Levi 9

Cameron Krueger notices the old recreation vehicle in front of his house as soon as his bike turns the corner. School bag, homework-heavy slips back and forth as he slows his peddling. More Jardine happenings on the block, best explanation. Mr. Jardine is moving into Centennial Park Retirement Village across town. Unwelcome family is moving in to fill the vacuum. Specifically unwelcome, Easy-Emily and widow-spider-slug Emma. Noah and Emily Jardine are a face-sucking thing this fall. So his brother is horny-happy to have the sisters over the fence permanently, garage couch, always-ready for sticky romance. Squishy-Emma has eyes for Cameron. Cameron sighs his frustration.

Cameron ditched Emma at the bike rack, happy she had walked to school, worried a bike would materialize the next morning. “It’s so cool we are going to live next to each other!” She gushes. Cameron lost himself in a pack of friends, wishing Jose and Wyatt would ask him over, save him from the new proximity. “See you later Cam!” Emma sings a promise to his back. The threat follows him down the street like a heat-seeking missile. No amount of adolescent male chaff can distract her from her target.

Boy on the lawn, Cameron registers this as he swings into his driveway. Head turns and his front wheel rudely reminds him mom parked the Ford Focus on the pad. Cameron flies over the handlebars and rolls up to a rear windshield bug-splat before flopping sideways onto the cold cement. Screw the bone breaks, what did the boy see? Cameron pops up, all nothing-to-see-here. He dusts himself off and checks the boy he glimpsed leaning against the RV.

Nothing to see, except a bright hoodie and slim legs vanishing into the large Winnebago. Cameron walks backward seven steps, slow turn toward the front door. Latch Key Kid, he lets himself in and automatically walks through his routine. Noah is in football season withdrawals at the moment. He will be following Cameron through the door with Emily very soon. That will be Cameron’s cue to exit. The long off-season RV is a curiosity. Cameron takes a handful of Oreos and stares at it through the front window.

Slim legs and bright orange hoodie step back out of the big Winnebago onto the Krueger’s lawn. It’s 50 degrees chilly, but the boy’s hood is down. It’s a no brainer that this boy is waiting for someone over at the Jardine’s. Not family, Cameron reasons. Family would just go over to the house. The boy starts walking down the street and Cameron is left wondering why he is still watching.

Cameron is craning his neck. The mystery boy seems to be walking toward Noah and the sisters. Cameron waits watching. Ships passing in the night with just a glance. Here is a dilemma. If Cameron stays by the window, Emma will probably follow her sister into the Krueger house. If the boy leaves, so what? Cameron’s phone decides the issue with a friendly buzz. It is the usual SnapChat message distraction. He grabs his book bag from the floor and retreats to his room. Wyatt’s message has Cameron’s fingers tapping as he flops on his bed. It is the after school routine. Noah and Emily stamping down to the basement, Cameron sort of hiding from Emma, mind drifting through the walls of his bedroom to dispersed friends. Only today, Cameron thinks about snapchatting with the RV boy.

The hoodie is sort of highway worker, burnt orange, bright. Too bold-uncomfortable for Cameron’s don’t-notice-me, don’t-ask, don’t tell, taste in teenage camouflage. He leaves the strutting male plumage to his older brother. The stranger was back on the street looking bored. Well he is kicking his toe into our grass and I did leave my bike on the driveway.

Fourteen watches the boy discreetly sideling over to the bike he had crashed into the car bumper. Instinct suggests the neighbor boy is a year older than Fourteen, but that might just be the height. Fourteen wants to smile, but he is the oddball loitering on the lawn in front of this boy’s house. Fourteen feels adrift until Levi remembers to draw him into the corner house. Tall boy in black polo shirt is fussing with his front tire. “Is it alright?”

“Yes, you surprised me.”

“That was an epic roll off the windshield.”

The boy straightens up, eyes on the bike. “It takes practice. The first few times, it is scary. After that, it comes naturally.” Cameron finally looks at Fourteen and they share a grin. The awkwardness is forgotten. Cameron wishes he did not have a flaming rug burn of zits along his chin. Tangerine boy is lucky, baby-face clean. “I’m Cameron.”

