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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

It Wasn't Me - 28. Chapter 28

"What about David Johnson?" Shawna whispered to me as danced with to each other at some classmate's party.

"I would say he's a 7." I chuckled.

Things had been great with Shawna. We had gotten much so closer since I came out. She had really embraced me as her gay best friend; she even called herself a faghag in training.

"What about Mitch Goldberg? He's a pretty good dancer." I asked her motioning to the very white boy doing the disco.

She laughed, "A 6, he's okay for a white boy. But too dorky for me."

I guess I had a thing for dorky white boys.

We went on dancing hip to hip with our arms laced over each others until I felt something being placed in my hand.

I looked over to see a beer bottle.

"Drink up everybody." the host cheered.

Without even thinking I started to bring the bottle to face.

Shawna grabbed my hand, "Maybe you shouldn't."

I chuckled, "What? Why?"

She rolled her eyes, "You should be careful."

She was right. But...

"Come on Shawna, I think can handle a beer."

"James! I won't drink either so you won't be alone." She commanded waving around the beer in her hand.

"Shawna, darling." I chuckled, "If I let my parents' problems stop me from doing things, I wouldn't be able to do anything."

Then she had to say it.

"You know that if Matt were here he would be saying the same thing."

She had to bring him to up.

My dear Matthew was sitting his room still mobbing with confusion about the ski trip. We haven't really that much, because...okay I mad at him for kissing Larry. I was more mad about it than Alfreda. The two of them had somehow recovered their friendship. But thinking about Matt kissing another guy just made me crazy.

It should've been me. But it wasn't.

"I think I can handle it."

Then I shifted back to the bottle. My mind zoom it on the liquid. Seeing it. Holding it. I brought it to my face and took a drink. It burn. It was bitter. Yet it hit a spot in my blood steam.

"Oh yikes." I screamed out feeling the burning hitting me.

%%%%
I was about half drunk when I stole a bottle of whisky.

Bad habits galore.

It was easier to steal under the influence. I just hid it under my jacket and walked out. As I left Shawna put her hand on my shoulder.

"Do you need a ride home?"

I shook my head, "No I'll walk."

"Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

I nodded.

%%%%%

I climbed up to Matt's window. He was at his desk reading wearing a white shirt and paid pj pants.

"Knock, knock Matt Edwards." I laughed banging on the glass, "I got a present for you."

Matt got up and let me in.

"Jamie, what are you doing here?"

I picked up the bottle and held up to his face, "You want some?


"What is wrong with this picture?"

He stared down at the brown liquid, "Why would want to do this?"

"Because I want you to have a good time." I shifted closer smiling at him. "I am having a good time and I want you do have a good time too. So?"

He shock had moved into curiously. "What does it taste like?"

I laughed, "Horrible."

I handed it to him.

Matt took it and stared at it.

I grabbed it and drank more. The fire hit me again. My head started to feel light…and joyful. I didn't feel worried or fear.

"It really takes away the pain." I said, "It makes me feel better. At least try it?"

I handed him the bottle again. He stared at it again for a couple of seconds.

"If it will make me feel less pathetic , than..." He drank it.

%%%%

We sat on his bed passing the bottle around. We were playing around, laughing at each other's drunken grammar.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked me.

"Anything." I slurred.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were gay?"

He was bond to find out soon or later.

I looked down at the bottle, "Why didn't you ever tell me you were?"

"You go first Jamie."

I took a drink, "Mac for the longest time I couldn't even tell myself. These feelings scared the shit out of me. You know how I grew up. You know have no idea how hard I tried to change myself to try to be like other guys."

He slightly raised this eyebrow, "That kinda surprises me."

"What?" I asked.

"I always thought of you as the independent thinker. I was always the conformist. I had to have same toys as everybody else. I had to get a girlfriend like everybody else. I had to follow this white picket fence like everybody else." he took another sip, "I thought you were always different. You thought deeper then that."

"You really think that much of me?"

He nodded and smiled.

