Date: Sun, 7 Jan 2007 21:12:33 -0500
From: ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Love on Trial   Chapter 9

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave
and find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights
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ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments.  Ronyx is a Nifty prolific writer.

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Love on Trial Chapter 9


I was very surprised that Chris had called. My father had told me that
he'd been driving around the day before looking for me, but I just
figured he felt guilty because he was the one who had gotten me drunk to
begin with. Now that I was safely at home, he no longer had to worry
about me.

"Hi, Chris." I said. "I'm alright, really."

"Good," he replied. "I was very worried about you. Is there anything I
can do?"

"No," I laughed. "Not unless you have a magic wand and can take back
the past twenty four hours."

"Listen, Taylor," he said. "I'm really sorry I got you guys drunk. I
feel responsible for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault." I told him. "You didn't force me to drink;
and you sure as hell didn't force me to.." I suddenly realized what I
was going to say and abruptly stopped.

"Yeah, well, um." I could tell that Chris was stammering, trying to
find the right words to say. "Yeah, um, listen. If you need anything,
let me know. Alright?"

"Thanks, Chris," I responded. "I appreciate it."

"Will I see you at school tomorrow?" he asked.

"You mean after everything that's happened, you still want to see me?"
I thought that by the time the story made its way around school, I would
be treated like a leper.

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" He asked. He made it seem like it
was such a normal thing to be talking with a gay boy at school.

"You do know what happened at your house Friday night, don't you?" I
began to think that maybe he had slept throughout the whole ordeal and
actually wasn't aware of anything that had happened.

"Are you kidding?" He started laughing. "Stephanie almost tore up my
bedroom after you left. I had to spend today straightening it up before
my parents got home."

"And you still don't mind being seen with me?" I asked.

"Why should I?" He replied. "Do you think I care what people say about
me. I've been going to that school for three years and no one has said
more than a few sentences to me."

"But why do you want to be my friend?" I questioned. "I'm one of
those people who has hardly said a few words to you."

"I don't know," he said. "I just kind of got to like you when you
were over the other night. That is until, well, you know."

"I could definitely use a friend right now." I said honestly. "I
don't think many people are going to be talking to me."

"Don't be too harsh," he replied. "I don't think it's going to be
as bad as you think. Most people aren't bothered by gay people today."

"Maybe they aren't," I said, "but by the time Stephanie tells her
side of the story, everyone will think I'm some kind of a pervert."
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with emotion. "I can't believe I sucked off
my best.." I stopped, realizing that I was exposing too much.

"He didn't seem too upset," he said. "Stephanie seemed more upset
than Jason."

"He was still drunk," I replied. "Now that he's sobered up, he
probably wants to kick my ass into tomorrow."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Maybe not tomorrow, alright?" I said. "I
don't think I'm going to school tomorrow. I don't want to be there
when the story gets around."

"I can understand that," he said. "I'll go around to your teachers
and get your assignments and then bring them to you."

"Chris, you don't have to do that, really." He was being very
persistent in trying to help me. I still felt that he was feeling guilty
for getting Jason and me drunk

"I'll come by your house after school." He hung up the phone before I
had a chance to respond.

I sat at my computer catching up on the homework I had been assigned on
Thursday. Most teachers had excused us from the class work, but my
chemistry teacher had assigned a big project that was due when I returned
to school.

My father walked into my room and sat down on my bed. "You alright?" he
asked.

"Yes, Dad." I said. "I need a big favor." I gave him a little puppy
dog face.

"Uh, oh," he laughed. "I've seen that face before." For a minute I
saw tears start to form in his eyes. I think he was remembering what he
had said about not knowing what to do if something had happened to me.

"What do you want, Champ?" I got up and walked over and gave him a hug.
He held me tightly for a minute before looking me in the eyes.

"Forget it," I replied. "It wasn't important."

"Spill it," he said. "What do you want?"

"Can I stay home from school tomorrow?" I asked sheepishly. "I really
don't feel like going back so soon."

He started laughing. "I was coming in to suggest that you stay home and
rest. You've been through and big ordeal and you need some time to
adjust."

"Maybe I need a week?" I gave him my best puppy dog face.

"Don't push it, Young Man." He looked at me and started laughing.
"One day should do it."

"Two?" I asked, already knowing the answer. When my father made a
decision, he hardly ever changed his mind.

"One, and that's final," he said sternly.

"One other thing," he said.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Your mother and I were talking." He was choosing his words carefully.
"Do you need to talk to someone about what you've been through? You
know, like a psychologist or something?"

"Do you think I'm crazy?" I asked angrily.

"God no, Taylor!" He replied quickly. "Sometimes people just need
someone to talk to, you know, about things they can't talk to other
people about."

"I'll be alright," I assured him. "I know I can trust you to talk
to."

"I'm not an expert in these kinds of things," he said.

"No, but you're my Dad." I walked over and hugged him. "I can't
trust anyone's judgment more than yours." He tightened the hug and then
released me. When he stepped back, his eyes were filled with tears.

"I think I've done more crying the past couple of days than I have in
my whole life," he laughed, as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I apologized.