Who am I? Fourteen does a quick check. “Kale.”

Cameron is moving his bike toward the house. Fourteen friendly-follows uninvited. Details, details, “My granddad wanted to visit your neighbor. I don’t know how long he is going to be.” He listens as Cameron jot-note-fleshes out his own boring-safe life. Fourteen is lonely-hungry for this random high school moment. “Is the bike okay?” Stupid lame-ass question, but Cameron is leaning it against a too clean garage wall and logically, the conversation is at, see you around.

Awkward-electric eye contact, “That thing is pretty big. How long have you been driving?”

Uncoordinated details, what is Levi saying in the house? What does it matter? Fourteen twists around as if to judge the size of the 1996 Luxor Winnebago for the first time. “It seems like months!” It is a clever answer, keep the conversation going. “It is older than me. Levi, Grandpa Levi keeps it in top shape. I guess he did not use it that much before retirement, low mileage. Do you want to take a look?” Fourteen turns back to Cameron, hoping the desperation is not too obvious.

Cameron’s fingers are gentle on his jaw, as if in thought. He knows he does this cover-up with the girls. When the Ring of Fire shifts to his nose or forehead, he is pizza-screwed. Just nothing white, please! Like his face cares. “Sure! It takes up the whole street.”

“I’m sorry about that. Should I move it?” Cameron gets slapped with that tangerine smile apology.

“He lets you drive this thing?” Cameron shoves Fourteen’s shoulder playful-curious.

“Well, no.” Fourteen confesses, blushing.

“Leave it. We don’t park out front anyway, not enough cars.” Cameron chin-points at the Jardine parking lot. Old man Jardine has just been wheezy out of touch as far as Cameron’s life is concerned. Neil Jardine is the sort who will chuck the ball back over the fence, no problem. Emma moving in next door is the problem. “Are you parked here for the night?”

“I hope not. We stopped and checked in to some campground on the edge of town.” Fourteen holds the door open for Cameron, watches the boy flex up the steps in two bounds. More uncoordinated details follow, and there is something uncoordinated sweet about the boy-dance around the compact space.

Jesus, don’t ask who sleeps where! Fourteen is thinking.

Cameron takes a dig at Fourteen by sitting in the driver’s seat. Levi has left the key in the ignition as if he plans a quick get-away. Cameron jiggles it a bit, teasing Fourteen, and then he plays with the wheel. Fourteen takes shotgun, showing him that the seat swivels around, all living room cozy. He jumps into Cameron’s personal space. Male. Bodies are gravity-falling, heat-radiating close as Fourteen adjusts the driver’s seat so it can swing around too.

“The TV is over your head, so that is not a great place to sit.” Fourteen is apologetic. They are slouched together in the chairs. “It’s getting cold in here. There is heat. We don’t use it much.” Fourteen is just filling silence. Their knees touch, and this sends Cameron up and over to the far end of the couch.

“So you sit here.” It is a plausible reason to move. “This could be cool.” Cameron picks up Fourteen’s stolen math textbook, same grade.

“I’ll be back in school after Christmas. I finished that already.” Fourteen just outed himself as a nerd. Somewhere back East, Shane just spewed Coke-Zero out his nostrils. “I need the next one, or some history book maybe. I don’t know. It gets boring.” Mom’s responsible boy, Fourteen gets the work done, no fool, but no nerd. The studying is just a promise to himself that there will be an after for Jeremy Gates.

Cameron’s phone vibrates beside his cock. He puts the textbook down. The what next? Is interrupted by a knock on the door. Fourteen swings his chair casually toward it. “Come in.” The words sound eager, like this drive-by stranger is building a party. Noah? Cameron wonders, only it has to be Emma.

