Direct Confusion - 12. Chapter 12

I’m not wrong, and by the time my parents have left, there are already others turning up at the house. Derrick and Jim set up the speakers they’ve brought for the sound system and I plug in a six hour long all genre party playlist which should keep everyone happy and entertained. Chase is next to show, bringing a little bottle of vodka and a giant carton of orange juice with him. I refuse politely, and take the red solo cup of keg beer Cherrie hands me. I really don’t want to get drunk, because I’m already nervous as hell.

“Relax Luke.” Cherrie is one of the nicest girls I know, and seems to understand my shivering tension. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“That you shaved your head, chose new clothes no one had seen you wear this semester and are shaking like a rabbit in headlights?” Cherrie rubs my bicep and smiles. “No, course not.”

I sip my drink as people start to arrive, but after I have drained my beer, I refill it with soda without anyone seeing. I do not want to be drunk, though the single cup of light alcohol has taken the sharpness off my razor-edged nerves. The house is filling with my friends, and there are cheers and claps on the back, half-hugs and kisses on the cheek from most of the girls. There are a lot of letterman jackets, as is to be expected, but a bunch of the guys have turned out in sweaters instead, and it helps the non-jocks to blend in more easily. A handful of the girls dancing together in the cleared living room, wiggling their hips to the music and making flirty eyes with each other.

“Hey…” The word is a whisper soft in my ear and I whip round. There is no one there. I blink, and then Derrick goes to answer the front door, permitting entrance to Jameson, looking super put-together and grinning like a smug cat, and Erin. My heart starts thudding really hard from the moment I see him, and I watch him smile at Derrick and glance around warily. There are a lot of people here, and while he knows most of them to nod to, I doubt there are more than a dozen names-to-faces. His eyes land on me and his grin becomes mega-watt bright.

“Hey!” I wait, half leaning on the breakfast bar which part separates the open plan ground floor of the house. “Are we late?”

“No.” I glance up and down. Erin had clad his stronger athletic body in grey straight leg jeans and a western rodeo style pearl button snap shirt. I instantly want to tear it off him. “You’re perfect.”

“Thanks.” He bites his lip, the pink blush already flooding up his neck in the manner I adore. “You look great.”

“You want a drink?”

“Oh god yes.”

Jameson takes the drink I pour for Erin, hugs us both, and sashays off to be the social-butterfly.

“We don’t need to worry about him then…”

“Doubtful.” Erin is watching his twin flirt and chat with half a dozen girls at once. “He’s already got most of his Cheer squad wrapped around his little finger, and Heather loves him.”

“I’ll bet. You want the tour?”

I show Erin around the house and the yard, and we stand under the maple tree and chat. It’s incredibly easy. A combination of being in almost constant contact with Erin and the beer I drank earlier has made my nervousness dissolve. We talk about everything and anything, trading training anecdotes and tales from school years long past. Erin tells me all about his last school, how he loved to play football but was always so petrified of anyone finding him out.

“It’s not like it is here. Everyone was homophobic whether they really meant it or not. Even the coaches would slur ‘gay’ this and ‘faggot’ that all the time.” He gives me a defeated sort of look. “I used to have to shrug and smile and go along with it. And I hated it.”

Erin leans back against the trunk of the maple tree, his shoulders high and tense. I’ve never really seen him annoyed before, and I don’t like it. I step forwards very slightly, angling my shoulders backwards, because I can’t tell if Erin wants to be reassured or if he wants to dig into his anger and resentment. After a long second he reaches out, grabs me by my belt buckle and pulls me against his chest with a thud. I sneak my arm around his waist, and watch his lips from mere inches away as he speaks.

“I never ever joined in. Not once. It nearly cost me my place on the team, the apparent ‘respect’ of my teammates. Fuck that, having to listen in and nod along and pretend I agreed nearly cost me my sanity.” His hand on the small of my back is warm through my shirt. “It was probably the only thing Jame and I ever fought about. I mean, actually argued about.”

“I can’t imagine you two arguing.” I want to lay my head on his shoulder, make the most of our inch height difference, but my back yard is full of people laughing, talking, nearly-dancing, and I don’t dare.

“We don’t really. There are stupid bits where we fight about silly things. He hates it if I borrow his clothes.”

“I’ll bet.” Though the Parker twins are uber-similar, Erin is a good deal broader and more overtly muscled than his sibling. “You like that sprayed on sort of look?”

“Mean.” Erin retorts, but there’s no feeling in it. “But the jocks at our last school used to give him shit. Gymnastics was ‘girly’. I mean they weren’t too bad because he was my brother and everything… but still.”

“That sucks.” I lean in very briefly to kiss his jaw. “I’m glad you moved here.”

“Me too.” Erin turns to me, the corner of his lips tugging up in a brief smile. For a small moment, I could just dissolve into him and stay here under the last leaves of the maple forever. “It’s a great party…”

“Yeah?” I’m suddenly breathless, and all the blood in my body is rushing towards my crotch.

“HEY BOSS!” Chase is shouting from the back door. “Shots!”

I groan.

“It’s way too early for shots.”

“I dunno.” Erin is smiling at my in a rather predatory manner. “I kinda like the idea of you being tipsy and suggestible.”

I stand there, gaping at my boyfriend, as he begins to walk back towards the house. He is all at once bold and confident, and sometimes so shy and sweet it’s heart breaking, and I have no idea if I’m ever going to survive this roller coaster of flirting long enough to get another decent kiss.

