him every night, with my angel. I know he can hear me, and you know what? Sometimes I think I can hear him too. This kind of love cannot simply go away.

His parents came to the funeral. What hypocrites! But I didn't want to make a scene. This was my time to say goodbye. I stayed there long after everybody else left. I stayed and cried. Cried over the angel God sent me and then decided he wanted back.

Today I cry no more.

Today I like to think he is happy and that makes me happy.

And still . . . I wish he was here with me.

I wish I could talk to him and tell him everything is going to be all right.

I wish I could hug him and never let him go.

I wish I could stroke his beautiful hair just one more time.

I wish . . . .

The End

Author Bio

Writing is merely a hobby of mine, and one which I have not had time to engage in for quite some time due to other pursuits. I wrote "I wish" quite a long time ago, almost a decade if my memory is correct, for a local LGBT newspaper. I was actually quite surprised it was so well received. Hope you enjoy it as well :-)

Return to Table of Contents

All I Wanted

by Vivian Valenti
Okay so I can admit it, I'm a freak. It's official, and I say that only because it's true. Sitting here, waiting for the doorbell to ring again, or to hear some low knock on our heavy wooden door from some costumed children, accompanied by some less than enthusiastic adults who are constantly reminding their kids to say thank you, I had managed to separate all the candy bars in the bowl I held in my lap, by flavor. I mean what kind of head case does that? Me, that's who... and what's worse, I couldn't even decide which one I wanted to eat. What the hell is wrong with me that I can't even choose a piece of candy on Halloween?

I don't know, maybe I was just pissed off that I was stuck here at home on Halloween night, passing out candy to all the neighborhood kids, while my mom took my little brother trick-or-treating. Then again, it's not like I was Mr. Popular at school, and I had all sorts of invitations to choose from. In fact, I hadn't been invited anywhere... not to one party, not to hang out with anyone... nothing, I mean, even Ben was going to a party... with a girl no less. Ben! And here I was, sitting on my couch, alone, on Halloween night passing out candy and feeling so sorry for myself that I couldn't even choose a piece for myself to try and sweeten my mood.

Ben was my best friend, had been since we met in the seventh grade. All these years later, we were juniors and were driving and had sort of made our way through those crappy beginning years of high school and found our niche, although, I'll admit, Ben's niche seemed to come with better parties and more girls, not that I was at all interested in those ... girls that is. Ben was though, and he partied a lot. I was always invited along, and even actually went most of the time too, except tonight when I was stuck at home passing out this bowl of candy for my mom while Ben was out partying without me.

I couldn't even be pissed about it really, because it wasn't Ben's fault my parents decided to continue to reproduce after I was born, and it wouldn't be fair if Max didn't get to go trick-or-treating just because my mom had this insane need to make sure someone was here to pass out candy every year, so, it was either this or take Max myself. I decided this would be the easier of the two, and besides, I know how this goes down... I ask Max how far he wants to go, and of course, he picks the furthest house possible, so we start heading in that direction, and about halfway there, he starts whining about how he's tired and his legs hurt and then, his bag of candy is getting heavy, so I take some and carry it for him in a separate bag. Then, once we are as far from home as we can be, I end up carrying Max, in whatever costume he chose that year, and both bags of candy all the way home.

Not this year though, I opted for the boring couch with the organized bowl of candy, and the giggling kids, and the moms with strollers, and babies not even old enough to eat candy, and the teenagers too old to dress up but still wanting candy, and indecision. Why was picking a candy bar so damn difficult, I wondered again, as I heard another knock on the door, before I gave up and carefully stood up, not messing up the organization I had going on in my bowl.

I swung the door open to a chorus of 'trick-or-treat', and I was faced with one 'Finding Nemo' fish, one Barbie cheerleader, and right behind them were the kids dressed as a ninja and Anakin Skywalker, and the baby in the classic pumpkin costume. I almost had the door closed when I heard a faint 'trick-or-treat', so I tried not to groan as I pulled the door open once more, only to have a little ladybug with wings and antennae on her head standing there, but it wasn't her outfit that caught my eye, it was her escort, Blake Madsen.

Blake Madsen. Senior, probably the most popular guy in school, and so fucking gorgeous I swear my brain ceases to operate on a normal level whenever he's anywhere within a one-hundred foot vicinity of me. Yeah, that Blake Madsen, the one standing a lot closer than one hundred feet now though, since he was only a foot in front of me with his little sister and talking to me... talking to ME!

"Huh," I stuttered out so eloquently that I almost instantly hated myself for being such a total loser every time he was around.

"I just said 'hey' Taylor. Looks like you got stuck doing Halloween duty too," he repeated.

"Oh, yeah," I pouted. "I was gonna go to this party with my best friend Ben, but I had to stay and help so, guess that's not happening now."

"Oh yeah? You mean that party at Michelle's?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's the one," I sighed.

"Well, I heard it got broken up an hour ago cause her parents came home early, and she is in some deep shit, so no worries right?" he said, apparently trying to cheer me up or maybe himself.

I considered that as the awkward silence grew between us and his little sister, who was maybe all of nine years old, stood there staring at us, wasting her valuable candy-getting time before she tugged on his sleeve and insisted, "Blakey, come on! We're wasting time."

"Okay, okay," he said in an attempt to calm her down, but it was the way his cheeks flushed, his face almost glowing, as she called this very popular icon in our world Blakey that caught my attention.

"Yeah, you should get going so you can get done," I begrudgingly admitted. "I've been there too."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well, try to have a good night," he offered as he turned and I watched him walk away before I closed the door on one of the hottest boys in school.

It was then that I realized I had managed to have a whole conversation with him and only looked like a complete idiot once... I hoped. Not only that, but it occurred to me as I replayed it in my head that he knew my name. We weren't exactly friends and we absolutely didn't run in the same circles that was for sure, but somehow, he knew my name. I was still leaning heavily back against the door when I not only heard, but felt, another knock at my door causing me to come back to reality for the moment. I opened the door once more and standing there was Blake Madsen, this time with a very impatient ladybug waiting down at the end of the walk.

"Hey," he said fidgeting slightly, which was completely abnormal for him, at least in my head. This was Blake after all then again, what did I know, it's not like we knew each other.

"Hey, are you lost?" I joked.

"Er ... no," he said confused.

"Forget something then?" I continued on, looking for the reason he was still standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking totally uncomfortable with the whole situation.

"No," he said almost aggravated. "I came back to ask you...."

"Ask me what?" I asked him as he paused uncomfortably.

"You know what, never mind," he said as he started to turn back toward his ladybug.

"No! Wait!" I insisted, reflexively grabbing him by the arm to stop him before I even realized what I was doing and when he did stop and turned around to look at me again, I was the one that was uncomfortable and at a loss for words.

"Yeah?" he asked me.

"Well-uh," I stuttered out. "I-uh-well, tell me what you were going to say," I requested sheepishly.

"Well, I was going to ask you if you were doing anything later... cause there is this party at Greg Flemming's house. His parents are out of town or something...." he explained casually.

"Oh. Well, I'm not really doing anything at all actually," I told him before I realized that once again, I looked totally lame, with no plans on Friday night, not to mention that it was Halloween night.

"Well, do you wanna go then? With me? I mean... if you aren't doing anything...." he suggested.

Was he serious? Holy fuck! Blake Madsen was asking me... ME, Taylor Brooks, to go with him... to a party... where HIS friends would be... at Greg fucking Flemming's house. Holy shit!

"Well? You wanna go or what?" he asked after I hadn't responded.

"Yes! I mean... yeah, that sounds cool," I answered trying to keep my cool, when in reality, I was beyond excited. Hanging out with Blake and Greg and at a party. I mean he invited me to go... with him, hell yeah!

"Cool," he said casually, his smile as gorgeous as ever. "How about when I get done with Molly, I'll come pick you up? Sound good?"

"Sure, cool, sounds good," I stammered out, looking totally lame.

"Okay, see you in a little while Taylor," he said before he jogged down the walk to meet up with his little sister, while I stood there trying to figure out how in the hell I managed to get to hang out at a party, with Blake, on Halloween, He was picking me up, and... he smiled at me.

"Yeah... later," I mumbled watching him disappear down the street.

A good two or three minutes had passed with me standing there, being held up by the wall, before another group of kids walked up and helped themselves to my neatly arranged bowl of candy before I could get myself to finally go back inside and close the door. That only made it possible to wonder how this all happened in a warmer setting, since the cool autumn air had a way of sending that chill straight through to your bones. I appreciated the warmth that waited for me inside though, as I flopped back down on the couch, excited about the way my night had suddenly turned around.

It wasn't long before Mom showed up, carrying Max of course and his bag of candy, but the part of the night that I always find amusing was about to unfold. Max, who had been too tired to go on, too exhausted to take even one more step, to venture forth to even one more door, even with the promise of some treat to coax him was suddenly revived and demanding to start enjoying those same treats he had worked so hard to collect as Mom flopped down in a chair in an attempt to recuperate from her latest weightlifting activities, and then it happens like it does every year.

"Max, we have to check your candy first before you can have any, just give me a minute," my mom said, exasperated by Max's sudden burst of energy. "Maybe Tay will help you," she suggested, her eyes begging me to lend a hand.

"Will you, please Tay?" Max asked, practically bounding over to where I had been snickering silently from my seat on the sofa, watching the tradition of what Halloween had become in the Brooks household play out in front of me predictably, as if it were scripted and rehearsed, everything happening just as it should right on cue.

"All right twerp," I sighed, "but it's gonna cost you," I said teasingly.

"But I don't have any money," Max insisted, pouting as Mom and I exchanged a silent chuckle.

"Hmmm, well what do you have then? You must have something...." I said suggestively.

"Ummm, well..." he said glancing at his bag of candy and then back at me again. "What if... I give you some... of my candy?" he suggested painfully.

"I don't know, how much is some?" I questioned him as his little foot started tapping impatiently.

"Tay! Please!" he whined.

"All right, all right," I absolved. "Grab your bag of candy."

Max proudly grabbed his rather large and bulging bag of candy and hefted it over to where I was sitting, before dropping it at my feet. I couldn't decide if it was more comical watching him struggle to hoist the bag to a level that would be easier for him to handle, or the way he was trying so hard to seem patient and unaffected by my lack of comparable enthusiasm over all this.

"Okay, here it is," he announced redundantly.

Slowly I sat up from where I had been leaning back against the back of the couch and as I grabbed the sack of candy and Max's eyes widened in anticipation. I glanced over at my mom and she winked at me, silently laughing at the way Max seemed to act like this was some precious treasure to be guarded and protected. It wasn't more than another second though, before I had the bag sitting in front of me on the coffee table and as I grabbed the bottom corners of it, lifting them upwards, all the candy poured out onto the large surface in front of us.

"Wow Max, you really made out this year," I noted as I scanned the pile of candy that was way too much for any one child to eat. "Did you leave any for the other kids?"

Max giggled, proud of his collection of goodies. "I don't know," he answered wide eyed.