Emma-eyes on cornered Cameron, she spares a blind uglance at Fourteen and invites herself onto the couch so she can feel Cameron’s phone vibrating beside his cock. “Hey Cam,” all sing-song possessive. Cameron has no idea what welcome signals he has been sending this new, unwelcome neighbour. They were clearly misdirected. The girl is putting a ring on it. Planning the double wedding with her sister, no doubt. Cameron reads the speculative-haunted look in Fourteen’s twitchy face. A heartbeat-door-closing-pause between them makes Cameron want to blurt it out, “She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“I didn’t know you were here Cam.” Emma makes this some accusation. Perhaps a coy suspicion the boy-next-door maneuvered this assignation in a strange RV-love-shack. Cameron places a bet that Emma watched him on the lawn, every-move-you-make hummed as he followed the boy into the RV. Cameron imagines prisoner ankle bracelets broadcasting his location everywhere. His Olympic bike race from the school was not enough of a hint that he wanted distance. Cameron sighs. He is spared the rest, as Emma reconsiders the visitor-host. “So, I’m Emma. Cam probably told you I live next door now. Your grandfather said you should come in. We are having supper or something.” It was all so complicated, her tone suggests.

“Like, right now?” Fourteen asks. He is rocking his disappointment left to right in the chair. Emma finally really focuses on him. Fourteen is Nebraska State Fair noisy-glitter for her. Fourteen is a definite fun ride. It is not a happy moment, and Cameron cannot tolerate the girl’s recent cock-block. Musical chairs, Cameron abandons Emma’s heavy hip for the driver’s seat, reclaiming Fourteen’s knee touching, electric closeness.

“Oh man, look at all these old cassettes! What is on them?”

Boys will be boys. Heads come together. Cameron and Fourteen sort through the sixties mixtapes, fingers following the neatly printed playlists. It does not matter what Fourteen says, Cameron nods and echoes the cute boy’s playful groans. Fourteen is in the moment too. He tells Cameron that Levi is just his Vietnam Vet gramp torturing him with the oldies all across America. Hey Jude, don’t get me started Cam! And Cameron is liking the Cam when he hears it from Fourteen.

Emma moves to the front, thinking to make it a ménage a trois. “What’s this?” She asks. It is store bought vintage finger-worn dull plastic. Odds are, Levi has lived this tape a long time. Cameron takes it, fingers connecting with hers deliciously-thoughtlessly.

“The Doors.” Cameron looks the cover over. A track jumps out at him. “The End,” He looks at Fourteen. “That is a Nirvana song, I think. Dad has Nirvana, not bad stuff.” Fourteen takes the tape, fingers connecting with his deliciously-intentional. He jacks the clunky plastic into the slot between them and starts a hand toward the play button.

Another girl’s voice interrupts. “Emma, time to come in.” Rats, two boy’s echo.

An hour, fifty-eight minutes longer than Fourteen thought reasonable to endure, he steps away from the stifling house and the gangrenous Vietnam War memory-stench clinging to each of the old men. Three months with Levi has only hinted-threatened at this ugly eruption. Fourteen tries for a deep breath of Nebraska-November. It comes out frustrated-shaken in a way he might have recognized from the vanishingly rare nights when his parents fought about his uncle. Dr. Levi Evil (trustworthy Ed Harris) is his parental rock until… after. Till then, Fourteen needs well-aged tranquility and no Saturday-Night-Special moments. Neil (Fucking) Jardine and Levi (Doc) Fisher were not serenity now. This is Festivus. The airing of the grievances.

Fourteen would swear he can smell shit from some feedlot. Maybe it is a neighbour spreading Fall fertilizer, or one of the rip-your-balls-off, slobber-lipped bulldogs back in the Jardine house dumping on the lawn. Maybe it is the thin-skinned volcano of mutual-murder aching like a bad zit between the old men. It is all Laurel and Hardy. Keith Jardine is totally waiting for Levi Fisher to reach some mutually agreed punchline so he can go ballistic.

