Boy Story: The Road Taken - 7. Gotta Love Popcorn

Gotta Love Popcorn

After I punched out, I walked out the back door. I wasn't sure where Parker would be or if he would even be there at all. Maybe I should have been more specific about a meeting spot.

"Hey!" I heard from a figure around the corner in the shadows. I saw the dark silhouette. It was him!

"Well, you found me easy enough. That's a good start."

"I just had to keep an eye on the door," he replied.

"C'mon my car is right over here. We can drive over," I announced. Just then, a thought from my boyhood shot into my brain. "Don't accept rides from strangers!" He doesn't know me that well. I could be a serial killer in my spare time and he could disappear and no one would ever know what happened to him. But then I decided even a serial killer couldn't harm such a beautiful creature, but tonight he's with me so he's safe. As we approached my car, I hit the power locks. "Hop in!" We drove across the street and parked.

"Wow, that was the easiest commute to the cinema I've ever had!" Parker quipped.

"I don't think it was even far enough to be considered a commute," I figured aloud.

"A trip, perhaps?" he revised.

"Or a jaunt?"

After securing our tickets, on the way in I bought a large bucket of popcorn to share. It was just the large bucket, not the jumbo feeding trough size. Having worked all night, I was hungry, plus I figured I’d score some brownie points with my new friend. As we entered the theater, which was nearly empty, he whispered, “It’s a good thing we came tonight because I don’t think it will be playing much longer.” Parker went ahead and selected the seats as I was busy trying to negotiate walking and not dumping any popcorn. He turned into a row, went across about half way (so we’d be centered with the screen), and sat down. I followed and sat to his left. I scanned the theater...two people on the left, three in front of us, two singles, and us. That's it, nine total.

We chatted while waiting for the film to start. Our conversation first centered on Barbara and how “boy crazy” she was. Then we switched to Parker and where he was going to school and his age—he was in his senior year in high school and 17. I didn’t tell him, but I already knew all of this from Barbara, but we needed material to talk about, so I asked anyway. Plus, if a guy he only recently met somehow knows all of his vitals, that might seem really creepy, so I played it cool. Then I posed a question I hoped wouldn’t offend him, therefore, I phrased it very carefully. “So how long have you known you are gay? I mean, at 17...are you sure?”

He thought for a moment and began, “I've always liked boys more than girls. I guess that’s true for most boys when they are young, but eventually they become interested in girls. But for me, girls were OK as friends, but guys were what I was attracted to. I was pretty sure I was gay by the 7^th grade. But that’s about the time my dad split, and I didn’t want to add to the drama, so I waited until the divorce was final before I considered saying anything. Then I hesitated because I thought maybe in high school my feelings would change, but they never did. They just intensified. I eventually came out to my mom in the summer after freshman year...age 15. She figured it was just a phase, but I kinda knew at that point that things weren’t going to change...and they haven't.”

“Was she the first person you told?“ I asked.

“No, I had a couple of close female friends who I told in 8^th grade…to sort of test the water. I told them I might be gay.”

“How’d that go?” I continued.

“They were fairly cool with it. They had lots of questions though, like what guys at school I thought were hot. One boy I mentioned was a fairly close friend of mine. Somehow he found out, but fortunately he didn't freak out. One day he just said, “I heard from a reliable source that you are gay and I'm OK with it. I just want you to know that I'm completely straight. Are you OK with that?”

I said, “Yeah, totally.” Crisis was averted and we continued to be friends.

“Plus by that time puberty had started, and then I was positive I was gay. When I would masturbate, I only thought about boys.”

“Eeew, you do that?” I said in mock disgust making a face.

“Don’t worry. I don’t do it in darkened movie theaters...not yet anyhow,” he said with a deadpan delivery.

“And your mom, how did she take it?” I said getting back to the original topic.

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t masturbate in theaters either,” he replied.

At that point I lost it and we both started laughing uncontrollably. You know, the kind of laughing fit where you think you finally stopped and it starts up again. While I fought to regain control, the lights mercifully dimmed and the coming attractions began. I finally managed to pull myself together and thankfully heard no further giggling from the seat next door to start things up again. I knew, at that point, from his similar taste in music and sense of humor, we were probably good "friends" candidates.

