Bad Stereotypes - 19. Saturday 23rd May 2011

I broke up with Lena nine days after my birthday. Nine days after the blow job which wracked me guilt. Nine days of mysteriously vanishing when she showed up, not being there to hang out. Nine days of no texts or calls or kisses. In honesty, I was surprised it took nine days.

Saturday morning I woke up, had a quick shower and pulled on my running gear to meet the guys for a jog. Lately I had started on a route that took me around all the houses, picking everyone up to go out together. I was fastest, fittest, so I always left first. David’s house was closest, and I hopped on the spot as he tugged on his laces before joining me. Miles met us and the end of his road and fell neatly into step as we jogged around the edge of the park towards Zach’s house. Zach was waiting outside his house, as per, but he was sitting on the edge of the pavement, not warming up and when he leant back, I could see that Lena was sitting on the step beside him looking tear stained and blotchy.

“Shit that doesn’t look good Bay.”

I stopped mid stride at Miles’s words. Lena had been crying, Zach looked thoughtful, his straight dark brows drawn low. This was not a good thing. I walked the rest of the way to Zach’s house.

“Hey.” I half raised a hand in a purposeless wave, “What’s up?”

Zach stood, and he looked at me with an unreadable sort of expression, his eyes hard and dark.

“Deal with this.” He muttered as he passed me. His hand on my shoulder was firm and hot, “This is not how I like to start my mornings.” I swallowed noisily, I felt sick, “Come on guys, once round the park.” As I watched Zach and the guys jog away, I burned to go with them, to get away from this situation, where Lena was looking at me with red eyes and a tear stained face.

“Hey.” I rubbed my neck with one hand, “What’s up.”

Lena stood up, leggings and a tunic dress, no make-up. Her hair was a mess.

“Are you dumping me?” Lena was staring me down, her arms folded across her chest. “What the fuck is going on Bay?”

I picked nervously at the leg of my running shorts, clipping the fabric between my nails.

“I…”

“You can’t even answer me can you?” Lena was shaking with anger and palpable misery, “Did it mean nothing to you? It meant something to me Bay. You mean something to me.”

“Lena…” I didn’t know what to say, what to do. She was so angry, and I felt helpless and guilty. Whatever she wanted to say to me, I deserved it.

“I can’t believe that I trusted Zach! I’m so stupid!” Lena pushed me, tiny delicate hands in the centre of my chest, “This is so over Bay.” I grunted, “You’re fucking pathetic. I can’t believe I wasted any time crying over you.” Lena pushed me again, she was crying again, “I’m done.”

I watched her walk away until Zach and the boys rounded the corner. Zach’s hand on my shoulder nearly made me melt.

“That looked harsh.”

I believe I nodded mutely.

“Fuck dude,” Zach let his hand fall away, and I felt whatever was tethering me to the stop come loose, “You’ll find someone else.”

I didn’t want someone else. I wanted Zachary Sarver. He was my best friend. I felt like such a dick. So I did what I did best when my head was full of things I couldn’t deal with. I ran.

It was a Saturday. I ran until I was exhausted, until my legs burned and my knees threatened to give way and then I ran some more. I ran until my lungs were raw, until my eyes streamed so much I couldn’t see, until the shirt on my back was heavy with sweat. And only then did I turn around and run home.

It was a Saturday. I had lunch with my parents. I showered, shaved a little bit, got dressed in a good shirt and jeans, and took the train into the city centre just as it got dark. I didn’t take my phone. I knew that at some point I was going to have to stop and examine these feelings, but I didn’t want too. Unfortunately the ten minute train ride gave me more time to think than I wanted.

I was in lust with my straight best friend. The same man who had convinced my now ex-girlfriend to give me a birthday blow job as a way of progressing our relationship. Why I had let everything get so fucked up was anyone’s guess. I knew that I liked guys. It wasn’t like I wasn’t sure about being homosexual, I had no doubts. But when I thought about what had happened to Alex, how he had changed… I wasn’t so hot on the idea of being gay. And definitely not into the idea of coming out. Coming out was surely not going to be a great idea at this stage. Lena hated me enough as it was, I wasn’t going to do that to her ego.

Which was why I was going into the city on a Saturday night in my best gear with the top three buttons of my shirt undone and my birthday cash in my pocket. I was sixteen, and I hadn’t been kissed by anyone who made my skin tingle in five months. And if I spent one more fucking second jerking off over fantasies of Zachary Sarver, I was going to go insane and snap. Or tell him. That was also a stupid plan.

Once in the city I headed vaguely in the direction of lights and noise, following the neon on the river. When I spotted two guys walking hand in hand along the street I decided that following them might be a great idea. As we moved along the street, there were more guys, less girls, many more flamboyant outfits, people in leather. People were sitting outside clubs and bars drinking and talking and laughing hysterically. I felt like a child: I hadn’t actually spent any time working out how I was going to get into one of these places. I was saved any more worry on it when a strong voice called out from a bar across the pavement with palms trees and tiki lights.

“Hey there pretty boy.”

I turned to look at the speaker. A good looking clean cut guy in his mid-twenties with surfer-dude looks. I made a gesture to myself, raising one eyebrow, and he beckoned me closer with one hand.

“Yeah you. Come here.”

I wandered over to the rope that separated the drunken crowd from the rest of the party goers on the pavement.

“God, you look sweet enough to eat. What’s your name?”

“Bay.”

“Trev. You want a drink?” he pushed a short tumbler half full of amber liquid into my hand as he spoke, “Join us for a bit yeah?”

So I nipped over the rope and before I could look for a chair, I was sitting in Trev’s lap, talking animatedly with his friends and losing track of all my lies. I was eighteen, I lived in the suburbs with friends, I had just finished college, I was going to the uni to study. Trev played with the hem of my shirt, gave me more drinks when I had finished the first and took every opportunity to touch me. I liked the attention, and despite the shrill cackles of queers and drag queens, I felt comfortable sitting with him and his friends, drinking and laughing and flirting.

About three drinks later I nipped up to go the bathrooms. I grinned at Trev as I walked away, but his trying to slap my butt had made me a lot less sure about my plans. Not that I had any plans. It was half ten at night, I was tipsy if not drunk, I had no phone and not enough money for a cab back home when the trains stopped running. No one knew where I was, my parents would be worried. I was just about to let myself into a stall when there was a hand on my arm. I turned. One of Trev’s friends. About my height, slim, nearly could be called pretty.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There was about six inches between us when he smiled, four inches when I smiled back, and no space at all by the time his lips were planted on mine. I backed into the stall, he followed, his mouth opening up for my tongue as we kissed.

Hot, frantic unbuttoning of clothes. I ran my fingers over his slender torso. Not as nice as Alex, way better than Lena. We were kissing all the skin we could reach. Then he fell to his knees, fingers quick on the fly of my jeans and I managed to gasp and pant before the nameless friend began his task. From birthday blow jobs to bathroom blowjobs in nine days.

After wards he stood up, wiped a hand across his mouth and grinned.

“Jeremy.”

“Bay.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yes.”

I didn’t even wave to Trev on my way out.