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Email: timothylane414@gmail.com
13
Monday went fine. I knew I had tests still to take, but
having major assignments wrap up let me know I was just about there.
I had dinner with Paul and Kevin. I hadn't heard from Lance
all day. I wondered if I should give him a call. I got buried in classwork that
evening. I would give Lance a call or text when I was done.
At about 9:30, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Avery.
"Tariq just called. He's at Lance's apartment. He's
worried. He wanted to call you but doesn't have your number. He called me to
contact you. He thinks you should come over. Lance is muttering something about
hurting you, but Tariq can't understand it."
"On my way," I texted back.
Three minutes later I was knocking on Lance's door. Tariq
answered.
"What's going on?" I whispered.
"He's had a lot to drink. He muttered something about doing
you wrong, and he didn't mean to hurt you. I couldn't make heads or tails of
it. Thanks for coming."
There were two gentlemen who I assumed were Lance's
roommates standing to the side.
I walked over to Lance. He was curled up on the couch. A few
beer cans were on the coffee table. I sat on the floor next to him.
"Hey buddy, are you okay?" I asked.
I placed my hand on his arm. He looked at my face.
"Trent? Hey, man. How did you get here?"
"Your friends were concerned. I am a bit too. What's up? How
many of these have you had?"
"I dunno. A few," Lance moaned.
His roommates held up five fingers. Tariq leaned over me.
"I need to run. You got this, man?" he said softly to me.
I nodded and thanked him for reaching out to me. I stood up
to give him a simple hug. I walked over to the roommates.
"Hi, I'm Trent, one of Lance's teammates."
They introduced themselves as Zach and Cole.
"What happened
tonight?"
"We're not sure," said Cole. "By the time we got home, he
was on his third beer. And he didn't stop. Tariq happened by and the two of
them drank one. Tariq could tell he had enough already. Lance started talking
to himself and then saying something about hurting you, and we didn't
understand it. He finished a fifth beer just before you came in."
"Wow. Hey guys, can I talk to him alone?"
They nodded and went into the bedroom. It was 10. I walked
over to Lance and encouraged him to sit up. I sat next to him.
"Has something happened today?" I asked him quietly.
"Yeah. I have this great friend, and I totally fuck with his
brain last night."
His eyes were welling with tears. I pulled him close, and he
leaned his head on my shoulder.
"Have you let this bother you all day?" I asked.
"I would never hurt you on purpose, Trent. You know that
don't you?"
His words were spoken like someone who had too much to
drink. He had. He had trouble even lifting his head. His body slumped further,
and he laid his head in my lap. One of my hands stroked his hair. The other
laid on his chest. He grabbed my hand and held it. It was not in a romantic way
but a scared way.
"I know that buddy," I replied.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "You had been hurt. It still had to
be fresh, and I act like this total piece of shit ..."
"You're not shit. You're my friend. I love you."
I wondered if I should have said that. I did love Lance, but
I was not in love with Lance.
"No, you don't. You love Mike."
"I do love Mike. But you're still my friend."
"I'm still your friend?" he said, sounding fairly drunk by
this time.
"Of course. Is it okay if I just sit with you a while?"
"I'd like that," he said as his eyes closed.
Lance tried to keep telling me things, but he wasn't making
much sense. His sentences stopped halfway through. Fragments of "best friend"
and "terrible person" and "wanting your dick" meandered through meaningless
words. I maneuvered us on the couch like he did me a couple weeks ago. We both
laid there, him in front of me with my arm wrapped around him. Neither of us
said anything. I could smell the alcohol through his skin. I had gone from
concerned to worried. Would he keep this up? What would happen after
graduation?
By 10:30 I could tell he was sleeping. I squeezed him tight
to me. I was comforted by his body next to mine. I hoped he felt the same in
his sleep.
"Why are you doing this to yourself, buddy?" I whispered
into the back of his head. Then I softly kissed the back of his neck and gently
slipped out from behind him.
