Day 17 Portland, ME
BLAKE
“GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE WE GOT UP early to drive two fucking hours so that we can play in this —” Roxie’s knuckles are white as she grips the steering wheel, peering through the windshield at the rain. “Are they even going to let us go on?”
“You know what Greg said,” I reply. “There’s a covered pavilion with its own power setup, and the stage is raised up out of the water. It should be fine.”
We’re about forty-five minutes north of Boston, on our way to Portland, Maine for what was supposed to be a perfect day as one of several bands playing an outdoor punk festival. But it’s pouring down rain, and it’s looking like we might be pretty miserable instead.
Maybe Sam won’t be. I glance over my shoulder at him in the backseat.
Max appears to be fast asleep, his head lolling against Sam’s shoulder.
But Sam is sitting up straight, wearing that same look he’s had on his face all week, like he’s been gently knocked over the head and is only just coming around.
He catches me staring at him, and he grins shyly before turning his head to gaze out the window.
Roxie is still swearing at the road. “This is fucking insane. How the fuck am I supposed to see anything when it’s coming down like this? Motherfucking cunts going 80 miles an hour when I’m basically fucking hydroplaning —”
In the backseat, Max opens one eye. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No!” the three of us respond in unison, and then we all start to laugh. Even Roxie, who lets her shoulders relax just an inch.
“You’re doing great, sweetie,” I reassure her. “Just keep us moving at a pace that works for you. We have plenty of time to get there before your set.”
“Quit being so fucking nice to me, I’ll get a toothache,” Roxie snaps. But then she looks over at me and winks, and I know everything is going to be okay.
SAM
I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to play today.
We’ve only been loading in for ten minutes, and I’m already soaked to the skin, my thin cotton hoodie plastered to my back, my hair in limp strands across my forehead.
As promised, it’s reasonably dry underneath the pavilion, but the rain is coming in sheets, drenching us completely every time we make the trip back and forth to the van.
And there’s a cruel wind cutting through my soaking layers, making me shiver.
My hands are frozen claws, and I have no idea how I’m going to keep them moving over the strings.
Max is a little ahead of me, and when he turns around, he bursts out laughing at the sight of me. “God fucking dammit, we are a couple of sorry assholes, aren’t we?”
Okay, I’m in love with Max, but I’m also miserable and failing to see the humor in any of this. “This fucking sucks.”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, but that doesn’t really do anything to make them any warmer.
“Come on dude, where’s your sense of adventure?” Max teases, plucking at my sleeve.
“I think it fucking drowned in the gutter.”
“Oh, really?” Max cocks an eyebrow at me, then looks down at the huge puddle right in front of me, and finally back at me, a mad glint in his eye.
My brain must be frozen too, because I react way too late. “Dude, no —”
But he’s already jumping in with both feet, his Doc Martens hitting the surface of the water with a massive thud that splashes both of us with a torrent of icy water. I shriek indignantly, and he grabs my arm, nearly doubled over with laughter.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry — but your face —”
I look him dead in the eye, stomping my own boot right into the middle of the puddle and soaking Max’s jeans up to the waist. He splashes me right back, and then we’re both at it, jumping up and down in the puddle until there’s no water left, then racing towards the van, finding new puddles to splash in as we go.
“You. Mother. Fucking. Cunts. Seriously?!?”
We run into Roxie and Blake on their way back from the van, both laden down with equipment and looking just as bedraggled as we are. Roxie, as usual, is scowling.
“We, uh —” Max folds his hands in front of him like he’s in church, trying to look as serious as possible. “We weren’t wet enough.”
For a moment, they’re both completely stone-faced, staring at each other across the sidewalk. Then Roxie’s mouth twitches, and Max raises his eyebrows, and suddenly we’re all laughing, just screeching our heads off, because sometimes you just have to.
“Have fun, you stupid assholes,” Roxie gasps, one hand clutching the stitch in her side as she pushes past us and continues on, Blake following in her wake.
And Max? Max grabs my hand and reels me in, dragging me into a kiss. Both of his hands are on my back, and I don’t care that he’s practically wringing out the fabric as he clutches me, that the sodden denim of his jeans chafes my fingers as I slide one hand into his back pocket.
Because when he covers my lips with his, when his mouth opens to mine, I discover there’s at least one thing in this godforsaken situation that is still warm.
MAX
What more could a guy possibly want? I’ve had a hot shower, I’m in dry clothes, and I’m slipping beneath the covers of an actual bed, one with blankets and sheets and a mattress and everything.
Oh, and I’m feeling particularly warm and loose-limbed, because I think I just came harder than I ever have in my life.
We’re in a hotel room for the night, and Roxie and Blake are already fast asleep, which is why Sam and I were able to take our time hooking up in the bathroom.
The show went as well as you could expect three bedraggled sewer rats playing to a couple hundred half-drowned crustpunks in a picnic pavilion could go.
But for once, even I’m willing to admit that I’m glad it’s over.
Outdoor festivals definitely work better when it’s sunny out.
Beside me, Sam already has his eyes half-closed, but when I open my arms, he wiggles over to me readily, letting me fold him against my chest. He’s wearing one of his skimpy little tank tops, and as he relaxes against me, I draw circles on his shoulder with my fingertip.