The opening joke was probably Fourteen. “This is my grandson, Kale.” Levi waves negelently from an easy chair-and-a-half that simply amplifies this Santa Clause and the Elf moment. Fourteen looks at his own shoes, checking for toe curls and bells. Keith Jardine’s measured look screams, “bull shit”. There is no telling what this old man knows, but after that pregnant pause, Fourteen thinks his cover is blown. Neil Jardine is eyeing the backstreet whore, runaway slut-boy scraped from some alkaline tin pan alley of crusty ejaculations. If it had not been so heart-breaking edge-of-true, fresh from the Cameron-normal moment in the RV, Fourteen would have blurted out the dangerous (mind-blowing) truth.

After that stellar introduction, Fourteen collapses into himself for the family hour. Fending off Emma and Emily’s flirty banter is before automatic for closet-Jeremy. The Jardine’s, father and son, ignore him for their different adult reasons. Fourteen multitasks the moment, grunts and phrases to the sisters, ears working on the subtext-accusations between the two angry old men. Why is Levi here? Why did this old man on oxygen let Levi in the door? They hate each other’s guts!

Almost fifty years of life’s trivia dribbles out between them as if they care that Dr. Fisher was a thoracic surgeon in Boston and established a free clinic, or Neil Jardine thought himself proud red (MAGA), white (very), and blue (collar). He is a big game hunter. The dusty evidence hangs about them. Levi likes to bag game too, Fourteen wants to offer. Does he still have my foreskin? Levi spares a look Fourteen’s way, as if the old satyr caught that thought.

Still unsettled by the visit, Fourteen steps off the front step, letting a memory of Patrick’s pussy-boy taunt gnaw away at his tangerine soul. He is not liking the selling-my-teen-ass whispers on the chill prairie wind. It is too like gone-Patrick’s prison years. Fourteen was hogtied-drafted into Levi’s Luxor Winnebago memory tour, just a cock-prop understudy for Tuan. Hurts-to-breath choiceless, that is what it was. John’s Saturday-Night-Special promise the only other way to turn. Fourteen sounds his despairing yawp to absent adolescent coyotes. Cling to the promised after, but what can he do about this abruptly uncertain now? Maybe snatch joy?

Fourteen ducks into the Luxor Winnebago for his stash. Stepping back out, he turns left and crosses to the neighbor’s door. Cameron’s chocolate-chip-cookie, mom-at-the-door is another slap in the face. “Hello there.” She smiles better memories at Fourteen. Warmth wafts across his burning face. His eyes sort of sting.

“Hello, I’m Jeremy.” Fourteen is either clutching the iPod, or the fresh hurt of smiling politely at mom. It is the iPod. Fourteen is chef pour la quête, the micro kitchen his domain. Levi likes it this way. Fourteen likes it this way. There are hiding spots. Fourteen has brought the Ziplock-safe iPod stash from behind the microwave. It is now hid in his hoodie pouch. There is an anxious-guilty twist to his face, like he is smuggling weed into her son’s bedroom. “Is Cameron here?”

“From school?” Fourteen has puzzled her, and there is a fresh wave of hurt. Here is another mom with the class list memorized like the boys were still in grade one. Birthday party lists, Jeremy Gates was always on them, in the before.

“No, I’m just visiting next door.” Fourteen punctuates this with a finger toward the looming RV. She is smiling, so Fourteen’s face has to blossom in the son-shine. “Is Cameron here?”

“Oh!” She gives way, letting him in. “In his room, I think.” But not, Cameron is right behind her, hovering anxiously.

Cameron’s face flashes a welcome before his eyes slide over to his mom. She has turned away from the unfamiliar boy without telegraphing anything to him. There are boys and then there are boys in North Platte. She lets Cameron know which are which. Kale Euller, twitching his mouth nervously to one side, gets Mom’s Triple A rating treatment. That is the unconscious seduction of the boy. In this case, that means not giving Cameron a squirrelly look of warning.

“Hey, Kale.”

