You, Me, and Henry Rollins - 4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I came into this world like a puzzled panther
Wanting to be caged
But something stood in the way
I was never quite tamed

I crossed the pasths of right and wrong
And saw them take their toll
I saw armies that marched
And like animals they crawled

Evolution is a process too slow
To save my soul
But I've got this creature on my back
And it just won't let go

If I am only an animal
Then I can do no wrong
But they say something better
So I've gotta hold
-- The Germs, "Manimal"

---

It's Saturday and I'm a nervous wreck. I've changed my outfit six times and I'm already late to pick up Carl and Teddy. Late, I tell you. I'm never late. At least never this late. I feel horrible. But I look even more horrible. I change my shirt again. It's see through. Or at least the weave is thin enough that you can see my pierced nipple through it. A little slutty. Is slutty what I want? I don't know. Abby is sitting on the bed watching me.

“I like that one,” she says, pointing to the shirt. I point to the shirt and raise an eyebrow.

“Don't you think it's a bit... See through?” I ask desperately.

She cocks her head to the side, pigtails slumping onto her shoulder. “No. It's not that see through.”

I look at the mirror again. These jeans are too tight, in a good way. But maybe I don't want Adrian to see all my boniness. What if he likes boys with a bit of flesh on them? What if he doesn't even like boys, much more likely? What if he likes an hour glass shape and big boobs? Because then, no matter how slutty I look it won't make a difference.

“Who are you trying to impress anyways?”

“Anyway, not anyways,” I say absent mindedly, checking my profile. My butt looks good.

“Who?”

“His name's Adrian.”

She smirks. “Ooooh. Eli's gotta boyfriend, Eli's gotta boyfriend.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I grouse, throwing a pillow at her. It hits her in the face and she flops back on the bed giggling.

“Adrian and Eli sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes the baby... Wait. Boys can't have babies.” She lets out another peal of laughter.

I roll my eyes and throw another stuffed animal at her. She's been hopeless since I told her. Every time Mom and Dad are out of hearing she's been asking me about the boys I like and all that kind of stuff. It's like I've been ushered into this secret world of boy-liking that I didn't know existed beforehand. It's sort of ridiculous.

“I have to go now,” I announce, checking my backside once more.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She shouts as I leave the room. I am tempted to give her the finger, but I've already corrupted her enough this week. After all, how many first graders know exactly what homosexuality is? Thank god she's not that great with Google yet. Or she'd have figured out everything that being gay entails. And I personally do not want to deal with that windfall. Can you imagine my mother's face?

Mommy, I looked up anal sex, and I was wondering... I know she would. She's that type of kid: mischievous, and loves anything vaguely dirty or incendiary. If she doesn't end up being a mob boss she might be a foul-mouthed comedienne, perhaps the next George Carlin, god forbid.

I start the car and back out of the driveway, trying not to think about how sexy Adrian is, or any of that stuff. I mean, the guy is probably not gay. I would love it if he were, but my track record has been pretty abysmal. Carl, Teddy, etc. Everyone except Luke... And I don't even want to think about Luke. It hurts too much.

Carl is waiting on his front door step, Teddy standing beside him smoking a cigarette. I pull into the driveway and wait for them. They lope over and clamber in, all talk and chatter.

“What's up?” Carl asks me finally after Teddy lets him get a word in edgewise.

I avoid his eyes. He knows me too well. I'm not the best liar. “Oh, nothing. The usual.” He gives me a speculative look. I ignore it.

“So, who's playing?” Teddy asks from the back seat.

Carl turns around. “My cousin's band. They're pretty good.” I'd forgotten that Carl and Adrian were cousins. I wonder if they talk about me. I hope not. I blush involuntarily and turn my mind back to the road.

---

I smoke a spliff with Carl outside the Biko. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold the joint. Carl grabs my hand and steadies it as I raise it to my mouth. I think I love him for a moment.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah...” I answer, distracted. “Just didn't eat much food.” It's true. I could barely eat my dinner, I was so nervous.

Carl raises an eyebrow and grabs my elbow suddenly. I nearly drop the joint. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I look at him. I know, but don’t at the same time. There are so many things I want to tell him, want him to understand.

