Bad Stereotypes - 28. Tuesday 1st January 2013

New Year’s Day dawned bright and cold to find me staring at the ceiling in Zach’s room. His parents had let him have a few of us over for a little midnight party to bring in the New Year and at about three in the morning we had finally retired. Miles and David were sprawled on the double sofa set downstairs, but Zach had set me up on the futon-sofa bed in his room and I had spent the night not sleeping, staring at the ceiling and counting the swirls and dimples of the textured plasterwork and thinking of anything apart from the nearly naked body of my best friend in the bed next to me.

I wanted to run, but I figured that my ability to sneak out of the house was going to be impaired by the many tripping hazards left over from the party. That, and all I had to wear were jeans and a t-shirt, my trainers had somehow vanished during the nights frivolities. I looked over at Zach and watched him sleep.

My best friend slept like an eighteen year old without a care in the world. The duvet was pushed down past his waist, showing a chest firm with running, a flat abdomen dipping towards his navel, a column of dark wiry hairs leading into his boxers which bulged in a most inviting way. And after having the same dream for weeks now, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him.

In my dreams, asleep and waking, Zach was whispering in my ear, kissing the back of my neck, touching me in all the wrong places. I woke from those dreams feeling ashamed and horny, hating myself for what I wanted. I still ran, and my coach was pleased with my summer of progress, gave me exercises to do to keep my joints happy, and put me in for physio once a week. I was the school’s running star.

Zach made a small noise in the back of his throat and shifted in bed and ended up facing me, his hand flung across his abdomen, fingers long and loose, every muscle relaxed as he slept. His face was perfect from his messy spiky hair to his square stubbled jaw. The space between his lips fascinated me. I was half way to the bed before I realised I’d moved, dressed in nothing but purple boxer’s with neon green seams and piping with my dick practically sticking out of the waistband the thing was so damn hard. I stopped and took a deep breath.

Zach groaned, the sort of sleepy, grumpy noise that meant wakefulness was on its way.

“Awwww god… fuck don’t tell me it’s morning already…” His words were deep and slurred, and his hand moved to cover his eyes, “I’m not fucking running today Bay…”

“Shhh…” I stepped up to the bed and reached across to draw the curtains, “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay…”

I looked down. My heart thudded in my chest like Vikings were trying to use a tree to break down my rib cage. My head was full of the pounding of my pulse, a roar like the sea, the remembered dreams words in Zach’s voice first spoken to me on a hill by Alex what seemed like a lifetime ago. I could barely breathe, and everything in the world was bright as my pupil’s dilated so fast that I swore I could see stars in the morning sky. My crotch was doing my thinking, my brain was shut down, and everything I’d wanted for years was lying not a foot from me, have passed out in his bed, nearly naked and looking like he’d been made by gods.

I wanted to touch Zach more than I wanted to keep living. I wanted to do the things to him that he did to me in my dreams; hear him scream my name in pleasure as I brought him off in exquisite ways.

It was a new year, a good time for new beginnings. I bent down and kissed him.

Zachary Sarver tasted like chilli tortilla chips, soda and bourbon for about three whole blissful seconds before his knuckles caught me under the sternum and with a hard grunt I sprawled backwards onto the carpet.

“WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?”

Ah shit…

“Calm down Zach,” I could barely speak, my chest felt like I had a boa-constrictor wrapped around it, “Everyone’s still asleep.”

“The fuck was that Bay?” Zach’s voice was low and steely. He was sitting up now,, the covers pulled over his waist, both fists still clenched, “You…” he touched his mouth with two fingers, then rubbed at his lips with his knuckles and spat on the floor between his feet, “Fuck. I never pegged you for a fairy.”

“I’m not!” his words made me suddenly hot and angry. I was not the guy in the car park who’d looked like me. I was not like Alex who changed overnight until I barely recognised him. I was not those guys in the city who wore make up and giggled. I was not the guy who got fucked.

I was my year book picture; star athlete, smart, into computer games, the boy who ran everywhere, wore a lot of black, listened to rock and roll. I was not pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

“Straight guys don’t go around kissing their mates Bay.” Zach was still shaking slightly, but his voice had calmed, “Jesus H Christ, why’d you never say anything?”

Conversely, all I felt was rage. Zach hadn’t even asked why I had kissed him. Didn’t care, or didn’t want to know what I felt. My throat was stuffed with all the things I wanted to say and not one of them would come out. There was a noise like a sob, then a splash of wetness down my cheeks let me know that it was me who was crying. And Zach was a great friend, no one could ever say that he wasn’t, and his hand on my shoulder as I sat crying on his carpet was blisteringly hot.

“Hey Bay… just breathe dude. It’s OK, you can let it out now, it doesn’t have to be a secret. There, there…” his voice was full of candy floss and comfort, and as I felt his hands move over my skin, satisfying the simple craving for his touch that I’d felt for years, something changed. I gritted my teeth and swallowed as my anger rose to the surface and finally broke through into my voice.

“Get the fuck off me.”

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, it was just a shock y’know…” Zach was still being a good, supportive friend, and now I hated him for it.

“Get the fuck off me!” I stood and pushed him in the same movement. Zach stared at me in shock. I glared at him, “I’m not some sissy little faggot you have to take care of Zach.”

“Bay. Dude… take it easy.” Zach had his hands out and open like I was an unfamiliar dog, “Course I’m gonna take care of you, you’re my friend.”

“Oh fuck you Zach! I’m not a fucking child. I been drinking and screwing around since you were still failing to place top three.” I grabbed my jeans and pulled them on, “I knew this would happen. I think I’d have preferred it if you hit me again.”

“What?” Zach was grabbing for a pair of sweats, not wanting to be nearly naked with a gay guy, “Bay what the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to understand…” I slapped away the hand he reached out towards me.

“There’s nothing to understand Zach! The only different between you and me is that you fancy girls and I’m a better runner. That’s it. I’m not a different person than I was yesterday.”

“Bay. You need to talk about this. It’s important.”

“No it’s not!”

“You should tell people.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell them then.” Zach folded his arms across his chest and glared back at me. I’d pushed him too far, and suddenly I could see my bridges burning, “Outing someone is shitty thing to do but I will. You can tell them, or I’ll just tell everyone you’re a fag who tried to kiss me.”

Stubbornness rose up inside me like an angry bull to a glittery matador.

“Say whatever the fuck you like Zach. I’m going home.” I pulled on my shirt and forced myself to walk to the door. I was jogging before I was halfway down the garden path, knowing that inside Zach was waking the guys to tell them what had happened.