Fourteen follows the too casual wave of invitation farther into the house. “Nice to meet you.” He tosses at the mother as he leaves, because Fourteen knows his absent mom would like that. He trails Cameron through the echo pathways of how-it’s-supposed-to-be to the cosy-musky-rightness of Cameron’s boy-bedroom. There is a sturdy Walmart laptop shrouded under the hoodie Cameron was wearing when they met, Jackpot!

“Do you have a cell phone?” Fourteen asks.

The question seems random. Cameron is sixteen. The answer is obvious. Who does not have a cell phone? “Sure, why?”

“I need a favour.” Fourteen asks, like there is no time to waste. “I need to use your computer too. Everything's happening so quickly. I never thought about it. I need to set up my new iPod. I will get a phone plan when we are back in Boston, Levi, grandad promised.” This is casual drop in with a guy is too before for me. I’ve got a real family, what is the attraction of being with Levi now?

“Okay, and you need a phone why?” Cameron puzzles.

Fourteen is all about the Android. He is Google at school and home. Makayla’s iPod is only as familiar as his mom or dad’s iPhone and iPad. There is something about iTunes accounts he needs to build, but he is not sure. Cameron takes charge with a knowing smile.

There is little talk, no explanation as the boys work. Fourteen sets up a new Google account with practiced-casual fabrications and Cameron’s phone number for verification. Then there is an iTunes account to create. This is the algorithm of underage users across the world. “You should have some credit so you can buy apps.” Cameron murmurs over Fourteen’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter.” Fourteen replies, distracted by the temptation to check his email, Facebook, SnapChat, anything connected to that boy in Chillicothe, Ohio. Cameron walks out of the room with Makayla’s iPod. Fourteen’s fingers fly over the keyboard and he is Jem.Gates.2002 long enough to drop an update on his page. I’m okay, don’t worry, love you. Trembling fingers log off. He is wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs when Cameron returns. He hopes this boy does not notice his tears.

“I put a fifty dollar gift card on your iTunes account. I gave it to mom last Christmas. She never used it.” Cameron shrugged expressively. Parents and technology, what could you say? “Here,” he offers the simple device back to Fourteen. “So what apps do you use?”

Fourteen clears his throat. He is logging off of his new accounts on the computer as he answers. “Oh, mostly SnapChat and texting. I had Facebook and Messenger, mostly so my mom could keep tabs on me.” Fourteen closes the laptop screen, feeling a mixture of terror and relief that he tossed that small bottle into the cyber ocean. He feels less shitty about his passive compliance with Levi. The silver circle of death reminds him that he (probably) has little choice. Once a day the cycle begins again with a vibrating wrist watch reminder that choice is a poor word to describe his situation. “I miss my phone.”

Cameron is sitting nearby on the floor, looking at his own device. Fourteen drops down beside him. “That has 32GB, a good display. I have an old iPod somewhere from when I was ten. I thought that was the best in grade five. The screen is cracked now.” Cameron nudges Fourteen. “Hey Kale, look at this. Water bottle flip off a truck.” Just a stupid YouTube video, but it draws them together, as it should.

“Did you see the one about the brothers who convinced their little sister of the Zombie Apocalypse? So funny!” Fourteen smiles and searches for it on his rebuilt iPod.

The giggling and banter stops with a knock on the door. Cameron’s mom is holding a cookie sheet of nachos. It is a small volcano of melted cheese and zit-encouraging toppings. “I just thought you might like a snack. It is late though. You have school tomorrow Cameron, even if Jeremy is on holiday.” She drops the pan on the floor after that heavy-handed reminder.

Cameron sets up a stream on his phone, then slides the pan between them. Levi is not into junk food binges. He is almost vegetarian in a cardiological fanaticism which must have something to do with him looking like a marathon runner half his age, and not a boozy sumo wrestler with an oxygen bottle. Fourteen respects that, not quite ready to admit his own body could betray him with an evil downhill slide. This nacho binge is all one with the Cameron-Jeremy-normal he is missing.

Between his third clump of fused nachos Cameron pauses puzzled. “Jeremy?”

“Yeah?” Fourteen asks.

“She called you Jeremy.” Cameron elaborates before tilting his head back to catch the delectable droop of corn, jalapeño, and salsa.

