JB and Me - 1. JB and Me

I had thought about skipping school today, especially since we have a supply teacher, who even after a month, still calls all of us by the wrong names. My proper teacher, Ms Uxmore, is pregnant and she decided to take the last couple of months of her pregnancy off. Our teacher’s morning sickness has never gone away, combined with the fact that her hormones are all over the place, she has been struggling more and more to control us as her pregnancy has progressed.

My class can be a bit much to handle at the best of times; though, to be honest it’s really JB and me who probably cause the most problems. It’s not that I’m a bad kid, and I do get really high marks in all my tests, it’s just when I get bored in class, I can get a little disruptive; all right, I can get a lot disruptive. Of course, where I lead, JB more than willingly follows; after all, he is a bad kid, with one hell of a reputation.

It’s not as though I’ve never skipped school before, and I’ll probably skip again in the future. However, skipping school is not a good idea unless there is somewhere you can go without running the risk of being spotted by someone who knows you.

JB and I used to know an abandoned warehouse where we could hang out, but somebody has recently bought the site and has begun building work. We can get away with simply hanging out at his flat since his parents don’t give a shit if he attends school or not, but it can be awkward with me hanging around as well. My parents would trip off the line if they ever found out that I skipped school, but if they thought that JB’s folks were ever complicit in it, then it would just serve to reinforce their narrow-minded opinion of him and his family.

Everyone in this whole town knows me; they actually know me for all of the right reasons though. I’m the nice polite boy, from one of those nice homes on the north side of town, with the nice parents. I’m the polite boy they wouldn’t mind their daughter going out with, the blond haired blue eyed perfect little angel. It fucking makes me sick!

My only real friend is JB, and we are as close as any two friends can ever be, without going beyond being friends. He comes from one of those rough council estates on the east side of town, and everyone knows him for all of the wrong reasons. JB is the rough street oik who everyone crosses the road just to avoid; he’s the boy who no parent wants within five hundred yards of their daughter. Everyone just knows that he will spend his entire adult life in and out of prison. Everyone knows his family is full of thugs and hoodlums. We’re chalk and cheese, but my life wouldn’t be complete without him.

I don’t know his real name; everyone has just always called him JB. It seems that he has such a dislike of his real name that he was even able to persuade his parents to enrol him in school as JB; I know, because I’ve peeked at the class register a few times over the years. I once asked him what his real name was, but he quickly changed the topic of conversation without answering me. I’ve been friends with him since we were about four or five years old, and he is the only person who knows the real me. I have a very clearly established public persona, but it is only when we are alone with each other that I allow the real me to emerge.

In private, I am the boy every mother is terrified her daughter will bring home; well, I’m not that bad, I am only turning fourteen years old next week, but I’m far from the goody-goody that Mum and Dad think I am.

If they knew that I swore, it would surprise them.

If they knew that I’ve been drunk before, they’d have a stroke.

If they knew that I wasn’t a virgin, and haven’t been since before I turned twelve, I think that they both might actually drop dead in front of me from the shock.

That’s the real me. That’s the ‘me’, which only JB and his parents know exists.

Everyone thinks I’m crazy for being friends with JB. He’s a hard nut, and for only being fourteen years old, his muscles have muscles; he could easily pound anyone into mincemeat if it took his fancy. He is as tough as they come, and he doesn’t take any shit from anyone; after all, with his family what else could he be.

My teachers are concerned about our friendship; I think that they are afraid he will be a bad influence on me, and ruin my grades.

The nice kids in my area think that I need my head examined for associating with someone from the east side of town.

My parents flat out don’t approve of our friendship, yet they have no problem leaving me with JB’s parents if they are going away for a weekend or something.

Hell, even the school bullies are afraid of him, and, by extension, are afraid of little old me. My guess is that they heard about what happened to Kenny Francis when we were still in primary school.

Our Lady of the Sacred Heart is the oldest of the three Catholic primary schools in our town, and consequently, amongst the Catholic community it is everybody’s first choice of school. It happened when JB and I were in year four, and Kenny was in year five. Kenny had actually transferred to the school only a week before the incident; he had no idea how close JB and I were.

I’d gotten a new watch for my eighth birthday; nothing overly flashy since it was for school, but it was still probably expensive enough. Kenny, who was one of those kids who if brains were dynamite he wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose, decided that he wanted my watch.

He and I got into a tussle as he tried to rip my watch off my wrist, then he hit me and blood started pouring from my nose. One of the teachers was running up the corridor, presumably to break us up, unfortunately for Kenny, JB got to him first. Kenny came away with a broken nose, three cracked ribs, and a black eye; JB came away with a one week suspension.

It could have been a lot worse for Kenny, as JB’s dad has been teaching him boxing since the tender age of four. It was that most elegant of council estate, bare knuckle, elbow him in the face, knee him in the balls if you get a chance, style of boxing; none of this Marquis of Queensberry Rules, fair play, give the other guy a chance, bollocks.

That was the first time JB had ever protected me like that in school, and despite my parents misgivings about allowing me to hang around with a ‘thug’ like that (their word not mine), they couldn’t deny that if JB wasn’t my friend, who knows what could have happened to me that day.

I may be biased here, being friends with him and all, but I don’t think that JB is the complete bastard that everyone makes him out to be. I’m the first person to admit that he’s not the most tender or caring individual in the world, but just I don’t think that he has the required cruel streak to be a bully, or to completely live up to his family name. He’ll fight for me and he’ll fight for his family; he can be like a mother bear protecting her cubs if you piss him off.

His older brother left our school seven years ago, and his name is still spoken in hushed whispers. Kris was the most feared bully ever to terrorise our school; he was so cruel that even the teachers were afraid of him. He went far beyond simple bullying; he’d send kids younger than him home covered in blood. He’d break bones, and during the final year of his reign of terror, as impossible as it sounds, he became even more vicious and violent.

He was arrested on numerous occasions whilst still at our school, and I think he’s spent three or four terms in a Secure Children’s Home. He was lucky on his last occasion in court to avoid being sent to a real prison since he’s now twenty one years old, but of course, the court records from all that shit he did when he was younger, are now sealed. I really don’t think Kris will ever learn to stop breaking the law, even if he was given a five or ten year prison sentence.

