4. Cam #2
QUINCY: That’s just because you haven’t met me in person yet. I promise, I’m much more awkward in real life
MILLER: You really know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?
I grimaced. I knew he was just joking, but I probably would disappoint him if we met up. Which meant I really ought to be completely honest now.
QUINCY: Also, I should probably mention this up front. Breadth and depth of my ‘experience’ aside, this would actually be my first time with a guy. So…if that changes things, I understand
Miller was quiet for a few minutes after that, and I got to experience the delightful, agonizing paralysis of not knowing which would be worse—if he told me that was a dealbreaker, or if he said it wasn’t.
MILLER: Are you serious?
I swallowed.
QUINCY: I am. I’m guessing that’s a bad thing?
MILLER: Not bad, exactly. Just different. Not to get weird on you, but are you sure you actually want to do this?
QUINCY: Honestly? No. I’m terrified, and kind of expecting to puke if we actually make plans to meet up.
I’m also afraid I might not puke, but then meet up with you, and then puke when I’m there, which would make what would already be a terrible hookup for you, due to my lack of experience, even more regrettable.
But at the same time, if I don’t actually do something about said lack of experience someday, it’s only going to keep getting worse.
So I guess I am sure I want to do this. I’m just also scared as hell
In for a penny and all that.
Miller took a moment to reply that time too.
MILLER: Well, that’s honest, I’ll give you that
QUINCY: Have I completely turned you off?
MILLER: Not completely. But I admit, I’m a little nervous about taking your gay virginity. What if you hate it, and realize this was a mistake?
Oof. Probably not a good time to mention he’d be taking my virginity, period.
MILLER: What if you don’t hate it, but you wish you did, because you’ve got all sorts of internalized homophobia, and you beat me up or something?
Oh Jesus, I hadn’t even thought of that.
MILLER: It’s not that I’m saying no, I’m just saying, this is a bit of a leap of faith here
I thought that over for a minute.
QUINCY: I can give you my word that I’m not going to beat you up, but I know that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot. If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous that you’ll realize this was a mistake because I’ll just suck so much, you’ll wish you hadn’t wasted your time
QUINCY: But also, I was thinking—have you ever been to The Port Hole, in Adair?
Apparently, they have a glory hole in the men’s room, between the last two stalls.
We could meet there. Like, in the bathroom.
That way I’d never even see your face, and vice versa.
And it’d be a semi-public place, which should drastically reduce the chances of anyone getting beaten up
Miller’s reply was quicker than I expected.
MILLER: Oh God, you’re not a deeply closeted father of four with a reputation to protect around town, are you?
MILLER: Fuck, or a middle school vice principal with a TikTok account?
QUINCY: That’s specific. And no. I’m not. Are you?
MILLER: No. But you realize either, or both, of us could be lying, right?
QUINCY: This conversation has taken an unsettling turn
MILLER: Well, I had to do something to make up for your lack of a knife collection or parental damage
I laughed quietly.
QUINCY: I mean, my relationship with my parents could be better. It’s not really Bates-ian, but I could lie and say it is, if that would help
MILLER: Because more lying will definitely improve this situation
MILLER: Alright, Quincy—which I’m assuming is not your real name, and I want the story behind that choice sometime—I might regret this, but let’s do it. Let’s meet up. What are you doing in an hour?
My eyebrows shot up.
QUINCY: In an hour??
MILLER: Yeah, why not? I don’t have anything else going on. Might as well swipe some guy’s V-card. Or get serial-murdered. I could go either way, to be honest
MILLER: And with the festival going on, things are only going to get more crowded the later it gets. Unless you want an audience, the sooner we get to The Port Hole, the better
Oh God, an audience. Somehow I hadn’t thought about that. I really should have asked Levi more questions about just how this glory hole worked. But it was too late now.
I was either going to do this, or I was going to chicken out. But if I chickened out, it’d be as good as admitting I was never going to put myself out there. Never going to hook up with anyone. The universe had handed Miller to me right when I needed him. Was I really going to say no?
For a brief second, Jordan’s face flashed back into my mind, but I pushed it away. Jordy had nothing to do with this. He wasn’t interested, and never would be. But Miller was, and he was offering to meet me halfway.
QUINCY: All right, let’s do this. I’ll see you there at 5
MILLER: No you won’t
QUINCY: What?
MILLER: Glory hole, remember? You won’t see me at all
Unfortunately for me, it was already four-fifteen, and it was going to take half an hour just to bike back to Adair. You’d think that the rush would mean that at least I didn’t have time to freak out about what was happening, but you’d be wrong.
I had a lifetime of freaking out about the most mundane situations imaginable, and this was far from mundane—for me, at least. By the time I got to The Port Hole, I really did feel sick to my stomach.
Just as well that I’d gotten there a few minutes early. I could head straight into the bathroom and get situated—and if I did need to puke, well, that was what bathrooms were for, right? The bar wasn’t too crowded yet—Miller had been right about that—and the men’s room was empty, thank God.
I forced myself to walk to the last stall at a normal pace and stepped inside. The lock was shaped like an old-fashioned anchor. I flipped it, turned, and looked at the wall shared with the stall next door. Levi had been telling the truth. There was a hole, right at waist height.
Somehow, I’d thought it would be smaller. It was more of a glory crater, a glory gaping maw, than a hole. Which I supposed could be thematic, if you thought of it as the gullet of some kind of ancient sea monster, but it still seemed odd to me, because no one’s dick was that thick.
Maybe it was so you could stick your balls through too? Though I supposed a bigger hole would make other things easier as well, if your glory-gullet-ing plans extended beyond a quick, anonymous blow job.
Come to think of it, Miller and I had never actually agreed on what we’d be doing once he got here. I’d been picturing myself sucking him off, maybe begging for some pointers on my technique, but his profile had mentioned getting fucked. Was that what he expected?
One more thing to panic about, which was nice, I supposed, for variety’s sake, but my head was starting to pound from its ceaseless anxiety-spiralling, and as minutes ticked by and no one entered the bathroom, it only got worse.
Had Miller changed his mind? I checked my phone again and again, but there were no new messages, nothing explaining that he was running late.
Maybe he’d gotten cold feet. Maybe he really was a closeted father of four, and a last-minute Little League emergency had pulled him away.
Maybe he had to cut more orange slices for practice, or pick little Jenny up from ballet.
Or maybe he was never coming in the first place. Maybe this was all some kind of joke. Or, worst of all, maybe Miller had gotten a glimpse of me when I’d walked into the bar. What if he’d seen me head back to the bathrooms and decided to pass?
It was a little weird, wasn’t it, that I’d been waiting in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes and no one had come in? I was starting to wonder if I’d entered some kind of parallel dimension, died and gone to a spectacularly embarrassing purgatory the moment I’d walked through the bathroom door.
By five-thirty, I couldn’t take it anymore. Miller wasn’t coming. It was time to admit that.
I walked out of the bathroom, my face on fire.
The bar was much more crowded than it had been when I’d entered, but I just pushed through the throng, my eyes on the ground.
I didn’t even worry about whether people were staring at the awkward giant lumbering through their midst. I just wanted to get home.
With a sigh of relief, I reached the front door. I pushed it open with a slam, stepped outside—
And walked right into Jordan, sending him tumbling to the sidewalk.