Fourteen slow motions in for another handful, working it through, feeling fresh weight around his neck. Shuffle the cards, it always comes back to that deadly game. “Well,” Take another bite, once said, can’t be pushed back in the bottle. “My name is actually Jeremy, he improvises. My dad was Kale. Grandpa Levi is getting forgetful. Grandpa is sick. He calls me Kale all the time.” This is working, Fourteen figures. It won’t matter when I drive away. “So I use the name Kale sometimes. No point in upsetting him, do you understand?”

“Jeremy Euller.” Cameron takes another bite, agreeably. “Okay.”

Sometime later, when Cameron hears the angry shouting back and forth, when Fourteen is sitting on the curb under the streetlight, Cameron remembers this. It is called Alzheimer's and traveling across the country with someone likely to flip out must be scary. Cameron worries that for a long time. Carries it with the haunting-ache of might-have-been, Strangers-in-the-Night, exchanging, exchanging ....

Fourteen is starting to drown in his tortured reality. He turns away from Cameron and hugs his knees, face down on his arms. Frustration-loneliness, little boy lost, he needs an exit from this now. This still-shackled-close to something better than John’s certain ending is no longer enough. “This is hard, Cam, really, really hard.” Fourteen cannot see the other boy through his tears.

It is unexpected, maybe too real for Cameron. He slides the massacred tray away and turns toward the crying boy. What am I supposed to say? He wonders. Fourteen sighs and looks up at some spot on the bedroom wall. He seems to see something Cameron cannot visualize. His dead parents maybe.

“I just want it to end.” This is a dull and hopeless explanation. “I want my parents.”

Cameron nods unnoticed. He gets that. Mom with a cookie sheet of unexpected nachos. Always there in his background like gravity, reassuring him, agreeing with him that Kale-Jeremy, Jem, he decides secretly, Jem is one of the good ones.

“It’s not fair. I want to just go home!” Fourteen’s eyes drop to the floor. “I need to talk to them. Tell them what is happening to me. Find out what to do.”

“It is a shitty deal.” Cameron suggests, knowing losing your parents at fifteen must be the worst.

“Levi needs me.” Fourteen bites his lip. Suddenly conscious of his tears, he scrubs them away. After my birthday, I go home. Fourteen considers his position. “Funny thing, it has not been so bad, not since Levi picked me up. We get along. He has taught me all sorts of stuff.” Fourteen even laughs weakly. There is that. “He is sick. He is dying, so he needs me along right now. Sometimes, sometimes he thinks I’m someone else, but mostly he knows still, and he likes me.” Fourteen looks at Cameron. “Levi taught me that it is okay to be myself. My feelings are fine. I’m fine. I can’t hate him for that.”

The word hate slips by Cameron easily. He is no longer thinking about Fourteen’s gush of words. He is feeling the tension fade as Fourteen pulls himself together. The video still streams over his phone, filling the moments of silence between them. Cameron likes the intensity of this moment. Then it gets more intense.

“I’ve been in some scary situations. This scares me more than any of them”

“Why?”

Cameron should have asked, What this? Fourteen has put the Levi-lies aside. His heart is in the before-familiar now of that First Thing everyone wants to talk about back in Chillicothe, Ohio. You were kidnapped, yada, yada … ‘nough said. What about … ?

What about, indeed? Fourteen observed Blaze and Slate’s contortions as they stuffed themselves into the form-fitting wetsuits, suitable protection from the freezing water of Bull Shoals. Swimming in the wrong season, When is it the right season for me? Fourteen wonders, remembering the hypothermic chill. He shivers against Cameron’s furnace heat. Levi Fisher has taught him to own it, own the Fourteen-rightness of his skin. Cameron Krueger is the before-familiar angst of Shane. Cameron Krueger is the daily struggle to wedge fourteen back into the form-fitting hetero-wetsuit that protects him from the Chillicothe deep-freeze, closet-opening after. “Why?” Shane-not-Shane asks him.

