Date: Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:55:05 -0600 From: Roman Jeffries Subject: Miles from Home: Chapter 9 Readers, thank you for your continued interest in this story! Feedback, comments, and questions are always much appreciated. You can send them my way at romanjwrites@gmail.com ******************************************** May Freshman Year **** I clicked the instant messenger window on my computer closed with one hand and dropped the other down to my lap to adjust the swelling in my dick. Even though I was already half-hard, I couldn't be sure what exactly had prompted my dick's stirring. But I was a hundred percent certain I didn't want to call attention to it, so I turned away from my computer screen to look back across the room to where my roommate Mike was lying shirtless on his bed. His muscled arms were stretched behind his head as he gave me a graphic blow-by-blow of his hook-up here last night, and I could tell by the bulge in his own shorts that the memories had him getting a little hard, too. Mike obviously enjoyed rehashing these things with me, but I usually didn't encourage conversations like this one. They just tended to rub in the drought I'd been in here at college and how little I had to talk about on this front. And tonight, this typical chatter from Mike had me feeling on edge. Was my dick hardening at the thought of the girl Mike was describing? Was it because of Mike? Or was it because Pete had just messaged me? Still listening to my roommate, I quietly ticked through the possibilities: Abby, the girl Mike had fucked on that very bed last night, certainly was hot. She was a tall volleyball player with fantastic legs who'd caught my eye early in the year. Frankly, I'd lusted after her since then, too. Mike, on the other hand, was my roommate. We'd become pretty tight over the year, and looking at his half-naked form stretched out on his bed now, I could certainly understand why he'd become so popular with the women at our school. His muscled lacrosse player's body and handsome face were well complimented by a quick wit and a sharp sense of humor. Mike was a good guy, and I felt genuinely lucky we'd been placed together as roommates for the year. As I watched him sit up in his bed to maneuver his body to demonstrate one of the sexual positions that had apparently driven Abby "fuckin' wild" last night, though, I quickly confirmed what I had known all year: Mike was a good looking guy, but watching him was about as arousing to me as looking at my desk lamp. Mike and I were buds, and although he'd certainly become an important fixture in my life this year, there wasn't anything about him that had ever made my dick stir inside my shorts like it was doing now. But then there was Pete. Pete had messaged me shortly after Mike had launched into his play-by-play to ask me to meet him at a party that was already underway in an upperclassman dorm across campus. Our exchange had been brief because Pete said some of his other friends were pre-partying in his room with him and that they were about to head over there together. For my part, I was reluctant to go out to a party at all tonight because I'd been so fucking exhausted all day and needed sleep after... My pulse suddenly started to race. After... And then I felt it all again. For what must've been the thousandth time today, the memories seemed more real to my senses than anything around me in this room did: The electrifying thrill of Pete's tongue wrestling with mine inside our mouths. The scent of Pete's body filling my nose. The deep sound of our smothered breath vibrating through my ears. The texture of Pete's skin beneath my fingers... Unconsciously, I started rubbing my chin with the hand not concealing the stirring in my dick. My skin was still raw there, too. In that instant, I decided Pete was right: I did need to go to this party. I needed to see Pete tonight. "Soto!!" "What?" I jumped, startled out of my own thoughts as I realized Mike had still been speaking to me. I also suddenly became self-conscious about what I was doing and stopped rubbing my chin. "Are you even listening to me?" Mike chuckled, sitting up in his bed to look over at me. "I said when I woke up this morning Abby was fuckin' jerkin' me off and wanting to go again." Inside my shorts, my dick surged until it was fully hard. "Dude, it was so frickin' awesome!" Mike enthused, his eyes lit up at the thought of it. "Awesome," I agreed, grinning. But as I looked over at him I also lifted my right hand up from my lap to grab the box of tissues sitting on one corner of my desk. I chucked them over at Mike, hitting him in the shoulder with the box. "... But since she's not here anymore, looks like you'll have to take care of yourself this time," I joked, referring to the bulge now tenting out the front of his shorts. "What? You wanna watch or something?" Mike laughed, but I noticed that he kept the box of tissues with him on his bed. "... I never had you pegged for one of those." Mike was still laughing, but I froze. One of what? Shit, was he right?? "You wish," I retorted coolly before quickly changing the subject: "Looks like I'm gonna head over to Hannon's party down