JB automatically acquired Kris’ reputation as soon as he set foot in our school, and has done his best to at least partially live up to the reputation. He’s never bullied any of the kids, though he has no problem slapping them about when they are asking for it, but he has made the teachers’ lives a living hell for the past two years; this seems to have been enough to satisfy Kris that JB is worthy of the reputation.

JB’s dad, Martin, can usually be found down at the local pub on the weekends solving problems with his fists, yet he has never once laid a hand on his kids or his wife; probably because his wife could take him on, and she’d most likely come out on top. He is one of the most feared people on the estate, and according to rumour, he is involved in practically every single illegal activity that happens on the estate, from drug running to prostitution. Though as Martin himself has always asserted, he is a simple businessman who provides services to those who ask for it. I know he loves his boys, but he just doesn’t really know how to show it; so he shows his love by never punishing them for any misdeed they commit, and by letting them do whatever they want.

His mum, Daphne, has probably never worked a day in her life, and her main role seems to be putting the fear of God into any teachers who dare to suggest that her beloved boys are anything other than darling little angels. There was one occasion when we were ten years old and still in primary school, and she had been called up to the school because JB had allegedly destroyed some art display or other. It had been his idea to wreck the display to help live up to the family name, but he needed one of my ‘discreet inputs’, as we euphemistically refer to my mischievous deeds as, to pull it off. According to JB, since the headmaster couldn’t actually prove that he had done it, his mum was furious. After she had hurled a few choice insults around and turned the air blue with a couple of carefully selected expletives, she had then threatened to arrange a private meeting one evening between the headmaster and her husband.

I’m not stupid. I’m well aware that JB’s dad is a career criminal, and that Kris is probably one step shy of becoming the next Reggie Kray, but oddly enough, I’ve never felt threatened to be around either one of them. Martin may operate on the wrong side of the law as it stands, though I’ve never fully understood why the selling and buying of drugs, or procuring the services of a prostitute are viewed as being illegal; after all, in Amsterdam cannabis is openly sold and their red light district is a fucking tourist attraction for Christ’s sake. I don’t know the ins and outs of their businesses, and I have no desire to know, but I do know that the three of them care for me a great deal; most likely since I’m JB’s only real friend.

JB doesn’t know my deepest darkest secret; I’m gay. He’s my closest friend (hell, let’s be honest, he’s my only friend) and I’ve tried telling him about me before on several occasions, but I just can’t seem to go through with it.

I know him better than anyone else does, including his own family, and even I have no idea just how he would react if I dropped that bombshell on him; especially since we have stayed over at each other’s a lot over the years, and we have always slept together in the same bed. He’s never actually said anything about queers one way or the other, so I have no idea how he feels about the gay community.

In a way, I almost wish I’d heard him use terms like ‘faggot’, ‘rump ranger’, and ‘shit stabber’, or even seen him waving a rainbow flag at Pride; at least then I’d know for sure, one way or the other, where he stands.

It’s not so much that I’m scared to tell him, I’m scared of what his reaction will be; if I lost him as a friend, I don’t know how I would carry on. I’m not suicidal or anything over being gay, or at the prospect of being outed someday, it’s just that JB is my only friend in the world; if he turned on me, then I would be utterly alone. As crazy as it sounds, I’m far more scared of losing him as a friend, than I am that he might beat me into the middle of the next millennium.

My parents love me, I know that, but they live in their little parent world, doing their little parent things. I can’t even recall the last time we did anything together as a family. The last family holiday I went on was a week down at Brighton last year, and that was with JB’s family! The last holiday I went on with my own family was probably when I was about six and we went to Blackpool for a weekend to visit my mum’s sister; please join me in saying ‘Big Fucking Whoop!’.

“Scott! Oi, Scott!”

I turned around and saw JB, who sounded very out of breath. “Hey, JB.”

“I’ve been calling your name since you crossed Pressmire Street. You going deaf or something?” We both laughed.

“Sorry, JB. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Bunking off school.” It was half the truth; I’m not ready to even face the other half yet. “That fucking supply teacher still doesn’t know who is who, and would probably never miss us.”

“Sounds like a plan. Scott, you really are a very bad influence on me.”

I laughed. “Me? A bad influence on you? You forget that I’m the nice boy everyone likes. I never do anything bad.” JB laughed harder than I did, as I struggled to keep a straight face during our little give and take.

“Of course you never do anything bad Scott. So you weren’t with me on Friday night getting pissed?”

I shook my head, while still trying not to laugh.

“You weren’t the boy who ordered half a dozen porn films over the internet last month for my birthday, and then had them delivered to my grandmother?”

I shook my head even harder.

“And of course, you aren’t the boy who knows a couple of shopkeepers who are more than happy to sell us cigarettes?”

“OK, JB. You win. I’m a very bad boy, who has corrupted Daphne’s darling little brown eyed cherub.” We both laughed even harder over our banter.

Once we’d gotten ourselves under control, I said, “You’re here early, aren’t you JB? You not actually gonna get to school on time today are you?”

“Fuck, no! Kris is away this week. He’s gone off to Ibiza with some of his friends for a week of sea, sun, sex, and sangria. I wanted to let you know that I was planning on spending the week at his flat. You wanna stay over with me?”

“Problems at home?” I knew that his parents argued sometimes, and although it never turned physical, I knew it could get unpleasant enough to make living there a nightmare.

He shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s just that Dad has got a few . . . friends . . . coming by this week, and I’d rather not be around to see them.”

I knew the kind of guys JB euphemistically called his dad’s ‘friends’. Some of them were members of his gang, others were his suppliers, but most were just outright nasty bastards who would slit your throat as soon as look at you. They’ve never done or said anything to JB or me, it’s just that neither of us likes being around them; they scare me in a way that Martin and Kris just don’t. Oh, I know full well that Martin is more than capable of knee-capping someone should the occasion call for it, but they’d have to really piss him off for that to happen; I just get the feeling that these ‘friends’ of his are the type to knee-cap someone just for something to do on a rainy Monday afternoon.

“I’d love to stay, you know that, but my Mum would never go for it.” It hurt to tell him that, but he knows how my parents feel about him. “Even if I said I was staying at your parents’ flat, they’d never let me stay for a week. I have to fucking beg them just to be allowed to stay the weekend with you and your folks. They’d never let me stay over on a school night.”

“It’s all right, Scott. You don’t need to explain. I know what your parents are like. It would have been fun hanging out with you this week, but that’s life.”

