Chapter 6 – Age 21
Jule walked into his apartment with his boyfriend Brad on Friday afternoon, relieved to be done with midterms, and found Tor sitting at his kitchen table. He froze in the doorway, Brad just behind him, and stared.
“Your roommate let me in,” Tor said. He was wearing a pair of jeans that Jule had grabbed and tugged and stripped dozens of times, a hoodie Jule knew had a stain on the back and tears at the hem, even though neither was visible from his current angle, and brown leather boots they’d bought at the St. Vincent de Paul thrift store junior year.
“How long can you stay?”
“Few days.” Tor stood.
Knowing Tor wasn’t going to disappear with his next breath gave Jule time to be angry, which was good because he was furious at how long it had been since he’d heard a single word from him.
With that anger front of mind, he stomped around the apartment and mostly ignored Tor other than to glower at him.
Tor, of course, said nothing and looked amused. Asshole.
At some point, his roommate Patrick came out of his bedroom with his boyfriend Eric.
He stared at Jule, clearly concerned at his demeanor, but Jule had no interest in explaining himself, so he didn’t.
Ever the peacemaker, Patrick tried to get to know Tor.
So did Patrick’s boyfriend. But Tor wasn’t one to share information with anyone outside the family, so it wasn’t going well.
Jule quietly seethed and glared, which wasn’t helping with the vibe.
He wasn’t sure how long they had been standing around in a silent, awkward stalemate when, instead of leaving, Brad decided to break the tension in the worst possible way.
“I have a fun idea,” he said excitedly. “Let’s play a drinking game.”
“Never Have I Ever?” said Brad’s friend Henry, who for some reason had just shown up.
“Julian doesn’t like that one. Let’s pick something else,” Patrick said.
He was trying to be nice by giving Jule an out and Jule was about to take it, like he always did, when Brad pouted and said, “Julian never wants to play any drinking games.”
His mind flashed back to Tor’s bedroom, which had felt more like his own bedroom than the one in his mother’s house despite the mess, dirt, and parade of siblings and cousins moving in and out of the small space over the years.
The two of them were squeezed together on a twin mattress with an empty six-pack and an old Go Fish card game they had found under a cabinet.
They were fourteen, mostly undressed, mostly drunk, and laughing their asses off.
They had turned a kids’ game into an excuse to take off their clothes and made out until they passed out.
Henry turned toward Tor, who had uttered almost no words since he’d arrived and still managed to be the loudest person in the room, and said, “Terrance, has your cousin always been such a downer?”
Fingers curling into a fist instinctively, Jule turned toward Henry.
He had never liked that condescending prick.
Before he could move, Brad leaned into him, clutched his bicep, and in a sickeningly sweet voice said, “I know you don’t enjoy drinking games, but don’t you want your cousin to have fun while he’s here? ”
Fun with Tor had never been hard to accomplish.
The two of them could have fun any time and in any situation.
He thought back to the summer they were fifteen.
Tor’s mom had been gone for most of that year, they assumed on one of her benders.
His own mother had been out of town for work for months and his father had taken the opportunity to spend his nights with whatever mistress he had at the time.
That had left Jule free to do whatever he wanted and what he wanted was to spend the summer at home, the Dunworthy home.
Like always, he and Tor had been inseparable.
When Tor wasn’t with his siblings, hustling and stealing to make ends meet, the two of them wandered the neighborhood at all hours, played random games they invented, which more often than not included whatever alcohol they could find, and had way more sex than he cared to explain to his college friends.
They’d grown up in families like the Sterlings, which meant they’d be horrified if they knew anything about Jule’s actual childhood and the people he considered his real family.
Jule had gotten used to walking through life pretending to be the person he had been raised to become instead of the one he actually was, so they thought he was like them.
“Please, honey,” Brad said.
Honey? That snapped Jule out of his trip down memory lane and into the present.
He had to fight his neck from turning toward Tor.
He knew he’d find amusement in his eyes, maybe even a slight tilt of his lips.
If he saw that, he’d probably smile back and he refused to do anything but be pissed off.
