Chapter Three #2
After introducing ourselves, Charlie and I hovered around fairly uselessly as Bill went about hitching the Jetta to his truck.
Finally he shooed us into the cab, scolding us for our lack of winter gear.
Charlie slid into the middle and I followed him, settling into the right side of the truck.
My ears stung from the cold, and I blew on my hands.
There was so much I wanted to say, but now the words had slithered down into nooks and crannies like water over rocks. I cleared my throat and managed to say, “I think we—”
“Forget it. It’s fine. We need to concentrate on getting home. It was all a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now anyway, right?”
I looked at his Adam’s apple bob as he rubbed his hands, and my fingers itched to touch. I wasn’t even sure where, exactly. Everywhere. I’d watched him grow up from a distance, and being next to Charlie now made me tingle all over. It mattered so much that it stole my breath.
Then Bill was climbing into the driver’s seat, and we were on our way to a place called Little America.
Charlie
“You’re in luck—I’ve got a double left.” The desk clerk—Stephen—tapped his computer. “I’ll just need a credit card.”
I worked on a reasonable tone. “A double? We actually need a room with two beds.”
Stephen did the dreaded closed-mouth smile/head tilt combo, and I sagged against the counter. “So sorry, gentlemen. It’s our annual Little America Christmas Festival this weekend. This is literally the last room in the hotel.”
Gavin asked, “There are no other hotels in town?”
Stephen smiled. “We are the town.”
I passed over my credit card, since clearly we were out of options and we might as well try for a couple hours of sleep.
Bill had towed us to the garage by the seriously enormous gas station, and we’d walked over to the hotel, which was really a sprawling motel.
The whole complex was truly in the middle of nowhere.
“And you said you’ll leave a message for the garage about fixing our tire? ”
“Sure will.” Stephen handed over a long envelope with two key cards tucked inside.
“Now when you go out the door, turn right. You’ll see our travel center right behind the Santa’s village.
The center’s open twenty-four hours, and you’ll be able to get hot food there if you’d like.
And your room is just down this way.” He pointed to a laminated map of the complex that sat on the counter.
“Do they sell hats and gloves there?” Gavin asked. “This was an unexpected trip.”
“You might have better luck in the gift shop, which opens at six-thirty.” Stephen glanced at a clock on the wall. “Not too long now.”
“Great. Thanks.” Gavin smiled wanly.
“And there will be plenty of fun activities in the morning! Candy cane hunt, ice skating on our pond, and our world-famous Reindeer Race.”
“Sounds great,” I lied. “Thank you.”
Outside, we trudged along, dragging our suitcases.
This sucked. We’d finally been making up some time and getting somewhere.
And then I’d had to go dredging up all that stuff.
I knew it was wrong that I’d punched Gavin that day.
And now I couldn’t get Candace’s wide-eyed gasp out of my mind, or Gavin’s blood spilling over her yellow blouse as she cradled his head.
“Charlie, what’s the matter with you? Why did you do that?”
I couldn’t answer. Everyone stared at me like I was a freak. “Fuck you, you stupid bitch.” I spat out the worst word I could think of. “Cunt.”
I’d hated myself the moment I said it, and my next thought was how ashamed my parents would be.
And I’d hurt Gavin, who stared at me in shock, holding his hand to his nose as blood poured out.
It didn’t matter what he’d done to me. I was such an asshole that day, and now my cheeks burned with more than the cold as we neared the fluorescent travel center.
When I’d run out of the pizzeria that day, everyone had only stared, the hisses of their whispers slithering after me. I’d already stopped hanging out with people at school; with Ava so sick, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything.
After word spread about what I’d done to Gavin, people started actively avoiding me, and I just kept my head down and my earbuds in. I couldn’t blame them. And how could I blame Gavin for leaving me in the dust in ninth grade? He’d clearly been better off.
Tim had been… Well, if I was being honest with myself, Tim had been a distraction.
We fooled around and chilled, and never really talked about anything.
He was a nice guy whose main passions in life were smoking up and killing video game zombies.
He liked having sex with me, and it was nice to feel wanted.
