Man In Motion - 2. Valentine's Day

February 14, 1985

New Haven, CT

I hated fucking Valentine's Day. I guess it might be more accurate to say that I hated being alone on Valentine's Day. I looked around my condo, marveling at the peace and quiet…and loneliness. I didn't have to be alone. Blair was more than willing to go out with me. But I didn't want to go out with Blair. I wanted to be with Robbie.

Not that Blair was a slouch in the looks department. He was totally fine. He looked kind of like the lead singer for Kajagoogoo. He was short and blond; the similarities to Mouse were pretty startling, but he had none of Mouse's sincerity. No, Blair was a gold digger. He'd be at my beck and call, do whatever I wanted, even let me bareback him, all because I had money. Going out with Blair was like going out with a hustler, only harder because I really didn't know what it was going to end up costing me.

I called Ace to commiserate with him, but he’d just met some girl named Bianca and he was head over heels in lust with her. So for him, Valentine's Day was the ultimate holiday, a chance to show this new girl that he was interested in her. A chance to get laid. I was happy for him, but it was hard to act that way. I'd asked him if Robbie was there, just to say “hi”, no big deal, but he was out with Neil. Of course he was. This was their big holiday too.

I thought about them as a couple, and that inevitably led to me thinking about them fucking, and that led to excruciating pain. It made me think that I should be out getting laid too, but I really wasn't in the mood. Sex was something I'd learned to enjoy all by myself. Having a partner brought endless complications. First of all, there was all that bullshit about whether it was “just a fuck” or more serious. I was pretty nervous about relationships, and I wasn’t sure if that was because I was still so hurt after Robbie or because I didn’t trust most guys. But that was nothing compared to the second reason. Sex nowadays could be deadly. One slip up with a partner that had AIDS, and that could be the end of my life. Having casual sex without a condom was like playing Russian roulette; having casual sex with a condom was still a little nerve wracking. I had too much to live for, too many responsibilities, and too many expectations to risk death just for a quick orgasm.

I'd talked to Stef today and that had just depressed me more. Usually he was so upbeat, but this plague was taking its toll on him. He'd been part of the Hollywood boy slut scene for years, and he was watching his friends drop like flies around him. He told me that Rock Hudson had AIDS, even though it wasn't public knowledge yet, and that Rock was doing everything in his power to keep it a secret. Then he'd dropped another bombshell: Peter Gordon had it too. I felt the fear rising up in me, threatening to overwhelm my defenses. I had slept with Armand, and he was dead. I'd slept with that guy on Dallas, and he'd been with lots of those guys that had it too. About once a week, it seemed, I'd let these fears take control and I'd start imagining things. If I had a cough, I'd worry that it was pneumonia. If I got a bump or some other skin abrasion, I'd worry that it was one of those sores AIDS patients got.

Stef told me they were coming out with a test for it next month, and that he and Greg were going to get tested. He wanted me to get tested too. I collapsed onto my couch in dread, wondering if I had it. Even if I did have it, I wondered if it would be better to not know about it and live in blissful ignorance, or to know and have to face the cruel truth. Deep down, I knew that I wanted to know, I needed to know, but the fear was debilitating.

In the end, dork that I was, I forced myself to focus on my studies. I had a paper to write for my history class, so I sat down at my computer to try and hammer it out. I had a new IBM computer with a laser printer, both amazingly expensive and amazingly helpful. The last time I'd seen Blair he'd come over to use my “system,” and had blown me as a thank you. Blow jobs, at least getting them, seemed to be a relatively safe activity. I couldn't get into wearing a condom to get my dick sucked, so even though it was a low-risk activity, it wasn't “no risk.”

My mind leaped on its own and I began wondering what Robbie and Neil were doing. I wondered if Robbie was fucking him. It seemed like that's what Neil liked. If he was a total bottom, he probably wasn't a faithful one. That meant he was high-risk. Did he have it? If he did, did they always wear condoms? Could Neil infect Robbie? Had he already infected him? That train of thought was agonizing. If he was infected, would it be my fault for not fighting harder for him?

