This is gay love story between two boys and follows them as they grow into adulthood. Some chapters may contain references to sexual activities involving them and others.. If you object to this, you are urged not to read it. If reading this causes you to violate any laws in your community, please do not do so. The author does not condone the violation of any laws. This story is copyrighted 2002 under the pseudonym Omnius. You may not copy or distribute this story in part or in whole without the consent of the author.

This is primarily a romance. There will be some sexual scenes later in the story, (and some of these may be rather intense), but if that is your primary purpose in reading the story, you might be disappointed.

If you would like to comment on the story, please email your comments to .Thank you for reading my story!

Cottonwood Park

by Omnius

Chapter Three

For the next several days, Timothy assiduously avoided Cottonwood Park. He would ride his bike around town, but he refused to ride within even a block of the park. On Wednesday, he skirted the edge of downtown on Sunflower Avenue, a block west of Union, and went to Fremont Park on the south side of town. Thursday, he rode over to the campus of Fremont State Teachers College, which was just a block east of his home on Eighteenth Street, (and two blocks north, at the south end of campus, of Cottonwood Park), and parked his bike on the shore of "the duck pond," a small lake in the middle of campus surrounded by dorms and classroom buildings on the east and west, and the library and admin building on the south. Friday, he simply rode his bike around town, not stopping anywhere to read.

He was angry with himself. Why should he have to give up his favorite place in town just because he was mad at a snobby boy from California? Why should he care what the kid thought of Fremont? He thought of asking his Dad about it, but that night his parents went to dinner at the country club and he didn't have a chance. His Dad had to go to "the plant," on Saturday, and that evening, when he returned home from work, things seemed too nice, as his Dad charcoaled steaks on the grill, to bring up anything unpleasant. Even Sunday, after church and dinner at Pastor Lindquist's house, (Pastor's son, Eric, was a friend of Timothy's), as the family went for the usual Sunday drive in the country, the moment just did not seem right to bring up his concerns or feelings with his father. Of course, there had been numerous occasions when he could have asked his mother, but Timothy had learned not to ask such questions of her.

He had finished Twenty Thousand Leagues by Monday and didn't have enough money to buy anything new at The Bookworm, the store downtown on Market Street where he had spent his allowance to buy the Jules Verne. He could, however, find more reading material at the library. So after lunch, he mounted his bike and rode south on Union Avenue.

The only problem with going to the library was that it was on Eighth Street, right across from the south side of Cottonwood Park. Of course, Timothy had no reason to believe that Trevor would be at the park when he went to the library, or that he would see him on the far south side of the park going to the library. However, he needed more reading material; so, he decided it was silly not to take the risk.

He rode south on Sunflower Street, a safe block from the park, until he came to Eighth. Then he turned east. He steadfastly kept his eyes from glancing to the left as he rode past the park and he did not relax until his bike was locked to the stand out front and he had climbed the steps and entered the massive old brick building.

The Fremont Public Library was a classic example of twenties architecture. Two stories above a partially submerged basement that had been renovated into a children's library, the building had tall narrow windows which did not let in any distracting sights from the outside. Wooden floors creaked as Timothy entered and passed the imposing front desk, guarded by an elderly looking centurion with grey hair pulled back in a bun. She watched Timothy as he turned to the right and entered the adult fiction section.

The room was divided into two areas. On the right, under low hanging lights, (large, milky globes), were several long wooden tables, on the far side of which were rows of stands with various newspapers. To the left, were the rows and rows of shelves.

Timothy liked science fiction and Jules Verne and H. G. Wells were his favorite writers. He had heard of Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke and Robert Heinlein, but he had never read them. Heinlein had some interesting titles in his section: Have Spacesuit Will Travel, Space Cadet, Rocket Ship Galileo.

He was about to pull the first one out from the shelf when he felt a shadow cross him. Turning to his right, he saw the back of a boy his age passing his aisle. His dark blond hair was thick and longish and he was wearing cut-offs, a white T-shirt, and beat-up PF Flyers.

Timothy held the book in his hand for a moment, decided to check it out, and stood up. He waited a moment and then stepped out of the aisle.

He collided with Trevor.

"Um, hi."

"Um, hi."

The two just stood for a moment looking at each other.


"Yeah. Sorry."

More silence. Timothy looked down at the floor.

"Heinlein?" said Trevor pointing to the book in Timothy's hand.

"Um, yeah."