"No, don't," he said quickly. "It makes me realize just how much I
love you and your mother. Sometimes I get so caught up in my work, I
forget what's really important."

"I love you too, Dad." I hugged him again before he left my room. I
spent the rest of the night doing my homework, and then going to bed two
hours earlier than I normally would.

It's great having a day off and having absolutely nothing to do. After
Mom and Dad went to work, I just lay down on the sofa in the den and
spent the morning watching stupid court shows. I never realized that
there were so many on. One thing it did was make me realize I wasn't the
only one with problems.

I slept most of the afternoon; not because I was tired but because I
couldn't find anything decent to watch. I had seen most of the movies on
the movie channels and I certainly wasn't going to watch a soap opera. I
could remember watching them as a small boy with my grandmother when we
would visit her. After almost ten years, it seemed like the characters
and plot had still not changed. They just looked a lot older than I
remembered them.

I was startled out of my sleep when the doorbell rang. I looked at the
clock and it was 4:18. I got up off the sofa and rearranged my erect
cock. I must have been having a good dream. It's unfortunate I couldn't
remember it.

I opened the door and Cynthia came barging in, appearing very upset. "I
hate that bitch!"

I felt a knot grow in the pit of my stomach. I knew she was talking about
Stephanie; and by her angry mood, things must have gone worse than I
expected.

"I don't think I want to know." I said worriedly.

"You probably don't," she replied, "but you'll find out sooner or
later."

"Later sounds good," I joked. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

"She stood up in the cafeteria and told anyone who was within earshot
what happened Friday night." I suddenly felt weak. I knew she would tell
people, I just wasn't expecting her to announce it to everyone. "By the
end of the day, the entire school was buzzing about it. You know how we
love gossip."

It was true. The National Enquirer could take tips from high school
teenagers on how to spread gossip. If one student told another something
in confidence, it would be general knowledge by the end of the day. A
good story could last a week. My story was probably good for a month or
longer.

When Carl Withers got Nancy Simmons pregnant last year, the story lasted
for two months before everyone finally let it drop. Of course, Nancy had
to leave school, while Carl strutted around school like some kind of
stud. A fag sucking off his drunken buddy would probably go on forever.

I put my head in my hands and moaned softly. Cynthia sat down beside me
and put her hand on my back and rubbed it gently. "It's going to be
alright, Taylor."

I looked at her and gave her a serious look. "Alright, it's not," she
said, "but look on the bright side."

"There is a bright side?" I asked skeptically. She thought a minute
before speaking.

"Well, maybe," she smiled. "There has to be something good come out of
this."

"Being the school fag is not going to be good," I responded. Just then
the doorbell rang. I got up and opened it. Chris came storming in.

"I hate that bitch!" He shouted. Cynthia looked over at me and we burst
out laughing. Chris looked at us like we had lost our minds.

"You must not have heard." He gave me a questioning look.

"No, I heard," I laughed. "It's funny because Cynthia came through
the door exactly like you did ten minutes ago."

"I knew it would be bad," he commented, "but Stephanie's out for
blood. She really hates you."

"What did Jason say?" I was curious how he was handling all of this. He
was as much involved as I was. It was his dick I was sucking when
Stephanie walked in. I was kind of surprised that he would let her talk
about it. If it had been me, I would have been embarrassed.

"He didn't come to school." Chris informed me. This surprised me. It
wasn't like Jason to miss school unless he was really sick. Maybe he
felt as bad about what happened as I did.

I looked over at Cynthia. "Do you think he's alright?"

"I don't know." She stood up and pulled out her cell phone. "Give me
his number."

"What!" I shouted. "You can't call him."

"Why not?" She answered. "I've known him almost as long as you have.
Now give me his number." I gave it to her as she walked out onto the
patio deck.

"Here." Chris walked across the room and sat down and started pulling
papers out of his book bag. "I hope you have your books with you."

I went through the assignments and had the books I needed except for one.
"I can't do the history assignment. My book is in my locker."

"That's alright," he grinned. "I was having a little trouble with it
earlier. I can stay for a while and you can help me."

"Hey, that's cool." I said. I looked into the Chris's grinning face.
I realized that he was going to quickly become a good friend. A good
friend, not best friend. That was still reserved for Jason, even if he
never did talk to me again.

Just then Cynthia walked back into the den. She stopped and looked at me
and Chris sitting closely together. I saw a small smile form on the
corner of her lips.

"Well, what's the verdict?" I asked. "Is he going to kick my ass the
next time he sees me?"

"I don't know," she responded. "It was a really strange conversation.
He stayed home today because he said he was still sick with a hangover.
His parents hit the roof when he came home drunk. He said he's been
grounded for five years." She gave me a puzzled look.

I started to laugh. "That's what they always say when he gets in
serious trouble. Usually it's only about two weeks. What else?"

"He was really upset," she informed me.

"I knew it." I put my head in my hands. "He hates me."

"No," she said quickly, "he didn't say anything bad about you."

I looked up and gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

"He said his cell phone had been ringing all day. He must have had about
twenty calls from people asking if what Stephanie was saying was true,"
she replied. "Right now I think he's angrier at her than he is with
you."