“I... I...” I can’t even bring myself to start a sentence. I look over at the building, trying to convey as much pain as I can in that single glance. He must know by now, but I can’t vocalise it, not yet. He looks at me, and it seems for a moment that he understands. He deftly takes the joint from my hand, puts it out in the ashtray. And then he enfolds me in a hug, something that is not awkward, but sort of like coming home. He is taller than me, so my nose hits his collar bone, and despite the slight jolt of pain, I don’t mind.

He smells like weed and sweat, and Carl, and I want nothing more than to lose myself in his tight embrace.

But the mike check is done, and it sounds like the gig is getting under way. I don’t want to go stare at Adrian, but I came for him, so I go in.

---

He’s at the centre of the stage, mumbling into the mike. He doesn’t see me come in, and I am both disappointed and relieved. Teddy and Bobby are standing at the back of the hall, watching dispassionately. Teddy already has his I’m fucking bored face plastered on, and I hope that will change soon. His bad mood is probably not helped by the incessant feedback that seems to be plaguing the technicians.

Carl pulls me to the very back wall, which we lean against and try and look tough, per usual. I don’t think it works particularly well, but people leave us alone for the most part, so whatever. I fold my arms across my chest and stare up at the stage.

Adrian is dressed like he usually is: sloppily and with an I don’t give a flying fuck sort of attitude. His black jeans are ripped, and are so tight I can see the outline of his junk. Which makes me rather happy. His shirt is missing the sleeves and splattered with paint. He’s got a sleepy expression, as if he’s sort of not there. His eyes are roving the audience, back and forth.

Until they find mine, and then he smiles. My throat constricts, and for a moment I can’t breath. He doesn’t break eye contact, just nods and blows me a kiss.

And it doesn’t hit me until a few minutes later that Adrian fucking Adrian just blew me a kiss. Cocktease.

---

The music isn’t very good. I enjoy it anyway, because I haven’t taken my eyes off Adrian the entire time. His eyes don’t really leave mine either. And for the first time since I met him, I allow myself to let a glimmer of hope into my heart. Maybe he’s gay, maybe, just maybe. I’m so used to loving straight boys that it scares me and thrills me that maybe, hopefully, he’s a little gay.

And I smile the entire concert. Not that cheesy fake kind of smile you put on to make your mom shut up or something like that. But a real smile. And I’m gleeful and giddy and probably look like a complete moron, but I don’t care because it feels like Adrian’s singing to me, and me alone. And there’s something beautiful about that, and it’s enough to make me blush and listen to the words he’s singing. And I can imagine they’re about me and him, not his ex-girlfriend or whomever.

And when the gig’s over, I’m disappointed. Because it means that he’s going to have to sign shirts and whatever, and deal with all the fan girls, because there seems to be a plenty of them out tonight. I amble towards the door, and am about to step outside when someone grabs my elbow.

“Hey,” he says, wiping the sweat off his brow with his shirt. He’s taken it off, and I want to rub my hands all over his glistening skin. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“I came,” I say stupidly, running a hand through my hair. I bite my lower lip and smile, knowing I look like a knock-kneed dairy maid. And I’m reminded of when I was in love with Carl, and when I was in love with Luke, and it seems like some things never change.

Love for me is starry-eyed wonder, spluttering, and half-formed sentences. It is a gut feeling that is all encompassing and dreadfully humiliating. It involves intense blushing, stuttering, and all around confusion. I wonder if Adrian knows how hard I’ve fallen for him.

But really, it doesn’t matter exactly how much he knows. Because he’s happy to see me, and that’s enough for now. He grins, and I grin. And I don’t know what else to say. Carl comes up to us, seeming slightly irked about something.

“Hey,” he says. I snap out of whatever land I’m in that involves the depths of Adrian’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You seen Teddy? Or Bobby?” He looks around. “Or, god forbid, even Tom? Apparently Marc’s holding a party tonight.” He nods at Adrian. “In your honour, of all things.” He probably intends for it to sound sarcastic, but he comes across as a bit of a bitch instead. We all shift awkwardly until I speak.