I was able to squeeze in one more comment before the movie started, “You know, you have to help me eat this popcorn. I bought it for the both of us.” And I propped up the bucket wedging it between my right leg and the armrest between us.

So the Star Trek movie began, we were beginning to make progress with the popcorn, and everything seemed right with the world. Then on one of my trips to the bucket, I reached down and Parker’s hand had just beat me to it. “WHOA, intercepted,” I said, but the movie drowned me out. As he backed his hand out of the bucket, I got a novel idea. “I’ll just re-intercept it,” I thought as I grabbed his wrist and led his popcorn-loaded fist toward my face instead.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it at first, so I tapped his fist against my chin to give him a hint. (Fortunately, he didn’t think I wanted him to punch me in the face.) He shuffled his closed hand around a bit until he produced a piece of popcorn between his thumb and first two fingers. He placed it close to my mouth, and I took hold of it with my lips and ate it. I then opened up and he popped kernel after kernel into my mouth until his hand was empty. That same hand then returned to the bucket to get some nuggets for its owner.

A few minutes later, without my prompting, the popcorn-loaded fist returned to my face. I opened up and waited for him to empty the contents of his hand into my mouth again. And this process repeated a couple more times until the bucket was just about empty. “Hmm, no girl had ever fed me popcorn during a movie,” I thought as I scanned my memory banks. “I’m kinda liking this.”

While Parker was busy feeding us, my brain was in overdrive. So here I was trying all these little activities—like going to the movies and the popcorn thing—to get across the fact that I liked him...really liked him. Let’s face it, I wanted him. I had been kind of subtle and humorous and flirty up until that point. Perhaps because I’m straight, I need to be more blunt and take a more obvious approach here. But what? How do I let on that I want to be more than friends?

“Last handful…do you want it?” Parker announced breaking me from my thoughts. “Sure,” I whispered. I could see that he had 5 or 6 pieces of popped corn in his palm. So I opened my mouth, tilted my head back, and he rolled the kernels off of his curled up palm into my mouth. Voilà…done!

Then I noticed him rolling his fingers together from the salt and butter (or more like butter flavoring) now stuck to them. “Wait! I have something for that,” I announced as I went into my coat pocket to get a wet-nap I had stored there. That’s when I noticed an opening for my blunt approach. I dropped the wet-nap back into my pocket. I gently gripped his left wrist again with my right hand and formed his salty, buttery hand so that his index finger was pointing out. I led his index finger to my mouth and I sucked the salt and butter off…and then repeated the process one at a time with his other four digits.

He didn’t resist, but I could sense his disbelief and his eyes upon me even in the darkness. I finished with his thumb and I believe I even heard him moan slightly. I said, “Mmm, you sure taste good.” Then he whispered in my ear, “If you like the taste of my fingers, here’s something you’ll really like.” He leaned over and locked lips with me. I was stunned at first, but then I remained motionless as he followed through. Though it may have lasted all of 3 seconds, that kiss literally changed my life.

We sat in silence again. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest and I was feeling a little giddy. Well, the joke was on me! I was provoking a gay boy and certainly got what I deserved. Fortunately, what I deserved was exactly what I wanted. Apparently, I had made an impression.

Then I reached into my pocket, ripped open the wet-nap, handed it to him, and he wiped his hands. I looked around to see if anyone spotted the two boys kissing in the theater. There was no one sitting behind us, so I don’t think we were noticed.

To nip this in the bud—after all, we WERE in a public movie theater—I leaned over and whispered the only thing I could think of, “Now finish watching the movie, there will be a test on it later.” I had to admit I was now in uncharted territory here and needed a chance to clear my head and get my heart rate down. One thing I was sure of, I did enjoy that kiss.

The movie ended and I followed him out into the lobby. He kept looking at me expectantly like I was supposed to say the one thing that would make sense of this rather eventful evening. I figured if we’re going to have any discussion, it will have to be in private, so I said, “Let’s talk in the car.” We walked across the parking lot to my car.

We got in and closed the doors. I didn’t really know how to begin, and I guess he sensed it. He said, “Sooooooo…” and studied me. I responded like an echo, “Soooooo…” followed by a pause of a few seconds to gather my thoughts.

I opened with, “I guess you’re thinking ‘what the fuck’?”

“Close. I’m thinking ‘what the fuck, exclamation point, exclamation point’!” he replied.

