A Year Changes Everything - 9. Chapter 9

The next few weeks passed by and from the outside you would have thought that all was back to normal between me and Andrew, but whilst we were hanging out together a lot of the time like we had before, there were now awkward silences in our conversations where there hadn't been any before.

He also spent quite a lot of time with the girl, Amanda. I never saw them kiss and she never spent the night, but I figured they simply did that stuff in her room.

I was surprised that Andrew would start sleeping with a girl when it was clear that his development had not finished, but then maybe he'd shared his 'secret' with her as well. The thought that I wasn't the only person he had confided in made me feel sick with jealousy, which made me brusque if not a little rude if I ever encountered Amanda, especially if she was with Andrew.

I'd completely given up on trying to 'forget' my feelings and sexual urges. Whenever I jacked off I'd think of Andrew. I couldn't get him out of my head and the fact that he was in the next door bed made it even harder.

About 2 weeks into the semester I took the plunge and visited my first gay bar. It was a few towns over, which I hoped would mean that there'd be less chance that I'd be recognized.

I was getting ready and putting more effort into my clothes and everything than I would normally.

Andrew came back and choked slightly on the excess aftershave I had splashed on my face.

"Fuck me, mate," he said. "You trying to kill me or something?!"

"Sorry. A bit too much aftershave?"

"Just a little," he laughed. "You're making quite the effort. Is that a new shirt?”

I nodded.

"Nice. She's a lucky lady."

"Oh, it's not for anyone in particular. I'm just going to head to a club and see what happens. You fancy joining me," I said, knowing that he had plans.

"I'm meeting up with Amanda and some others."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

I finished styling my hair and put on my jacket.

"Laters."

"Knock 'em dead Maverick."

Less than an hour later I was standing at the bar, feeling self-conscious.

It was filled with people, about 80% of them men and of quite a broad age range. There were some guys there who looked to be about my age, but the majority were older: in their late 20s to late 30s.

I gulped down my first beer and was half way through my second when the barman slid a shot of something over to me.

"I didn't order that," I told him

"Nope, you didn't. That gentleman over there ordered it for you," he replied, nodding towards a guy sitting at the far end of the bar.

He was in his 40s at least and although he wasn't bad looking his steel grey hair wigged me out. I did the "thank you, but no thank you" sign and turned away.

I took another swig from my beer when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the old guy.

"That wasn't an 'I'd like to get in your pants' shot of whisky," he said, smiling at me. "That was a 'this is clearly your first time in a gay bar and you clearly need some Dutch courage' shot of whisky."

"It's that obvious?"

"It's the look of terror and the pace at which you're drinking those beers that are the first clues."

"And the other clues?"

"The fact that you've barely looked up from the bar and that you've missed about 30 different guys trying to catch your eye in the less than 10 minutes you've been here."

"You're quite the Sherlock," I said.

"I'd hope so. I've been doing this since before you were born and I own this place, so I've seen enough freshmen come in here looking like rabbits in the headlights to be able to spot another."

"I'm not a freshman," I said, unconvincingly.

"No, of course not," he replied raising an eyebrow. "Let me guess: you're ID says you're 23, after all it would be unsubtle to have it say 21 or even 22, but 24 would be pushing it."

My fake ID flashed through my head: the date of birth was 23.08.1986.

"Please don't confirm that I'm right otherwise I'll be forced to deny you any service here," he said with another smile. "I'm happy to know I'm right without confirmation and that way I can continue to pretend to be fooled."

"Thanks for the shot," I said, knocking it back.

"Not a problem," he replied. "My final bit of advice is that if you want to score in any club you have to make eye contact."

With that he walked back to his stool at the bar.

I felt the warmth of the whisky in my stomach and took his advice.

He was right about the guys checking me out. I'd never had so many women trying to make eye contact with me and it was quite the confidence boost to know that I was deemed something of a catch.

One guy caught my eye, though. He was tall, maybe my height or a little taller, blond and preppy looking. An Andrew-alike, if you will. He was older though. He was probably 23 for real.

I tried desperately to catch his eye and he finally looked in my direction. He nodded and smiled when he saw me. He headed over.

"Hi," I said, trying to hide the nervous novice tone in my voice.

"Hi," he said with a hint of irony.

"I'm Ryan."

"Josh," he replied.

A few minutes of slightly awkward chat followed before he took my hand and led me to the dance floor. To say it wasn't my type of music was an understatement, but Josh put my arm around him and placed my hand on his ass and I tried my best to not look like Bambi on ice.

He lent in and kissed me so quickly that I didn't have time to think about the fact that it was guy whose tongue was in my mouth or feel weird about the feel of another guy's stubble rubbing against my chin. Instead, I felt myself harden as he rubbed his crotch against mine. I could feel his own stiffening cock rub against mine. He placed his hand on my groin.

"My, we're certainly packing an impressive weapon down there," he said, rubbing my dick.

I didn't really know what to say to that. Was I supposed to compliment him back?

He carried on kissing me and I was almost at ease, but my thoughts kept on turning to Andrew. I could try and pretend that the guy kissing me was Andrew and with my eyes only slightly open it might have worked, but he had too much stubble. Andrew barely had any on his chin.

I felt my erection die a death.

In the taxi back to the dorm room I cringed at the memory of Josh's attempts to rub me into attention again. I had pushed his hand away and then eased away from him.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I . . ."

"A virgin, right," he said.

I nodded, feeling my cheeks burn.

"Too bad," he replied. "When you're ready, I'm here most Thursdays."

With that he walked away and I headed for the door.

My first gay club experience had lasted less than an hour.

When I got back to campus I headed for a bar where I knew I'd find Matt or Simon. In fact they were both there and I killed a couple of hours with them so as not to get back to the room too early and face questions from Andrew.

He was in when I got back, reading in bed.

"Good night?"

"It served its purpose," I said, ambiguously.

It had served its purpose. I now knew for sure that I was gay and that I was in love with Andrew.