in Warner..." I got up from my chair and started scanning the floor for my shoes. "... You wanna come, or do you need some alone time?" "Are you sure you don't?" Mike shot back, and I realized then that he must've noticed the obvious tent in my own shorts. "... I didn't think you enjoyed my stories that much. If I'd a known, I would've let you come in and watch us..." "Hey, you're the fucking creep who brought this up and dragged me into it," I said, shaking my head and flipping him my middle finger even though I was smiling, too. "... And by the way, Dalton, you're so fuckin' full of yourself." "Yeah, well, I'm not the only one..." Mike grinned smugly and paused a couple seconds for dramatic effect. "... This morning, Abby was full of me, too!" Mike then collapsed back onto his bed howling in laughter. "You sure you don't want to come?" I asked as I grabbed my room key and slipped it into my pocket. "Nah, I gotta study... And I think some good ol' one-on-one with myself would be kinda nice," Mike replied, his smile rapidly slipping into a leer. "... Unless you wanna stay and lend me a hand with this," he said, thrusting his hips off the bed and lifting his crotch up into the air. Again with that. Quickly, I grabbed Mike's lacrosse stick from where it was propped against the wall near the door and tossed it over to him. "Here," I said flatly as he sat up and easily caught the stick in his hands. "... Go fuck yourself with this `cause I sure as hell won't be doing anything like that." I saw Mike open his mouth to make his comeback, but I beat him to the punch: "... And you damn well better be done before I get back because I wouldn't want to see that either." Mike laughed as I turned away and put my hand on the door knob. "Say what you want, bro, but I got you figured out." I stopped dead in my tracks and glanced back over my shoulder to look at him. What the fuck did that mean? And how the hell could he have me figured out when I didn't even know? "Oh, and, Max? You've still got a boner," Mike laughed as I shot him an icy look and hastily tried to adjust myself. "Hey!" he protested quickly, "Leave it! Maybe you could actually get a girl to come back with you like that." Mike smirked again as something else occurred to him: "... If you do, wake me up and I'll join you. Y'know, so I can give you both what you really want." My sleep deprived brain couldn't come up with anything to say to that, so I just turned back to the door and flashed him my middle finger again as I opened it. "Fucking sketchbag..." I muttered under my breath as I stepped out into the hallway. From behind me, I heard Mike call out: "Have a good time: Just do somethin' I would do!" Shaking my head, I heard the door swing closed behind me as I hurried down the hall. What the fuck was happening to me?? I knew that was nothing more than Mike's typical bullshit, but I was still getting paranoid about it all the same. Today, Mike's usual talk was cutting much too close. But, honestly, it wasn't just that. The blunt truth was I'd been a fucking wreck all day. I couldn't stop thinking about my night with Pete, replaying it over and over and over again. I was sure I'd bombed my exam this morning because I'd been too preoccupied about last night to focus on anything else, and I also knew my shitty grade was going to be a problem. I mean, it's not like I could graduate from here with a bunch of C's and expect everything to just magically work out for me. I wasn't like Pete's dad. I couldn't coast through school and have the pull of my family connections paper over a lousy GPA when it came time to look for a job. But those were tomorrow's problems to worry about. Today, all I could focus on was the feeling of something seismic shifting inside me because of just how much I'd liked hooking up with Pete. And it wasn't just the ache of serious blue balls talking, either. No, I'd spent the last two weeks wondering if I could actually bring myself to go there with another guy and whether I'd even enjoy it if I did. And, well, now I had my answer. The hardon that kept stirring in my shorts at the thought of how fuckin' good it felt last night and how much I wanted to do it all again, like, right fucking now put that question to rest: Hooking up with a guy felt really fuckin' awesome. ... And that was what was wrecking me now. Today, I was unsettled by just how definitively the ache in my dick was settling those questions that'd worried me before last night. Now, what gnawed at me was my sense of self being rearranged, tangibly, in real time... And it all seemed big and monumental and scary and disorienting. I wasn't ready for this. It was like I was running a race, keeping pace with someone until they started to pull away and then I couldn't dig any deeper to hang on and keep up. Except this time I was struggling to keep pace with myself. It seemed like who I was changing into now was leaving who I'd always thought I was back choking in the dust. Fuck, what did last night make me? Would everyone around me be able to figure it out now too? ... And why did I seem to care so much if anyone else did know? Damn it, everything had seemed so simple this morning when I was still with