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, no, I haven’t. They’re around here somewhere-”

“Hey, Eli, do you think you can give me a ride to the party?” Adrian interrupts suddenly. “Let me get my guitar and we can get out of here.”

“Uh, sure,” I say, surprised.

“I’ll get a ride with someone else,” Carl says shortly, giving me a swift but impregnable look. I don’t know what’s eating him. I figure I’ll ask him later. Adrian disappears for a moment to get his guitar, but Carl doesn’t elaborate.

I touch his arm. He withdraws. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, Eli.”

“No, really, what’s wrong?”

“Just fucking drop it, Eli,” he says, cold. I shut up pretty quickly. I guess I’m a sort of passive guy, so when Carl’s mad I practically fade into the background. Right now I can feel the heat on my cheeks and I’m so embarrassed and I wonder why he’s so fucking stiff.

“Ready to go?” Adrian’s there, holding his guitar case, running a casual hand through his dark hair. He smiles at me crookedly.

Carl shoots me a look but I can’t understand it. Sometimes I understand him like he’s me. Sometimes it’s like we’re on different planets or something. It’s funny usually, but right now the look he’s giving makes me kind of want to impale myself on a sharp stick. Carl is the friend I’d do anything for, so I pause. “Carl, you wanna come?” It’s Adrian’s turn to shoot a look at me. And now they’re glaring at each other and I don’t get it.

“Uh, no,” he says, finally looking back at me. Then he shoots another death glare at his cousin. Jesus. I’m sort of standing in between them wondering what the fuck is going on. I’m not the brightest bulb sometimes, and I can feel that acutely right now.

“Well,” I say, drawing the words out. “I guess we should go?” I look at Adrian and rub the back of my head. He nods, giving Carl one last slit-eyed stare. What the fuck? Since when did these two hate each other? I stalk off, a little angry that neither of them are telling me what’s going on. It’s not like Carl to keep this from me. He’d tell me off the bat if something was up. I think. Well, hell, it wasn’t like I knew Adrian was Carl’s cousin up until a couple weeks ago. Now I was wondering what else Carl was keeping from me, and I don’t like that, not one bit.

Adrian and I were quiet as we walked to my car.

“Did you like the concert?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, smiling shyly. I blush. “It was, uh... Pretty good.” I can’t really seem to get the words out, and I’m painfully aware of how close he’s walking next to me. It’s kind of funny, but I’m sort of torn between staying with him or going to find Carl. But before I can make up my mind we’re at my car.

---

The drive over to the party is silent, except for the significant glances Adrian keeps giving me from the passenger seat. It’s difficult to keep my eyes on the road, especially when I’m tempted to pull over to the side of the road and snog the bejeesus out of him.

“Did you listen to the lyrics?” he asks out of the blue.

At first I’m not sure what he’s talking about, and then I realise he’s talking about his show. I admit that I couldn’t really tell what he was saying. He seems disappointed by this. “Well, I’ll give you a copy of the lyrics of the first song later tonight.” He smiles and it’s brilliant. I smile back and nearly cruise through a stop sign.

---

The party’s already blazing when we get there, and there are so many people crowded into Marc’s house that I know it won’t be long before the cops show up. But Adrian lives here, so we’ll probably stay until long after the cops are gone. He gives me something pink in a red plastic cup and we go out in the backyard and sit with our feet in the pool.

He rummages around in his back pocket, and fumbling, pulls out a folded piece of paper. He pours a shot for himself from the handle of Svedka he stole from the kitchen before handing it to me. He downs the shot while I open the piece of paper.

It’s lyrics, to the first song. At first, I skim, not sure why he gave them to me.

“Why...?”

And then I notice the words, for real this time. It’s a love song, and the words are pure poetry. But it’s a love song for a fucking boy. It even says so, in the second stanza. And no one in the audience could tell that it was a gay love song because he was slurring his words so much. I nearly laugh aloud.

“Why did you have me read this?” I ask, tucking it into my own pocket. His eyebrows go up, and he rolls his eyes.