We had some good times, but I found I didn’t miss him. Out of sight, out of mind.
At college, getting off with a guy was fine, but anything more than that made me want to hole up in my dorm. Thank Christ I’d gotten a single. And now here I was, stuck sharing a room with the only guy I’d let get to me.
I rubbed my face as we crossed Little America. Fuck, I just needed to get home for Christmas and keep my promise to Ava. Can’t let her get sick again, a little voice whispered, and I shoved it away, because that stupid dream wasn’t real.
As if to argue, my mind kindly flashed images of the empty hospital bed, stripped of its sheets, the sorrowful doctor, and my Ava gone, gone, gone. Shuddering, I wished I could bleach my brain and scrub away the memories of that goddamned dream.
“I think I’m just going to go to bed.” Gavin stopped at the turn for our room.
“Yeah. I’m not hungry either.”
So off we went with our heads down as the wind howled, our suitcase wheels rumbling on the pavement. Gavin opened the door and flipped on the lights. “Whoa. This is…”
“Retro?” I stared at the gold-patterned armchair, which was only missing a plastic cover for the truly authentic grandmother feel. The bedspread matched and the rug was shag green.
“I guess they’re going for that nostalgia thing.” His gaze fell on the bed. “I can sleep on the floor if you want. It’ll only be a few hours anyway.”
Part of me really wanted to take him up on that. “No, that’s…it’s fine. We’re adults now, right? And like you said, it’s only a few hours.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
God or whoever the hell is listening, please let the garage have us back on the road soon. I toed off my shoes as Gavin took his turn in the bathroom. I read the hotel information card and tried not to look at the bed.
At least we’d seemed to have formed a truce.
I cringed as I thought of how weak I’d been on the side of the road.
Ugh, he’d seen me cry, and the humiliation was acidy on my tongue.
It was easier when I let myself hate him.
Easier when we never spoke, and I could forget the concerned timber of his voice and the weight of his sympathetic hand.
And how much I’d wanted to be in his arms and let the tears fall.
What the hell was wrong with me? Ava was fine. I had to get my shit together. I’d never really been superstitious, and I needed to let go of this dream.
In a faded green tee and boxers, Gavin came out and climbed under the sheets on the side closest to the door.
I flipped off the lights and took my sweet time in the shower, hoping he’d be passed out when I finally I tiptoed into the dark room.
The curtains were open a few inches, giving me enough light to find my way.
I gingerly sat on the side of the bed and shimmied under the covers as quietly as I could. Gavin was curled away from me on his side, and I mirrored his pose, keeping my back to him. Willing myself to relax, I waited for the world to fade away.
The silence was too heavy, and I knew Gavin wasn’t asleep.
I resolutely closed my eyes. Seriously, what was the point in rehashing everything?
We were stuck together on this trip, and then we’d go back to never speaking again.
We’d only been friends for a couple months after he moved to Norwalk. We were strangers now.
So why did I want to roll over and press against him, breathe him in and taste him?
I’d been with other guys. Why was this one so deep under my skin?
They say you never forget your first, but this was ridiculous.
It wasn’t as though we’d had some big romance.
One day of fumbling and kissing should have been long forgotten.
Even if it had destroyed me back then, we were kids. It shouldn’t mean anything now.
Gavin shifted slightly and I held my breath.
I could feel the heat of his body only a few inches away, and I was already in serious danger of falling off my side of the bed.
I listened to Gavin not-sleep and watched the minutes slowly tick by on the LCD alarm clock.
It was already technically morning, but dawn could not come fast enough.
Gavin
Drifting in a limbo world between sleeping and waking, my whole body was tense and my legs were nearly pulled up to my chest. My hair was damp with night sweats, and even though I knew I needed real sleep, it wasn’t going to happen.
I supposed a couple hours of half sleep would have to do, and I opened my eyes to the faded gray morning edging through the gap in the curtains.
Behind me, Charlie snored faintly. I inched over onto my back and extended my cramped legs, pointing and flexing my toes as I watched him. He’d turned over at some point, and his hand nearly brushed my arm. His lips were parted, and God, I knew it was a cliché, but he looked so innocent.