Pete. But then today, starting with the minutes ticking away while I stared blankly at my exam, my thoughts were stuck in a jumbled incoherence. And on top of that, every time I'd felt the stinging of my chin from Pete's stubble burn some treacherous part of myself kept ambushing me with things I hadn't ever had to face before today: Shame. Embarrassment. Self-doubt. I'd done something I didn't want anyone else to know about. I'd never felt that way about anything before. I had no frame of reference for this. But whatever the fuck this shit was that was gnawing at me today, I knew I couldn't keep stewing in it. By reflex, I wanted to talk to my brother Tom. I'd even picked up my phone to do just that several times today, but I could never actually bring myself to press the button and call him. I had no idea how to talk about this. Fuck, I had no idea how Tom would even react if I did tell him. Even though I didn't actually tell Tom about everything, there'd never been anything I thought I couldn't say to him before now. Realizing that, I immediately felt cut off, like I'd isolated myself from the rest of my life. And, wherever I had put myself now, it seemed like the only place to turn was to Pete. I mean, he'd been through this, right? So maybe he could help if we talked about it? But I'd only seen Pete once all day, though. We'd briefly crossed paths heading in opposite directions across the quad on the way to our afternoon classes. When I saw him, I'd been peripherally aware of the other friends we'd both been walking with greeting each other. But all I could bring myself to do at that moment was stare dumbly at Pete. After what happened between us last night, I expected that somehow he would look different to me now. Fuck, nothing else seemed the same to me today, so how could he? I think I stopped dead in my tracks for a second, then, at the sight of Pete looking absolutely like his normal self, squarely meeting my eyes with his own, and grinning at me. But even though Pete looked the same today, seeing him hit me entirely different now. Today, looking at Pete threw me off completely. At that moment I saw him, I felt paralyzed under Pete's gaze. I wasn't sure if I even managed to return his smile or not. For a few long seconds, it seemed like I was naked and exposed under Pete's eyes, like he was looking right through me, as they burned into me with an intensity that'd left me feeling shaken ever since then. Even worse than that, though, was the faint slipping of his smile and the brief flicker of recognition I caught in Pete's eyes as he read my expression just before we passed each other. Neither one of us said anything, but it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me all the same. As soon as Pete was gone, I immediately ditched the friends I'd been walking with. I bolted for a bathroom, locked myself into one of the stalls, and stood with my head buried in my hands as I gasped for the breath I'd somehow lost at the sight of Pete. Leaning back against the door, I gulped down air as desperately as if I'd just been drowning. Fuck, I had to get a grip on myself. I could tell Pete had just been able to spot the turmoil that was ripping through me today, and I cursed myself for having let him see that. I hated myself, too, for running and cowering in a fucking bathroom, like I was some scared-ass little kid. Now, as I was heading over to the party where Pete said he'd be, I wasn't dragging my feet as I headed across campus like I had on the walk over to Pete's dorm the night before. Tonight I was practically running to the dorm where Pete would be. I was exhausted and disoriented. I couldn't take this shit anymore, and it seemed like talking to Pete was my only lifeline or way out. When I arrived at my friend Alex Hannon's dorm, the boisterous combination of blaring music and rowdy shouting announced that the party was already well under way. I greeted some people I knew who had drifted out into the sticky, beer-drenched stairwell on my way up to Hannon's suite. And as I walked through the door it immediately became apparent to me that I had some problems. For one thing, the place was packed. It took me a minute, then, to scan through the crowd and locate Pete on the other side of the room. Pete appeared to be fully absorbed in a game of beer pong he was playing against a guy from the rugby team, and it hit me just how hard it would be to talk to him about last night here. Not only that, as soon as I laid eyes on Pete I quickly realized I had no fucking clue what I wanted or needed to say to him either. And with all these people around, I could also forget about getting to do anything more with Pete here. I was beginning to feel discouraged and unnerved, too, that I now found myself needing to sneak around and hide secrets from people like this when I suddenly heard my name and felt a strong hand slapping me on the back. "Soto!" The voice roared as I turned toward the sound. Hannon. Alex Hannon was a junior on the school's rugby team who was famous, and perhaps a little infamous, around campus for his skill on the playing field and for his popularity with the women at our school. He'd also been one of the upperclassmen