“Well, I could get away with leaving for school in the morning, and just head straight to the flat. We could hang out all day, but I’d have to head home in the evenings.”

“What will you do about school? I mean a one day absence you can get away with faking a phone call from your dad. How will you be able to explain away a one week absence?”

“Jason Talbot,” I said, as if that explained everything.

I then saw the sparkle of appreciation in JB’s eyes. “Jason Talbot.” He let out a slow, shrill whistle, and then started laughing. “You really aren’t the nice blue eyed boy you portray yourself as, are you? I can’t believe you’ve had dealings with Jason.”

Jason Talbot is in year ten and runs something of a black market. Mostly his business is just Mickey Mouse stuff, like faked gate passes (so we can go out of school for lunch), forging report cards, and getting homework done by one of the school nerds (who are actually well paid for their service, as opposed to being threatened into doing it).

However, there is also a more lucrative and low-key side, which only a select few people know about; he can quite literally get anything a kid wants. He sells cigarettes, alcohol, and he even, allegedly, knows a few girls willing to go all the way with a boy. I was actually more interested in his ‘pharmacy’ business though.

Jason has a supply of blank medical certificates, and since most doctors’ handwriting and signatures are illegible, excusing yourself for a week suddenly becomes child’s play; though something like that is fucking expensive child’s play. The last time I had to get a medical certificate off him, he charged me a hundred quid; though it was a ton well spent, as it got me out of some major shit. He’s a thoroughly disreputable individual, and although he never uses violence himself, he has no compunction in orchestrating it against anyone who doesn’t pay on time; I seriously doubt if even JB could protect me from one of Jason’s ‘collectors’.

“Well, he’s a source of useful merchandise, even if his prices are on the high side. I could probably talk my parents into letting me stay over Friday night though, and may be Saturday night as well.”

“And just how will you manage that?”

“I’ll just tell them that we’re working on a report for history together, and we need the time together to finish it off. They’re going away for the weekend, and they don’t want me to be on my own. They’ve already talked the Jenners into looking after me, though I know that they aren’t overly happy about it. If I tell Dad that we need this report for school as it counts towards our end of year marks, he should give in. We’ll just need to get your parents to play along with us, if Dad rings them.”

“Mum’ll be cool. I’ll explain the situation to her, and she’ll cover for us.”

We headed off towards Kris’ flat. It was only a ten minute walk from our school, and since school wasn’t due to start for about another thirty minutes, the two of us walking in the wrong direction wasn’t going to look too suspicious.

We stopped in the little shop on the corner of the estate where Kris’ flat was located.

“Good morning, Mrs Kizzen,” I said, smiling at her. I love Mrs Kizzen; she actually reminds me of Nana in so many ways. She’s a nice old lady, who doesn’t look down on kids like JB. She keeps on telling me to call her Elizabetta, but I just can’t bring myself to for some reason; the same as I could never bring myself to call Nana by her first name. Normally, I’d be calling Mrs Kizzen something like ‘silly old bitch’, but as I said she’s a nice old lady; she’s actually one of the few shopkeepers who I’ve even heard Kris be polite to.

“Good morning, boys. Shouldn’t you be in school?” I’ve known Mrs Kizzen for a couple of years now and I still can’t place her accent; and for some reason, I’ve never asked her. I know it’s eastern European, and I think it’s Hungarian, but I’m not sure; I certainly wouldn’t bet any money on it.

“We were on our way, Mrs Kizzen, but JB left one of his books behind. We’ve still got about half an hour until school starts, so we figured we had enough time to get the book and still make it to school on time.”

“Now, you know I don’t check up on you boys. I had enough of other people doing that to me when I was your age.” It was her saying things like that, that has always made me think she must have spent a large portion of her early life living under either the Nazis, or the KGB, or quite possibly both.

While the shop was empty, I asked her, “Could you let me have twenty Benson and Hedges, Mrs Kizzen?”

She reached behind her to the cigarette display case, and pulled down a pack of the usual brand that we smoked. She handed me the cigarettes, which I quickly put in my pocket, and I paid her the increasingly exorbitant price of £8; but it was still less than the highly exorbitant fifteen quid that Jason Talbot charges for his black market ones.

“Now, don’t say I say I never do anything for you boys.” The three of laughed at her usual joke with us, just as a policeman entered the shop.

Quick as a flash, Mrs Kizzen busied herself behind the counter, and JB and I headed for the door; I was just thankful that I’d put the cigarettes straight into my pocket. I wasn’t worried so much about what would happen to JB or me, probably the most that would happen to us is that we’d get the cigarettes taken off us and see eight quid go down the drain, it was what could happen to Mrs Kizzen that concerned me. Lately, more and more shopkeepers in our area have been prosecuted for selling cigarettes and alcohol to underage kids; I’ve even heard of a few sting operations being set up by the local police.

Prosecuting someone over selling alcohol to kids I can understand, as we’ve had a lot of issues with drunk teens causing problems in the shopping precincts, but I don’t understand their need to target shopkeepers selling a simple pack of cigarettes to school kids.

The policeman stopped us before we could make our getaway. “Shouldn’t you boys be in school?”

JB looked over at me, and I got the impression that he was silently asking me to speak for the both of us; after all, I can pull of being polite to the coppers. “Yes, officer. We just have to get my friend’s book then we’ll be on our way.”

“How long will it take you to get to school from here? I’m sorry, but I don’t recognise your uniforms. I’m new to the area.”

I quickly thought about what other schools were local to here, as I had absolutely no intention of telling him where we really went; the last thing I wanted was for him to check up on us later. “We both go to Bishop’s Green. It’s the secondary school over by the rugby fields. It’s about a fifteen minute walk from here.”

The officer nodded and said, “I know where the rugby fields are. Will you boys make it to school on time?”

“We should do, sir. Today is our late start day.”

“Late start day?” He raised his eyebrows, and couldn’t have sounded more sarcastic if he tried.

“Our school has a teacher meeting first thing in the morning on the last Monday of the month. We start school fifteen minutes later and we finish fifteen minutes later. So we don’t need to be in school this morning until eight forty five.”

Although the copper looked like he didn’t believe me, he would be in for a surprise if he decided to check out my story. One of the kids who live next door to me just happens to go to Bishop’s Green, and there is their monthly teacher meeting today.

As we left the shop, I turned around and said, “Good bye Mrs Kizzen. Have a nice day.”