“You are so fucking stupid.” His voice is thick with emotion. He takes another shot and watches me out of the corner of his eye. “If you can’t figure it out I’m just going to give up.” He stands and walks away, taking the handle with him.

And I think I get it.

“Wait!” I get up, splashing chlorinated water up my jeans. “Wait, Adrian!” He pauses in the sliding glass doorway and turns around, the light of the house illuminating one half of him, the glow from the pool lighting up his other half. He’s half blue and half gold.

“Yes?” He’s expectant.

I pull out the lyrics. “Does this mean you’re... gay?” I ask after a slight pause. I can barely get the word out. I know I look like a bed sheet: pale and wan.

He rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

I look back at it. “You’re fucking with me.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” he repeats, shaking his head with mild disgust. “I can’t believe you’re so dumb.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He moves to close the screen door behind him.

“Wait!”

Adrian snaps his head around. “I’ve already been waiting, Eli.”

“No, I mean...” I stamp my foot. “Damn it, you’re not giving me a chance to understand. You’re gay... And you wrote that song? Who’s the song for, god damn it?”

He’s silent. “Who do you think, Eli?”

“Well, I would hope...” I pause. Well, I would hope a lot of things. But it’s whether I have the balls to admit it. But the look on his face clears my fear and I continue. “I would hope it’s about me.”

And he smiles. And it feels like the sun has broken through long lasting clouds, and as if everything is real now, and there’s nothing but us in the backyard with the glow of the pool and a handle of vodka.

---

We’re sitting at the edge of the pool as if that whole conversation didn’t happen. But my thigh is touching his, and now it’s clear to me that it did happen, and it’s not some amazing dream. I want to scream and jump in the pool with happiness, but instead I sort of quiver on the edge of the water and smile at him every two seconds. He’s giddy too, and I can tell. And we’re talking about completely random stuff and it’s hilarious because he can’t keep his hands from brushing against mine every minute or so.

And I feel incredibly dumb for not figuring it out sooner, and I’m wondering why we never met before this year, and I wonder what else Carl has been hiding. If he’s keeping something from me. I don’t really want to know, but I do. Because now there is Adrian and me and something else, and Carl was upset earlier tonight and I can’t help but wonder if he was jealous of me or something. Jealous that I was possibly going to be with Adrian.

“So... How did you know?”

“Know what?” he asks, splashing me lightly. I splash him back and grin when he squalls.

“That I was...” I find that I can’t say the word.

“Gay?” he supplies helpfully.

“Yeah, that.” I can’t call myself gay, which is weird. Because I can say it over and over in my head but that doesn’t lessen the stigma or the word or how scary it really is. “Yeah.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Gaydar I guess.”

“My gaydar sucks,” I say gloomily. He laughs at this.

“Yeah, no really.” He rolls his eyes. “I was practically throwing myself at you and you didn’t even seem to notice...”

“I thought you weren’t interested!” I protested. “I thought you were another one of those ambiguously straight guys that get a kick out of being sexually fluid, but not really.”

He looks at me askance. “Those guys are really gay.”

“No, they’re not.” I shrug. “Anyhow, I thought you were straight. And I was like obsessed, well, not obsessed, but I really liked you. And I wanted to keep my distance, just in case you figured it out.”

He laughed. “I figured it out all right. But I wasn’t sure if you liked me... I just...”

“So you decided to make a move anyway?”

“Yeah, well, you’re gay, I’m gay...” He shrugged. “Seemed like a match.”

What he said gave me pause. Was it really enough that we were both gay? I didn’t know. Agreed, we seemed to get along, and we clearly had similar music tastes, but I wasn’t sure. But I pushed the thought from mind and let my hand brush over his as I reached over to grab my drink.

“Yeah,” I say. I really can’t think of anything else to say to that. “I guess.”

He smirks. “Well, I’ve got you now.”

I smile. But I don’t really like the idea of being ‘gotten.’ It’s a weird concept. Like I’m owned or something.

The screen door opens and I pull away abruptly. We turn around.

It’s Carl and he looks pissed. “Hey.”

“Hey?” I ask. I can tell Adrian’s annoyed too, annoyed that we’ve been interrupted, I assume. “What’s up?”