I went to the kitchen and cleaned up. I saw that the trash
can had more beer cans than anything else. I wiped everything down and even did
the few dishes on the counter. I gave a mild rap to the bedroom door. The guys
answered.
"Hey. He's asleep. I've cleaned up the kitchen a bit. Can
you bring the blanket from his bed and put it on him?"
They nodded and quietly thanked me. I saw myself out.
On the way to my apartment, I texted Lance so he would see
it when he woke up.
"You're my best friend. Call me tomorrow. Let's have
dinner."
April 27
Lance is not good. I'm not only
worried about him, but I'm worried how I figure into all this. He seems so uncertain
about his life. Is he in denial? Is he still figuring things out? Does he love
me or just want to fool around?
I want Lance's friendship in my
life, but am I leading him on in some way? Is our friendship bad for him? Am I
the reason he drinks?
I don't feel good about this at
all.
—
"What are you doing for lunch?" a text from Lance
said about 10:45.
"Can't. I promised Matt and Ali
I'd meet them today. We have to talk about a couple things. But, please, can we
do dinner?"
"K."
One of my projects for this semester was finally graded in
my Tuesday/Thursday 2 o'clock. It wasn't too challenging. I got a 3.8, so I was
pleased with that. Other than one more test, I had that class checked off for
the semester. Graduation seemed closer.
I wanted to meet Lance for dinner. In case someone needed to
be with him for the evening, I read about an hour to prepare for tomorrow's
classes.
I knocked on Lance's door at about 5:30. He answered the
door and let me in. He was alone at the moment. We hugged. It was a long hug. I
started to pull away and he pulled me back. I wrapped my arms around him, and
we held each other a few seconds. The hug seemed to say a lot more than
"hello."
"How do you feel today?" I asked.
"Kind of crappy, but better than this morning." He didn't
seem talkative. "How was lunch with Matt and Ali?"
"Good, I guess. I suppose I will be drawn into wedding
planning stuff. NOT that I'm helping plan anything. They are just bouncing
ideas off me and trying to keep me in the loop."
"Ah."
"Did you go to your classes today?" I asked.
"Nah. I just sat here."
The coffee table was empty. That was a good sign to me.
There was no indication he had anything to drink ... so far. I walked to the
kitchen.
"Any chance of a Diet Coke in here?"
"Doubtful. Zach often has a pitcher of tea in there. I'm
sure he wouldn't mind."
There was indeed a full pitcher of tea. I poured us each a
glass heavy with ice. There was a 12 pack of beer, but the carton was sealed. I
looked at the trash. It was a fresh liner other than a fast-food bag placed in
it. I assumed that was lunch. I was pleased to see no beer cans in it.
"Thanks," he said softly as I sat a drink in front of him.
I could talk about anything with Lance, but I wasn't sure
what to say this evening.
"Want to talk about last night?" I softly asked.
"I don't know. What is there to say?"
I pulled a Lance maneuver and went into his bedroom to get
his pillow. I came back out and put it on his lap. I laid down with my head on
the pillow looking up at him.
"Say anything you want," I said, ready to listen.
He smiled at me, knowing I was mimicking his behavior.
"Trent, I'm sorry if I appeared to be a loser last night. I should
have stopped at just a couple beers. I can't imagine what my roommates think of
me."
"What? You think you are the only college guy to ever get a
little drunk? They seemed nice to me. I'm sure they just care about you."
"I'm not sure why they should. I probably should have tried
to do more with them this semester. To them, I'm probably just a big dick."
"In two ways?" I joked.
"Exactly."
"You didn't throw up in here, did you??!!"
"Thank God no."
"So, see? It could have been worse." I paused, not sure if I
should ask, but did. "Tariq told me you were mentioning me as you kept
drinking. What were you telling people?"
"To be honest Trent, I have no idea. I was just in a funk.
What an ass I was to you. I'm surprised you even came over after I was such a
dick to you Sunday night."