"Okay, well, I guess we better get started," I sighed knowing this was going to take a while.

"Yep," Max readily agreed.

"So let's sort this stuff out first okay, then we'll check it to make sure it's safe," I said, thinking out loud, while Max just looked confused. Candy was candy... wasn't it?

"What do you mean 'sort it'?" Max asked.

"Well, like... put all the lollipops in that corner and all the gum in that corner over there, and the candy bars over here," I gestured as I started separating the candy into various piles.

"Okay, but how come, Tay?" Max asked me as he reluctantly followed my lead, pushing pieces of candy in different directions.

"Because Max," my mom started to say, "Taylor is... overly organized."

"I am not," I insisted. "I just like to know what I have and know where it's at. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all, honey," my mom answered as her hands gently squeezed my shoulders.

The doorbell rang, echoing through the house. "It's pretty late for trick-or-treating," my mom said out loud as she made her way toward the front door. "Do we even have any candy left to pass out Tay?" she asked as she swung the door open.

"Hi, is Taylor home?" Blake asked her as I momentarily freaked out, temporarily forgetting that he was coming to pick me up in the midst of all this candy sorting.

"Oh, yes, he is. Come on in Blake," my mom said, and then Blake Madsen was standing in my living room seeing me and my compulsions with his own eyes.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he asked as he observed me in all of my freakishness.

"Umm..." I paused, looking for a way to explain my oddities to one of the coolest guys in school, the one that was currently standing in my living room, waiting for me, to take me to hang out for the night with his friends. "Never mind. I just need to grab a jacket," I told him.

"Okay, cool," he agreed.

"But Tay! You said you'd help me!" Max insisted, pouting.

"Go on Taylor, I'll finish up here," my mom said. "I didn't know you had plans tonight, or I never would have let you get started with this. I'll help you finish up Max," she told him.

I ran up to my room and grabbed a sweatshirt and glanced at myself in the mirror before looking completely horrified at what I saw staring back at me. My hair was everywhere! I quickly ran into the bathroom to try and sort it out, and on my way into the bathroom, I was in such a frenzy, that I smashed my knee into the bathroom counter and yelled out in pain.

It didn't take but a second for my mom to be right there next to me, wondering what happened and if I was okay. I really just needed to calm down and I might actually be fine I thought as I rubbed my sore knee and then fixed my hair. Mom and I walked back downstairs only to find Blake helping Max sort his candy.

"So why are we sorting out like this again?" Blake asked Max who was trying really hard to look like he hadn't just been crying.

"Because," Max sniffled slightly, "Tay says we have to."

Blake looked up at us as we entered the room again as he said, "Well, then I guess we should... I mean, Tay is the expert at candy sorting right?" He smiled in my direction as Max nodded.

My mom walked over and gently said, "Maxxie, Tay and Blake are leaving now so say goodnight and then I'll help you finish up here okay."

"Okay. Good night Tay," he said hugging me and then Blake. "Thanks for helping," he added before he turned back around to where my mom was waiting for him.

"You guys have a good night," she called over her shoulder, "and Blake, tell your mom I said hello, it's been way too long since I've seen her."

"I will Mrs. Brooks," he said.

Blake and I walked out to where his jeep was parked alongside the curb in front of my house. I had seen the black jeep drive past me at least a million times when I was walking to or home from school, but I had never actually been in it, or even this close to it, I realized as he unlocked the doors, and we climbed in. It was fairly neat inside, which for some reason totally surprised me. I'm not sure why, but I had always assumed that most teenagers cars would be the graveyard for the fast food remnants and long since forgotten beach towels and soccer balls, but not Blake's.

"Nice car," I said, still somewhat in awe as we pulled away from the curb.

"Thanks. You've never seen it before?" he asked absentmindedly. You would think he would know who had been in his car before, and who hadn't, especially when they only live a few blocks over from you, but then again, this was Blake Madsen... and I was... Taylor Brooks, I realized, suddenly feeling less than adequate.

Worried perhaps, like I just knew that tonight wouldn't go well. I mean, how could it? I was just this... total nobody. I bet most of the people at this party wouldn't even know who I was. I was just the tall, thin kid with the boring brown hair that I wore a bit longer than some people thought I should, and sometimes, I liked to hide behind it. The kid who never really struggled with school, never got bullied, never got noticed either; it was just Ben and me usually, and most of the time I was okay with that.

"So, I didn't know my mom knew your mom," I stated evenly when I realized I was going to get myself all worked up and worried if I didn't leave those thoughts alone.

"Oh yeah, from the PTA I guess," he explained. "I've helped your mom carry some stuff from her car a few times when I get stuck helping my mom."

"Oh," I said rather eloquently. I suppose that would explain it, but still, I somehow felt left out or uninformed. How my mom could know Blake Madsen and not tell me was something I just didn't understand, how could she know him and him not know me? Why did no one tell me about this?

"It's no big deal," he offered after a few minutes of quiet from me. "It never really came up before," he tried to say.

"Yeah, well... we haven't ever really hung out before," I stated evenly.

"I know." He frowned slightly. "I guess we just don't hang with the same people usually," he justified.

"Yeah," I said pitifully. He was right, only further proving my point. He was way cooler than I was; he partied like I didn't, he had friends, I had... Ben, who was awesome, but he can only be so many places at one time.

"Well, we're hanging out now... right?" he asked, seemingly in an attempt to make us both feel better about that fact.

"Yeah, we are I guess," I agreed, although every fiber of my being was still wondering why I was sitting next to Blake, in his jeep, and heading to a party at Greg Flemming's house.

"You keep saying that," he pointed out.

"I do? Saying what?" I wondered aloud.

"Yeah..." he answered.

"Yeah?" I repeated.

"Yeah!" he said laughing.

"Huh?" I asked, totally lost now, and frustrated on top of it all that he was now laughing at me. Just fucking great!

"Nevermind Tay," he said as we pulled up in front of what I assumed was Greg's house and parked.

I frowned slightly in his direction, for a couple reasons, not the least of which was the way he had seemed to decide that it was okay to call me Tay like my family did. On top of that, here we were at Greg Flemming's party, and I already felt completely uncomfortable and out of place, and we hadn't even gotten out of his car yet. I was seriously beginning to wonder why I had even agreed to this.

I guess we had been sitting there in silence for a few minutes, and since I had made no attempt to get out of the car, Blake just sat there with me. My brain was pretty much going crazy trying to figure out what I was even doing here and how I was gonna get out of it without looking completely and totally like the pathetic loser I'm sure all his friends would think I was.

"Taylor," he said hesitantly, softly. It was quiet in his car; he didn't need much force behind his voice anyway. "Are you okay? Do you not want to be here? Do you want me to take you home?" he asked, apparently trying to figure out why I hadn't moved from that spot where I was hoping I could turn invisible and pretend this night had never happened, why I hadn't said anything in at least the last five minutes.

"Sorry," I finally managed to say, probably sounding equally as pitiful as I felt. "I'll be okay I guess. I didn't mean to act all... totally lame and ruin your night," I said barely above a whisper now.

Blake shifted in his seat, facing me now, his knee pulled up on the seat as well and said, "Taylor, you aren't lame, and you didn't ruin my night, but I'm not gonna make you go in there if you don't want to, and I'm not gonna go in there and make you walk home so... you decide."

Well great! Now if I say I want to go home he won't get to go to the party either, and if I say I want to go inside, then I'll probably have a miserable time and feel ridiculous. It was a no win situation for sure, and I didn't like that Blake had laid it all on my plate either, I decided.

Instead of answering any of the questions he had asked me previously, and instead of making some verbal confirmation to either of his offers, I simply pulled on the door handle and got out of the car. I stood on the sidewalk waiting for him to join me, watching as he climbed out of the black jeep and clicked the automatic lock button.

"So we're partying then," he said more as a question that needed confirming than a statement.

"Yeah, looks like," I agreed before following him up to the front door of this large house.

The music was on, you could tell, not so much that you could hear it, but more that you could feel the beat, rising up through the ground and through your feet. I supposed that was better than having the police show up and break up the party though, as Blake knocked loudly, attempting to be heard over the music I suspect.

We heard laughter and giggling coming from behind the door, followed by what sounded like a shriek from a girl as we exchanged a glance of uncertainty. Finally the door swung open and we were faced with Melanie, Greg's girlfriend, who was obviously pretty tipsy and giggling like crazy.

"Sorry, I slipped," she slurred out as she pointed to her socked feet and the gleaming tile entryway.

"Oh," Blake offered, rolling his eyes, though only I could see it since Melanie was already headed back to the party, leaving us to close the door and follow her.

We ended up in a large open room where several people from school were sitting on the couches, snuggled up to some other boy or girl, quietly whispering to one another, just in time to see Melanie plop down onto Greg's lap where he was sitting in a recliner. There were probably only about twenty people left now, and somehow I thought there would be more people at a party at Greg Flemming's house.

"I guess most of them had to leave already," Blake leaned over and whispered to me.

"Madsen! You're late!" Greg bellowed. "What the fuck happened to you man?" he continued, "you missed a great party."

"Yeah? That's shitty. I had to take my sister trick-or-treating," he said feigning contempt for good measure, but then turned and winked at me.

"Sucks to be you," Greg agreed. "Who's that with you?" he asked, finally noticing me, perhaps it took him so long since I was probably slightly cowering behind Blake.

"Dude," Blake said, as if he was shocked, "it's Taylor man, you know... from school," he continued to explain, while Greg's face said he still had no idea who I was.

"Right, whatever," he said ambivalently, nodding in my direction.

I nodded back as Greg told us to grab a drink from the kitchen. I followed Blake, never having been here before, and assuming he knew the way, down some hallway and into the kitchen where we looked around before deciding that opening the refrigerator was possibly the only remaining location for drinks.

"Looks like we have... beer or... beer or... beer," Blake laughed out, surveying the contents of the fridge. "Sounds like Greg to me."

"Can I just have some water?" I asked, immediately regretting how juvenile that sounded.

"Uh, sure dude. You don't want a beer?" Blake asked surprised, perhaps trying to make sure I knew I could have one if I wanted to.

"No, I don't drink," I stated bravely, hoping that he could respect that.

"Okay, that's cool," he said, "water it is."

Blake grabbed himself a beer as I tried not to make a judgment about him in that moment, before locating me a glass from a cupboard and filling it with water from the refrigerator door.

"Thanks," I said as he handed it to me.

"No problem," he replied opening his beer and as I drank from my glass of water, he drank his beer.

"Let's go see what everyone is up to," he suggested, before walking back the way we came.

It occurred to me, at some point, as I stood alone in Greg Flemming's kitchen, holding my glass of water, that this wasn't at all what I thought it would be. Not only was it not very lively, it was more like a bunch of kids sitting around getting drunk and making out, and I was fairly certain that I wasn't going to be doing either of those things here, which only furthered my wonder of how I ended up here.

"You coming?" Blake asked, apparently wondering why I hadn't been right behind him and then coming back to find me.