Without the angry set of his jaw and the tight hunch of his shoulders, he reminded me so much of the Charlie I’d known that first summer. The Charlie who’d been my friend until I’d ruined it.
Until I broke his heart.
He murmured and smacked his lips before falling still again, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him now.
That day at the pond, it had been a frenzy of shoving ourselves together as our hormones exploded like cherry bombs at our heels.
I wanted to kiss him slowly now—tease open his lips and feel the slide of his tongue as the rasp of his faint stubble rubbed against mine.
I sucked in a breath. Shit, I should not be thinking about these things with morning wood that was all too eager. My pulse raced and I couldn’t look away from him. It was warm in the room, and he’d kicked the comforter down to his feet.
His white tee had ridden up to reveal a few inches of belly and the dark hair that disappeared in a trail below his waistband.
Hair dusted his legs as well, and his left knee was bent a bit, displaying a mole on his inner thigh that I wanted to lick.
I could see the bulge of his cock through his plaid boxers, and I wondered what it would be like to take him in my mouth and suck.
Lust and terror tightened my balls. Shit, I should have had the guts to hook up with guys at school; maybe I wouldn’t be wound so freaking tight. But I’d been too chicken. I thought of Candace just before she left for New York, nudging me with her elbow.
“When are you going to go for it? Just jump in with both feet. And hands. And…” She leaned in close and whispered, “And your, you know—dick. It’ll be awesome!”
But she was wrong. Sex with her the few times we’d done it had been awkward and never really right, but it hadn’t scared me.
Maybe because I’d known her so well. Or because I’d been going through the motions for so long that it was just one more performance.
And I genuinely cared about Candace, and had wanted her first time to be good for her.
I’d been so focused on that, I’d ignored what I’d really wanted.
The truth was, the thought of actually fucking another guy in real life and not just in my fevered fantasies was absolutely, positively petrifying.
Never mind the fact that it was Charlie I was perving on right now.
Because even as I tried to convince myself that it was just dick I craved, I knew it was a lie.
It was Charlie I wanted to touch and taste. I wanted it then, and I wanted it now. But after what’d happened, Charlie could never like me again, and I couldn’t blame him.
My silent phone on the side table lit up, and I reached for it and read my dad’s text, glad for the distraction.
How’s the journey going? You’re okay for money?
I tapped the keyboard with my thumbs and answered:
Everything’s good, and yes. Just waking up in Wyoming. Say hi to Mom. Hope it’s warmer there than it is here! :)
Dad’s answer was a picture of a gorgeous white sand beach and blue ocean with a glorious sun rising above it. He added:
Drive carefully and give our love to Candace. We’ll see you when you get back from the slopes. Stay safe, kiddo.
I turned off my phone and sighed. I hadn’t mentioned the tire problem or that Charlie was with me, because then Dad would have all sorts of questions I didn’t want to answer. Questions he didn’t want to ask.
Since I’d gone to college, my parents and I had talked about my classes, and the weather, and Mom’s book club, and Dad’s bowling league, and none of the things that really mattered.
Mom clearly wanted me to get back with Candace, but she didn’t even ask if I’d met any other girls. Dad certainly didn’t either.
I admit it—when Candace and I called it quits, I’d waited for my dad to talk to me about why. Talk to me about being gay. It was still weird to think it: I’m gay. I’m really, truly, gay.
I thought for sure he’d sit me down one day and we’d hash it all out. I waited. And waited. Then it was suddenly the day I was leaving for Stanford, and we’d only talked about my job at the local pool, the Red Sox’s pennant chances, and a bunch of stuff that didn’t mean anything.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I thought of that Labor Day Monday in the garage four years ago, the morning after I kissed a boy and then a girl.
The morning I didn’t know what the hell to do, because it was the boy I really, really wanted to kiss again.
Dad had always been my best friend. He’d always told me the right things. He always knew best.
“Don’t tell your mother.”
Charlie shifted again, moaning as he woke, and the weight of everything I’d missed out on the last four years bore down like I was plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. I sprang out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower full blast so he wouldn’t hear me cry.