"You weren't. You were just flirting. Still, had you kept
pressing, it might have crossed a line to where I would have reacted ... I don't
know ... freaked ... if it reminded me of Detrell. I didn't want to get there. I
never want US to be in a situation that makes either of us feel ... toxic."
He grabbed my hand that was resting on my chest. He put his
on top of mine and interlocked his fingers from the top.
"You're good to me, Trent. I haven't always been a good
friend to people in the past years, especially high school. But you ... you get
me."
"I do. I do now anyway. When we first started playing on the
team, I thought you were ..."
"...an arrogant piece of shit?" he said.
"I wasn't going to say that! Don't put words in my mouth."
"Most people probably do."
"No," I continued. "I probably felt you were ... entitled.
Like you could have anything you want. Maybe I read that into your personality.
I'm sure it had to do with your enormous cock. Guys that have something like
that can probably get anything they want."
He chuckled. It was the first time he had smiled since I'd
been there.
"It's a penis, not a credit card," he said.
"I know. But beautiful people have an advantage. Pretty
models have drinks bought for them and people fawning all over them. If you're
attractive, you just get more attention. You're handsome and then you have this
killer dick that would make any man envious. I don't know. It's not like you
lorded it over all of us, but there was no hiding it. Every guy on the team was
well aware of the meat swinging between your legs. I just presumed you were
cocky. But that was my fault. That was my mistake."
Lance looked down at me.
"Do you think you have received attention for being
beautiful?"
"Me?? No. I'm not ..."
"Trent. Trent. Trust me. You're hot. Your dick is gorgeous
and perfect, you're handsome and you're the nicest guy I know. You're
everything. Look at Mike. You landed this macho stud in less than an hour. You
have it all."
I looked forward. I rearranged my crotch as I started to get
a hard-on from our conversation.
"Me too," said Lance, referring to his own growing anatomy.
He pulled the pillow away and gently pressed my head back in
his lap. I could feel his cock was a piece of steel. With anyone else, I would
have read that as a major red flag. Lance and I somehow were in this ... place.
We hid nothing from each other. I let the back of my head rest on his erection.
Even through the fabric, it was clearly evident to my touch.
I let my hand gently feel my hard-on through my shorts. I
knew Lance wouldn't mind. He stroked my hair for a minute as I rubbed a little
harder. How odd that I had my head pressed against his erection and for us that
seemed totally fine. We had become naturally comfortable with each other.
My hand slipped under the waistband. Neither of us were
saying anything. I knew he was just watching me feel myself. This had probably
gone far enough. I didn't want to put us into any tempting situation. I would
only be too blame if I caused Lance any problems. As my hand stopped feeling the
flesh of my cock, I thought about Lance saying I was beautiful. I found it
strange. I've never felt "beautiful." I thought I looked okay.
"Trent, I ..."
The doorknob to the front door started to jiggle. Lance all
but jumped off the couch. I sat upright and he pulled one of his feet up on the
couch and put the pillow over his crotch. Cole and Zach walked in with some
groceries. Cole was about to lose one as he was struggling with multiple bags
and a 12-pack of sodas. I jumped up to help.
"Hi, Trent. Thanks," Cole said.
"Zach, I had some tea. I hope that's okay." Smiling at his
nod, I asked, "Do you guys want to join us for dinner?" I asked them.
"I can't," Cole returned. "I work on Tuesdays and
Wednesdays. I have to head out in a few minutes."
"I will, if that's okay?" Zach said.
"Sure. Right, Lance?"
"No problem," he said. "Um. I have a lot of credits still
left to use for the cafeteria. Is it okay if we go there?"
We all agreed.
Ten minutes later we were carrying our tray to the dining
hall. One long table was empty, so we took it. As we sat down, I noticed Zach bowed
his head and said a prayer for a few seconds. It was kind of sweet. A minute
later, Tariq, Avery and Aram walked in and asked to join us. They sat down, and
Lance looked at all the friends around him.
"This isn't an intervention, is it!?" he asked.
We all laughed out loud.
"No. And don't give us a reason to form one," Tariq
admonished. He followed softly, "You've got lots of friends, Lance. We're
always here for you."