“You too boys. And listen to the nice policeman; do not be late for school.”

We walked onto the estate, and headed towards the block Kris lived in.

“That was fucking close, Scott.”

“I know. That’s why I always wait until the shop is empty, and put the cigarettes straight into my pocket. I’d hate for Mrs Kizzen to get caught selling them to me.”

“Do you think he’ll check up on us?”

“He might. Though I know someone who goes to Bishop’s Green, so at least my teacher meeting bit of the story was real.” The fact that their school uniform is radically different to the one that JB and I were wearing didn’t even occur to me; that’d be a dead giveaway if PC Plod ever did actually check up on us.

JB dug out the keys to Kris’ flat, and he found the fob to get us through the security door. We heard the buzz of the security lock turning off, and he opened the door. I pushed the call button for the lifts.

“I swear, if Kris didn’t live on the fifteenth floor, I’d fucking walk up.”

“I know what you mean JB. These lifts always smell like piss.”

The lift arrived a few minutes later. Just as we stepped in, JB smirked and said, “Time to hold your breath.”

I started laughing and ending up getting a good whiff of someone’s stale urine. I gagged, then clapped my hands over my mouth and nose trying to block out the smell.

“Oh fuck, JB! It smells worse than ever in here.”

The lift slowly ascended, and I watched the light as it climbed up the display.

Second floor.

Third floor.

Fourth floor.

We passed the fifth floor and my eyes began watering.

Sixth floor.

Seventh floor.

I swear this fucking lift is slowing down.

Tenth floor.

Eleventh floor.

As we passed the twelfth floor, I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to hold my breath; I thought I might have to hold it until I passed out.

The lift finally dinged as we reached the fifteenth, and top floor, of the high rise tower. I didn’t even wait for the doors to open all the way, I just ran through the opening and onto the balcony. I took a few much needed deep breaths of clean air, until I could finally no longer smell piss.

“I swear JB, I don’t care if it kills me, next time I’m fucking walking up the stairs. I’m not going through that again.”

We both laughed. We always say that, but if either of us ever did climb up those thirty flights of stairs, it most likely would kill us.

JB opened the door to Kris’ flat and we walked in. In spite of his reputation, Kris is actually a bit of a neat freak. His flat was spotless, and very well kept; Martha Stewart eat your heart out. I don’t think he’s ever allowed any of his hoodlum friends into the place; they all always meet round his parent’s flat. I think even my parents wouldn’t mind me spending time in this flat.

JB opened the fridge, to see what was in there. “Looks like Kris did some shopping before he left, and it looks like there’s enough beer in here to last us a week.”

I set my schoolbag down on the counter and saw a piece of paper with JB’s name written on it. “JB, looks like he’s left a note here for you.”

“You read it, Scott. It’s not like it’s gonna be anything secret.”

I opened the note and scanned thorough it, and then read it for JB’s benefit.

 

Hey little bro,

Enjoy the use of the flat.

You can bring Nancy round if you want, I know you two don’t get a lot of privacy at Mum’s place.

I don’t mind if you bring Scott round, you know I like him and I trust him to keep his trap shut. Just let him know to keep my place clean.

I’ve already set up the spare bed for him to use, just in case he can talk his parents into letting him stay overnight. I’m sure you two will be able to arrange it somehow.

There’s food and beer in the fridge, and you know where I keep the porn.

Please try and keep the noise down. I don’t care about you pissing off the neighbours, but I don’t want the fucking cops paying you two a visit.

I’ll see you in a week.

Kris

 

I opened the pack of cigarettes and took one, I then handed the pack to JB who also took one. I flicked my lighter on and lit first my cigarette and then his.

I took a deep drag and exhaled a large cloud of smoke. “I don’t know how I manage at home not smoking. This is the first cigarette I’ve had since last Friday.”

“Would your parents really flip if they knew you smoked?”

“They’re just not like your folks that way JB. Your parents accept that it’s your decision whether you want to smoke or not, whether you want to have a drink or not, whether you want to look at a smutty magazine or not. My parents are just really anal about stuff like that. They won’t even let me have a fucking glass of wine at New Year or Christmas.”

“I guess some parents just don’t like the idea of their kids doing something that they don’t do themselves.”

“JB, you really are a lot smarter than you act aren’t you?”

“You know I am, Scott, just don’t spread it around. Just like I know that if your parents ever got a glimpse of the real you, they’d have you in a fucking military school so fast your head would spin.”

I took another drag on my cigarette and slowly exhaled. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.”

While we stood there smoking and just generally shooting the shit, my mind wandered back to my dilemma from this morning. I’d been toying with the idea of telling JB about me, more and more of late; even more so now that I’m actually getting quite close to this boy who lives near me. I really think we’re now at the boyfriend stage; I mean we’ve been seeing each other for about four and a half months, so it’s getting pretty serious. It’s certainly not just us hanging out with each other anymore, we enjoy being with each other, and we can hardly keep our hands off each other; we’re certainly not at the sex stage yet, but we’re just enjoying being around each other. We’ve kissed, and we’ve done a little groping and petting, but I don’t want to rush into sex with him.

I’ve done the ‘Wham, bam, thank you Scott’ bit, and in spite of my regrets over it, I did enjoy it. If I didn’t think I was falling for Mikey, then sure, I’d have him in bed before you could say ‘Pass the lube’. I think . . . no, I know . . . I know that I am falling for him. I can’t say we’ll be together forever, or that we’ll be the next Romeo and Juliet, but damn it I’m just happy to have my first actual boyfriend! My cousin, who is a year younger than me, is already on his third girlfriend; I guess that for straight kids, it’s a little easier in that respect.

No parent is going to bat an eyelid over a twelve year old boy taking his twelve year old girlfriend to the cinema or whatever, or if they happen to catch the young couple holding hands or whatever. In order for two gay boys to be together like that, it involves coming out to their parents and family (which one or both boys might not be ready for), overcoming society’s taboos, and dealing with a large amount of shit if they get caught kissing in the back row of the cinema. I’m not ready to tell my parents that I’m gay, and I know Mikey is not ready to tell his parents, which is the main reason why we’ve taken ‘us’ so slowly.

I want to tell JB about me; I need to tell JB about me. He’s my best friend; he deserves to know the truth more than anyone else does. I think I just need to be able to tell one person, obviously other than Mikey, that I’m gay. I’m just scared about how he will react.