And that led me to the most upsetting thing of all. When I'd talked to Ace today, he told me that Robbie mentioned to him that after our trip to the Super Bowl he thought I seemed to be over him. What the fuck was that about? We made love, wild passionate love, albeit behind Neil's back, but how could he not feel the connection between us? How could he think I was over him? He was just projecting. He was over me, and he was hoping I was there too so he didn't have to hurt me. Or was he? I'd gone on the assumption that he truly wanted to move on, so I'd made sure to keep the guilt to a minimum, to make it seem like I was fine with us not being together. Satisfying our carnal desires didn't necessarily mean I was in love with him. It meant that I was horny, or at least that's what he might think.

But what if he had doubts like me? What if he still had feelings for me just like I had for him? And what if by hiding them I was forcing him to hide his too? And what if by doing that, I forced him to stay with Neil, and then he got AIDS? I got up and paced the room a few times. This train of thought was pointless, the scientific side of my brain asserted. I simply didn't have enough data to develop a theory. If I wanted to know the truth, I'd need more information, I'd have to set up an experiment to get more clues. I forced my mind to work on scheming something up, but nothing materialized.

Then it dawned on me how incredibly pathetic I had become. I was sitting at home, pining away over my ex who was in New Jersey pounding the ass of his bitchy boyfriend. That was just too much for my pride to handle. I looked at my watch: 7pm. There was a party tonight, a party for Californians at Yale. I hopped into the shower then worked to make myself look as good as I could. After a final primp in front of the mirror, I headed over to campus.

I'd been to the Caliclub meetings before, but not this year. There were usually a bunch of lame-ass people there, dorks that had made it into Yale with their academic prowess, not their personalities. There wasn't anyone here from my alma mater, Gunn High School, but there were a few people from Palo Alto High. They were nice enough, but they knew I was gay, so they were a little aloof. Probably worried that I had “it” and that I would infect them. I was kind of worried about that too.

I walked in and scanned the room quickly, trying to put a plan together that would get me to someone I knew as fast as possible. I have always been shy around people I don't know, and parties like this were the worst. I saw Amelia Birch over in the corner talking to a good-looking guy I'd never met before. Amelia had gone to Paly and was nice enough. I headed toward her.

“Hey Brad,” she said cheerfully as I approached. She grudgingly let me kiss her cheek, then looked scared shitless after I did. “This is Max Granger. Max, this is Brad Schluter.”

“Hi,” he said shyly, and held out his hand. I was totally captivated by him. This guy was gorgeous: tall, about 6'1” which put him an inch over me, with a thin, fit body. I found myself eying him up and down and stopped, forcing myself to make contact with his eyes: pale blue eyes, a really light shade that went perfectly with his blond hair. Not only was his hair blond, it had highlights that suggested, along with his tan, that he was a guy who tried to spend time in the sun.

“Hi,” I said just as shyly, and took his hand. He had rough hands, not the hands of a guy who turned pages in a book all day, and a firm handshake just like Grand had taught us to do. “You from California?” I asked stupidly.

“Yeah. I live in Southern California. You know where Santa Monica is?”

I smiled. “Fer sure. I live in Palo Alto but I spend a lot of time down south. My uncle lives in Malibu.”

“So if you're looking for a rich boyfriend, Brad's your man,” Amelia interjected tastelessly. I saw him cringe at the reference.

“I'm not sure about that, Amelia,” he said uncomfortably.

“Not sure about what?” I teased. “About finding a boyfriend, or about me being rich?” He looked up at me and smiled.

“My work here is done,” Amelia said, making both of us blush. She breezed off to find other people to annoy.

“This is kind of a lame party,” he said.

“It is. I'm hungry. Want to go with me to get something to eat?” I was being really forward with this guy, but damn he was cute, and it would be so nice to meet someone to, well, to meet a friend.

“I'm pretty broke,” he said, looking down like he was ashamed.

“Most college students are, but you heard Amelia, I'm your sugar daddy for the night. Come on. My treat.” I’d started out teasing, and then ended my spiel with a plea.

“Alright,” he said. “Don't think that just because you buy me food I'll put out on the first date though.” That was the first time he'd joked back or flirted, and it caught me off guard. After a momentary shock, I laughed, maybe a bit too loud, and led him out of the party. I saw some of the guys sneering at us as we left. Homophobia was growing fast with the onslaught of AIDS.