"Its good. I read it a few months ago."

Timothy nodded. "Well, I gotta go," and he turned toward the Centurion.

"Um," Trevor started. Timothy turned, but Trevor seemed at a loss for words. The two looked at each other. Then, as Timothy started to turn again, Trevor blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Timothy stopped and looked back at Trevor, who continued.

"I, uh, I didn't mean to be such a jerk the other day."

Timothy looked down at the floor, a strange joy forming inside, a joy he was trying to suppress with memories of his anger and humiliation.

"Fremont's really a nice place," Trevor continued, "and, uh, I was thinking, maybe, that, you could, um, maybe, uh, show me around the town and, you know, like be friends or something. I mean, you like to read, like me, and you seem pretty smart and all, and, uh, I don't know. I like you."

Timothy was speechless. He felt his face flush.

Trevor held out his hand. Timothy smiled and the two shook hands.

"So," said Timothy with a grin, "you think I might like The Hobbit more than Have Spacesuit Will Travel?"

"Oh, yeah," Trevor replied enthusiastically; and as he proceeded to explain the wonders of Middle Earth to Timothy, they replaced the Heinlein on the shelf with the Tolkien, paid homage to the Centurion, and returned to the park for a bottle of Coke.

"You're house is pretty cool," Trevor declared as he stood before the window in Timothy's bedroom. He was gazing down at the driveway under the winder and at the view to the south of the town from atop North Park Hill. To the left, the dormitories of Fremont State rose above the green of the oaks and maples and cottonwoods. In front, the spires of the town's many churches stood guard over the community. To the right, he could see the sun shining down on the other houses in the addition, almost all of them split-levels like Timothy's. He turned and inspected the room again.

It was a corner room and the two beds were sticking out from the wall on the left, under a window where the western sun was shining in. On his right was Timothy's desk, on which were the parts of a model of the Douglas DC-9 airliner. A National Geographic map of the world was taped to the wall above his desk and a shelf to the right held his World Book Encyclopedias. There was a globe on top of the shelves and several Tonka trucks on the floor by the bed on the left.

"You like Tonkas?" Trevor asked with a grin.

Timothy rolled his eyes. "Those are my little brother's."

They could hear a car pull into the driveway and from the family room below, where he was watching with their sister, Andy shouted, "Daddy's home!" There was the unmistakable sound of children running up the steps from the family room to the living room. Timothy started to run out the door, as he always did with his father came home, but decided he needed to act a little more cool in front of his sophisticated friend from Berkeley. He suddenly stopped and, instead, sauntered out the door.

When they had descended to the living room, Andy and Sally were already hugging their father as he stood in the front door. His mother stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching. His Dad saw Timothy on the last step leading from the upstairs, with Trevor behind him. He grinned, knowingly, at his eldest son, who suddenly could not resist. Timothy ran to his father and threw his arms around him.

"So, who's your friend?"

Timothy introduced Trevor to his father. They shook hands and Mr. Holbrook invited the boy to stay for dinner. Mrs. Holbrook gave a restrained smile.

"So, Trevor," said Timothy's father as he helped bring the food into the dining room for dinner, "you just moved here from Berkeley?"

"Yes, sir," Trevor replied, uncomfortably, that not being a phrase he often used.

"Well," Mr. Holbrook replied setting a big platter of corn-on-the-cob in the center of the table, "I'll bet Fremont's quite a change for you."

"You can say that again," Trevor replied. Quickly, however, he added, "but Timothy's promised to show me all the cool stuff in Fremont."

"Good," Mr. Holbrook replied as he walked back into the kitchen. Mrs. Holbrook brought a pitcher of iced tea out as he added, "maybe we could start tonight."

He emerged with the dinner rolls and set them beside the corn. Trevor was about to pull out his chair and sit down until he noticed that Timothy, Andy, and their little sister, Susie, were all standing behind theirs.

"Timmer, it may be time to debut the Lotus at Murphy's!" he announced with a raised eyebrow.

"Tonight? Neat!"

Trevor looked perplexed. Timothy explained as his mother came back with the tossed salad.

"We've been working on this really neat slot-car. It's a British racing green Lotus and there's this hobby shop downtown called Murphy's with a huge track where you can race them!"

Trevor grinned at Timothy's enthusiasm, which was infectious.

"I've never seen slot-cars before."

"Oh, they're neat! I'll let you race it, too! It'll be great!"