I’ve kept on finding excuse after excuse to put off telling JB about me.

I’d originally planned to tell him when I knew for sure that I was gay. I mean, deep down, I’ve always known; I can remember when I was seven or eight years old, and I’d find myself staring at some cute boy in my class, though at the time I never fully knew why.

I finally knew that I was gay for sure on November 19th 2010; I remember the exact date because that was day that I lost my virginity. It was about six months after my eleventh birthday, and Stevie Gaddon and I had gotten really horny watching a couple of gay pornos, and it just happened; actually, it ‘just happened’ every day for about three months until his family moved away. Not exactly something I’m proud of having happened, it really was nothing more than a case of ‘monkey see, monkey do’; but we all learn from our mistakes.

There was no mention of us being boyfriends, or being together, or even being exclusive. I didn’t have any real feelings for Stevie, and I don’t think he had any real feelings for me, but the sex was great. I knew then, that with the way I looked at boys, combined with how great sex with a boy felt, I knew I was gay.

However, I put off coming out to JB, because after all, we were only eleven years old, and had only just started secondary school. I really didn’t want my being gay possibly becoming a focal point of our friendship at that age; especially since the both of us were really only just becoming aware of sex.

I then planned to tell him on my twelfth birthday, but his grandmother died.

Then I went on holiday with my aunt and cousin.

Then Kris got arrested.

Then I had appendicitis.

Then Kris got arrested. Again!

Then the excuses to not tell him became easier and easier to come up with, and they have become flimsier and flimsier over the past six months.

I came to the conclusion that the Fates didn’t want me to tell him, so I just finally decided ‘Fuck it, I’ll tell him when I get a boyfriend’. Well, now I have a boyfriend, and I still haven’t been able to tell him.

I took one last drag on my cigarette, blew out the smoke, and crushed it out in the ashtray. I thought back to that Thursday afternoon last year when I stayed at JB’s, after Nana had been taken ill the first time. Actually, thinking back, in spite of our constant joking about it, I guess in some ways I have corrupted Daphne’s darling little brown eyed cherub; not that JB has ever needed much prompting to be led astray.

 

***************************************************************************

 

Thursday, May 24^th 2012

 

I had been called down to the school office and had been informed that Nana had been rushed into hospital. Nana is my mum’s mum, which explained why Mum had gone, but Dad and Nana had never even liked each other; I guess Dad had gone to provide emotional support for Mum.

Mum had left a message that they thought Nana had suffered a heart attack, and that she and Dad both had to hurry off to Oxford to be with her at the hospital; yep, my mother had left a message of this magnitude with the fucking secretary. For some reason she couldn’t be fucking asked to tell me herself, and people wonder why I’ve always questioned just how much my parents really do care for me.

As usual, they only think about Scott after the event (Christ, I’m talking about myself in the third person again); the fact that I had only recently turned thirteen years old at the time, seemed to have slipped my parents mind. They have pretty much left me to get on with my life since I turned ten; that was when they gave me a key to our front door and they told me that I was now old enough to walk home from school on my own and that they would no longer be driving me, unless it was raining.

I had been told by the secretary that I was going to stay that night, Friday night, and most likely over the weekend as well, with JB and his folks; that told me just how bad things were. My parents hated me staying at JB’s place for any length of time; for me to be staying there for four days, and a school night to boot, must have meant that nobody else could have, or would have, taken me in at such short notice for such a long and uncertain stay.

Since we had exam revision sessions that week, and then the actual exams the following week, my parents evidently felt that staying with JB would be preferable to me missing time off school at such a critical juncture, and possibly missing the exams. If they had to stay beyond the weekend, that would be a distinct possibility. Not that I was complaining about it, I love spending time at JB’s; it’s the only time I get to be myself.

Martin picked us up after school, and we stopped off in the local supermarket to get something for dinner. It’s odd, JB is a teenager and still gets picked up from school by one of his parents, my parents can’t be fucking asked, and it’s JB’s parents with the bad reputation. Go fucking figure!

As soon as we walked into their flat, Daphne walked out from the kitchen, and she hugged me. “Hey, Scotty. How are you?” Daphne has always called me ‘Scotty’, and bizarrely, she’s the only person I don’t mind calling me it.

“I’m fine thanks, Daphne. Did Mum give you any details about Nana?”

Daphne shook her head. “No she didn’t hun. She said that she’ll ring later this evening, once she’s had the chance to speak to your nana’s doctors. She wanted to make sure you knew what was really happening, not just what they thought might be happening.”

“Did Mum say how long I’ll be staying here for?”

“We’ve said until Monday at the earliest, it all depends on what’s wrong with your nana. Dinner won’t be ready for a few hours as Martin and I need to pop out. Why don’t you boys go watch TV and unwind. Scotty, your Mum dropped some clothes and stuff off for you, I’ve left them in JB’s room.”

“Thanks Daphne.”

JB and I went into the living room, and he turned on the TV. I sat down on the floor and leaned back against the sofa.

Daphne came in with a plate of biscuits. “Here you go boys. These will keep you going until dinner. Oh, Scotty, I was hanging your coat up and these fell out of one of the pockets.” My eyes widened in shock as Daphne had my pack of cigarettes of her hand.

“Holy fuck, Scott! You smoke?” The look of surprise on JB’s face was priceless.

There was no point in me denying it. I looked over at JB and said, “Yeah, for a couple of months now.” I looked back at his mum, really unsure as to how she was going to handle this. “Daphne, p-p-please don’t tell my p-p-parents. They d-d-don’t know that I smoke, they’d f-f-flip on m-m-me if they found out.”

“It’s all right Scotty. Don’t worry about it hun, I won’t tell them.”

I felt a huge sense of relief; Daphne and Martin don’t mind JB and I having the occasional beer, so I don’t know why I couldn’t have just simply told them I’d started smoking. “Thanks Daphne.”

She ruffled my hair, and smiled down at me. “No probs. Look, Scotty, you don’t need to hide stuff like this from us, you know that. If you want to smoke here, then feel free. Just, if your parents ever do bust you, please don’t tell them we know.”

I smiled up at the woman who, in spite of her background and the reputation of her family, had always felt more like a mother to me than my own mother ever has done. Not just because she allows me to drink beer, and now smoke, without going apeshit on me, she’s always looked out for me. When I was younger, she even used to hang around after school with me when my parents were late picking me up. “Goes without saying.”