"Yeah," I said half-heartedly before I placed my glass of water on the counter and this time, I followed Blake.

"There you are," Greg said much louder than was necessary, apparently an irrelevant fact in his inebriated state. "Dude, you missed the chance of a lifetime tonight."

"Oh yeah?" Blake asked, reflexively taking a drink of the bottle of beer he was holding.

"Yeah! Man, Sherri Marshall was here tonight and looking for you," he said suggestively. "You could have had some of that tonight," he added as an afterthought, one that Blake seemed to shrug off subtly.

"Damn, too bad," Blake managed to reply, probably sounding believable to the half sober people who might have been listening.

"What about you?" Greg asked me. "Get any lately, have a chick?"

"Uhh, no," I said blushing slightly. It wasn't every day I discussed my sex life with people, or my lack thereof, besides I was pretty sure that telling these guys that no chick would be getting any from me anyway was not something I wanted to do.

"No? That's too bad," Greg said, his eyes giving him away, scheming somewhat. "We could fix that if you want," he suggested. "Stacy is here and pretty fucked up by now; she'd probably do you."

I looked at Blake pleadingly, hoping he would help me escape this predicament I had somehow managed to get myself into. Most straight guys would jump at the chance to get off with some chick, especially Stacy, so it would probably raise a few questions and suspicions if I said I wasn't interested. Besides, even if I did agree, I wouldn't even know where to begin, and that terrified me on a whole other level.

"Lay off the kid man," Blake said in my defense. "He does his thing. I need another beer," he added before he walked off in search of one leaving me there without him.

"So you go to our school?" Greg asked me,

"He's in my English class... I think," Melanie offered indifferently.

"Huh? Wonder why I've never seen you before then," he replied, thinking out loud.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I live near Blake," I volunteered for no real reason other than to justify my presence since he had left me here with all these people I didn't know.

"Cool," he managed before Melanie occupied his mouth in other ways and I decided that was something I didn't need to witness up close and first hand.

Some girl grabbed my hand and yanked me down next to her on the couch and started talking to me as I wondered who she was; she had her legs tucked up underneath her and threw her arm around my shoulders, her fingers sliding up into my hair and her other hand landing high up on my leg. I shuddered from the sensations, more out of total and complete fear than anything else, as she continued to talk about nothing important.

I'm not sure if it was the way she kept staring at my mouth, or the way she kept alternating between leaning forward slightly and applying a slight pressure to the back of my head, but it became clear that if I didn't get out of there quickly, Kaitlyn, which I found out was her name, would probably be all over me in another minute, something I was even more certain I did not want to happen.

"Uhh, you know... I better... go find Blake," I said when she asked me if I wanted to go someplace quieter.

"I'm sure he's just fine," she countered. "I saw him and Jennifer go out back... we could too you know," she said suggestively.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I announced, looking for some way to get out of there, causing her to raise an eyebrow at that. Apparently it wasn't the response she was expecting from me, but I really didn't care at that moment. I stood up quickly, extracting myself from the tangle she currently had me in, before someone pointed me in the direction of the bathroom.

I took the time I had to myself in the bathroom to figure out that I really just wanted to get out of here before Kaitlyn got her hands on me again and did who knows what to me. The thought alone sent a shudder through my body as an image of her mouth encompassing my entire head flashed through my mind. I needed a plan. This would have to be covert style, I decided, if I was going to get out of here in one piece.

I needed to find Blake and convince him somehow, he should forget about that Jennifer girl and take us both home. I needed to find a way to get to the backyard without Kaitlyn seeing me and thinking I wanted to be out there with her doing who knows what unimaginable things. I needed... to be invisible.

Turns out, I decided, as I walked quietly down the hall and back into the living room that I practically was. I managed without too much fuss or attention to find the back patio door and make my way outside. Sure enough, there was Blake, sitting on a lounge chair with Jennifer practically in his lap. There were enough beer bottles on the table next to him to give alcohol poisoning to someone, and I hoped that Blake hadn't emptied them all himself.

I watched for a moment from where I stood quietly in the shadows, as Jennifer laughed obnoxiously at something Blake said that I couldn't really hear, but it annoyed me nonetheless. Here I was being practically mauled by Kaitlyn, and he's hanging out back here with Jennifer having a good old time and getting drunk. Thanks a fucking lot Blake!

I was getting more... angry, I guess, by the minute as I stood there watching this scene play out before my eyes. Blake says something, Jennifer hangs on his every word, she asks him something so she seems interested, he painfully responds as her hand lands gently on his leg, squeezing it for effect, she giggles, and then he looks around as the uncomfortable silence settles in before they repeat the same situation again.

I wondered silently, standing there on the patio, how long it would take me to walk home. I was just about done convincing myself that it didn't matter anyway, and I was going to just leave; it's not like anyone here would miss me except maybe Kaitlyn, and I was definitely okay with that, when I managed to bump the rather large terra cotta planter sitting on the ground in front of me, the one holding the tree I was attempting to hide behind. Both their heads spun around in my direction, looking for the source of the noise that had interrupted their conversation.

"Taylor!" Blake said excitedly. "I've been wondering where you were."

"Oh? You have?" I asked annoyed, knowing it was unlikely.

"Yeah, I was just telling Jennifer that I should go find you," he said. He looked rather uncomfortable with the whole situation, and I momentarily wondered if I had misread what I had seen and was interrupting something, before I decided I didn't care.

"When are we leaving?" I asked in a way that made it clear I was more than through with this party and ready to go home. I'm sure he could tell I was unhappy as I stood there with my arms crossed and an annoyed look on my face.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked. "Did you have to be home at a certain time?"

"Well, yeah. By midnight," I answered as I checked my watch, only to find that it was only twenty minutes until that time anyway.

"Oh! Well we better go then," he said a little too excitedly, "wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

"Thanks," I huffed out, as if he cared.

Jennifer seemed to be unable to choose one emotion as her face kept switching from pissed off to sad. I suppose if I was her, I would be pissed off too that Blake was leaving, along with my chance to get anywhere with him. Blake stood up in an attempt to leave, only to have to steady himself on the patio table that stood next to him. After a minute he slowly approached the spot I hadn't yet moved from, next to the large terra cotta planter, and managed to stumble into me, unable to judge the distance accurately or get his feet to stop moving in time.

"How many beers did you have?" I asked him incredulously more out of surprise than anger, as I instinctively wrapped my arm around his waist to steady him.

He responded by grabbing onto me, his arm around my shoulder as he said," Umm, I dunno, I lost count after five... I think...."

"Blake! You can't drive us home like this," I decided out loud.

"I'll be fine," he disagreed.

"You can barely stand up," I pointed out.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I'll even let you drive," he said, winking at me, apparently thrilled with the alternative idea.

"Fine, whatever... let's just go," I said as we made our way out the back gate and over to where his jeep was still parked.

"Give me the keys," I requested not so politely.

"Sure, they're in my pocket," he told me as I stood there waiting for him to decide to get them out and give them to me.

"Can I have them?" I asked exasperatedly after he had made no move to retrieve them.

"Yeah, I told you they're in my pocket," he said again, as if it was obvious.

I decided, in the interest of getting home on time, that I would just have to get them myself, so I asked him, "Which pocket Blake?"

He giggled, apparently enjoying this game as it only frustrated me more. "Guess."

"Dammit!" I said as I started patting his pockets, looking for something that felt like keys, before I found them in his pocket on the opposite side of me. He could barely stand up, so letting go of him wasn't an option. Instead, I swung around and was face to face with him, his arm still around my shoulder, much like Kaitlyn's had been earlier, as I shoved my hand into his jean pocket to retrieve the car keys.

He didn't put up a fight as I managed to find the keys and unlock the doors. I helped him get into the passenger side before I shut the door and walked around, climbing in behind the wheel. I leaned over, reaching across him, face to face again, grabbing his seatbelt and stretching it across him to buckle him in before doing the same for myself. I started the car and we were on our way, finally.

"I guess I'll just take you home and then walk to my house," I said, more thinking out loud than anything else.

"No! You can't take me home!" Blake insisted in a way that had me scared too.

"Why not?" I asked cautiously since he was obviously quite upset about that idea already.

"My dad will kill me if I come home drunk. Please Tay, can I just crash at your house?" he pleaded with me.

I knew my mom wouldn't care; she was always cool about that kind of stuff. Ben stayed over a lot, but this was different in a lot of ways. Plus, we didn't have a guest room or anything so it was either the couch or in my room with me, and I didn't think the couch was a good idea. My mom would be up early, making Max breakfast and doing laundry, her usual weekend stuff, and a hung over Blake on the couch would definitely cause some suspicion.

I glanced over at him briefly, before I had to watch the road again, and his eyes were pleading. As pissed as I was about how this whole night had turned out, and how he had left me alone with all those people I didn't know, alone with Kaitlyn, the man eater, I really didn't want him to get in trouble.

"Fine," I agreed, "but you have to sleep in my room, cause I don't want my mom to see you like this."

"I can stay?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, you can stay," I repeated.

"You're not mad at me then?" he asked. "It seems like you are," he pointed out.

"Oh I'm mad," I told him, taking the time to look at him again, this time my eyes telling him I was annoyed. "But, we'll talk about it in the morning," I decided. Now was not the time and he was too drunk anyway.

"Okay," he pouted as I managed to get us home and parked alongside my curb.

I climbed out of his car and walked around to his side, opening the door and when he seemed to have some trouble figuring out how to stand up, I reached out to help him. He grabbed my hand as I pulled him out of the car before I ended up having to catch him, steadying him eventually, and locking the doors before we made our way inside.

"Be quiet okay," I instructed. "My mom and Max are already asleep, and we don't want to wake her up, trust me."

"I'll be quiet," he whispered loudly as I rolled my eyes at him, although I'm sure he didn't see it.

"Just come on," I said leading him in the house and to my room before he managed to flop down on my bed.

"I need to pee," he told me.

"Okay. So go... it's the next door over," I said.

"Can you help me? I don't think I can make it," he complained.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have drunk so much then," I pointed out as I sighed, walking over to where he was and helping him to his feet again.

"I know," he admitted. "I just hate it," he said as if that was supposed to be a discernable statement.

"Whatever, let's just get this over with," I said, trying to get him out the door and into the bathroom.

I got Blake into the bathroom and propped him up against the wall in front of the toilet, before I said, "I'll be back in a minute," and walked out, closing the door behind me.

I went back to my room and kicked off my shoes and changed into some shorts before I went back to get Blake. I knocked quietly and when he answered, I opened the door to find him exactly where I left him.

"Did you go?" I asked, confused slightly.

"Not yet, you said you'd be right back," he explained.

"Yeah," I said exasperatedly, "so you could have some privacy, so you could go."

"Oh, well I'll go now," he said as he reached for his zipper trying to push himself up off the wall.

"Now?!" I asked in a voice much louder than a whisper.