He comes over but keeps his distance, staring at the proximity of our hands. I pull away some more, as if to make room for him. He doesn’t take it, and instead stares at me with intense eyes, as if he wants to say something.

“Carl?”

“Never mind,” he says, icy. He turns around and shuts the door with a slam. It’s like a fucking bullet shot and I stand to go after him but Adrian grabs my hand.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just... Carl.”

What is that supposed to mean, I wonder. I mean, I know Carl. And Carl doesn’t act like this, not unless something’s really wrong. But then I notice that Adrian has my hand and isn’t letting go. I plop back down. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s just jealous,”Adrian replies stiffly, looking over his shoulder to the door. “Don’t worry about it.”

It takes me a moment to process what he’s said, I’m so focused on the pressure of his hand on mine. “Wait, jealous?” I can’t help but panic slightly. “Wait, that means he knows about... You and me?”

“Oh yeah,” Adrian says easily, not noticing my stressed expression. “I told him a while ago that I had a thing for you. Didn’t believe you were gay. Don’t worry, he’s just jealous.”

I was right. He was jealous of me, jealous that I had gotten Adrian. And for the first time in my life I was mad at Carl. He’d never done that to me before. Not in all our years of friendship had I once openly begrudged him his girlfriends. I’d been nice to all of them, every single bimbo and slut he’d dated.

“Jealous? What right does he have to be jealous?” I ask, outraged. “It’s my business who I date.” I tighten my grip on his hand. He seems surprised, but takes it well enough.

He shrugs again. “Don’t even worry about it. He’ll get over it. Don’t worry.”

He leans in closer and I can feel his breath on my cheek. The night is cold but the air from his lungs is warm and it heats him up immediately, straight down to my crotch and through my heart like fire.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.”

---

His room is like him: beautiful, eclectic. Posters on the walls declare the names of underground punk bands, but it’s clear that he doesn’t limit himself to one genre. There’s a Clash poster on one end of the room, a Jens Lekman concert shirt hanging over the chair. He pushes me into the room and closes the door, dead-bolting it. A synthesizer sits in the corner. I can tell he actually plays it; there's no dust on it. Beside his pretty neatly made bed is a beside table covered in little knick knacks. Mini-Buddhas, prayer beads, a little incense burner. A couple pentagrams.

I can hear the party outside, a dull roar, but nothing seems to matter, because we’re in his room which smells like him and a musky cologne, not overpowering, but subtle and strong. I wonder briefly and morbidly how many boys he’s brought back here, but the hand at the small of my back makes me forget my predecessors.

Now he's putting his arms around me and I want nothing more in the world to melt into his embrace. So I do. And I can hear his heart beat through his thin rib cage. He's rubbing my back and I look up at him. And he leans down and kisses me gently on the lips.

My hands are sweating and I can’t help but want him naked. I want to be beneath him naked. God I hate myself. I wonder if I’m the only kid in the whole world who’s so horny they think about sex after a simple, sweet kiss. I don’t think so. I guess I pause, because he notices and he pulls away reluctantly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah... Do you mind...” I trail off and when I look up at him I realise that he'll listen and he won't think I'm stupid. “Do you mind if we take this slow?” I blush. “I haven't been in a relationship in a while...” Make that, haven’t been in a relationship ever. Unless you count Suzy Robbins in fourth grade, or Luke, which I don’t.

He seems to know better than to ask about that, so he just nods and pulls me along behind him. His comforter is plain, black. I curl up on it and inhale his scent. He smells nothing like I imagined.

He's put on Black Flag, my favourite album. He grins as he comes over and plops down on the bed next to me, spooning up behind me.

“I love this album,” he says nuzzling his nose against my neck. I relax into him and realise I could fall asleep like this.

“Me too,” I reply sleepily. I realise belatedly that it's a bit weird to be falling asleep in the bed of some guy I barely know, but I can't help it, and he's so beautiful that I almost don't mind that we barely know each other, although I do want to get to know him better... And my mind is rambling so much that I barely notice when I fall asleep.