“Thanks, Scotty. There are a couple of beers in the fridge if you boys want one, just stay away from the spirits.”

Daphne and Martin put on their coats, and left JB and me alone. I didn’t ask them where they were going, and they didn’t elaborate beyond ‘out’, not that I wanted to know. I don’t ask them about their business, and they don’t tell me; it’s a relationship that works for me.

“How did you start smoking? I know I’m the only kid who you are close to, and I don’t smoke.”

“Remember, my cousin, Colin, was staying with us for a few weeks?” JB nodded. “Well, as you know he’s a few years older than me, and we were out in town on the afternoon of my thirteenth birthday and he just offered me one. So I said ‘Thanks’, and that was when I started.”

“How the fuck do you manage to buy cigarettes?” I knew what JB was asking me, without asking it directly. What he really meant to ask was ‘How the fuck does a tiny kid like you manage to buy cigarettes?’. There are kids like JB who can pass for eighteen when they are not wearing their school uniform, and then there are kids like me, who even at the age of thirteen, still struggle to pass for ten.

“I know a few shopkeepers near our school who don’t have a problem selling them to me.”

“I knew you weren’t the angel you make out you are! Is there anything else about you I don’t know?”

I think he was actually only joking, but I decided to tell him something anyway. I sure as shit wasn’t about to tell him I was gay, so I decided to share my other big secret. “Well, I’m not a virgin.”

JB coughed on the chocolate covered hobnob biscuit he had just bitten into. “Jesus Christ!” I clapped him on the back, helping him to cough up the biscuit that had gone down the wrong way. “When? Who? How?”

“When, was about six months after my eleventh birthday. Who, was –”

“You fucked a girl when you were eleven!”

Thankfully, he wasn’t actually asking me. “Yes, I was eleven when I lost my virginity. Who, well that doesn’t matter, you never knew the person and they’ve since moved away.”

“Ooooh, so it was some posh bit of skirt from your neck of the woods?”

“Yes. It was a nice person who came from a nice family.” ‘If I keep saying person instead of girl, he’s gonna start thinking something’s up’. “The how, doesn’t really matter. We just both got over excited watching a porno and one thing led to another.”

JB sat there shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ. My little Scott really is growing up.” I just sat there nodding; grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat. “I’ll get us a couple of beers.”

When JB got back from the kitchen, I had already lit a cigarette and was smoking, while waiting for the Chelsea versus Liverpool football game on the TV to kick off. JB sat down next to me and handed me a beer.

“You know, Scott, just because Mum said you could smoke here, I don’t think she meant that you needed to light up the second you sat down.” We both laughed.

“I know, it’s just this is the first chance I’ve had to smoke one today.”

Every now and again during the first half, I caught JB watching me out of the corner of my eye. I thought at first he just a little shocked that I smoked and was struggling with getting used to idea. I lit another cigarette as the second half kicked off, and I noticed him looking over at me again.

“You want to try one?” I handed him the pack, he took a cigarette and looked at it. “Come on JB, I can’t imagine that your parents would have a problem with you trying one.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He put the cigarette in his mouth and I lit it for him.

Daphne and Martin returned from being ‘out’ just before seven o’clock. Daphne went into the kitchen to make a start on dinner, and Martin went up to their bedroom carrying a couple of large boxes. I looked at the boxes, then looked over at JB, who just raised his eyebrows; yeah, I wasn’t gonna ask, and neither was JB.

Martin then came back downstairs, joined us in the living room, and without a word took control of what was on the TV; I didn’t mind watching whatever Martin wanted to watch, since he only ever watched the sports channels.

I don’t remember how we told them that JB had started to smoke as well, but we must have done so somehow, since we both always smoked in front of them from that day on.

Although, it turned out that Nana’s heart attack had only been a relatively minor one, and she was in no great danger, it took a few days to sort out some home assistance for her after she was released from the hospital. Once that was in place, my parents felt that they could leave Nana and they could return home.

I actually ended up staying with JB until the Wednesday.

 

***************************************************************************

 

It was nearly eleven o’clock and I figured I’d better ring the school and explain my absence. I didn’t want to ring the school too early, as I wanted to make it seem as though we had gone to see my GP first.

The phone rang twice before I heard the familiar Irish voice of our secretary. “Good morning, St. Basil’s. How can I help?”

Yes, I go to a Catholic school.

Yes, I am a Catholic.

No, I’m not a good Catholic.

There’s nothing I love more than having a hamburger on a Friday, getting freaky with a nice juicy rare steak on Ash Wednesday, and please don’t even get me started on the whole Leviticus Chapter 18, Verse 22 thing.

I just hope I can get my dad’s deep voice right. “Good morning. This is Mr. Fairfax, Scott’s dad. He won’t be in school this week.”

JB pointed at me and whispered, “You fucking liar.” I tried to contain a laugh, as he started playfully poking me in the ribs.

“Nothing serious, I hope, Mr. Fairfax.”

“He’s -” I swatted JB’s hand away, as he continued to poke me in the ribs “- got a chest infection, but we went to the doctor this morning, and he’s been given some antibiotics. His doctor said it would be best to keep him off school until the antibiotics are finished.”

JB started pulling faces, and trying to get me to laugh.

“I’ll make a note in the file that he’ll be away this week. I hope he feels better soon.”

“Thank you. Good bye.”

“Good bye, Mr. Fairfax.”

As soon as I put the phone down, I took a playful swipe at JB and said, “You arsehole! If I’d started laughing down the phone, I would have given the game away.”

“You know I was only mucking around.”

I playfully grabbed him in a headlock. “This will teach you to muck around with me.”

It had been a long time since we’d ended up wrestling each other; ever since JB had started sprouting in both height and serious muscle when he was eleven, our matches had become very one sided.

JB laughed and said, “And this will teach you to muck around with me, puny one.”

He put one arm around my waist, effortlessly picked me up, and threw me over one of his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. The both of us started laughing like loons.

“Put me down.”

“Say ‘please’.”

“Please put me down.”

“Say ‘pretty please’.”

“Pretty please put me down.”

“Say ‘pretty please, master’.”

“Fuck you, JB!” That was when he started playfully digging me in my ribs, right at the spot where I’m the most ticklish. I laughed even harder, and was finding it difficult to keep my breath.

“Say it.”

“Ne-Ne-Never.”

