Chapter 3 June 1998 #5
“Exactly,” he said, standing up and walking past me into the bathroom.
He pulled his shirt off, his eyes locked on mine for some reason.
I looked down, taking in the sight of his shirtless chest. We looked alike for the most part; him a little thicker around the middle, but just as pale and pasty.
There was no hair on his chest, just like me.
He had a little under his arms which made me kind of jealous, but Daddy was a hairy man, so I knew it would come in time.
A late bloomer; I think that’s what he called me.
Kent’s eyes stayed on me as he pushed his pants down, and then he stood in just his underwear.
My cheeks burned, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Kent must have known, if the look on his face was any indication. I wanted to ask him what the heck he knew that I didn’t, but then his thumbs wedged under the waistband of his underwear and he stood there like a statue.
“You can either head back to my room or you can stay and things can get weird,” he said with a chuckle.
I spun around on my heels, but I didn’t leave. I still wanted to ask him what that look was about.
His arm draped over my shoulder, his underwear dangling from his hand like a flag. “Do you mind throwing these in my hamper?”
I grabbed them without thinking. How could I think of anything aside from the fact that Kent Fox was completely naked behind me. And I was touching something that had just touched his …
I closed my grip tighter, my eyes bulging at the realization.
“Okay!” I ran forward, leaving the door wide open in my wake. Kent laughed, and I didn’t stick around to ask why.
In his room, I threw his dirty underwear in the hamper and tried to clean up a little. We’d made a mess during our danceathon, especially when he insisted on costume changes. His clothes lined the floor, and I picked them up one by one, putting them back on their hangers and into his closet.
Once I was done with the clothes, I picked up our glasses of water, both still full. I walked toward the door and let out a scream when it flung open.
Kent was standing in the doorway in nothing but a towel, and he was dripping wet.
And then, so was I, because his sudden reappearance had scared me so badly, I threw my hands in the air, drenching myself in tap water and regret.
Kent snorted and held his hand over his mouth, trying to not laugh.
He came toward me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me in for a hug.
“God, I like you, Gray.” He brought his hand to the top of my head and rubbed his knuckles against my scalp playfully. He stared down at my shorts and frowned. “Bummer. I was looking forward to hanging out with Tommy Pickles.”
He winked at me.
I scowled at him.
He rolled his eyes and walked to his dresser, pulling out another shirt and a pair of shorts. “Are your underwear soaked too?”
“Y-yeah,” I stuttered.
Kent dug through the dresser for a few seconds before pulling out a pair of bright blue boxer-briefs and tossing them over his shoulder. “Will these work?”
They were cute. Even better, Kent had worn them before.
His most intimate article of clothing was about to be shielding my privates, cupping them and holding on tight.
It was a realization that made my stomach spin.
After setting the underwear on his bed and laying the shirt and shorts beside them, I peeked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t staring.
His eyes were focused ahead as he pulled out a blue shirt with a crucifix on the front.
He sighed and mumbled something under his breath.
Once my shirt was off, I slid my shorts down, feeling exposed standing behind him in nothing but my skivvies.
I nervously glanced over my shoulder again and was greeted with Kent’s naked butt.
I swallowed, because the sight of it was doing something to me on the inside.
I’d never felt it before, but it was warm and it was fuzzy, and I didn’t particularly dislike the sensation.
I shoved my thumbs under my wet boxer-briefs and shoved them down, just trying to get it over with before Kent turned around.
I reached for the sweatpants beside me and stumbled with the pant leg in my rush to cover my bare butt.
I must have been moving a little too quickly, because I tripped on my ankle and fell onto the floor.
Kent whirled around on his heel and opened his mouth to speak, stopping when he saw the naked boy lying on his floor.
He stared at me.
I stared right back.
“Dang,” Kent said with a strange look in his eyes. An intense heat ran across the sides of my face. Kent was staring at my…
I shielded myself with my hands, feeling mortified. I watched his face, seeking out his reaction. Would he laugh? Would he make fun of me?
He was staring at me the same way he would stare when I’d bring a helping of Momma’s blackberry cobbler to school for him. He licked his lips, color spreading across his cheeks.
When he laughed, it wasn’t mean or cruel like I’d expected. It was full of affection. We stood there, neither of us speaking for an uncomfortable length of time. Finally, he arched an eyebrow in my direction and smirked.