Mrs. Holbrook stood beside her chair and Trevor was surprised to see Mr. Holbrook hold it out for her. Only when Timothy's mother was seated did the rest of the family take their seats.

Once they were seated, Trevor started to reach for the rolls, but froze before his hand left the table.

"Timothy?" Mr. Holbrook said. Then, the whole family lowered their heads and Timothy recited, "Bless, Oh Lord, this food to our use and we to thy loving service. Make us ever mindful of the needs of others. We ask in Christ's name, Amen."

Trevor blushed and then waited to see if it was safe yet to start. It was. Mr. Holbrook held the platter of fried chicken and placed a thigh on his wife's plate and a breast on his before passing it to Timothy. Everyone passed platters and bowls and when all the plates was fixed, all the children, Trevor noticed, waited until Mrs. Holbrook had taken her first bite. Then everyone dug in.

"We're glad you could join us tonight," Mrs. Holbrook said as she watched Trevor bite his drumstick.

"Thanks. This is a really cool dinner."

Trevor noticed, however, that Mrs. Holbrook wasn't as friendly as Mr. Holbrook. In fact, she seemed to have a slightly "put-out" look on her face and he felt that her comment to him lacked sincerity.

Timothy could barely contain himself as he ran into Murphy's.

"Slow down there, Timmer!" his father shouted as they climbed out of his Mercury Comet. "You've got time!"

Trevor chuckled, trying to imagine how anyone could get so excited about racing a stupid slot-car around a track. Timothy's father noticed the chuckle and chuckled himself, though not at his son.

When they entered, there were already a dozen boys of various ages standing around the twisting race track on the north side of the store, cheering, laughing, and teasing each other. Timothy was already among them and watching to see whom he should challenge. He was holding his Lotus carefully so as not to let anyone see it until he was ready for the unveiling.

Trevor looked around. Behind them, aside from the sales counter, were shelves of model airplanes, cars, and ships. There were electric trains, including a Tyco HO gauge that looked like something out of an old movie. It was running along a track laid around the entire store. He tried to look "cool" and cynical as the other boys gave vent to their enthusiasm, but soon he felt himself drawn to the crowd.

Mr. Holbrook stood back and watched as first one, then another, boy noticed Timothy standing beside the track holding his new Lotus. Eric Lindstrom had just defeated Mike Torino and was getting pats on the back when Timothy's car caught his eye.

"Hey, Holbrook!" he shouted. "Let's see that!"

Several boys crowded around the boy as he proudly showed off his creation. They expressed all the appropriate schoolboy compliments and insults until Eric issued his challenge.

"Well, it looks cool. But, how fast is it?"

Timothy grinned. "It'll wipe your jalopy all over the track!"

The obligatory, "woe's" from the spectators followed this comment. Eric grinned smugly and replied, "You're on!"

A couple of other fathers had joined Mr. Holbrook at the side as they watched Eric and Timothy take their places at the head of the track. Trevor was peaking over the crush of boys to watch and even joined in with Timothy's supporters, urging him to blow Eric away. One of the boys counted down and then shouted, "Go!"

The track started with a strait away followed by two hairpin turns. Timothy's car was on the inside and immediately took a short lead over Eric's Red Porsche. Deftly, he negotiated the two hairpins and then took off on the straight away. However, Eric was right on his tail and as they curved around a cloverleaf, and Eric's car was suddenly on the inside, he took the lead.

"Come on, Tim!" Trevor shouted. "Come on!"

Timothy, however, heard nothing. He was fiercely concentrating, his thumb expertly moving up and down on the throttle gripped tightly in his hand. As the second lap began and they entered the hairpins again, he slowed down and took the them without his tail sliding outward. Eric, however, trying to extend his lead, took the second turn too quickly. He had to completely let off his throttle for a second to regain control. But, that was all it took. Timothy gunned it as he passed the Porsche and took the lead. He never relinquished it. Try as he might, Eric could not catch up and on the final lap, as they headed for the final turn and the home stretch, he entered the last turn too quickly, in a desperate bid to overtake the Lotus, and spun out.

There were wild cheers as several boys grabbed and shook the triumphant Timothy. They crowded around him and congratulated him as Eric shook his hand and gave him a good-natured smile. Timothy looked over the heads of his friends and saw his father grinning broadly and winking as he gave him a thumbs-up; and then, the best sight of all. He saw Trevor at the edge of the boys, smiling broadly.