I led him to my car and he whistled. “Nice car! I guess you really are rich.”

“Does that bother you?” I asked as we got in.

“I don't know. I mean, I'm not a poor kid; my parents are comfortable, but this beats the shit out of my Honda.”

“I'm a lucky guy.” I looked over at him and hoped that I'd get even luckier by the end of the evening. I took him to a really nice Italian restaurant not far from campus. It was late now, 9pm, so most of the Valentine's Day crowd had gone. We got a table right away. “So how long have you been at Yale?” I asked.

“Just got here this fall. I went to a Community College for my first two years and transferred in as a junior. This is the first time I've gone to any of those meetings though.”

“What made you go tonight?” I tried to convey a sense of caring, not a third-degree grilling. It seemed to work.

“I, uh, ended a relationship over the holidays and I was lonely and miserable. I needed to go out. Makes me sound pretty pathetic, huh?”

I smiled. “Join the club, I was doing the same thing, only my relationship ended a while back.”

“You're still not over him?” he asked me sympathetically, not accusingly.

“No. I'm such a fucking idiot, but it's been really hard. We had a really long history, and we'd been through all kinds of shit together. Then we just drifted apart, and now he has a new boyfriend. And the new guy's a total douchebag.”

He laughed, a beautiful laugh that showed off his perfect teeth and cute dimples. “I had the same problem. I moved out here and went back for Christmas and found him with someone else.” His mood changed. “He didn't even tell me. I just met up with him at a party and they were hanging all over each other.”

“I'm sorry,” I told him. I could tell he was hurting just as bad as I was. “So what do you like to do, besides mope around at stupid parties?”

“I love to surf,” he said. He looked at my huge grin and grinned back. “You surf?”

“Fuck yeah. I love it. I love the water. You any good?”

He pretended to be offended. “You mean you never heard of me? Max Granger, surfer extraordinaire?”

“Now that you mention it...weren't you the guy polishing everyone's boards at the last surf competition?” He kicked me under the table playfully. “So what do your parents do for a living?”

“My father is a stockbroker, and my mother works for a big time Hollywood producer. He works her to death, but he's a pretty good guy.”

“What's his name?” I asked, knowing the answer before I asked the question.

“Greg Anders. You know him?”

I laughed. “Yeah. He's my uncle's partner. He's like a stepfather to me.”

He looked worried. “I didn't mean to slam him. I mean, he's really nice to my mom and all.”

“Nah. It's cool. I know he's a workaholic. He ever take his staff out on his boat?” Max shook his head. “I'll have to give him some shit about that.”

We finished dinner and headed out. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, being polite.

“You’re welcome. So what do you want to do now?” I asked him. He looked nervous. “I mean, I can take you home if you want, to your place, but if you want, uh, it's up to you I mean, you can come over to my place and hang out.” I was really nervous and it was turning me into a total dork.

“You're asking me back to your place? You think I'm that easy?” he teased, eliminating my nervousness as fast as it had arisen.

“No, actually I thought you might be into looking at real estate,” I teased back.

“I probably shouldn't. I've got classes in the morning.” I could tell he wanted to; he just didn't want to seem like a slut.

I reached over and grabbed his hand briefly in between shifting gears. “Come on, Max. I've been miserable all day, until I met you.”

“Alright,” he said with a smile.

We got back to my condo and he whistled as he walked in. It was really nice. I had a big screen television and an amazing stereo system, all faced in black. The couches were black too, but the floors were white marble, and I had a multi-colored accent rug. “Nice place,” he said.

“Yeah. Well, after I broke up with my boyfriend I decided that I needed to forget about us, and I needed a new place. I found this one and it seemed perfect.” He collapsed on one of the couches. “Beer?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he said.

I grabbed a beer and tossed it to him. “You smoke weed?” I asked. He smiled big at that.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. I pulled out my bong and sat next to him. I packed a couple of hits for each of us. In no time at all we were really stoned. “This is some wicked weed,” he said with a giggle.