Blake stumbled, wavering back and forth, trying to get his balance as he fumbled with his belt and button, and I instinctively reached out to catch him, holding him up from behind. His body sank back against mine as soon as he felt something stable to lean on. His back was pressed against my chest, his head leaning on my shoulder, and aside from the slight smell of alcohol, he smelled fantastic, fresh, almost like he had showered right before he picked me up and I could still smell the soap on his skin.

"Okay, I'm ready," he announced.

"You better not piss on the floor!" I said exasperatedly, realizing that I almost had my arms wrapped around his waist in an effort to hold him upright.

His waist, awfully close to... other parts of him, and the very idea of my hands being so close to it caused me to inhale sharply, only adding to the already intoxicating scent of him. I felt that familiar feeling in my own shorts as he managed to finally go, and I stared at the ceiling wondering yet again how I got myself into this situation tonight.

"I think I'm done," he informed me and I groaned internally as he leaned into me even more, his forearms brushing alongside mine as he let his arms fall down to his sides.

I was more worried about the current state of my shorts though, than anything else, and I was pretty sure that even in his drunken state Blake would notice something like that pressing into him from behind. That made me more nervous, I didn't need Blake freaking out on me, or worse, telling everyone at school that this little nobody was into guys.

Carefully, so as not to accidentally touch anything that may or may not have been in the path of my hands, I slid my hands along his waistline until they came to his hips before I gently pushed him forward in an attempt to steady him and put some space between his ass and the obvious thickness that was beginning to tent out my shorts. My forehead landed gently on his back, just between his shoulder blades as I tried to get myself together. Slowly, and keeping one hand on him at all times, I turned around and let him lean against my back. I figured that was safer than the other side, and it allowed me some space as well.

"Are you... all dressed again?" I asked him, deciding that parading Blake Madsen with his dick hanging out around my house was probably not a good plan.

"Umm," he said sleepily, "sort of."

"What does that mean?" I asked frustrated.

"Can we just go to bed?" he asked, not answering my previous question.

"Sure." I sighed, turning until our sides were touching and my arm found its way around his waist once more.

We walked like that back to my room as I forced myself not to look at Blake or his half open pants. I sat him on my bed once more before I knelt down to take off his shoes for him. He flopped backward as soon as he hit the bed and groaned out loud, seemingly ready for bed.

"I'll be right back," I told him. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

He didn't say anything discernable, but instead mumbled out some sort of acknowledgement as I turned and left the room. I managed to make it to the bathroom and back without having any major breakdowns. I brushed my teeth and headed to bed.

When I walked back into my room, Blake wasn't where I had left him though. Instead, he was in my bed, under my blankets, his head on my pillow and from the looks of it, he was already asleep. This was going to be a long night I realized, being in such a close proximity, so intimately I suppose, with Blake. Hopefully I'd fall asleep quickly, and wake up tomorrow, and put this crappy night behind me.

I turned off the light and walked around to the side of the bed that Blake wasn't lying on, and turned down the blankets enough to get in. I tried to move carefully, cautiously, so as not to wake him up and maybe I'd be able to lie there and fall asleep eventually. Then again, Blake Madsen was in my bedroom, in my bed asleep and smelling so good, I decided again as my head hit the pillow next to his.

The moonlight, along with the light from the streetlights, shone through my bedroom window, and I watched the shadows dance across the ceiling as the wind gently blew through the tree branches outside. I could hear Blake breathing evenly, lying there beside me, and I turned my head to look over at him. It was safe, I thought, he was asleep. He was so gorgeous, his brown hair kept short and styled. He had these regular brown eyes, but for some reason, on him they looked anything but plain, as they fluttered open and then, he was looking back at me.

It's not like I could turn away, that would look more awkward, and I knew he had seen me, there was no point in trying to get out of it. Explaining it however, well that would be a little more difficult I thought, as I watched him and he watched me back. He lay next to me, on my right, flat on his back with his head turned in my direction, while I lay on my side facing him, watching each other.

"Tay?" he said so quietly I almost didn't believe I heard it at first.

"Yeah?" I whispered back. "You okay?" I worried; I hoped he wouldn't get sick.

"Thanks," was all he said.

"Thanks? For what?" I asked him?

"For everything... for being so sweet and for helping me tonight, and for letting me stay here with you, for rescuing me from Jennifer, for driving me home, for taking off my shoes, everything," he explained quietly.

"It's no problem," I sort of huffed out, only half way meaning it, my eyes returning to the much less beautiful shadows on the ceiling. I was still pretty annoyed that he would invite me to a party, that turned out to be something much less than I expected, and then for leaving me with a bunch of people I didn't know including Kaitlyn and then getting drunk on top of it all.

"I'm sorry I acted like a jerk tonight," he allowed for the possibility, more the likelihood, that he had.

"Mmmhmm," I mumbled out. This was probably his normal speech for whatever sucker he got to help him out right? I mean, it didn't seem like he was at all out of his comfort zone partying tonight with Greg and drinking so much he couldn't even stand up on his own.

I felt him moving around next to me, but I refused to look over, he was probably just getting more comfortable; I know it can be hard to get to sleep in a strange place in a bed that isn't yours, so I dismissed it. If I could just get myself to go to sleep, I might just be home free.

"Tay," he whispered once more, and as I turned to look at him again, our eyes met briefly, for only a second before his lips landed gently on mine.

Warm, soft, and moist, they pressed against mine, and I was more than a little surprised as my brain caught up to what was happening here. Blake was in my bed, with me, and kissing me. How in the hell did this happen, again I wondered, before I realized I probably didn't care. Blake was in my bed, with me, and kissing me, just gently as he tested the waters. I suppose if I had freaked out he could have blamed it on the alcohol in the morning, but as it turned out I didn't protest at all.

Blake, who had been propped up on his elbow when I turned in his direction, allowing his lips the best location to find mine, slowly laid back as I followed him until he was flat on his back once more. My hand landed next to him on the bed in an effort to support myself, but not before my chest landed on his, causing me to pull away abruptly, surprised at the contact, but more by the fact that his chest was as bare as mine was, hot against my own skin.

He smiled softly at me, perhaps trying to tell me it was okay, before he turned away from me, pulling my arm around him as he snuggled against me, his back pressed against my chest. This time, besides that smell of soap, I could smell him, his hair smelled like apples, crisp and sweet at the same time, but it was soft against my face.

"Good night Taylor," he said squeezing my hand in his.

"Good night," I whispered back wondering what had just happened.

Blake's breathing evened out until he was making this cute little sigh each time he breathed out. I could feel his chest rising each time he inhaled, his back pressing just a little more into mine each time, and then falling again as he exhaled and rhythmically it lulled me to sleep, along with the warmth and the comfort of his body against mine.

Somehow in the night, we managed to reverse positions because when I woke up the next morning, it was I who was in Blake's arms instead. I felt his legs, bare and warm against mine as he was pressed against me, holding me tightly to him, still snoring softly. I was so warm, comfortable, lying there with him, but I definitely worried about how he would react when he woke up. I thought about moving several times, about getting up and just leaving him there in my bed, but the thought of leaving Blake, mostly naked in my bed without me was almost painful.

So, I stayed. I stayed in his arms; my back against his bare chest, our legs snaked in between the others, and I enjoyed it. I imagined Blake's face, peaceful and serene, as I felt his soft, warm breaths land on my neck over and over again. My arm was under the pillow, and he had my hand in his, and as he squeezed it gently, it caught my attention. He stretched his body out against mine, his long legs reaching the end of my bed as I felt his rib cage press up against my back, long like a cat, before he curled right back around me, seemingly only halfway awake and aware of his surroundings.

I stayed still against him, quiet, allowing him to wake up and decide what he wanted to do about how we were laying. I suppose he could always claim he didn't know, that he had been asleep when it happened. He probably didn't even remember kissing me last night, I decided, silently pouting to myself. He was drunk; I knew that. I'm sure he didn't mean to do it.

"Tay?" he said so quietly, bringing me out of my abscess of debilitating thoughts.

"Yeah?" I responded just as quietly, not moving a muscle, not one inch away from him. His hand squeezed mine and I felt his lips smile against the back of my neck causing mine to do the same.

"I'm glad you're awake," he whispered.

"You are?" I wondered aloud.

"Yeah," he told me, "cause you stayed with me when you could have gotten up."

"Oh," I said, my statement not at all giving as far as what I was thinking.

"Well, I'm glad you stayed," he said, catching my attention as he seemed to try to snuggle closer to me still.

"Me too," I whispered, unclear of what we were going to do about this situation or how much I was willing to tell Blake about myself.

We lay there, warm and in silence, just feeling each other's presence comforting for quite some time before Blake said again, "I'm sorry I acted like that last night. I'm glad you aren't as big a jerk as I am, or I could have ended up in a lot of trouble last night," he paused. "Thanks for taking care of me Taylor," he said as he gently kissed the back of my neck causing a sensation to run down my spine. Maybe he did remember kissing me, I thought, as I smiled to myself.

"Can I ask you something?" I said. I felt him nod against my back. "How come you drank so much last night? It just doesn't seem like something that you would do; it doesn't make sense to me."

"Turn around," he requested simply as he loosened the hold he had around my waist and I did. Our regular old brown eyes meeting again, for the first time since last night, and I closed mine. I felt my cheeks color as I remembered how his lips felt as they touched mine for the first time, and I tried to stop the smile that was forming on my face by biting the inside of cheek.

"You shouldn't do that," he admonished and I opened my eyes again, looking at him slightly confused. "You have a great smile," he allowed, and that time I couldn't stop it, even if I had wanted to, I couldn't.

"Thanks," I managed as he gently lifted my chin until I was looking at him.

"I did it because... I needed a way to not feel the way I was feeling. I know it's dumb, but I couldn't deal with Jennifer or Greg trying to always hook me up with a different girl each time we're at a party when..." he drifted off in thought.

"When what?" I asked him, wanting to hear the answer.

"When all I wanted was to be with you."

The End

Author Bio

A member of GayAuthors since 2005, Vivian Valenti is a popular Hosted Author with over 50 stories to her credit. They're masterful tales of personal interaction and complex relationships, stories that will move you, lift you up, and push you to the very crest of an emotional precipice, reminding you what's important in life. You can find her stories and discussion forum at GayAuthors.

Return to Table of Contents

##

##

##

##

##

Christmas Break

_by Colin Kelly_
I was on my way to my C++ programming class when my cell buzzed.

"Hi."

"Hey, Curt, whatcha doin'?"

"Walking to class, Greg. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Oh, lounging round in the cafeteria, scarfin' up donuts and coffee, as usual."

"No, I'm going to class, as usual, which is what you should be doing. Where are you? Don't you have AmLit now?"

"Yuck! AmLit with ol' Miz Reynolds is like living in hell."

"So, where are you?"

"About 15 feet in back of you." I heard raucous laughter both in my cell and, only a little less loud, in back of me. I stopped, shut off my cell, put it back in my pocket, and turned around. By then Greg had just about caught up with me.

I laughed and shook my head. "Greg, you know something? You're a nut case. A certified, committable, nut case."