But for some reason, even though my body is completely relaxed, my mind continues to race at a thousand miles an hour. And I think I might know why.
“We’re going to Sage’s tomorrow,” I whisper through the darkness. “First time we’ll have a room completely to ourselves since Point Pleasant.”
“Mmm,” Sam hums sleepily.
“We’ll actually have privacy. We won’t have to worry about sneaking around or getting caught,” I continue, wondering if he’ll take the bait.
But Sam just nuzzles against my chest. “Yeah.”
“We could fuck.”
I might as well have jabbed him with a cattle prod. He sits up suddenly, his hazel eyes dinner plates in the darkness. “What?”
“Did I say something wrong?” I reach out as Sam settles down again, on his back this time, staring up at the ceiling. I push myself up on one elbow so that I can see his face. “I mean, if it’s the wrong word — like, we’re already having sex, right? And it’s great, all of this stuff — but I meant —”
“I know what you meant,” Sam hisses.
“Oh.” I’m completely out of my element, not sure why Sam is reacting like this. “Did I — I mean, did I overstep? We’re not virgins, not by a long shot.”
“It’s not that.” Sam rolls away from me, his shoulders hunched. I curl up behind him, wrapping my arm around his waist, and his breath hitches.
“Sammy, talk to me,” I breathe. “If you don’t want it, that’s okay with me —”
“I do want it.”
“Then what is it?” I press my lips against the nape of his neck, and he shudders against me. It’s a long time before he speaks again, but I can wait. I just want to understand.
Finally, he draws in a long, shaky breath. “What if you see me differently?”
I frown. “Why would I see you differently?”
“I don’t know —” he whispers back, a little fiercely. “What if I let you fuck me, and it’s a different side of me that you haven’t seen before, and it makes you feel weird about me?”
“Never gonna happen —” I begin, but Sam clutches my arm.
“Or what if you’re not into it? I mean, what we’ve been doing is one thing, but Max, this is real. What if you fuck me and then realize oh wait, maybe you’re not into dudes after all. Maybe this whole thing has just been crazy and you’ll wake up and you’ll see —”
“Sammy. Sammy, no.”
He clams up, and I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s time to even the playing field.
“Sammy, do you want to know why Krista broke up with me?”
Sam shifts on the bed, just enough so that he can look at me over his shoulder. “Why?”
“Well, two reasons.” I give his shoulder a gentle tug, and thankfully he follows my lead, rolling over once more so that we’re facing each other, sharing a pillow. “The first, well — she thought I wanted to be with you instead. And I guess she wasn’t wrong, because look at us.”
Sam smiles for the first time since we started this conversation, melting into the pillow. “Maybe I should send her a thank-you note.”
“Hold off on that one, maybe, because the other reason —” Fuck, I should just rip the Band-Aid off. “The other reason is that I couldn’t get it up with her.”
Sam’s eyebrows are practically forming question marks on his forehead. “Huh? But I thought —”
“I mean, not all the time. Maybe one out of three times, I was fine?” I shrug. “But the rest of the time, nothing. It was fucking embarrassing, and she made sure I knew she thought so too.”
Sam is frowning. “But dude, I share a bedroom wall with you, and every single fucking time it sounded like you were —”
“My magic tongue, I guess. I always made sure she got off, even if I couldn’t. But Sammy, that’s not the point. The point is —”
“No, sorry — I’m still stuck on this.” He reaches for my waist, pulling us flush together, and I jump when his hand slides down to my ass.
“Was she stupid or something? Because I’ve been hooking up with you all week and that hasn’t been a problem at all.
I literally just finished blowing you in the bathroom and I could probably have you ready to go again in less than a minute, no problem —”
“You don’t have to prove it,” I chuckle, grabbing his hand before he has a chance to slip it into my waistband and cradling it against my chest instead.
“The point is, we both have stuff we’re scared about.
I’m scared that my cursed dick is going to come back and I’m going to disappoint you. And as for what you just said —”
Sam’s eyes are fixed on my face, and I know I have to make this count.
“Sam, there’s no fucking way that being with you like that is going to change how I feel about you.
You’re my Sammy, and you always will be, no matter what.
And dude, I’m attracted to you. I like having sex with you.
Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten you off at least once per day every day since we started this, and twice on some days.
And every second has been fucking perfect.
I’m not gonna wake up someday and find out I’m straight, because I never actually was.
It’s like — being with you, shit makes sense for the first time. And I want to keep it that way.”
He sighs, running his hand up my chest and stroking my face. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“That’s because I’m sort of obsessed with you,” I whisper back, and I don’t need light in the room to know that he’s blushing. “So, tomorrow — are we fucking?”
Sam smiles shyly. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough for me.” I hold out my arms, and he snuggles against me, both of us back in our original positions. I’m exhausted, and he’s breathing deeply, and I’m pretty sure he’s fallen asleep when suddenly his whisper cuts through the darkness once more.
“Fucking Krista. Seriously, I am offended on your behalf.”
I laugh, kissing the top of his head. “Good night, Sam.
“Good night, Max.”