“We grow it on our land,” I said, thinking wistfully of Escorial. We were laughing, laughing hard as stoners do about something idiotic, when our eyes met and suddenly the laughter stopped. We moved toward each other until our lips met, tentatively at first, barely touching. Then we moved closer, and I felt his lips work with mine, sucking me in in the sexiest fucking way. I moved my tongue forward, probing his teeth with it, demanding entry. I felt his mouth part and then our tongues met, wrapped around each other in an erotic dance that inflamed my passion.

I moved on top of him, feeling his strong body moving with me, against me, and ran my hands down his side and back to squeeze his ass gently. He moaned into my mouth, urging me on, so I slid to the side of him and ran my hand across his crotch and his hard cock. I felt his hand on my crotch, and his eyes got really big, almost scared. I kissed him gently then got up, pulling him up and leading him to the bedroom. “I should probably go,” he said, but didn't pull away from me.

When we got to my bedroom I started taking off his clothes but he stopped me and did it himself. I focused on getting my own off, and in no time at all we were standing there, face-to-face, stark naked.

“God, Max, your body is a work of art,” I said as I pulled him into a hug and nuzzled his neck.

“Your dick is huge,” he said, and sounded worried.

“It is,” I said in a friendly manner. “It's a blessing and a curse.”

“How is it a curse?” he asked. He was frustrating me. I wanted to move this to the next level, but he wanted to talk. I led him to the bed and got in with him, pulling the warm covers up over us.

“Some guys are nervous because it's so big. It scares them away.” I sounded sad when I said that, not because I'd really ever had a major problem with that before, but because I was worried that I would with him.

“Well I think it's sexy,” he said, and moved his mouth down my chest and abdomen. I felt his breath on my dick, his lips tentatively touching it, and then he went down on me. He was a great cocksucker. He worked me and I just lay back and enjoyed it, getting really into it until all of a sudden I realized that I was going to cum.

“I'm gonna cum, Max,” I said frantically. In today's world, swallowing was supposed to increase the risk of AIDS, so he pulled off and jerked me the rest of the way. The look of awe on his face as he watched me blast my load all over myself was so fucking hot it just made me cum that much harder. I lay there, panting, and he made to get up. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“I should get home,” he said sheepishly. He'd figured that this was just some sleazy encounter and that I'd want him out of here as soon as I blew.

I pulled him down, back into the bed, and kissed him again. His look of surprise got even bigger as I worked my way down his body. He had a smooth, hairless chest, a really sexy chest, so I made a point to lick and suck on each of his nipples. Then I moved down, across his flat, hairless stomach and down to his pubes. He had a small blond bush, so sexy, and I stopped to inhale his smell when I reached his groin. He had a thick, pungent odor, one that had more body odor than musk to it. He had a really nice dick, about six inches, and I took a few minutes to play with it, to worship it. Then, without warning, I swallowed his cock in one movement and heard him gasp. I played with his balls as I blew him, and he seemed to like that, so I moved my mouth lower and sucked on each of them. That must have been a real turn on for him, and it was for me too. I'd never been with a guy who really got into me sucking on his balls, so this was cool. Still, his taint was too tempting, and I had to go lower. Now the smell changed. Now his musk overwhelmed his body odor, and it was sending my hormones into overdrive. I kept moving lower to his hole, and when my tongue hit his pucker I heard him moan loudly. I loved rimming a hot guy, a hot guy who liked it, and Max really liked it. He grabbed his legs, letting me work his hole, first with my tongue, then with my finger. He was loose, he wanted to be fucked, but I didn't want to go there with him yet.

I left my finger in his ass, gently stimulating his prostate, while I moved up and started sucking on his dick again. He was so worked up that he shot his load almost immediately. He was so into it he forgot to warn me, and I tasted his cum as he blasted in my mouth. Not all cum tastes good, but his did. He tasted fucking great. He tried to push my head off but I refused, and moved his hand to the back of my head. He gave in and grabbed my head, pushing me into his cock as he pumped his load down my throat. When he was done, I gently pulled my finger out and looked up at him, so handsome, so adorable, and so spent.

“Thanks, Brad. That was fucking awesome. Man, I needed that.”

