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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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