"That makes sense," responded Chris. I looked at him. "He probably was
going to deal with this quietly, but now Stephanie has made it a public
issue. He kept telling her Friday night not to say anything about what
happened."

"That's right," said Cynthia. "He was upset with what had happened,
but he didn't make any threats or say anything bad about you. He just
kept telling Stephanie that he'd handle it."

"She's the one who was making threats," said Chris. "She kept saying
that you'd get what you deserved. She also used quite a few
expletives." He gave me a worried look.

"I don't think you have to worry about Jason," Cynthia said
reassuringly. "It's Stephanie who's going to cause a lot of trouble.
Just now on the phone, he never said anything bad about you. He even
asked me how you were taking all this."

I felt a little better knowing that Jason was concerned how I was
feeling. Maybe we would never be best friends again, but at least we may
not be enemies. All I had to do now was figure out a way to deal with his
girlfriend.

I suggested that we do the history assignment since we all had Mr.
Nathans. This was the one class I shared with Stephanie. I was surprised
to find out that Cynthia and Chris were both in his second period. They
sat beside one another, and Cynthia was one of the few students who
talked to him.

This was something that puzzled me. As we worked together, I would keep
looking at him when he didn't notice and trying to figure out what made
him so aloof. He was exceptionally attractive and dressed meticulously. A
couple of times he'd look at me and smile, and I'd get caught up his
green eyes. He had perfect teeth that would flash when he grinned. I
would think he'd have to take a baseball bat to ward off the girls.
Instead, he seemed lonely.

Cynthia nudged me in the side with her elbow once when I was staring at
Chris. I wasn't aware of the fact that I was sitting admiring him. He
looked over at us and smiled, wondering what we were giggling about.

"I don't have drool running down my chin, do I?" He took his sleeve
and wiped his mouth. We all burst out laughing. I was feeling good,
sitting with two friends who accepted me for who I was.

Suddenly it hit me. Chris and Cynthia would make the perfect couple! He
didn't seem like the type of boy who would try and take advantage of
Cynthia. They were both attractive and seemed to have similar
personalities. They were shy and introverted. All I had to do now was
figure out a way of getting them together.

"Let's go to a movie this weekend," I said suddenly. They gave me
puzzled looks. The plan was simple. We could go to the theater together,
and then I'd find a reason to leave. It was perfect.

"Sounds good to me," said Chris. "What do you want to see?"

"I don't care," I replied. "How about you Cynthia?" She looked at me
and shrugged her shoulders.

"You sure I won't be in the way?" She asked.

"No, why would you?" I said. "It will be fun.'

"Alright, I guess." She continued to give me a puzzled look. I didn't
know if she had figured out what I was trying to do.

Just then my parents entered the room. They greeted Cynthia and then
looked over and saw Chris sitting in the chair.

"Why, hello," said my mother. "Who are you?"

"Chris Brewster, Ma'am." He responded as he got out of his chair and
stood before her.

"Chris Brewster!" shouted my father. "You're John's boy?" He walked
over and started shaking Chris's hand.

"The last time I saw you, you were this tall." He indicated about four
feet tall. "Now, look at you. You've grown into a fine looking young
man." My father looked over at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Don't." I mouthed. I knew what my father was trying to suggest. He
thought Chris might be boyfriend material; especially after his concern
about me over the weekend.

"Let's all go out to dinner." My father clapped his hands together
with excitement. "I know just the perfect Chinese restaurant. You kids
go call your parents and let me talk to them."

Cynthia called her father first, and he didn't mind that she go with us.
Over the years she had attended quite a few dinners out with my family.
When Chris called home, my father spent a half hour talking to his dad.
My mother finally had to pull the phone away from him to get him to stop
talking.

Dinner was, shall I say, interesting. I kept trying to get Chris and
Cynthia to talk, and my father tried to get me and Chris to talk. It
seemed like one plan was working against the other. I knew that Chris had
no interest in me; but obviously, my father didn't.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Dad's plan was working better than mine.
Chris hardly said two words to Cynthia all night. He spent most of the
dinner laughing with me and my father, while my mother and Cynthia
chatted to themselves.

We dropped Chris off at home first. My mother refused to let my father
get out of the car. She knew he would spend the next hour talking to Mr.
Brewster. She said they would be playing golf together on Wednesday, so
there was really no need for him to talk to him. Instead, I walked him to
his door.

"Thanks, Taylor," he said shyly. "I had a really fun evening." He
looked at me and his green eyes twinkled in the moonlight. For a moment I
wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I almost regretted my
decision to get him and Cynthia together. She would be the one who would
get to taste his perfect red lips.

"I did too." Again I became overwhelmed with depression. First, it was
Jason who was untouchable. Now, it was Chris. I suddenly realized just
how hard being a gay boy was going to be.

"Are you alright?" Chris asked with concern. He had watched the look
that had come over me. He reached out and held my arm and squeezed it
tightly.

"Yeah," I tried to sound reassuring. "I'll be alright."

"Taylor."

"Yeah."

"I did have fun tonight. I really like you."

Before I could say anything more, he turned and disappeared into the
house. I stood on the porch trying to figure out what he meant by, `I
really like you.'

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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