Greg grinned. "I know, I know. But I only do it to make you laugh. I gotta make sure ya lighten up that dour disposition." He grinned at me, then put his right hand on my left shoulder. "Now, kiddo, what are we going to do starting next week? We have three weeks off. Three, whole, freaking, weeks, off! I am SO ready!"

"Well, I'm ready for some time off too. I was thinking, how about getting a start by going for a hike on Mt. Diablo this weekend? Man, we haven't done that for, what, over four months? Then we could drive up to Mendocino and visit your aunt for a few days. If we're lucky, it'll be stormy and windy and we can take walks with her along be beach like we did when we were in high school. And then on the way back we can drive up to Tahoe and get in some skiing and boarding, and then—"

Greg interrupted me in his typical loud, rapid-fire staccato way of speaking. "Whoa, there. Let's play it cool an' just figure out howta plan those things. What you said so far is a lot to do, too much even. Don't forget there's Christmas and New Years and all the family stuff we each gotta do and shopping and visiting relatives. Yeah, too much."

"OK, I guess you're right. And we'll have studying to do as well, you know. Finals are coming up the week after we get back."

"Jeez, you sure know how to screw up my good mood, don'cha?"

He grinned. "OK, all this jawing has been fun, fun, fun! But I do have AmLit, and I gotta keep up my grades so Dad doesn't make me join the Marines or some sort of crap like that. Let's get together after class, grab some coffee, and do our plannin', OK?"

"OK. How about I meet you at Peet's, the one across from the theater, at about 4:15?"

"Ya got it. Later, Curt." With that Greg turned and took the stairs leading up toward the library three at a time, scattering people who were trying to walk down. Grinning, I shook my head, and walked to my class.

I got to Peet's right at 4:15. Greg was already sitting on the bench just outside the entrance.

"Hey, Greg." He looked up and grinned.

"I'll get some coffee."

"Go for it, bro." He held up his paper cup, the large size. "They've this eggnog thing and it's awesome."

I went inside and got an eggnog latte, then walked outside and plopped down on the bench next to Greg. "OK, let's figure out what we're going to do on break. Are you still OK with a hike on Mt. Diablo this weekend?"

"Yeah, I wanna get out and breathe some clean air. Sitting in stuffy classrooms all day sucks big time. What's the weather gonna be?"

"I don't know. I'll check it when I get home. Hey, wouldn't it be cool if it snowed? Remember when we were there in March and it snowed, and we spent the day having snowball fights?" I smiled as I thought about the fun we'd had that day.

"Yeah, fun until that dick of a ranger came and kicked us out'a the park. I still can't figure out why the hell they'd close the whole freakin' state park just because of like an inch of snow or whatever it was."

I laughed. "Whatever. Anyway, let's plan it. Can we head up first thing Saturday morning?"

"Works for me."

"OK, I'll pick you up at nine. Assuming you're awake."

"Hey, I'll be ready. You just be on time, Curt."

We sat finishing our lattes, enjoying the sun as it began to slide behind the hills west of us, making it look like late evening even though it was just 4:30. I looked up at the sky and saw there were clouds moving in from the north. It might not be clear for our hike this weekend after all.

I looked down the street. A movie must have just ended and there was a crowd coming out of the theater. I saw Jen and Cindi walking out, talking to each other.

"Hey, Greg, Jen and Cindi are down there, in front of the theater."

"Oh, crap, did they see us? Let's get outta here."

"Huh? Why?"

"That Cindi is a pest. She's always after me, like she's got some kinda big crush on me, and I don't wanna have to come up with some excuse for not going out with her."

"Wow, I though you liked Cindi. Didn't you date her for a while?"

"Once. Just once. That was just fine. But she wants something more than just dating, and I'm not interested in her that way. Let's roll, bro, let's get outta here before they see us."

"Too late, they just waved and are coming this way."

"Damn, damn, damn!"

I looked at Greg. He had a pained expression and didn't look happy at all. I was surprised. I'd thought he liked Cindi. She was a nice enough girl, sort of bubbly, always happy, the kind of girl that I thought Greg would go for. But he only dated her once then stopped seeing her? That was unusual for Greg. Normally he'd go out with a girl at least two or three time before dumping her. He'd probably dated half the girls in our class by the time we'd graduated from high school. He was a real ladies man, and I guess he figured the next girl was always better.

Now Jen was something different. I went out with Jen when I needed a date for the tenth grade Spring Fling dance. It was my first date ever, and when I asked her she told me that she wasn't interested in a serious relationship. She was concentrating on her studies and her straight-A average, that she liked me as a friend, and if that was OK with me then she'd like to go with me. That worked perfectly for me. No one knew it, but I'm not into girls. I was, and still am, attracted to guys. Going out with Jen helped me maintain my straight persona, something that made my life easier. Jen was cute, was fun, liked a lot of the same things I liked, and was, for a gay guy, the greatest girlfriend anyone could imagine.

I thought back to our Junior Prom. I'd taken Jen to Mel's Diner after the dance, and she told me that she knew that I was gay, and that was fine with her. I was stunned, I was certain that I hadn't said or done anything to even hint that I was gay. I asked her how she could possibly have come to that conclusion. She'd smiled and said that when I was with Greg she saw the way I looked at him. She'd said it was obvious that I was in love with him. I'd told her that she was confused, that Greg was my best friend and only my best friend. She'd said she was certain even if I wasn't. She'd changed the subject, but I'd been rattled. She'd made me think about things I'd suppressed so deeply that I'd never admitted them to myself. That conversation had caused me to finally accept that I was, in fact, in love with Greg. Something I hoped he'd never find out.

My trip down memory lane was interrupted when Jen and Cindi walked up and said, "Hi, guys." They sat down, Cindi started a conversation with Greg, and I turned to Jen. She had moved to the campus and started taking classes at Cal the week after we graduated from high school, and I hadn't seen her since then.

"Hey, Jen, how's school? What's it like going to Cal?"

"Both good and bad. Living in frosh housing sucks; the building I'm in is old and drafty, and our room sort of smells like it's moldy. My roommate isn't into studying; she has friends there all the time, so to study I have to go to the dorm lounge or the library. My classes are intense, but I'm really enjoying being there. It was sort of frightening at first; the school's so huge. There are so many students! But I've adapted, and things are good. How about you? Where did you finally decide to go?"

"Well, you know I applied to Cal and got accepted, but money's been tight since my dad's accident. I talked to the computer science counselor at Cal, and he said because of my grades and my SAT scores I could to go to a community college for my freshman year, reapply to Cal for my sophomore year, and I should be accepted. That's assuming I get top grades here at DVC. So, that's what I decided to do. That way I'm saving a ton of money by not having to live in a freshman dorm, and I'll be able to save by commuting next year. My folks tried to talk me out of it, but I convinced them it was best. I put in my new application to Cal last month, and I'm waiting for that letter in the mail."

Jen smiled and put her hand on my arm. "Good luck, Curt. I know everything will work out for you. You're a smart guy, the smartest I know." I blushed, and Jen giggled. "And when you get to Cal I want you to be sure to look me up. Here, let me give you my cell phone number and new email address." Jen wrote down her information and handed it to me. "Let me know about your application, OK? I'd really like to keep in touch, Curt."

I smiled, and realized again what a great friend she was. "I will, Jen. Thanks." We talked for a few minutes about what we'd be doing on our Christmas breaks, then I turned to Greg and Cindi. From what I'd sort of overheard in the background, Cindi had been doing most of the talking, and Greg was mostly giving one or two word answers. Normally Greg dominates a conversation, but it was obvious to me that he was letting Cindi take that role. He must have felt me turn, because he looked over his shoulder at me, then at his watch.

"Oh, jeez, it's almost 5:00. If I don't go, like right now, I'm gonna be late picking up my little brother at his soccer practice." He stood up. "Hey, Cindi, it's been super seeing you. You too, Jen. See you at school mañana, Curt." He took off like he was trying to escape from something. I looked at Cindi, and she looked a little sad. I knew from what, or more correctly from whom, Greg was trying to escape.

I looked at Jen and Cindi. "Hey, I have a ton of homework tonight. Seems like the instructors are having us get everything in by tomorrow. That's the last day of school before our break, then we have finals the week we get back."

We stood, said our goodbyes, and I went to my car and drove home.

That night I sat with my folks watching the news. When the weather guy came on I paid special attention. This was a big storm that was coming down from Alaska. It was supposed to pass north of us then move into the Sierra. He said the Bay Area might get a few sprinkles on Saturday afternoon, and it was going to be cold at night, around freezing. The storm was expected to leave as much as six to twelve inches of snow at the Tahoe ski areas, then move out on Tuesday.

I phoned Greg and relayed the weather report. "Sounds like we're going to be A-OK for the weekend, guy. My folks said I could take the minivan. I can fold the rear seats flat and store everything we need to take, and it'll be easy to get at."

"Cool. Where you wanna camp?"

"I like Juniper best. I went online when I got home this afternoon and made a reservation. We probably won't need it, but it's best to be prepared, like a Boy Scout. That OK with you?"

"Yeah, that's cool." Greg laughed. "I don't think we'd make very good Boy Scouts, though."

"What? I think I'd make a very good Boy Scout. I know things like how to make a fire, and set up a tent, and recognize poison oak."

"Yeah, sure, you could set up a tent if you had me to help, and you could make a fire if you had a lighter and there was no wind, and you'd prolly use the poison oak to start the fire. Some freakin' Boy Scout you'd make!"

"Well, I'll show you my Boy Scout skills on our hike this weekend. In the meantime, I'm too busy going to class and doing my homework and making sure YOU go to class."

"Yeah, yeah, stop bugging me about school. Tomorrow's the last day of school. I don't need another mother tellin' me what to do. I've already got one, and one's enough." Greg started laughing, and that got me laughing too.

"I don't know how I put up with you, Greg."

"It's because you love me. I'm just a loveable kind of guy. With all my faults I'm still the most lovable guy in the whole freakin' Bay Area. No one can resist me. 'Specially not you." Again, he started laughing. What he said startled me and made me wonder if he knew how I felt about him and was hinting to me that he did.

I recovered my composure and was able to reply. "Well, I won't love you if I'm still half asleep when the alarm goes off in the morning. I have an 8:00 class so I have to be up with the roosters at 6:30. I need my beauty sleep, bro."

"Curt, I know you're tired as hell 'cuz you sure as hell wouldn't leave me openings like that if you were even half awake. Get your skinny ass in bed and give your swollen brain a rest. I'll see ya in the cafeteria round nine and we can hang until our ten o'clock classes. S'OK?"

I laughed. Greg did make me laugh, every time we talked. "OK, Mommy, I'll go to bed now. I promise. Night, Greg. See you tomorrow."

"Night, Curt."

I shut off my cell, then actually did what Greg 'ordered' me to do and went to bed.

I was tired, but remembering what Jen had told me after the junior prom, and some of the comments that Greg had made, I start thinking about me and Greg. We were basically inseparable. We did everything together. We were best friends. I wasn't close friends with any other guys, just Greg. As far as I knew Greg wasn't close friends with any other guys either. Did that mean anything?