“I’m gay. I never told my parents that.” Fourteen drops into the hypothermic water, owning it.

Cameron meets the intensity of Fourteen’s scrutiny. “Okay.” He manages.

“When I got taken, when I lost my parents, Patrick mostly, maybe John,” Cameron does not understand anything beyond the simple declaration, I’m gay. Fourteen meets his eyes, “Oh, and not saying anything to Shane, I’m mad about that now. Being with Levi, I don’t have time, and Patrick was totally wrong about me, yeah. So anyway, I'm gay.” Fourteen takes a deep breath. “I could kiss you Cameron, just saying.”

“Okay,” Cameron is not sure what he means. Probably, okay means Fourteen’s being gay is not a problem to him. Maybe it means the kiss idea is not a problem to him either. Cameron is puzzling this out when Fourteen sees a green light opportunity. Fourteen leans in and for a fleeting heartbeat, soft nacho-cheese lips share a touch.

Fourteen leans back and looks at the ceiling. Cameron looks at the hollow of Fourteen’s neck. “You are the first boy I kissed.”

“Same,” Cameron answers uncertainty. “Girls?”

Fourteen hears the rattle-rasp in this first date moment. Upper Michigan Barry flinched straight away and Fourteen’s lips. They planted embarrassed on his neck. He is never sure Levi is kissing him, does not get off on old man lips. More likely Levi is caressing the ectoplasmic mouth of Tuan. Their fuck sessions being more in the way of a seance with his writhing, cock-stretched torso Levi’s ready ouija board jerking out cryptic messages from the Vietnamese beyond.

Girls? Cameron asked. Fourteen smiles at the August storm-brewing memory. “Once on the Ferris Wheel.” He looks at Cameron, dealing out second hand, still all in. “August fair in my hometown, she was in my class.” Fourteen grins it was just-a-thing at this Nebraska corn-husky-voiced boy. Cameron nods.

Patrick stole the boy-car, but the keys were in the ignition. Life is one anxious first time after another, and teen-time is a trip. This learner’s licence came (so to speak) in the sheet-sticking night with Patrick and John, expectedly-surprising. Since then, it is practice driving with Levi in heavy traffic. Barry (revenge dildo) Gordon aside, this is Fourteen’s first solo. Fourteen is in virgin territory, heart-skipping uncertain.

“Again?” Fourteen suggests.

No flinched reply, Cameron twists into motion with a satisfying burst of energy, only he is reaching for his doorknob. Cameron executes a mother-denying twist to the lock. Turning back to Fourteen, freeze frame, two strangers in the night exchanging glances. There is a slow start to the sock-hop, an awkward approach, uncertain leads, neither certain about the ruler-rule. It is not Fourteen’s first dance around the floor. This is a slow-dance, not a tango, he reminds himself, train station kisses on the platform.

As the slow-dance becomes a jive across Cameron’s mattress, Fourteen tries to hold it back. He wants to be Cameron’s first kiss memory, let Cameron be his. It is hard, though, very hard, like Cameron’s cock dry humping his hard cock. Fourteen is an unashamed-slut, a Levi-trained exotic pole dancer. Time-travel is against him. Just a one night stand, but he holds back. Let Cameron set the pace.

He is grabbing a chance with Cameron, like he snatched a moment with the iPod. Angry old men duel next door. Levi will be waiting for him soon enough. There is still the trip West, Far East, and a bulky watch on his thin wrist. He lets Cameron roll him over on the bed, lips locked. Fourteen got naked, tried the waters, found them unexpectedly warm. He tries a hand up Cameron’s shirt, feels inexpert fingers dig under his waistband.

Jeremy Gates sheds the before, amazed how sucking face (neck, chin, whatever) can be an endless, nourishing now. This will just be a wet dream lingering on into the after of Levi’s journey. Fingers touch his cock. Lips break. “Is this okay?” It is an anxious apology Jeremy Gates knows too well. Jeremy cannot speak. He simply nods his head. Lips touch, and so do other things.