I have one shot of something green and apple flavoured, and after that the party blurs in the way parties do, drunk or sober. I get drinks for the team and we sit with our heads together for what seemed like hours discussing plays and practice techniques. Jameson hauls me out onto the patio to talk, but we end up dancing with Heather and a bunch of her closer friends for a bit instead. I keep turning down drinks and getting soda from the fridge, but keep putting them down and end up drinking other people’s keg beer instead. I spend an hour with my arm wrapped around Erin’s waist, standing in my hallway and having an apparently deep and meaningful conversation with Porter and his girlfriend about the rising price of brand name sneakers. In passing on the way to my bathroom, Derrick asks me if we’ve heard from Greg lately, and I remember I haven’t even read my brother’s latest letter: the thought makes me overwhelmingly sad, and I hide away for ten minutes or so before Matt from the swim team drops a hi-ball glass and I have to go sweep up. It’s all very normal. People start to drift off around half past eleven, and I take keys from those I don’t think should drive. They get cabs, lifts, or they walk their way back homewards. Derrick and Cherrie stumble off giggling drunkenly, and Erin, Jameson, Jim and I end up sharing the inch which remains in the bottom of Chase’s long discarded vodka bottle.

The next time I blink, it’s after midnight, the house is quiet, and the only people apparently awake are Erin and myself. Jameson is snuggled up in a ball on the end of the couch like a cat. I get up, shake my head to clear it, and reach out for his hand.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you were?” I smile as Erin slips his hand in mine.

“Not for at least an hour.” Erin puts his head on my shoulder. “Awesome party.”

“The usual.” I shrug very gently. “Let’s go to bed.” The idea of wrapping my boyfriend up in my arms and spending all night with him is more intoxicating than booze.

“You know, I don’t fancy waking her.” Erin stands at the foot of my bed, currently occupied by a fully dressed Cherrie, the sheets wrapped around her legs. Derrick and Jim are both lying sort-of on top of each other on the floor, dead asleep. My sofa is occupied by the gently snoring mass of Porter. “I swear there are people all over your house.”

“That happens.” Despite what I’ve been drinking, I feel quite clear headed. In the near silence of people sleeping, I take my fallen quilt, and lead Erin back through the house. The only place that seems both unoccupied and slightly private is the landing, and I kick off my shoes and unhitch my belt buckle before settling down with my shoulders to the wall. Erin copies me, and in moments is pressed up against my side as I pull the quilt over us both. I press my cheek gently against the top of his head. “This is nice.”

Erin shuffled slightly, and then his quick fingers unbuttoned part of my shirt and slipped underneath the thin fabric to lie against my skin.

“Now it’s better.” He mumbles softly. “Shame about the bed.”

“Derrick will be pissed when he realises I he spent the night sleeping on Jim instead.” With an arm wrapped around Erin’s shoulders, I use my free hand to find his chin and tilt his face up so I can kiss him. It’s like the first kiss in his kitchen, soft and sweet, both of us slightly tentative, though now both of us taste faintly of alcohol. We’ve not really been alone like this all evening. “You really think it was a good party?”

“No one threw up, or passed out in the garden.” Erin’s shrug is a soft movement rather than a visible gesture, and his fingers have started to trace patterns on my skin. “No one drove home drunk, and there weren’t any big dramas or girls balling their eyes out. I’d say it was a success in nearly all areas.”

“Nearly?” I tickle gently down his ribs. With the quilt pulled up over our heads, it’s like we’re living in our own warm and fluffy private bubble. No world exists outside. Erin shifts his position slightly, coming out from under my arm, and I end up half in his lap, our legs comfortably but complicatedly intertwined. His hands are still inside my shirt.

“You didn’t wear speedos.” He whispers in my ear. I shudder at the sensation, the sound and texture of his breath, suddenly so close. His voice shortcuts straight to my cock and my chinos feel suddenly extra-tight.

“T-they weren’t really appropriate party wear Erie.” I just about get the words out as he places the softest kiss on the shell of my ear, before taking the top of the lobe gently between his teeth. His breath is heavy and wanting, and his hands turn me, untuck my shirt from my belt and sneak across my chest and abdomen.

“I’ve hardly been able to think of anything but you in the shower all week.” I know exactly the sort of time of morning he is talking about. “I want to have the time to appreciate how lucky I am properly: and privately.”

“Tell me.” There is something deeply erotic about hiding, mostly dressed, under a quilt in the dead of night, asking my boyfriend to whisper his fantasies in my ear while his fingers skim over my chest. I am so turned on I have no idea if I’ll make it to the end. “Erie…”

“I wanna fuck you in your cute little speedo. I like the red one.” He chuckles very softly. “I want to lie in that big bed of yours, snuggle up to your back and wake you up.” The pads of his fingers dig gently into my tensed abs. “I’d pull down the back of your speedo, just the back, lube you up and slide right in.” Erin’s cock is digging into my lower back through his jeans. “And fuck you really slowly for like, an hour.”

“You wanna make me come in my suit again?” It’s very hard to stop my voice from shaking.

“Oh yeah.” Erin breathes against my neck, holding me against his chest. “You’re so beautiful Luke. I wanna touch all of you and kiss you for days.”

“What about me?” I ask softly, keeping my voice low, not wanting to break the lust-drunk look in Erin’s eyes as I turn slightly in his lap. “Do I get to join you in a private shower sometime and watch you soap yourself up before I get to fuck you?”

“You’d like that?” He sounds slightly surprised.

I grin.

“I’m versatile.”

Erin takes my jaw and kisses me, and I open up for his tongue without a split second of hesitation. He’s playing into all my fantasies so wonderfully.

“God, I’m a lucky guy.”

That’s my line.