I went on some dates with Jen while I was in high school, and only Jen. I hadn't gone out on a date since our senior prom. Greg went on dates with lots of girls all the time in high school. Greg hadn't gone on a date since we graduated. Did that mean anything?

I was gay. I was in love with Greg. I thought about that for a while. Jen had told me she could tell that I was in love with Greg. She hadn't said anything about Greg being in love with me. Shit! I was going to have to be really careful to not telegraph my feelings to him.

But what about Greg? For sure he was straight and into girls. But every so often he'd say things that made me wonder about him. So, could Greg be gay? Or bi? I didn't think so. He was just my best friend. And that's how I wanted to keep it. I might lose him if he found out I was gay.

I finally rolled onto my side, and fell asleep.

After my Friday morning differential equations class (note: that is an awful class to have at 8:00 in the morning), I met Greg at the cafeteria. He was nursing a cup of coffee, something I wouldn't do. The coffee in the cafeteria was, in my opinion, undrinkable.

We talked about what to bring with us for the hike. But the most important thing we talked about was where we should hike. We decided that since we were staying at the Juniper campground, we should take the Eagle Peak trail. The trailhead is at Juniper, and it's a nice half-day hike, about 7 miles, and it's rated moderate. Since we hadn't been on a hike since summer, it would be a good way to get our hiking legs back in shape. On Sunday we could take a longer hike, maybe the Mitchell Canyon Loop. It's 14 miles, a lot of elevation gain, has some spectacular views, and is rated as the best trail in the park. It's a strenuous hike, but there are enough places where we could branch off and shorten the hike if we got tired. We'd hiked both trails when we were in high school. In fact, we'd probably hiked every foot of every trail in the entire park since we started going to Mt. Diablo with my dad when we were in intermediate school.

Our decisions made, we went to our respective classes.

When I finished for the day I went home and pulled out the gear for the weekend. I have a great lightweight easy to set up two-man tent, and an air mattress that fits the base of the tent like it had been made for it. I pulled out my two sleeping bags that are rated for 20 degrees. They can be zipped together to make one bag, a feature I'd only used in my fantasies about me and Greg, one that began to play out in my head. It made me feel a little strange. I knew that I shouldn't think about Greg that way. He's my best friend, not my boyfriend, for God's sake! I shook my head to clear away the fantasy and got back to my packing.

I raided the kitchen for food, and picked six frozen burger patties, a package of hot dogs, bread, fruit, drinks, and a bunch of other stuff—it was a slash-and-grab operation. I made six peanut butter sandwiches and split them between a couple of plastic bags. All of the food went back in the refrigerator.

My clock radio woke me at 6:30 Saturday morning. I felt great, wide awake, not tired at all. I showered and dressed in a heavy shirt and pants for cold weather hiking, put on my hiking boots, and packed a couple of extra T-shirts and briefs and socks. I checked my cell and camera to verify that they were fully charged and put them in my daypack. I got the food and icepacks and stocked the cooler chest, then packed everything into the van. When I was finished it looked like Greg and I were going to be gone for two months instead of two days. But that's one of the advantages of camping at a drive-to campsite. You can over-pack and you don't have to carry everything like you would on a backpacking trip. Then I returned to my room to make sure I hadn't left anything behind.

My folks were up and eating breakfast when I got downstairs. "Morning Mom, Dad."

"Morning, Curt. What can I get you for breakfast? You need a good breakfast if you're going hiking, not just a banana and piece of toast like you usually eat." Mom is always concerned about what I eat. She thinks I don't eat enough. I looked at my dad's plate.

"OK, how about bacon and eggs? Scrambled, and toast with your peach preserves, please." I grinned, and she smiled.

"Coming up. Sit down, here's your coffee."

While Mom got my breakfast ready, Dad and I talked about my hike. He asked if I'd checked the latest weather report, and I admitted I hadn't, so I ran upstairs to my room and did a quick check on weather.com. The forecast for the Bay Area had changed a little. Instead of the rain being no further south than Santa Rosa, now the forecast was for rain as far south as Fairfield, less than 25 miles from Mt. Diablo. The reports from up north about the storm said that it was a lot colder and wetter than had been previously predicted, and now they were projecting two feet of snow at Tahoe. The ski resort owners had to be dancing in the streets anticipating a heavy crowd of skiers over the next couple of weeks.

Mom called me, so I went downstairs and sat down to what was, for me, a huge breakfast. I told Dad what the weather report had said.

"Curt, make sure you're careful. If it looks like there's going to be heavy rain, you come on back home, OK?"

"Sure thing. The last thing Greg and I will want to be is wet. We're both wimps."

Mom chimed in, "You're not wimps, it's just sensible to stay out of the rain." The sort of typical my mom would say.

"Well, I don't think we have anything to worry about, it's not supposed to rain this far south, and the worst would probably be a few sprinkles. I have my waterproof jacket and my poncho, so I'll be fine. If it rains too heavily we'll come home. And we're only an hour from home, it's not like we're going backpacking in the Sierra or something far away like that."

That seemed to calm their concerns, and I finished my breakfast. Mom tried to get me to eat more, but I begged off. I was already stuffed. I put my dishes in the dishwasher and was ready to leave.

"Bye. I'll call you when we get to the campsite so you know we're OK. What are you two doing today?"

Dad didn't look very happy. "Your mother is dragging me to the mall. To do Christmas shopping." I laughed, and so did he, then Mom did too. My dad absolutely hates shopping for anything except groceries. That, for some reason, he likes to do.

"Mom, you keep the last of the big spenders here under control, OK?" That made us all smile. Ever since Dad was injured we've been real frugal, not spending a lot on stuff we don't need.

I said goodbye to my folks, listened politely as they repeated their cautions, promised to keep in touch, and left to pick up Greg.

I halfway expected Greg to still be in bed, but he surprised me by answering the door almost before I'd pressed the doorbell button.

"Hey! Ready to go?"

"Man, you know it. C'mon in and say 'hi' and 'bye' to my folks."

I followed him into their kitchen, said 'hi' to his folks and Keith, his 14 year old brother, chatted a bit about where we'd be hiking and camping, gave a brief weather report, said 'bye', and followed Greg and his family out of the kitchen.

"OK, let's split this joint." Greg grabbed his daypack which was next to the front door, grinned and yelled, "See you tomorrow!" and we were off for the short drive up North Gate Road to the ranger station. We got there by 9:40, checked in and got our campsite tag and information packet, and drove to Juniper campground. We located our campsite, and weren't too surprised to see that none of the others were occupied.

The morning was cold, maybe in the mid 30's, but the sun, which was still low in the sky, felt warm on my face. There were dark clouds to the north, but that was expected from what the weather report had said.

We grabbed our daypacks, including our sandwiches, water, Coke, and snacks. I pulled and latched the privacy cover so our stuff wasn't visible from outside the van, put on the steering wheel lock, enabled the LoJack warning system, and locked the van.

Curt stood watching all this. "Jeez, Curt, this thing's got so much security shit I wonder if we'll be able to get in when we get back." He grinned.

"Like my dad says, 'Better safe than sorry.' Since there's no one else around, it'd be easy for someone to break in and steal the van. And our stuff. Right?"

Greg grumbled and tried to look mad, but couldn't do it and grinned. "Yeah, guess so. Better safe than sorry."

I pulled out my cell, turned it on, and pressed the speed dial number for home. I left a message saying we'd arrived and we were heading out on our hike, then put the cell in my jacket pocket and zipped it closed. "Ready to go?"

"You know it. Hey, what'd you bring for lunch?"

"I made six peanut butter sandwiches, three for each of us, there are chips, trail mix, tangerines and apples, and our drinks."

"What kind of jam's in those sandwiches?"

"Mom's peach preserves."

"Ooooh, that's great. I love your mom's peach preserves."

I put on a serious expression. "Hey, you eat too much of that you're gonna get lots fatter."

I could tell that for maybe a half-second Greg thought I was serious. But I couldn't hold back my laughter, and he realized that I was kidding.

"Asshole."

"Bottomless pit."

"Shithead."

"Fat ass!"

"Oh, you are SO going to get it for that remark." Greg grabbed me in a hug and tried to tickle me. I am like totally ticklish, under my arms, my sides, my belly, and the bottoms of my feet. But I had on my big Timberland jacket, and he couldn't get to any part of me that was ticklish. He finally gave up.

"You're safe for now, Curt. But just wait until tonight; you're in total freakin' trouble. I'm gonna tickle you 'til you can't breathe, then I'm gonna tickle you some more 'til you beg me to stop."

"Promises, promises. Hey, we're supposed to be hiking; let's get going."

And that's what we did. We headed down Eagle Peak Trail. Despite the clouds, the views were fantastic. We saw a black-tailed deer, a buck, across a valley. There were live oaks and pines. Live oaks have two acorn crops, and the squirrels and some of the birds on the mountain depend on them to get through the winter. The ground cover was all dry, and this time of year nothing was in bloom. We could hear birds or small animals scrabbling around in the underbrush, but we never saw them. I took some pictures, mostly of the views and a couple of the buck. We chatted about the views, the birds and animals we saw, the trees, the trail, school, our classes, my digital camera, what kind of digital camera Greg should buy, and about going to Tahoe to ski and snowboard. But we didn't talk about anything personal, and for me that was a relief.

I noticed that the weather was getting colder. My jacket and gloves were keeping everything warm except my face.

I checked my watch. "You know, it's almost 1:00. You ready for some lunch?"

"Great idea. Why don't we sit on that log over there?" Greg pointed to a small stand of trees a little further down the trail. One of the trees had fallen, and looked to be pretty much flat and level, making it a good place to sit.

"OK, looks good."

We walked to the log and sat down. I pulled off my gloves, and we ate our lunch.

"Man, Curt, I love your mom's jam. It is so good."

"You ought to tell her, and use one of your patented puppy dog expressions. She'll for sure give you a jar to take home." I grinned.

"No shit? You think she'd really do that?" I nodded. "Let's stop by your house on the way home tomorrow, OK? I can tell her how great it is then. That way I'll have it for breakfast Monday morning!"

I laughed at his enthusiasm. I looked at him, right into his ocean-blue eyes. "You are amazing, Greg. You make me smile and laugh, you make me happy, guy. I am so glad you're my best friend!"

His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. At me. "God, Curt, you're such a great friend. I'm so freakin' lucky!" He reached over and grabbed my shoulder and looked at me and I looked at him. Then his gaze moved up and his expression changed. "Shit, Curt, look at the sky!"

I turned around. The sky was filled with thick, black clouds, moving in our direction, fast from the north, and the wind increased, a very cold wind.

"Wow, that's impressive. And scary. Looks like maybe we're going to get some weather after all."

"Hey, Curt, I think we oughta get back to the campground."

I nodded, pulled up the hood on my jacket and zipped it all the way up, put on my gloves, and watched Greg do the same.