“Me too. You were great.” There was an uncomfortable pause, one of those silent periods after sex. “Um, Max, if you want me to take you home I will, but if it were up to me, I'd rather have you spend the night. If you want to.”

He smiled at me and pushed me onto my back, snuggling up to me as I'd snuggled up to Robbie. Thinking of him made me cringe, but not as badly as it had before I met Max. “I want to,” he said.

March 11, 1985

New Haven, CT

This last semester was flying by, and I was in much better spirits. There was one reason for that and one reason only: Max. He was great. He was a good friend, someone that I could talk to and I felt that I could trust. He was a good lover, even though we hadn't fucked yet. And he was just good company. He came over pretty much every night unless one of us had something else going on, and then it was no big deal. It was completely relaxed, completely casual; just what I needed. What's more, I think it was just what he needed too.

Lately sex with him had been getting more intense, as we both got more into each other and thus more into it. I could tell by the way he reacted when I worked his prostate that he liked to get fucked, but it just didn't seem right. Neither one of us seemed anxious to go there. I guess in my mind, and maybe in his too, once we crossed that threshold it meant that our relationship was getting more serious. I didn't want to go there with him, at least not yet.

I was going to LA for Spring Break next week and I was going to get tested for AIDS. I'd set that up with Stef last night on the phone. He'd lost another friend last week. This was ripping him up. If I was in knots about it, he was beside himself. I could tell that this was really stressing both him and Greg out, so much that they'd actually been fighting and bickering lately. That was something they never did. They were the ultimate gay couple: together, happy, and committed.

As if that weren’t stressful enough, I'd talked to Robbie a few times on the phone, never intentionally, only when I'd called Ace and he'd been there. Last time, though, he told me that he was coming up to New Haven for an interview here at Yale. I made him promise to call me when he did, and offered to let him stay at my place if he wanted to. That had been awkward, because he knew that if we were together, alone, we'd probably end up sleeping together. He also probably figured out that Neil knew that too or at least suspected as much, so he'd politely turned my offer down.

Then I'd gotten a call from him last night telling me that he was driving up today, and that he had meetings tomorrow. He wanted to stay with me. He said it would save money. I didn't know what to think about that. He didn't have anything close to my resources, or Ace's for that matter, but he got a nice allowance from home. Was money really a problem for him, or was he just using that as an excuse? Like everything that had to do with him, I over analyzed it, damn near driving myself crazy. Anyway, I told Max that I had plans and he didn't say anything, nor did he seem bothered by it at all.

The doorbell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. I opened the front door and Robbie was standing there, looking great. “Hi. Nice place,” he said as he walked in.

“Thanks. I moved here last summer.” To try and forget about you, I didn't say. “How long you staying?”

“Why? You already sick of me?” He was teasing me.

“No, just trying to decide if I need to stock up on more food or not.” He was notorious for his huge appetite.

He snaughed, that unique gesture of his, part laugh, part snort. I opened my arms, asking him for a hug, and then he was in my arms, and he was holding me. He didn’t hug me like he did last time I saw him, but like he used to, like he did when he loved me. He broke the hug off and looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake.”

“Why was it a mistake?” I asked.

“Neil and I had a big fight. He told me that if I stayed with you, I'd end up sleeping with you. I told him that I wouldn't, he called me a liar, and I swore that I wouldn't.”

“And now that you're here, you remembered that I'm irresistible?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. You are.”

I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around him. “Look, Robbie, you and I have shared a lot; we are linked, we always will be. Think about it. Remember all that we've been through together? Our trip to San Francisco, when you got knocked into the Bay. Your near brush with being molested by your mother's pastor,” I added, joking. He laughed. The feel of his body quaking with laughter while I held him tight was making me horny. I felt his body against my dick and instinctively pushed into him. He pushed back, then our mouths locked and we stood there, absorbed in each other.

I broke the kiss and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom. “This is wrong,” he said as he took off his clothes.

I moved up to him and ran my hands across his naked body, his erect dick, his huge chest. “It doesn't feel wrong,” I said. “Is it so wrong that after all we've been through, I have a little piece of you?”