---

There's something around my waist. I wake up slowly and realise that I'm not at home. I look down and see an arm around my stomach. I almost leap up in alarm when I look over my shoulder and recognise a sleeping Adrian. I relax slightly until I see the clock. Ten o'clock in the morning. Shit.

I gently disentangle myself from Adrian, and I feel so guilty and lustful at the same time, just looking at his pretty face. I don't even know the guy. I stand up and realise that he must have taken my pants off. I look around for them and find them folded neatly on his desk chair. I pull them on slowly and watch him as I do. I don't want him to wake up to me leaving.

I don't want to come back. What was I thinking? What was I doing? I have no idea. I'm just glad he was sweet enough to respect my wishes and not push me. If we'd ended up doing more than snuggling I'd hate myself. I'm guilty enough. I want to punch something. Not him, never him. Just anything. God. I hate myself, I hate myself.

The elation of the previous night has faded and now I'm faced with the stark reality of what I am. And the embarrassing part is I wasn't even shitfaced last night. I came to his bed willingly. Eagerly. Shit. I can't even believe myself.

I creep out down the hall and out the front door. My hands are shaking as I drive off. I decide to pretend that nothing ever happened. Nothing. I didn't just sleep in the same bed as another guy and like it. I didn't hold his hand, nothing like that. I'm not queer. I'm not a fucking fag.

Oh god. I'm such a fag.

---

I get home and my parents aren’t waiting for me. They look a bit surprised to see me coming in so early in the morning, looking like I’ve been pulled through a bush backwards, but don't complain when I run upstairs to throw myself in the tub and wallow for a bit. I'm a fag. I'm a fag I'm a fucking queer. Shit. I think about it as I run the water.

I mean, I always knew it. I just never knew I was that much of one. I mean, I always thought it was something that was slightly embarrassing, and perhaps incriminating, not a big deal. But I'm really gay. I mean, really gay. And not in that stupid stereotypical way. I mean, come on. Can you imagine me in booty shorts with a limp wrist and lisp? Not that I mean any disrespect to any guys who are like that, but I'm definitely not like that. And I'm really really gay. And I like it. That's the worst part. I like being held by a guy. The idea of fucking a guy or being fucked by a guy is such a turn on. I squirm in the tub.

God. How am I going to explain this to everyone? I'm not, that's the answer. I'm not going to say a thing. Maybe Adrian will understand. Maybe he won't. If he doesn't, I guess it's over. But I don't want it to be over when it's just started. And then I realise it was really shitty of me to run out on him like that. I was scared. I'm still scared. But it's a good kind of scared. Like watching a scary movie scared. You know something terrible's going to happen but you can't stop watching. And Carl, oh god, Carl, beautiful Carl... He knows. He knows everything.

I get out of the tub and pyjamas on. I'm looking for my phone in my pocket when I find a slip of paper with a number on it and a name. Adrian.

I call it.

It rings a few times and goes to the voice machine. I'm a little bit relieved.

“Hey Adrian, it's Eli... I'm sorry for running out on you this morning. Maybe we can talk? If you want to come by...” I remind him where I live and tell him to stop by that afternoon if he feels like it. I hang up and tell my mom to send him up if he comes by.

Since he hasn't called me back yet, I curl up in bed and try to get a few extra winks.

---

When I wake up it feels like there are eyes on me. I open them slowly. Adrian is sitting at my desk watching me sleep with a goofy expression on his face. I smile and sit up slowly. I'm a bit sorry I don't sleep in the nude.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey.” I blush. I can't believe I was so horrible and left him this morning. I motion for him to come sit on the bed. He does so slowly, as if he's not sure, as if I'm going to change my mind. I watch him and I want to curl up against him. But I hold myself back. “I'm sorry-”

“Don't worry about it,” he says gently. “Let me guess, you're not ready for a relationship?”

I look at him in surprise. And I surprise myself by grabbing his hand. “No. I wasn't going to say that. I'm sorry about leaving this morning. I just freaked out a bit.”

He relaxes a bit. “But you're not... mad, are you?”