So instead of looking at Tor, he focused on Brad. “What?”
“Let’s play Never Have I Ever.”
“Fine.”
“Really?” Brad shouted and bounced on his tiptoes. “Thank you!”
Annoyed by the guy he was supposed to like, Jule closed his eyes.
He counted to five as he inhaled, counted to five again while he held his breath, and then exhaled at the same pace.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at Tor, who was leaning against the wall, hands buried in his jean pockets, an almost smile on his lips.
Jule wanted to punch that playful smirk almost as much as he wanted to kiss it.
He did neither, and instead, he followed Brad into the living room, where everyone was choosing a seat.
Against his instincts, he sat beside Brad on the couch.
“Isn’t your cousin going to join us?” Brad chirped.
Jule winced. Had Brad’s voice always been so annoying? No. Brad wasn’t annoying. He was nice. Healthy. Normal. Jule let out a deep breath and mumbled, “He’s not my cousin.”
“What?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shook his head.
“Henry thinks he’s cute,” Brad whispered.
“What?” Jule asked, jerking his head toward Brad.
“He’s totally Henry’s type. That’s why I texted him to come over.”
“I doubt that,” Jule said.
“Terrance, come play!” Henry said.
“You said the game’s called Never Have I Ever?” Tor responded, his deep voice rolling through Jule from head to toe and making him tremble. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“You haven’t? It’s fun.” Henry had settled into the oversized armchair. He scooted to one side, leaving a few inches beside him and patted the chair. “Come sit. We can both squeeze in here.”
Energy thrummed beneath Jule’s skin, and he struggled to keep himself calm, locked down.
Using one of the tools he had learned in therapy, he focused on his feet first, curled them, and then relaxed his muscles.
Then he moved on to his calves, tensing and releasing.
He had reached his thighs when Tor spoke again.
“What do you think, Jule? Is this drinking game fun?” His voice was amused. “Oh, that’s right. Brad said you don’t play drinking games.” He straightened and walked over to the seating area. “What else don’t you do?”
“Fuck you.”
Patrick jerked his head toward Jule, mouth gaping, and beside him, Brad gasped. “You cussed! You never use swear words.”
That was another therapy tool, a way for him to keep his anger and emotions in check by having his words match his behavior.
It was bullshit but concentrating on using socially acceptable language helped him remember that he was supposed to behave in a socially acceptable way.
He wore it like another part of his costume.
“You know what? I think you’re right.” Tor smiled broadly and sat on the ground in front of Henry’s chair. “This will be fun.”
“I’ll get the beer.” Patrick took a six-pack out of the fridge and went around the room, handing a bottle to everyone. When he got to Jule, he leaned down and quietly said, “You good?”
Jule nodded and took the bottle. Across from him, Henry had been explaining the game to Tor.
“Does that make sense, Terrance?” he asked, as if there was anything complicated about a game that was basically an excuse to admit private information and drink.
“Take a drink if I’ve done whatever’s said. Got it,” Tor responded.
“Aren’t you going to correct him?” Jule snapped.
Tor shrugged.
“His name is Torrence,” Jule said, more annoyed than he should have been that a guy he didn’t like was saying Tor’s name wrong. It didn’t matter. The two of them would probably never see each other again after that night. And yet, he couldn’t let it go. “Not Terrance. Torrence.”
“You can call me Tor. That’ll be easier.” Tor bent his leg and balanced his bottle on top of his knee. “Who’s going first?”
“I will!” Henry said. He straightened in his seat and grinned. “Never have I ever been told I’m bad in bed.” He looked at Tor suggestively and pressed his calf up against his thigh. Jule would have lunged across the room and choked him out, but Tor leaned away, removing all contact.
Unsurprisingly, nobody took a drink. “That’s a dumb question,” Jule spat, his tone ruder than he would have liked. He was losing control. “Nobody’s going to admit to that.”
“They would if they were playing the game right. We’re supposed to be honest.” Henry narrowed his eyes. “Was that a confession?”
That was it. Jule started to rise.
“No, it wasn’t,” Tor said firmly.
“I was talking to Julian.”