He smiled at that, seemingly getting the rationale that he needed, and all of the doubts he had flew to the back of his mind. I had no reservations about fucking him, like I did with Max. I knew that I loved Robbie. After we were done, spent and panting, he collapsed onto his back and I curled up on him as I loved to do. This time his hand stroked my back and pulled me into him.

“This is nice,” he said.

I wanted to say that it could be like this all the time if he'd just dump Neil and get back together with me, but I didn't want to screw things up. “It is.” I smiled up at him. “You know, since we broke up I've been with other guys, but no one makes me feel as good as you do.”

He blushed. “Thanks. No one makes me feel as good as you do either.” What was that? What the fuck was that?

“No one?” I asked with an arched eyebrow. He knew damn well I was talking about Neil.

“No one,” he responded. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. I got a huge grin and just lay there, gently stroking his chest, enjoying the feel of him, the feel of being with him. “Is there someone else in your life?”

I gulped. “Kind of,” I said with a happy sigh. “There's one guy that I've been going out with pretty often. He's really nice, and I like him. He's from LA and he likes to surf, so we have that in common. I'm going out to LA for Spring Break, and I'm thinking about taking him with me.” He tensed up a little bit, and I could tell that this bothered him, bothered him a lot. Well, it was his big fucking idea to break up in the first place, so he'd have to deal with it. “He's really refreshing after the last guy I dated. He was just after me for my money.” I felt him really tense up at that. His reaction was really strange. “What?” I asked.

“Neil is expensive,” he said. Then the tumblers clicked for me. Part of their relationship was Neil's guess that Robbie had money. And Robbie had been doing his best to fuel that opinion. “He's really smart, but he comes from a poor family. He likes stuff, all the things that money can buy. I indulge him as much as I can.”

“I didn't know you had enough money to support him in the lifestyle of the rich and famous,” I observed.

“I don't.”

“Then how do you pay for it? He was wearing $200 worth of clothes on the plane.”

“I charge it. I have credit card debt from hell,” he said. I could feel his emotions. He wasn't sad about that; he wasn't mad; he was stressed. Really stressed. I looked up at him and saw another emotion: shame.

“Why do you do it? I mean, I'm sorry, Robbie, but that guy is a total bitch. He doesn't even treat you well. Is this some abusive relationship that you've fallen into?”

“Fuck you, Brad. I'm not that twisted.” He made to get up but I held him tight. He'd been subject to abuse before, so that was a pretty low blow on my part.

I tried to make amends quickly. “I'm sorry. OK? Don't be mad at me. I guess I was just surprised. I mean, you are such an awesome guy, I just don't know why you put up with his shit.” I treated you so much better, I thought.

He relaxed and let the tension out with a sigh. “He's not like that when we're alone. When it's just the two of us, he's kind and loving. He is totally into me. He makes me the center of his world.” He looked wistful.

“You were the center of my world too,” I said, and regretted it immediately. Why did I always say shit I didn’t want to when I was around him? He looked at me strangely.

“Yeah, but you've moved on now,” he said.

“Because that's what you wanted,” I told him.

“I thought that's what you wanted too?”

This was just pissing me off, but I controlled myself. “You never asked me what I wanted. You just told me that you met Neil and you had fallen in love with him, and that meant you were dumping me.” I couldn't hide my bitterness. This is not the conversation that I wanted to have with him.

“I'm really sorry, Brad. I thought that we'd grown apart and that you were relieved when we ended. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well you did.” I was bitter, and my words showed it. He lay there like he was a dead man. “All that is in the past now, alright? You're with Neil now, you're happy, and I'm hanging out with Max and focusing on getting out of here. Let's just try and be friends.” He nodded. “With benefits,” I added, smiling at him, and then I fucked him again, just to keep that connection.

March 12, 1985

New Haven, CT

We ended up at the same Italian restaurant that I'd taken Max to. Robbie loved Italian food so that was really no great surprise, but the symbolism was weird.

“So how did your meetings go?” I asked him.

“Pretty well,” he said.

“You think you'll get accepted?”

He was pensive. “Possibly. I'm really not sure. I think that Harvard is my best chance right now, although I'd really like to spend a year in Paris.” He stuffed some pasta into his mouth. “What about you?”