“I didn’t realize my best friend was walking around with a two-liter bottle between his legs.”
Gosh.
Kent was holding onto his package, hiding it with his hand, but that hand fell away, leaving me with an unobstructed view of his manhood.
Oh-gosh, oh-gosh, oh-my-freaking-gosh.
There he is.
I panted, my breathing harsh and fast. I didn’t know what was going on in my head. When I looked at him. I was looking at him the same way Trevor looked at the girlfriends he would bring to the house for Sunday supper. The way Daddy used to look at Momma before we moved to Texas.
Kent slid his foot into the leg of his underwear, then the other, and he pulled them up, snapping the elastic band against his hips. When he was done, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled down at me.
It was like he was silently accusing me. I needed to change the subject. To lead us out of the confusion I’d hurled us into. Kent’s penis wasn’t much smaller than mine, but I figured I could make light of the situation.
“Two-liter, huh?” I forced a smile that did nothing to alleviate the nerves running around inside of me like headless chickens.
“If you want, I can see if there’s some kind of operation they can do to lend you a little bit of mine.
It might help with the fact that you’ve only got a half a pint under those,” I said, pointing at his underwear.
Kent scrunched up his nose and glared like he wanted to smack me.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” he said before launching himself toward the ground and landing directly on top of me.
We fumbled around on the floor, taking turns pinning each other down.
I’d never been a fan of wrestling, but wrestling with Kent wasn’t nearly as boring as the WWE matches Trevor and Daddy would watch at night.
Arms and legs and bare skin enveloping me.
We came to a standstill when he wound up on top of me, pinning me to the ground by my shoulders.
“Take it back,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
I shook my head and tried to shift my shoulders to break loose, but his hold was too tight. “Never!”
“Take it back, Grayson!” He pulled one hand back, and I knew that was my chance, but before I could launch him off of me, he wedged his hand into my armpit and tickled me.
I let out a cackle, wriggling and writhing on the floor.
“I’ve got a big one too. Say it!” His fingers dug deeper, and he brought his right hand to my hip, tickling up and down my side.
“Stop! Oh my Gosh, Kent, stop it!”
His hands went still, he winked at me, and then he beat on his chest with his fists, reared back his head, and shouted, “Never” like I had moments before.
My skin was a little colder when he took his hands away, and when he brought them back to my sides, I didn’t even really mind the tickling, just as long as it meant I got to be a little closer to him.
“Come on, Two-liter,” he said with a smirk. “Say it.”
“Okay—okay—okay,” I managed. “Just stop and I will!”
He stopped tickling me, his hands resting on my sides. “Say it,” he whispered.
I nodded, trying to keep my face as serious as possible. “Kent Fox …”
“Yes?”
“Has got …” I rose up until the tips of our noses touched. “The smallest thingy I’ve ever seen!”
He roared like a lion, and then his hands were digging—scraping—tickling my sides.
“I hate you, Gray Collins. I hate everything about you.” It went on for another minute or so before he collapsed beside me.
We laid there, neither of us speaking as we tried to catch our breath.
I turned my head to the side and stared at him.
After a minute or so, he caught sight of me and mirrored my pose, head to the side, eyes locked on mine.
He held his arm out at his side, wedging it behind my head so I could use him like a pillow.
I laid against him, enjoying the way his warm skin felt against my cool neck.
I turned on my side, burrowing my face against his chest. He laughed, soft and light, but it was there.
Guiding me. Leading me to the promised land.
His chest was soft, like a warm cotton sheet fresh out of the dryer.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“You can tell me anything, Half-pint.” I liked the way the nickname felt as it fell off my tongue. Quirky. Sassy. Cute.
Just like Kent.
Oh my Gosh …
“I didn’t have a whole lot of friends before you moved here.” He closed his eyes as if he was ashamed of the words. I wanted to shake him by the shoulders and tell him he didn’t have to be ashamed. That there was no embarrassment when it came to us. Not then. Not ever.
“Me either,” I admitted.
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
“Well, now you do,” he said. “Now you’ve got a best friend.”
I lifted my hand, bringing it toward his face, and I thumped his nose. “Best best friend ever.”
“Forever,” he said, sending a shiver down my spine.