JB then started cackling like an evil witch. “Then I’ll never let you go.”

“You let me go, or I’ll tell Kris about the time I caught you singing along to the fucking Wizard of Oz!”

“I’ve never done that, and you know it.”

“So! I’ll still tell Kris that you did.”

JB put down me, and playfully pouted like a five year old. “Fine. If you wanna cheat.”

Oh God, he looked so cute pouting like that. If I didn’t have so much respect for him and our friendship, I could easily have kissed him there and then, and fuck the consequences. “Well, how else am I supposed to fucking beat you? Knee you in the balls?”

 

We spent the next couple of days just hanging around at Kris’ flat, channel-hopping on the TV, watching enough porn films to turn anyone off sex for life, drinking beer, and leafing through Kris’ insanely large collection of smut. I’ve always been close to JB, but we’ve never really had an opportunity like this to just hang out, do whatever we want, and generally fuck around without adult supervision. As much as it surprised me, I think it actually brought us closer together. I think it was spending these few days together, just me and JB, that led me to broach that most delicate of subjects with my boyfriend, Mikey.

 

Thursday night I was with Mikey. We were working together on a science experiment for school on photosynthesis. We had spent a week and half collecting data, and coming up with ideas that might alter a plant’s ability to photosynthesise, and all that was left now was to write up our report.

Mikey’s parents and mine had gone out for the evening. They didn’t mind leaving us alone for a few hours, after all, we’re both good boys; though, being alone did allow me the chance to talk to Mikey about something that had been on my mind.

“Mikey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“That sounds serious, Scott. What’s up?”

“You know I’m close with JB.”

Mikey nodded his head. “Yeah, though I’ll never claim to understand quite why you two are so close. I mean you two have next to nothing in common with each other.”

“I’ve been thinking for a while now about telling JB that I’m gay.”

Mikey’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Are you out of your fucking mind? He’ll beat you into minced meat.”

“Although that’s a possibility, I don’t think it’s very likely.”

“Well I think it is. He’s a thug, his family are crooks, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can spit.”

“JB’s not like that Mikey. His family might not live in a nice fancy house or talk as if they’ve got a plum in their mouth, but he’s always been there for me. His parents have always been there for me when I’ve needed them.”

“What about Kris! You know the stories! You probably know them better than most people.”

I wasn’t about to even try to defend Kris, I doubt even the best lawyers in the world would fancy trying to defend Kris. “JB is not Kris. Have you ever known JB to pick on any of the kids at school?”

“No, I guess not. How do you know you can trust JB with something like this?”

“That’s just it Mikey, I don’t know if I can. JB knows me better than anyone does, even better than you do. I know him better than anyone else, and I have absolutely no idea how he would react.”

“What do you mean JB knows you better than I do?”

“There are things about me that you don’t know.”

“Like what? Are you a mass murderer or something?” Mikey laughed, as he tried to inject some humour into our discussion.

I watched Mikey go from simple wide-eyed surprise to complete shell-shock as I told him about JB and I drinking, smoking and then dropping the final bombshell that it had been a few years since I was as pure as the driven snow.

“Scott, I still think you are out of your mind, but it has to be your call. You’re really sure want to tell JB that you’re gay?”

“It’s not a question of wanting to Mikey; it’s a question of having to. If JB ever found from someone else, I’m not sure how he’d take it. This is the only thing I’ve ever kept from him.”

 

That night I spent lying on my bed, running it all through in my mind, thinking about whether I should tell JB or not. Though of course, it wouldn’t just be JB I’d be coming out to. Ultimately, it would also be Martin, Daphne, and Kris as well. If I told JB, I know that I couldn’t ask him to keep it from his mum and dad, besides, I’m not entirely sure that he’d be able to keep something of this magnitude hidden from them convincingly.

I decided that all I needed to do was answer one simple question. Just how far do I trust JB?

Well I knew the answer to that one straight off. However, given the enormity of what I was contemplating, I constantly challenged myself to prove the answer to my question.

I finally came to the realisation that I really do trust JB with my life. I think I would give up my life for him if the situation called for it. Although you can never truly know what is in someone else’s heart, I think JB would do the same for me.

It was my answer to the next question I asked myself that shamed me. Why haven’t I told him?

I had told myself time and again that I was just waiting for the right moment, that with every opportunity I’d had before, the timing had been wrong. So, just when the fuck was I going to tell him?

When I eventually marry a guy?

When another guy and I decide to adopt a child?

When he walks in on me and another guy in flagrante delicto?

The fact was I was kidding myself. There is no right time to drop this particular bomb on someone, and there never will be.

What exactly was I waiting for? A sign from God? ‘Ooh, I like that one.’

Maybe a shining star?

Or a burning bush?

Perhaps, if he has no prior commitments, then the archangel Gabriel can come down and say ‘Lo, fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy’?

I’m not exactly the Three Magi or a group of shepherds; besides I don’t think God is really that concerned with my little diddly-shit problem of me trying to tell JB that I’m gay.

Truthfully, I think the only thing holding me back from telling JB is the fact that he may not be a permanent part of my life as a result of my revelation.

Someday, we may go our separate ways.

We may just simply drift apart.

Quite frankly, I don’t want my being gay to be the catalyst that drives us apart from one another. I don’t want the fact that I am gay being the reason for JB not being present in my life any longer.

Sleep did not come easy to me that night.

 

Friday morning, I left home a little earlier than usual. I wanted to take a slow walk to Kris’ flat. I needed to work out in my mind just what I was going to do. Although my late night deliberations had deprived me of a few hours of probably much needed sleep, they had at least helped me to get to the crux of the problem of the whole telling JB about me thing.

As I walked along, I pondered. It all kept on coming back to that simple question ‘How far do I trust JB’. If I can’t bring myself to tell my closest, my only, friend that I’m gay, just what kind of basis do we have for the future?

I really want, really need, to tell him. I dread to think what would happen if he found out somehow by accident. Fuck, I’m starting to go round in circles again!

Enough of this nonsense, I’m starting to feel seasick with all this toing and froing, and upping and downing. It’s time for me to grab the bull by the horns, tell the truth and shame the devil, let the chips fall where they may, cometh the hour cometh the man, the bigger they are and all that.

 

It was getting on for one o’clock in the afternoon, and we’d spent most of the morning with various pornos playing in the background. I was trying to get some of my schoolwork done, but the constant sounds of sucking, fucking and cumming was not only distracting, it was starting to get on my nerves. I love porn as much as the next guy, but they are just not designed to be watched day in and day out for hours on end.