“Mad?” I look at him. “I guess I'm mad at myself. Not at you. I just...” I look up at the ceiling. Henry Rollins stares down at me and I wonder how many times I've jacked off to that picture. That's kind of sick, isn't it? Jacking off to a picture of the lead singer of Black Flag? Anyhow. “I just don't think I'm ready to be out yet. I guess I'm not ready to tell my friends.” I look down so that Henry Rollins will stop distracting me. “You know what punks are like.”

He nods and I realise that he's put his arm around me.

“If you need to be with someone who's out... and proud... I can't be that person.” I look down even more, practically tucking my chin in. “I just can't...”

He tousles my hair. “I don't care about that. Obviously I'd like to hold your hand in public, but I can wait until you're ready.”

I look up at him and my neck hurts a bit from snapping it up so quickly. “Really?”

“Really.” He smiles and I realise I must look like such a dork. I blush again and he laughs.

“I barely know you,” I say, flushing even more. “But I want to get to know you. And be with you.”

“Me too.”

I don't want to label it, but I do want to. I want him to be my boyfriend. I want to get to know him, be there for him, hold him when he's having his doubts and his sad days. God, I hate myself. I hate myself, I hate myself. And I like him so much. Stupid stupid boy.

“So, wanna try?” He says, grasping my hand with his. I squeeze his hand instead of answering. That seems to be good enough.

---

Monday at school I look for him, but I don't see him. I head out to the lawn at lunch having given up on seeing him and there he is, sitting under our tree with a sandwich in his hands. I try not to skip up and kiss him. Instead I sit down next to him all casual like, ignoring the tingling in my groin.

“What's up?”

“Nothing. You?” He looks at me, and I can see that mischievous look in his eyes that I really like. It's like an eye smirk.

“Nothing much.” I pull out my lunch from my bag. Apple and chicken. Weird mix. Mum's not exactly sure what's supposed to go into a paper bag lunch. She grew up in England and you have lunch in the cafeteria every day apparently. So she's not exactly got the whole American PB&J thing going on. Which is fine. She’s also crazy, so food is like one of those things that never works out .

Adrian has chicken for lunch too. I raise an eyebrow and point at my chicken and then at his. He gives me the eye smirk.

“Wanna hang out after school?” he asks and I nod, almost choking on my apple. Do I want to? Stupid ass. Does he even need to ask? I guess we've been only dating a day, so maybe he does. I don't know about these dating rules. I don't know shit! But it's all okay because he's so beautiful and perfect. And he likes my Henry Rollins poster.

It isn’t until after lunch when he’s walking me to class (like a regular hetero couple) that I realise I haven’t seen Carl since Saturday night. I consider calling him, but then I remember that look on his face and I put my phone away.

---

We walk to my car after school. He left his at home and got a ride from a friend.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“I don't know,” I admit. He shrugs.

“Let's go to my place. I'll make you dinner. And you can stay the night.” My eyes must have widened because he grinned and ruffled my hair. “Not like that, you shit.”

I can't help but be slightly eager to sleep in his bed. And maybe do more than kissing. We climb into my little VW Golf and he points at the Black Flag sticker over the centre of the wheel. He grabs my hand after I shift into gear and holds it all the way to his house.

When we get to his house he puts the Dropkick Murphys on the stereo and we listen while he cooks. He's good in the kitchen. He moves quickly and efficiently and watching him is fun. He has me chop tomatoes for the sauce, and I feel terribly domestic. But I like it.

We talk about music mostly. He likes pretty much everything except rap and country. I tell him I'm pretty much the same. We talk about my family, I tell him about how much I adore Abby even if she is a colossal pain in the ass. And he doesn't say much about himself. I keep asking but he laughs and asks a question in return. I don't want to push him so I don't. And we stick to topics like favourite foods and movies.

We're different and that's nice. I like to hear about his obsession with experimental music and I want to listen to some now. And he tells me about his kind of weird thing for collecting shot glasses from amusement parks and we talk about how one particular one looks like Tinkerbell is shitting a star.