“I don't know. I've actually thought about spending a year at the Sorbonne too.” I had, but it came out sounding like I was stalking him.

“You following me?” he asked, trying to be funny.

“No. You don't want me around anyway. If you did, I'd be at Princeton.” Fuck. What was it about him that made me say stupid shit that I didn't want to say?

“Brad, wherever I go, it would be great if you were there too,” he said to me as he looked into my eyes. He was being so sincere, and that made it really meaningful.

“Neil would be pretty upset about that,” I observed wryly.

“Speaking of Neil, I probably need to get going so I can make it back at a reasonable hour.” I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay so badly, but I knew that wouldn't happen.

“You sure you don't want to leave in the morning?” I said with a playful leer.

“I'd love to, but I can't.” He seemed as sad about that as I was. Probably just the mind-blowing sex we’d had all weekend.

“How bad are your debts?” I asked him.

“I don't want to tell you,” he said, ashamed. He had to feel guilty that he’d fucked up. I wasn't going down that road. I just stared at him, waiting for his response. “Ten thousand dollars.”

“Shit. That's a lot of money,” I said. He just nodded sadly. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and went into the stall. I pulled out my checkbook and wrote him a check for $10,000. I paid the bill and we walked out to the Jeep. We were quiet on the drive back to my house, quiet and sad.

When we got there, he leaned in and kissed me with all the feeling and emotion I'd known before. “You're really important to me,” he said.

I gulped and handed him the check. “You're really important to me too.” And then I fled from the Jeep before the tears started. I ran into my house and went straight to bed where I could hide under the sheets, all by myself, and cry.

I was lying there feeling sorry for myself when I heard the doorbell ring. Fuck. I forced myself out of bed and wiped my eyes. I opened the door and found Max there smiling at me. He saw my face and his look changed to worry. He stepped in and hugged me tightly, then led me back to bed and let me just cry in his arms.

“He was here?” I just nodded. He shook his head sadly. But wallowing in self-pity wasn't something I could let myself do for long. I pulled myself out of my melancholy and leaned up to kiss him gently.

“Thanks Max. What made you decide to stop by?”

He smiled. “You said you had plans, and I don't know, maybe it was just your tone. I was worried about you.”

“What are you doing for Spring Break?”

“I don't have any plans other than to get ahead on some of my school work.”

I smiled. “Want to go home? I'm going to LA on Friday and coming back on the following Sunday.”

He grinned back. “I'd love to, but I don't have the cash for a plane ticket, and no, I don't want you to buy me one.”

“Stef is sending his plane for me, and since you're not a fat-ass, it shouldn't cost much more to lug you along too.”

“Really?” he asked, amazed. “That would be so cool. My parents will fucking flip out.” He had a tight relationship with his family.

“Really. But you have to hang out with me some of the time too. I need to give you some surfing lessons.” He hit me playfully.

“Sounds good. What about a boat ride? Can you swing that too?”

“I'm sure I can,” I said. Then I shut him up with another lip-lock, and a fantastic blow job.

March 13, 1985

New Haven, CT

I got home from class and heard the phone ringing as I was unlocking the door. I tripped along the way and fell, slamming my thigh into the coffee table. “Fuck!” I yelled, and then finally made it to the phone. “Hello,” I said in a most unfriendly voice.

“You fucked my boyfriend, you asshole,” I heard Neil say.

“I don't have to answer to you for shit, you little piece of shit,” I said.

“Stay the fuck away from Robbie. He's mine now. You guys are through.”

“Well Neil, it seems to me that Robbie came up here, so you should be having this talk with him,” I said, calmly and coolly. I used the pain in my thigh to focus my anger.

“You seduced him. I know you did.”

“You don’t know shit, but if you keep this up, you're going to lose him.”

“Fuck you. I'm not going to lose him, and I'm sure as hell not losing him to you. I'm way cuter than you, and I'm a way better fuck.” That last statement was liberating since I knew it wasn't true.

“You've got a lot of nerve calling me like this. You are totally out of fucking line. Robbie may want you around, but I don't. You are totally out of my life.”

“Big fucking deal,” he said with a cocky lilt to his voice.