"So is that why you don't never told me? Because of the whole conformity thing?"

"Partly. I knew since we were kids that I knew I was somehow different. But the only time I really about gay people was in the news, either about AIDS or some sort of hate crime." He shook his head. "It seem like being gay meant being sick, lonely, and miserable. It felt easier just to to marry Alfreda and live a normal life."

"Is that still what you want?"

"I adore Alfreda. I really do. If only I was straight. I could've seen myself marrying her...but that wouldn't be fair to either of us." He took a drink, "And I wish I could've been able to talk to you about it. But I thought you would beat me up and call me a fag or something. Especially since I saw you kiss that Shane guy."

"What?"

He moved closer. He defiantly smelled like alcohol. "I remember being so jealous watching you made out with all those girls. But when I saw you kissing him...so much rage. God Jamie I've have a crush on ya for years...it's like somtimes I'm so fucking in love with you that I can't stand it."

My drunken heart sank.

One part of my mind thought Matt's drunk he doesn't know he's saying, he does mean it.

Another part, maybe the drunker part thought I don't fucking care if he's drunk. I just want to have it.


"Seriously." I asked.

The next thing I knew his warm arms were around me. I returned the hug, our bodies pressed up against each other. We turned our heads and faced each other. All I could think about was his lips, and looking at his eyes I got a feeling he was thinking about mine. We both lean it to each other, and then I felt our lips pressed against each other. The taste of his hot whiskey breath was a sweet burning. Matt pulled me tighter and pushed my teeth apart with his tongue. As his tongue became intertwined with mine, my brain exploded and my body tinkled, he drug his nails into my back. I slammed his body on the bed. I put my hands on his waist as he bucked his hips deep into my mine.

Matt broke the kiss but didn't let go of me. He just stared into my eyes taking time to catch his breath.

"Damn…" I moaned trying to regain mine. I moved one of my hands down to the crotch of his jeans…he was hard. "I fucking love this."

"Better than Shane?"

"Fuck yea. Better than Larry?"

"Way better."

"I love you." He whispered before kissing me again.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't have imaged that I could feel so high.

We heard the bottle fall off the bed and scattered. But that didn't stop us. I unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly.

"What the hell is going here?"

Matt and I pulled away form each other to see Mr. and Mrs. Edwards staring at us with gaping mouths.

They saw the broken bottle all over the floor. They saw that they're son's pants were opened. And they saw my hand in them.

This really didn't look good.

I immediately removed my hand and jumped off the bed.

Matt sat up grumbling, "Um...Dad."

"Get out." Mr. Edwards screamed at me. His voice hurt my ears. "Get out of my house."

I wasn't shocked though it did hurt a little considering I thought we had a better relationship than that.

"Dad." Matt barked.

He pointed at his son, "You be quiet. You're in trouble too."

"Matthew this isn't you." Mrs. Edwards clinked in.

"Of course it isn't!" Mr. Edwards went on, "Somebody influenced him."

"No, it wasn't like that..." Matt try to defend me.

"No, no." I stopped him, "You don't have to do defend me." I turned to Mr.Edwards, "Yea, you know how lousy he's been feeling. He wanted to feel good and I showed him how. But I..."

He shook his head, "For 17 years I've welcomed you into my home, I've fed you my food, and I've put up with all of your shit. And in return you bring acohol into my house, knowing I feel about it. And not only do you get yourself drunk, but you bring him down with you."

"Mr. Edwards I..."

"Get out of my house." He screamed.

I crawled out the window.

%%%%

I couldn't stop drinking. When the buzz started going down, I started feeling the pain. I didn't like it.

There I was lying in my old neighborhood next a case of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and a box of smokes. I felt numb, and that's the way I liked it. My eyes were set on the stars.

"Boy, I had hoped to reach for them."

Then I looked around, "But I always wine up back here."

I slowly got up, putting the bottle and box in my jacket pocket. I grabbed the beer and stumbled out of my childhood home.

My insides were burning.

Copyright © 2015 Another Gay Writer; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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