“Yeah, I'm not surprised,” I offered. “Look, I don’t know about all of this straight/gay stuff. I’ve never thought much about it before. I’ve just dated girls. But this is different…”

“Like the fact that I have a penis? If you can’t tell that’s different, then we have a problem.”

“Yeah, I recognize all of that. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m…I dunno…intrigued?”

“Intrigued? Let’s see…a straight guy, who dates only girls, goes to the movies with me, forces me to feed him popcorn, licks my fingers, and tempts me to kiss him. And he’s intrigued?” he shot back.

“I guess I’m not saying it right. Regardless of what I’ve done or been in the past…I find myself attracted to you. It’s just an odd position for me since you’re a guy.” He just kind of stared at me to determine if it was perhaps a joke.

Then I remembered, “But wait...you kissed me, right? So does that mean you kinda like me?”

“Fortunately for you, I have a thing for confused straight boys and nothing ever came of it. If you really want to know, yes, I’m—what’s the word—intrigued as well,” he responded.

“So…I don’t know what all of this means. I guess I am confused,” I confessed.

“Well, then let me help you clear your head,” he replied.

He reached over and grabbed me by the collar, pulled me closer, and kissed me. I gave in to the emotion of the moment. I kissed back. His tongue was soon in my mouth, then my tongue was in his mouth. I could feel the taste buds on his tongue with my tongue. I had never kissed a guy, had never even come close before, but it was electric.

I suddenly pictured in my mind the faces of shocked pedestrians in the parking lot staring at us through the car windows. I opened my right eye just to check it out. Luckily, it was a little chilly that night, so the windows had already fogged up. With all the body heat being generated in that car, we were safe from prying eyes.

I then looked at my partner in crime with my one open eye. His eyes were both closed. My eyes would have been closed if I hadn’t been worrying about pedestrians. I wondered if everyone closed their eyes when they kissed. Then I closed my eye again. It was much better that way. I decided that kissing is one activity not enhanced by vision.

“Shit!” he suddenly sprang to life. “What time is it?”

I looked at the clock in the car. “Um, 12:35 but my clock is 5 minutes fast. What’s up?”

“I have to get home. My mother sometimes worries and waits up for me when I’m out this late.”

“No problem. I think we’ve worn out our welcome here anyway.”

Since I had no idea where he lived, he skillfully guided me to his address. On the way, I asked about his parents. They were divorced. Dad was remarried and lived with his new family in Maine. Mom had Parker and the house, and she worked full time at an area hospital as a nurse.

“The white one over there,” he said pointing to one of the houses around a cul de sac on his street.

It was a split entry house with a car in the driveway and a basketball hoop on a pole out front. It was a house much too big for just two people, but that wasn’t always the case.

“So you play b-ball?” I asked

“Huh? Oh that. No, not mine. I have an older brother in college. Nick was the high school basketball star. He lives year round in a big house in Amherst near the college with a bunch of his college buddies.”

“Oh he goes to college?” I questioned.

“Yeah, he’s in his junior year at UMass Amherst...and obviously enjoying it because we hardly ever see him anymore.”

I pulled up in front of the house on the street and shifted into park. “Well, I guess this is it,” he announced. “Time to say goodnight.”

I slid over to his side to kiss him goodnight. We started kissing, which led to making out. He turned himself around so he was kneeling on the car seat facing me, his knees straddling my hips, and his butt positioned across my thighs. We kept saying “goodnight” to one another, but then just resumed kissing again.

Then he announced, “Listen…I really have to go, but, uh, do you want to sleep over?”

“In the car?” I asked, not sure what he meant.

“No silly, my house…you know, in my room…in my bed.”

“Uh, your mother won’t mind?”

“Well she won’t mind if she doesn’t know. We’ll just have to be quiet.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea. I mean, what if we get caught?” I asked.

“We’ll just make sure we don’t.”

“But…”

He cut me off, “Park your car in the dirt lot over there. Everyone on our street uses it for visitors, so it won’t look suspicious. Then just go down the left side of the house and stand under the last window on that side, and I’ll see you there.”

He gave me one last, long kiss and said, “This doesn’t have to be goodnight, but that’s up to you. You know where I’m at.” And then he closed the car door and jogged up to the house.

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