“It may not be a big deal, but you just lost your Escorial privileges and you’ve flown on Stef's plane for the last time. Same with the house in Malibu and the place in Santa Cruz.” I was pissed off, pissed off and done with him. I was determined that he would be out of my life, or at least so far away I wouldn't have to look at him.

“You can't ban me from Robbie's house or Robbie's plane,” he said defiantly.

“Neil, how did a moron like you end up at Princeton? God, I'm glad I went to Yale. It isn't Robbie's house or Robbie's plane. Get that through your head, dumb ass.”

“What are you talking about? Robbie lives there with his dad. In his dad's house.”

“No, Robbie’s father lives with my mother in the house that my father owns. Not Robbie's father, my father. The beach house in Santa Cruz belongs to him as well. And I'm going to explain to my parents that you're such a fucking asshole that I can't stand to be around you. So who do you think will be welcome? Their son, or the guest of my mother's boyfriend's son?” I paused, waiting for him to respond to that, but he said nothing. “You know Neil, Robbie is a great guy, an amazing guy. You don't deserve him. You're so busy scheming to spend money he doesn't have, you don't stop and look at the man you've got in front of you. Fuck you, Neil. Don't ever call me again, and don't ever show your bitchy face around my house and my family.” Then I hung up. At first, I was enraged, but then I felt great. That was odd. Usually when I got pissed and lost it with people, I regretted it immediately. Not this time. This time I was practically skipping around the apartment.

I rummaged around in the kitchen for some food, but then just ordered a pizza instead. My checkbook was like one long list of pizza places. When I got out of here and landed somewhere for grad school, I’d need to hire someone to cook and clean the place up, I thought to myself. Maybe I’d hire Neil. I'd make him wear a little apron and abuse him the whole time. That made me chuckle to myself until the phone rang again.

“Hello,” I said, dread in my voice. Who was going to bug me now?

“Hey Brad,” I heard. It was Robbie. “Neil said he called you. You mind telling me what he said to you?”

My first reaction was to ask him what Neil told him I said, but I could tell from his tone of voice he wanted to hear it from me first, and that he'd believe me. “He called me up and bitched at me for sleeping with you. Accused me of seducing you and told me that you and I were over, and that I needed to deal with it. Said he was way cuter than me, and a much better lover. Told me to stay the fuck away from you. He pissed me off. I told him if he kept doing shit like that he'd lose you. In the meantime, I told him that he was so out of my life. And I meant it. I don't want to see that little fucker again. Don't you even think about bringing him home. No fucking way I'm putting up with him at Escorial. Or on Stef's plane. Or at Santa Cruz. Or in Malibu. If I'm there, he's not. If I didn't make that clear enough to him, am I making it clear enough to you?” I was yelling by the time I was done. I calmed down. “I'm sorry I yelled at you, Robbie. But I meant what I said.”

“I'm really sorry he called you, Brad. I really am. I mean, you were pretty nice to him, putting up with his shit over Christmas and the Super Bowl. And you gave me a big fucking check to pay off all of his bills. He's acting like a fucking ingrate. Our fucking around is my fault, not yours.”

“It's OK, Robbie. He accused me of seducing you, and I guess to a degree I did. I don't know if I'll ever be able to be around you and have it be just platonic.”

“It's up to me to be faithful to my boyfriend. Yeah, you don't help, and yeah, we have an amazing connection, but that's something that I'm going to have to deal with. It still doesn't excuse him for calling you up like that. I should make him call and apologize.”

“Please don't. You handled it, it's over. Just keep him the fuck away from me, and we'll be fine, OK? I don't think I'm asking too much, do you?”

“No. If I take him to Paly to visit, I'll make sure it's when you're not around.” Then there was silence, and then we both hung up.

This time I was really down. I didn't mind fighting with Neil, but arguing with Robbie, or having an unpleasant conversation with him, was really upsetting. I moped around the house until I heard the doorbell. I thought it would be the pizza guy but it wasn't. It was Max, here to cheer me up again. Why couldn't I fall in love with him? He would make me happy. Why couldn't I just get over Robbie and move on? Maybe this trip to LA would do it. Maybe spending Spring Break with him would be the ticket: the ticket to true love in a stable relationship. If there was such a thing.