We laugh at the same jokes and we get along like two guys. Except for the fact that I check him out when I think he's not looking and he does the same. And except for the fact that I am sort of falling for him in spite of all my wishes to the contrary. I want him to be a simple crush, a guy I like over one school year and then get over. Hah. Yeah right. Fuck I hate myself. And I'm falling for him. Not hard, not yet. No pun intended. I mean, I am hard for him, but I haven't fallen hard for him. Never mind.

---

We had spaghetti for dinner and now we're in his bed, talking, while Kurt Cobain sings softly in the background. Nirvana Unplugged in New York. I like this album, I forgot how much. We're just talking about school. His favourite subject is English, like mine. I'm telling him about what a douche bag Mr A has been lately and he leans over and kisses me.

I'm a little surprised, just because I wasn't expecting it, but I return it hesitantly, letting him stroke my back. It’s kind of soft and sweet, and an edge of hardness when he bites my lip teasingly. I can’t help but gasp slightly and moan. His hands drop and they're cupping my ass and I really really don't mind. And of course, my dick has woken up with a vengeance and Adrian can tell. He laughs and reaches down between us to tug slightly at the front of my pants. I don't stop him when he pulls them down and I'm in my briefs in front of him. He pulls off my shirt and I let him. And now I'm lying under him in only my underwear with my dick going crazy and my groin clenching and unclenching with happiness...

And I want him to take off my underwear but I can't do it myself because that would mean more than I'm ready to deal with. But I'm ready to have him take off my underwear? I don't know. I want him to have me naked and I want him naked but I don't want to think about what that means. And I wanted to take this slow, but this sure as fuck isn’t slow. I wonder if he remembers that.

As soon as his hand dips below the elastic on my briefs I know know know I'm gay. God damn it. I suppose I'd always hoped there was a slight chance I wasn't. No such luck. Gay gay gay. And oh fuck his hands are warm and on the hollows of his hip bones and my hips buck involuntarily. I grown as his hands dip further. Not fair, he's still dressed. My hands reach out and unbutton the top of his jeans. I help him shuck them and then his shirt and now we're both in our underwear and God what's going to happen?

So much for wanting to take this slow. I want him now and he doesn’t care who fucking walks in. He doesn’t care. And seemingly without thinking about it, he’s pulling off my briefs and tossing them over to my jeans.

I know I'm on the smaller size as far as dicks go. In gym you see other guys showering after swim practice or whatever and you compare mentally. Well, I did a lot more than compare, I fucking stared, but that's me, and as we've established I like boys. Anyhow, so I'm not huge, and I'm not tiny either, but I guess I'm small. Let's just say I'm below average. Which I've never really had a problem with because as far as I've been concerned, I thought I was going solo for all eternity. Wanking off to pictures of various famous punks. Besides, I doubt that most guys are bigger than five inches... And I always thought my dick was kind of cute in a petite way. Sweet mouthful kind of thing. No need to deep throat.

But now I'm realising how weird it is to be naked in front of another guy with Nirvana playing in the background and even though I'm hard, I'm small, and shit. I blush furiously and move my hands to cover myself but he pushes my hands away and kisses my belly button. He pulls his underwear off and now I feel really inadequate. I mean, he's not huge, but he's not exactly Tiny Tim either. Fuck. I really want to go home now. Sensing my dismay, I suppose, his lips trail down and his stubble is rubbing against the soft skin of my lower belly and then I'm going almost apeshit with happiness. And then ohmygod his lips are around my dick and I'm melting melting oh fuck... And he's smart and trapping my hips to the mattress so I don't bash him in the nose with my enthusiasm, and oh god oh god. And just as I can feel my balls tighten, about to blow, his mouth comes away and I'm left wanting more. Oh god. I look at him and he laughs.

“Your eyes are sooo big,” he teases, leaning in to kiss me. And I can taste my own precome on his tongue and I'm so hard for him. I want him want him want him and oh my god he's grinding against me and we're sort of rutting against each other and because I'm young and I've never ever had this happen before I'm yelping and I'm coming with an explosion and oh god oh god. And moments later, his teeth nipping at my throat he's shuddering and coming and there is stuff splattered all over my stomach. He collapses beside me, eyelashes fluttering. And I'm exhausted. So exhausted that I roll over into the curve of his arm and fall asleep in an instant.