"It took us about 3 hours to get here, but we were taking it easy. We should be able to get back in a couple of hours. Trouble is, it looks like it's raining in that direction; you can see it under the clouds."

"Shit! I hate to get wet when I'm hiking."

We pulled our ponchos out of our packs, moved our packs around so they were in front, zipped up our jackets, and put on the ponchos.

We headed up the trail, back in the direction we'd come. We'd hiked maybe a half hour when the first rain began to fall. It wasn't heavy, but it was that miserable kind of light rain that blows directly into your face. Fortunately, it only lasted about five minutes before it stopped. The respite lasted about fifteen minutes then a heavier rain began to fall. And it got heavier as we continued to hike up the trail. It was also a lot colder, I could tell because my nose started to run, something it only does when I'm outside in cold weather.

We hiked for about forty-five minutes in a driving rain. By now my pants were soaked, and the rain on my face was running down my neck getting my shirt and T-shirt wet. I was miserable, and I was sure Greg was also. We couldn't talk, the hoods on our jackets and our ponchos prevented us from hearing each other unless we stopped and yelled face-to-face, and the last thing I wanted to do was stop. But I was getting tired and felt like I needed to rest. I looked up the trail. There was a grove of trees off to our left. It looked like it might be a bit dryer inside the grove, so I turned to Greg and pointed in that direction. He nodded, and we headed for the trees.

The trees were grouped in a way that they kept most of the rain out of the center of the grove. I sat down and leaned against one of the trees. Greg squatted for a minute, then sat facing me.

I pulled a bottle of water out of my pack and drank about half of it.

"What dipshit weather." Greg looked at me then smiled. "But it'd be a lot worse if we weren't together, Curt."

What a great thing for him to say. It made me realize how much I loved this guy. I smiled, a smile meant for him. It was a good thing my face was so wet, and that we were far enough apart that he couldn't see my eyes, because tears started running down my cheeks.

"There's no one in the universe I'd rather be with in this kind of weather. Or any kind of weather, Greg." I almost added 'and I love you' but caution and fear kept me from doing that. Greg smiled and took a long drink of water.

We rested for about five minutes more, not saying anything. "Hey, I'm going to call my folks." I pulled my cell out of my pocket and pressed the redial button. The phone beeped. "There's no signal so I won't be able to connect from here. When we get back to the campground I'll call them and give them an update."

"We better get our freakin' butts in gear and get back to the car. I think the rain's let up, doesn't seem as loud."

We left our shelter. It was still raining but not as hard. There had been enough rain that the trail was muddy and slippery in places. Fortunately, we'd already covered most of the steepest parts of the trail. I figured it would take at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half, to get back to the campground.

We hiked, watching our every step, and after a half hour the rain stopped. I turned to make sure Greg was right behind me and my foot slipped in the mud. Greg was close and grabbed me around my waist, and if he hadn't I would have fallen and landed on my butt.

"Careful, Curt!" Greg's eyes showed concern. I regained my balance, and he let me go.

"I guess I can't walk and chew gum. Or hike and turn to see if you're still following me."

"Just be freakin' careful. I don't want to have to carry your broken body from here to the campground."

"I will. Thanks for grabbing me."

"I'll grab you any time you want, Curt." Greg grinned and winked at me.

What did he mean by that? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I was sure that I was taking innocent things Greg said and assigning them meanings that were figments of my overactive imagination. I couldn't help but wonder, just a little, what if he really meant them the way I imagined?

We continued to hike and I made sure to be extra careful, watching every step, watching every time I put my foot down. It wasn't raining, and that was a big help, but the trail was slippery and treacherous in places.

About fifteen minutes later I heard Greg shout. I stopped and carefully turned to see why. He was looking to our right, and pointed up the hill next to the trail. It was hailing up there! It looked so cool, the hail was coming down and making the entire top of the hill white.

"Uh, Greg, I think it's coming this way."

"Damn!"

I was right. We could see that the line that marked the edge of the hailstorm was moving slowly in our direction. We started hiking along the trail, moving as fast as we could, trying to get past the hailstorm. We almost made it, but it caught up with us. Like most hailstorms it ended in a few minutes. Unfortunately, we were at a point where we had to hike an upslope, and the trail ahead was covered with hail. That's ice, for anyone who's never been in a hailstorm. Ice is slippery, especially hail because it's round like ball bearings. Our progress up the trail was torturous. We kept slipping, but because we were being careful neither of us fell. It took maybe five times as long to hike up that slope as it would have if it hadn't been covered by hailstones.

When we got to the top, and the trail leveled out, it started to snow. I stopped and turned around.

"When do the swarms of locusts descend on us, Greg?" I busted up laughing. This was too much. Snow! That's all we needed now.

Greg looked at me like I was crazy. "Uh, Curt, we better get our butts moving. Snow is like hail. It's ice. It's slippery. Let's get goin'."

I looked around and recognized some of the landmarks. I figured that we were about a half hour to forty-five minutes from the campground. I also noticed that it had gotten even colder; the snow was wet, and the snowfall was heavier. We got moving, carefully, watching where we stepped. As we hiked up the trail we were walking through about three inches of accumulated snow. Amazing. Mt. Diablo usually gets less than an inch. This might be a record snowfall.

After about forty minutes I recognized the upslope we were on as the one that led directly up to the campground. In ten minutes we were at the top and back at Juniper. I stopped. I couldn't believe my eyes. I saw at least six inches of snow on the ground. I looked to my left and saw that the road into the campground was also covered with a thick blanket of snow. This side of the mountain had gotten a lot more snow than where we had been hiking. We were very, very lucky.

We got to the car, and Greg looked at me. "I don't think we should put up the tent. Maybe we should get out of here and head home."

"I agree."

I walked around to the back of the van, pulled out my keys, turned off all of the security, pulled open the liftgate, and stepped back so it would clear my body. That's when I saw it.

"SHIT!"

"What! What!" Greg came around to the back of the van wondering why I'd yelled 'shit' because I almost never swear. I pointed to the right rear tire. It was flat as a pancake. We must have picked up a nail. We were parked at the bottom of a downward slope that was fine when we arrived, but now was a big mud puddle. There was no way we'd be able to change the tire where it was.

I closed the back, got into the driver's seat, and started the engine.

"Hey, Greg, stand away from the van, I'm going to try to pull forward and move onto the road."

"OK. I'm clear."

I stepped on the gas, very lightly. The front wheels spun, but the van wouldn't move. Damn! For about five minutes I tried to get the van to move ahead by rocking it. It flat out didn't work. We were stuck.

Greg looked at me. "What'er we gonna do, Curt?"

"First, I'm gonna turn on the heater in the van. That will help us warm up and dry off. Second, I'm going to phone my folks and tell them where we are and that we're stuck here until they can get the auto club out here to tow the car to where they can change the tire. Third, we have to eat something, and fourth I guess we'll just wait out the storm. I agree it wouldn't make any sense to set up the tent. We can lay out the sleeping bags in the back of the van."

We got into the front seats. The engine had been running long enough that the heater should work, so I turned the heat and fan controls all the way to high. I pulled out my cell and hit redial. My dad answered. I told him what happened, what we were going to do, and that we needed the auto club to come up and tow us to a flat area where they could change the tire. I could tell that he was a little worried. He said he'd call the auto club and Greg's folks. I said we were soaked from walking in the rain so we were going to change into dry clothes, then we'd cook the burgers and stay in the van. He suggested that we zip the sleeping blankets together to help keep us warm. I said goodbye and told Greg what he'd said.

I reached back and grabbed my bag of clothes. Damn, I should have packed another shirt and pair of pants. Mine were soaked from the rain. I sat there looking at my collection of underwear and socks. That's all I had that was dry. "I'm so stupid sometimes. I didn't bring any extra pants or shirts. All I have is underwear." I turned to Greg. "What do you have? You have maybe two extra pairs of pants, I hope, I hope?" Actually, I had very little hope he'd have brought two extra pairs.

"Nope, same as you, just what I'm wearing except for a couple a T-shirts and a pair of boxers."

"Let's move over to the shelter. I'll fry up the burgers and we can eat. Afterward we'll get out of our wet stuff and get into the sleeping bag."

The shelter at the campground had a roof. We took our food and the camp stove over there; I fried the burgers and cooked some veggies, and we had what was actually a pretty good dinner. All the while it continued to snow. We cleaned up, using snow to wash out the frying pan, and packed the food that was left back in the cooler. We moved the tent to the shelter to get it out of the way. I opened the van's side door and unrolled the sleeping bags on top of the air mattress. It was a hassle, but we got them zippered together then swept out the snow that blew into the van.

My cell rang. It was Dad.

"Curt, I have bad news for you. Both entrance roads to the park are closed because of the weather. The auto club can't get to you until the road reopens sometime tomorrow. They suggested that I call the ranger station, and I did, but there's no answer. Are you OK? Are you and Greg going to be OK until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it's not great, but there's a shelter where we fried the burgers for dinner, and we've got lots of food and drinks, and the restrooms are open. While we ate I kept the engine running with the heater on, and it should be warm in the van. We'll be fine."

"Well, your mother's very worried. I've told her you two guys are resourceful and smart, and that you'll be OK. It's good to hear you tell me that you'll be OK."

"Thanks, Dad. Should I talk to Mom?"

He put her on, and I reassured her that we were fine.

After we hung up, Greg asked if he could use my cell to call his folks, and I gave it to him. Based on hearing his side of the conversation it sounded like he had convinced them that we were OK.

Getting undressed was a challenge. I opened the side door, we climbed in, and I pushed the door close button and the side door slid shut, then I cracked open the side windows about a quarter-inch so we'd have some fresh air. "Greg, I think we're going to have to do this one at a time."

Greg slid over next to the door. "You're first."

I took off my jacket, poncho, shirt, and T-shirt. I took off my boots and pulled my pants and briefs off, reached down and pulled off my socks. I used the towel to dry myself, and pulled on both of my dry briefs, T-shirts, and socks. I climbed into my side of our dual sleeping bags.

I was aware that Greg had been watching me the entire time I got undressed. It had been all I could do to keep from thinking about him, because otherwise I would have gotten hard, and as a result, very embarrassed.

"OK, Greg, you're next."

He blushed and that surprised me. He repeated the technique I'd used, and when he pulled off his boxers I saw why he'd blushed. He was hard. I turned away so he'd think I hadn't seen him. I was confused. Why was he hard? Was it because he'd watched me get naked? Probably not. I mean, I get hard sometimes when there's nothing to arouse me, so that was probably what it was with Greg.

While I was thinking about this, Greg finished changing and climbed into his side of the sleeping bag. I reached between the front seats and turned the ignition off. I sat up and grabbed the top zipper and pulled it up closing the two of us into the sleeping bag.

Greg was shivering. "You OK, Greg? You're shivering. Are you cold?"

"Yeah, I guess."