"Thanks, guys," he said. Lance looked down and poked at his
food. He probably felt awkward being the center of attention.
The rest of the dinner conversation was lighthearted.
Several of the guys talked about their plans after graduation. Everyone seemed
more on the ball than me. I still had no specific plans. Aram was moving to
California. He had a lead on a job already. Impressive.
"What's everyone doing tonight?" Avery asked.
"I'm taking Maria to a movie at 8," Lance said.
"oh" I
said, mostly to myself.
The others commented on how pretty she was. Zach said he had
a date with his girlfriend from church, and Tariq said he had to finish a paper
tonight to turn in tomorrow morning.
"I know that feeling," I said. "Good luck brother."
We all went our separate ways following dinner. I got back to
the apartment and texted Lance.
"Have fun tonight."
"Thx" he replied.
"Please try not to drink, okay?"
No response, but what would I expect him to say?
I felt caught up. That's not like me. I called Mike. It went
to voicemail.
"Hey hon'," I started my message. "Was just hoping to talk.
Nothing major. Was just going to update you on Lance, but nothing urgent. Call
tonight if you want."
April 28
It seems so odd that I have some
free time tonight. I'm not sure what to do with it.
Lance seemed better. Friends can
be a fantastic support system. I'm pleased he felt we were there for him.
When the two of us are alone, we
really can talk about anything. I love what we have. I do love him. Obviously
not like Mike, but ... what is it I'm feeling? I hope I'm not walking a tightrope
between two guys. That seems treacherous. I really have some sorting out to do.
What if I'm somehow leading him
on? Am I being a friend, or am I pretending to be more? And what's this thing
with him still going out with girls? Oh well. His life. His decisions. I need
to support him, but I should also be clear that we're just friends too. I hate
the thought of losing him as a friend, but I don't want to hurt him in the
process either.
Graduation is in two weeks. I
guess I won't have to worry about it much longer.
My phone buzzed at 9:00.
"In a lame committee meeting across town. Going very late
but will try to call when I get home. Hopefully not too late," Mike's text
read.
I walked to the theater department where Matt and Ali's play
took place. I was hoping it would be open. A few people were there. Most of
them were in the process of breaking down scenery and storing it. They knew who
I was from helping with The Howling.
I asked if it would be disturbing if I played the piano.
After asking if I was any good, they were somehow convinced that it wouldn't be
dreadful. They thought it would be nice in the background. I thanked them.
There were some Broadway songbooks, so I played some of
those. After a few songs, I felt brave enough to sing along with one. I like
"All I Ask of You" from Phantom, so I chose that selection. By the end
of the song, I looked up and the others had walked in.
"I'm sorry. I've disrupted you," I said.
"You have a nice voice. We enjoyed hearing you," said one of
the ladies.
"Oh. Thanks."
"Can we sing one with you?" she said.
"Uhh. Sure. Okay. Is there something you want me to play?"
They chose "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Misérables.
The four of us sang. Our voices blended wonderfully; we sounded quite good. I
enjoyed it.
The trio returned to their work after thanking me. I played
a few more songs. I felt like writing one. I had never seriously done that, but
I felt like it might be rewarding. However, that process would be annoying as
hell for others to hear, so I opted for another time to try that.
I started heading back to the apartment. I felt better for
having played.
On my walk back, Mike called. I stopped on a bench to talk.
His voice was comforting. I told him about Lance. I danced around the part of
him flirting with me and the indirect connection to the incident with Detrell.
I simply said personal issues were bottled up. He listened to me for a while. I
asked about his meeting, and he told me he hated it. "It's just one of those
things you have to do in the real world," he told me.
I asked about the end of school and the final day he had to
work before break. We both agreed it would be nice to get away.
It was getting late, so we conveyed how much we missed each
other and that we loved each other.
As I walked to the apartment, I was thinking how nice it
would be to have a piano. Not that the apartment could remotely fit one in. I
looked forward to playing again.
+ - + - + -
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