28. Orion
Orion
The question arrives, delivered with the finesse of a bomb that’s been painstakingly packaged, wrapped, and placed in my lap.
There’s a weight to it that’s familiar. Like something I ordered myself and have been expecting to receive for a while.
There’s an inevitability to it that makes me realize I’m a little surprised it’s taken him so long to ask.
There’s plenty of dread too, obviously. And a fuckton of anxiety.
It’s late, and it’s been a very strange night. My heart is still thudding in time with the music in Dorothy’s, I’m wearing a shirt that smells intoxicatingly like Jordan, and my ability to lie—or think—has left me completely.
“Sure,” I hear myself saying. “Course I did… For, like, a minute.”
“Oh yeah?” A flame flickers under parchment, catching alight and doing things to Jordan’s eyes that are, frankly, insane. “Then what happened?”
I shake my head and muster a genuine, heartfelt snort because, honestly, if this wasn’t about me and thus completely mortifying, it would be funny as hell. “Then I got to know you, dipshit.”
It’s the truth, in a manner of speaking. The truth, with a really big omission.
It was a crush, and then I got to know him. When that happened, it stopped being a crush and turned into something much, much worse.
Thank Christ and all that is holy, our car pulls up before either of us has time to say anything else.
We get in and buckle up, and Jordan makes small talk with the driver.
He loves talking to strangers, but tonight, the conversation is lacking, and after a minute or two, he turns his attention back on me.
“What did you want with that Thomas asshole anyway?” He scrunches his nose as if he’s encountered a bad smell. “The guy was sleazy as fuck. He was covered in cold sweat, and you hate sweat that’s gone cold. It’s literally one of your biggest icks. What were you thinking?”
I’m not comfortable having this conversation with the driver within earshot, but I know if I don’t answer fast, Jordan will simply ask the question again, but louder.
I talk quietly, with a hand obscuring my mouth. “Maybe I wanted to get my cock sucked, okay? Maybe that’s what I was thinking.”
“Get your cock sucked?” Jordan exclaims, his voice lilting up as though the concept of fellatio is not only fictional, but wildly improbable. “Get your cock sucked by him?”
“Shh,” I hiss. “And yes. What’s so bad about that? You hook up to get your dick sucked all the time.”
Jordan moves his head from side to side sternly, pinching his lips together at what a lost cause I am. “I hate to break it to you, bud, but that guy was a selfish lover. There’s no fucking way he was going to suck your cock—”
“Fine,” I cut him off, leaning close to him and lowering my voice to show him that the situation urgently calls for hushed, indoor voices. “Maybe I wanted to suck his cock. Did that ever occur to you?”
“Do you, like, are you…into that?” he asks.
I don’t know how to handle him anymore, and I’m starting to feel carsick from leaning over and not keeping my eyes on the road. “Do I like sucking cock? Can you hear yourself right now? That’s like me asking if you like eating pussy. I’m a gay man, Jordan. Yes, I like sucking cock.”
“Oh,” he says.
Then he’s mercifully quiet for the rest of the ride home.
He gets out before I do, and I take the moment’s respite to apologize to the driver. “Sorry, we said cock so many times. We’re…having an off night.”
“It’s no problem.” The driver pulls back his sleeve and reveals a woven Pride bracelet. “It’s all good.”
For a moment, I don’t move. I look at the bracelet and see it in a way that’s completely different from the way I usually see that specific arrangement of colors. Usually I see it with a slight flinch. A cower. A murmur of fear that whispers something like, “I hope no one knows that’s about me.”
Tonight I look at it and smile because it is about me, and I’m glad someone knows that.
“Thanks,” I say when I can. “I appreciate it.”
As I get out of the car, the driver lowers his window and cranes his head back. “Hey, kid. By the way, that friend of yours…? He’s jealous.”
“Uh, no. He’s not jealous. He’s just… Well, I’m not really sure what’s wrong with him, but it’s not that, believe me. He’s straight.”
“Straight, huh?” The driver winks salaciously at me, puts the car into drive, and speeds off.