I rolled onto my right side. "Roll this way. Let's hug. That way our body heat will keep us warm, and the sleeping bag will keep it inside. We should be warm all night." He seemed to be reluctant, so I reached across and put my hand on his right shoulder and gently pulled. "Come on, roll onto your left side." I felt him let out a sigh, and he rolled toward me. I grabbed him in a hug, and he put his arms around me. I moved around until our bodies were in contact form our shoulders to our feet. That's when I realized that Greg was still hard and knew why he hadn't wanted to hug.

"You must hate me."

"I'll NEVER hate you! Don't ever think that! I love you, Greg, I don't hate you!"

"Y-You love me? Really love me?"

I realized what I'd said. It had just slipped out. I'd told him that I loved him. And it was true.

"I've always loved you. I'm gay, Greg. I know you can't love me that way, but—"

He interrupted me. "STOP! I CAN love you that way! I DO love you that way! Oh, God, Curt, I love you so much I can't even freakin' think of anything other than you sometimes." He hugged me harder and pulled me closer. It felt so good.

There was enough light to let me see his eyes and his lips. I pulled him into a kiss. It was a soft kiss, just lips, and I kept looking into his eyes. I heard him sob and saw his tears. I pulled back from our kiss. "Why are you crying, Greg?"

"I've never been so happy in my whole freakin' life. I'm crying because I'm happy. You love me? For how long?"

"Probably since the day I met you. Forever."

"Why didn't you say anything to me? Why didn't I say anything to you? We're so freakin' stupid, Curt."

I put my palms on his cheeks, and with my thumbs I wiped away his tears. "You went out with, like, almost every girl in our class. I always thought you were straight. That's why I never said anything to you."

"Curt, I never had sex with any of those girls. I've never had sex with anyone. Ever." I could see him grin while tears ran down his cheeks. "I've been saving myself for you. But you and Jen were so tight, you were going steady."

"Jen and I weren't going steady. She was my safety date. That way no one would ever ask why I didn't have a girlfriend or figure out that I was gay. I haven't had sex with anyone either. Let me ask you a question, Greg. Why didn't you ever give me a hint, or ever ask me if I was gay, if you're gay?"

"Curt, I'm not gay. I just happen to love a guy. YOU! What the shit's 'gay' about that? There's nothing 'gay' about that. I've never been interested in any other guys. I don't look at other guys or want to jump their bones. When I hear 'gay' I think of every freakin' stereotype about gays I've ever heard or seen. That's not me. I think I'm normal. Loving you sure is normal for me. But that doesn't answer your question. If I'd told you I loved you, and you'd freaked and walked away from me and wouldn't be my best friend any more, I would have died inside. Really. I don't think I could live without you. I've been thinking about what'll happen when you go to Cal next year, and I won't see you every day. I decided that I'd tell you this weekend. Tell you that I love you. I already tried, a bunch of times, but I chickened out, every time. I've never been so nervous and worried in my life. Couldn't you tell?"

"You said a few things that made me wonder." I looked at him and smiled. Oh, my, God, was I happy! I moved my lips to his and kissed him. And he kissed me back. I reached under his T-shirt and began rubbing his back. Greg moaned, and began rubbing the back of my neck.

I was hard as a rock, and uncomfortably confined in my briefs. I could feel Greg hard and hot against me, not as tightly confined because he was wearing boxers. I nibbled on his earlobe and whispered, "I'm so glad you've been saving yourself for me. Let's get undressed. I want to feel your body, all of your body, against mine." I heard Greg giggle as he lifted his butt up and I felt him pulling his boxers down, then kicking them off. While he struggled to get his T-shirts off, I pulled off my briefs and worked them down my legs and off, then almost ripped one of my T-shirts in my haste to get them off. I tossed them over my head into the front seat and pulled Greg into a hug. It felt so much better, lying next to him, the two of us hugging each other, our bodies naked, feeling his heartbeat as his chest pressed against me, his erection pressing against mine. We kissed again, then again and again. I felt Greg's tongue rub against my lips, and I opened my mouth and let it explore mine. These were things I'd never done before, with anyone. And I was doing it with Greg. Talk about my fantasies coming true.

I could feel tears well up, tears of happiness. I began exploring his body with my hands as we kissed. He felt so wonderful. So amazing. So right.

We weren't talking. I discovered you can't talk when you're kissing.

In the waning light I could see Greg's eyes sparkle. "I feel so fantastic. I love you Greg, I love you, I love you, I love you!"

He smiled. "Me too, all that too. Jeez, Curt, this is my dream come true."

We spent the next half hour or so kissing and touching and nibbling and exploring. Especially exploring. As we explored each other we generated enough heat to warm us and the sleeping bag. Finally the exhaustion of the day caught up with us, and we held each other and fell asleep, in each others' arms.

You ever wake up and not know where you are? You know you're not in your bed, but you don't know what bed it is that you're in. You feel... I don't know... disoriented. That's the word. That's how I felt. Disoriented. I didn't know where I was or why. What I did know is that I was still tired, that I wanted to go back to sleep, and that my face was cold.

I opened my eyes. Well, one of them, sort of. Then I opened my other eye. Now both eyes were at least partially open. I couldn't really see any details because it was dark. I had an impression that the ceiling was low, like I was in the top of a bunk bed. As my eyes and brain began to function better, I was able to make out some shapes. It looked like there was a window at the far end of the bed. It also seemed like it was getting light, there was a dull glow.

I tried to move. Something was holding me down. I felt around with my left hand to find out what was holding me down. It was an arm, a warm arm. My brain woke up and I suddenly remembered where I was. And who was sleeping in my arms. Greg!

I stretched as well as I could in my cramped position. I was sore from lying in the sleeping bag. The window I'd seen was in the liftgate, and it was covered by snow. There was more light behind the snow; the sun was rising. While my body was warm inside the sleeping bag, my face was cold. It was probably time to get up and get dressed and see what was going on.

I rubbed Greg's arm, then his back. "Hey, buddy, wake up. It's a new day."

Greg groaned, then opened one eye and looked at me. He smiled, leaned forward and kissed me. "Hi, lover."

"Hi, lover, yourself. We better get some clothes on in case a ranger comes around." Greg's stomach growled, and I laughed. "And we have to get something to fill that bottomless pit of yours."

"It might be bottomless, but you filled it pretty well last night." He grinned, a nasty grin, then laughed. It was infectious, and as I remembered last night I started laughing too. Then my stomach growled.

"Well, let's get some food into it, and into mine, too."

We retrieved our clothes and, with some difficulty due to the confined space, got our underwear and socks on. Our pants and shirts were still a little wet, but they were all we had so we struggled into them then pulled on our boots.

I looked at Greg. "You ready to brave the cold and snow?"

"No. But we gotta do it, right?"

I pushed the button to open the side door of the van. "Right, we gotta do it. How about hot dogs and fruit for breakfast?"

"As long as there's somethin' hot, I'm for it." Greg stepped out of the van and put on his jacket. "Oh, man, Curt, this is so beautiful."

I got out and stood next to him. It had stopped snowing. The ground was covered by snow, about nine inches, and the trees had enough snow on them to make it look like a scene on a Christmas card. I put my arm around Greg's shoulders and pulled him close to me.

"I want to remember this, our first morning together. It's so beautiful, it's the perfect start to our lives together."

Greg turned to me, smiled, and kissed me. "You, Curt, say the most wonderful things. I love you, man."

My camera was still in my jacket pocket, so I pulled it out and took pictures of the amazing scene, then of Greg against the snow covered backdrop, and he took some of me.

Both of our stomachs growled, simultaneously, and we busted up laughing. I started the engine so the van would warm up inside, and we went back to the shelter to fix breakfast. Hot dogs. Not my numero uno choice for breakfast, but they'd be hot and easy to eat.

I called my dad and told him we were OK, that we were fixing breakfast, hot dogs. He laughed at our breakfast choice, then said he'd call us when the auto club called him back, and that he'd let Greg's folks know we were OK.

We were both ravenous. Those hot dogs were one of the best breakfasts I'd ever had.

We cleaned up, packed everything, and put the tent and cooler back into the van. I brushed the snow off the windshield and back windows, and we got in and sat in the warmth from the heater. My pants were drying out, and I wasn't as cold as I'd been.

I was startled by a knock on the window next to me. It was a park ranger. I rolled the window down, and he wanted to know why we were here when the park was closed. I told him what happened, that we'd arrived on Saturday before the storm hit, and we had a flat and couldn't get the van to move to where we could change the tire. He seemed skeptical about our being there, but I pulled out our campsite tag and that seemed to satisfy him. He hooked a chain from his Jeep to our van and pulled the van up onto the campground road, and the three of us worked together to change the tire. When we finished, we thanked him for his help.

He told us that we could follow him out of the campground, that he had a plow blade on the front of his Jeep, and that he'd clear a path for us. Then he looked at us, grinned, and told us that if I ran into the back of his Jeep 'my ass would be grass' which sounded like something my dad would say. We all busted out laughing. While I drove, very carefully following the ranger's Jeep, Greg phoned my folks and told them that we were on our way home and to cancel the call to the auto club, then called his folks.

It turned out that North Gate Road was clear below the ranger station. We stopped to thank the ranger again, then drove to my house. We told our story, and showed my folks the pictures we'd taken. They were relieved that we were OK, especially my mom. I took her aside and asked if she'd give Greg a jar of her peach preserves, and she gave him two jars. I think he smiled for about ten minutes, holding on to those jars like they were the most precious things in the world.

I drove Greg to his house, and we retold our story. Greg's dad told us that he'd heard on the radio that it had been the biggest snowfall on Mt. Diablo in modern times, ten inches of snow near the summit. They were calling it a blizzard. We showed them the pictures we'd taken, and they were amazed at the amount of snow. Greg's brother Keith wanted to know if our story would be in the newspaper, and Greg and I both said, "NO!" simultaneously, which greatly disappointed Keith and made everyone else laugh.

Greg and I went on a hiking trip on the first Saturday of Christmas break. Stuck in a campground on Mt. Diablo in a record snowstorm that some called a blizzard, we became boyfriends that day. That was the best Christmas present ever for each of us. We're still together today, still in love. But that's another story for another time.

The End

Author Bio

I love to write. I posted my first story online, a serial novel, when I was 13 years old. Since then I've concentrated on short stories, along with a few serial novels. My stories typically have happy endings. I love happy endings. That's the way life should be.

Return to Table of Contents

About This eBook

This Anthology of Anthologies: Best of 2006 is the first eBook in a series from the best of each year's submissions to GayAuthor.org's Quarterly Anthologies. We started with the first year with all four categories and will be producing an eBook for each year after until the present, and future years, of course. If you enjoy these stories please visit Gay Authors for more from these wonderful authors, and many more. Membership is free!

Gay Authors Links:

Website or www.gayauthors.org

Site Blog or www.gayauthors.org/forums/blog/258-gay-authors-news/

 Facebook or https://www.facebook.com/pages/Gay-Authors-Gay-Stories/96457662786#!/pages/Gay-Authors-Gay-Stories/96457662786?fref=ts

Twitter: @GayAuthors