I heard the music of the end credits, along with the traditional sounds of post-coital heavy breathing coming from the most recent film JB had been watching. I was so grateful. Perhaps, just perhaps, we could watch a normal film while eating lunch.

The microwave pinged to let me know that lunch was ready, but my hopes of a nice lunch were dashed as JB switched off the film that had just ended and said, “Scott, I’ll sort out lunch, and you can pick what film to watch next. You know where Kris keeps them.”

Not more fucking porn! I was getting seriously fed up of watching straight porn; I’ve mainly been getting off thinking about the guys in them, and just not really thinking about what they were actually doing. I can’t exactly say to him, ‘Hey JB, how about for a change we watch a porno with a couple of cute emo twinks fucking each other’; yeah, that would go down really well.

Four and a half days we’ve been watching the stuff! Much more this and I’m sure JB’s dick will fall off; I swear to God that boy has been in the bathroom three times this morning already.

Reluctantly, I walked into Kris’ room and started rummaging through the ridiculous volume of porn. Now don’t get me wrong, I watch as much porn as any horny teenager, but it looked as though Kris had every porn film ever made.

Massive Mammaries.

Giant Jugs.

Naughty Nurses.

Sleazy Secretaries.

Bad Bad Babysitters.

Terrible Teens.

The list just seemed to go on forever.

I had just flicked past the twentieth DVD with some nameless and faceless curvaceous nineteen year old brunette on the cover, when for some reason I started crying. I had been fine until I came in looking for a fucking DVD to watch; I guess with my growing irritation this morning, combined with the turmoil of emotions over the past few days, it had simply all become too much for me to cope with.

I’d shared so much of myself with JB, and he with me; we knew each other so well, yet I’d kept this part of me hidden. I’d always been so scared of telling him, now I think I’m scared of not telling him.

If he were to ever find out about me from someone else, it would destroy our friendship, and would probably destroy him as well. I have to tell him.

Christ, I’ve put so much into hiding this from him that I’m starting to make myself physically ill.

JB came in and said, “Scott, what’s keeping you?”

I quickly tried to dry my eyes. “Nothing. There’s just so much to choose from.”

JB came over and put a hand on shoulder. “Scott? Are you all right? Are you crying?”

“I’m sorry, JB. I can’t do this any longer.” New tears fell, as I realised I was a hair’s breadth away from revealing my closest held secret.

“Do what?”

I can’t tell him. I just can’t. “It’s not important. I gotta go.”

“Talk to me, Scott.” I could see the concern in his eyes, and regardless of what people think about him, I could also see his love for me.

“I can’t, JB. Not here. Not now. Not like this.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Scott, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. You’ve never judged me by what people say about my family or me. You’re the only kid who has ever wanted to be my friend.”

My heart rate sped up, as the adrenaline started flowing. “And that’s why I can’t tell you. I don’t want . . . I can’t have you hate me.”

JB’s voice softened as he said, “Scott, there is nothing you could tell me that would ever make me hate you.”

I shrugged him off me and turned my back on him. “JB, if only I could believe that.”

I heard him left out a deep sigh. “Jordan Bryan.”

“What?”

“My name, Scott. JB is short for Jordan Bryan. You can believe that I will always be there for you, Scott. I’d kill for you, and I’d die for you. I swear to you, you can believe that.”

This was it.

No more excuses.

Nowhere to hide.

This was ‘do or die’ as the saying going.

For some reason, it suddenly felt right to tell him.

I felt nauseous, but I ploughed ahead. “JB -” I took a deep breath and prayed to every god I’d ever heard of for this to go well “- I’m gay.”

The room fell silent.

The seconds ticked past.

It felt to me like an eternity.

I knew he was just trying to figure out how much he detested me.

My stomach turned over, and I knew I was either going to vomit, or faint; actually, doing both was a distinct possibility.

I knew he was going to throw me out of Kris’ flat, and out of his life.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and JB gently turned me around to face him.

For the first time ever, in our ten years or more of being friends, he hugged me. “Scott, you are my best friend, you are my only friend. Hear me; it makes no difference to me that you’re gay.”

I clung onto him like a limpet and hugged him tightly. I couldn’t talk through my tears and the lump in my throat.

“Scott, I love you like a brother. We’ve always been together, and we always will be. I’m not going to throw all of that away over something as insignificant as who you are attracted to.”

Then I had the biggest shock of my life, I could feel his tears running down my face.

“JB?”

“Scott, I swear to you -” his voice was thick with emotion, and I heard him let out a near-silent whimper “- that if anyone fucks with you, they’ll have to answer to me and Kris. I swear to you that you will never need to hide yourself around me, or my family.”

As much as I desperately wanted to believe him, I couldn’t bring myself to. I pulled away from his embrace.

“JB, I believe that about you, but you can’t speak for your family. I love your parents, probably more than I love my own, God forgive me for saying it, and I love Kris like the big brother I never had. Your parents are cool with us drinking, and smoking, and looking at porn, but this is a far fucking cry from having a beer or looking at a smutty magazine!”

“Scott, as far as my parents are concerned you are one of the family, you always have been and you always will be.”

JB sniffed up a runner of snot, and ran his shirtsleeve over his eyes in an attempt to dry them; I went with the slightly more civilised option of using a couple of Kleenex. There were a few seconds of silence as JB and I tried to regain control of our emotions.

“Hang on a minute! When you said you lost your virginity when you were eleven, was that to another boy?”

I just nodded.

“Did I really know him?”

Again, I nodded.

JB sat down on the bed, seemingly made himself comfy, and patted the space next to him. “Tell me.” I sat down on the bed next to him, and he put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him.

“Why are you interested, JB?”

“Well, the way I figure it, you’ve listened to me go on and on about the time when Jessica Manters sucked me off, and when Nancy first let me finger her, and –”

“So, you just want to show the same kind of interest in my sex life?”

He just nodded at me, shrugged a little, and smiled. “So, who was it?”

I couldn’t believe that I was about to tell him. “Stevie Gaddon.”

JB just smiled. “Well, at least I know you can pick ’em. You know I’m straight, but even I’ll admit that Stevie was fucking cute.” I giggled, but was then stunned into silence by his next question. “So, are you a top or a bottom?”