leading the backpacking trip I'd gone on during orientation week back in the fall. We'd hit it off immediately on that trip since my lifetime of outdoor experience had made me more or less another de facto trip leader rather than just another sheltered freshman from the city who was afraid to sleep out in the woods. Since then, Hannon had taken me under his wing all year, giving me useful pointers on how to avoid some of the more embarrassing perils of our school's social scene and making sure I came to all of his own parties. "Hey!" I shouted over the music, flashing him a smile as I shoved my concerns about Pete to the back of my mind, knowing I needed to get a grip on myself and act normally. "I thought you told me you weren't gonna come?" Alex asked, looking surprised as he chugged down a long swig of beer from the bottle he was holding. "Changed my mind," I shrugged. "... It was a tough call, but I decided I might actually feel like less of a loser coming here than I would've if I'd stayed in studying for my finals." Even though being singled out by a popular upperclassman like Hannon had definitely elevated my status in the eyes of many of my first-year classmates, we still liked to give each other endless shit about which one of us was the `cool' one. "Damn right," he laughed. "If you'd actually choose sittin' in your room with your library books over this..." he paused to gesture out towards the party with his beer bottle, "... I would've had to boot you off the trip next year." Hannon and I had volunteered to come back to campus early for next fall's orientation week so we could lead one of the freshman backpacking trips together. Which one of us would be the one really leading that trip had recently become the subject of much trash talk between us, too. "... Besides," he continued, tapping my chest with the mouth of his beer bottle and dropping his voice as if he were about to impart some piece of profound wisdom upon me. "... Wednesday is the new Saturday, dude." I laughed. "Isn't that what you said about Thursday last week?" "Hey," he chuckled, probably remembering now that he had, "every day's the fuckin' weekend here." "Of course," I smirked, rolling my eyes. "So how's this one goin'?" "Awesome," he replied emphatically, his eyes lighting up as he ticked them across the room. I followed his gaze and quickly figured out what he was referring to. Jessica Lewis, a pretty sophomore on the college's swim team, was standing over there looking back in our direction. She colored a little when she noticed our eyes on her and then turned back to the cluster of friends that must've been speaking to her. Hannon looked back at me, the excitement evident in his eyes as he repeated: "Awesome..." I rolled my eyes at him again, laughing since the expression on his face reminded me of a kid who'd just gotten his first baseball glove. Hannon had been after this girl for months now, and I'd be glad if this meant the end of me having to listen to all the endless juvenile `breaststroke' jokes he used to mask his genuine interest in her. "Then why the fuck are you over here wasting your time on me?" "Just waitin' for the right time to seal the deal," he replied, smiling confidently. I glanced back over at Jessica and caught her looking at us again. It certainly seemed like Alex had reason for his sudden confidence about her, so I was happy for him. But a nagging thought also came, unbidden, from the back of mind: But what would he think if he knew about me and Pete? As I was turning my eyes back to Hannon, they swept over the corner of the room by the beer pong table and fell onto Pete. Pete had been looking at me, too. As soon as he saw I'd caught him, Pete glanced away, shook his head a little as if to clear it, and returned his attention back to the game in front of him. I watched as he then lifted his right arm to aim his next throw. I became completely transfixed by the dancing, shifting movement of the thick muscles in his forearm. When Pete released the ball, I followed its arc through the air with my eyes while everything else in the loud, boisterous room suddenly seemed to fade into silence. All I could hear at that moment was the ping pong ball squarely hitting the inside of one of his opponent's plastic cups, plunging into the beer, and spiraling down to the bottom. The distant thud of that impact hit me like a ton of bricks. It echoed in the thudding of my own heartbeat and reverberated in the simultaneous flip I felt in my stomach when I looked at Pete lighting up in triumph, raising his arms, and flashing his irresistible smile. Pete's game was always perfectly planned and masterfully executed. Watching it was a thing of beauty. Fuck. Shaking my head, I brought my eyes back to Alex, realizing my concentration had completely deserted me when I'd seen Pete. I'd also lost all track of whatever we'd just been talking about. I fumbled for something to say to him until I glanced down at the bottle in his hand and found an opening: "Hey, do you have any more of those?" I asked, pointing to the bottle. "I'm not sloshed enough yet to drink whatever cat piss you've got in the keg." "Depends who's asking," Hannon smiled, oblivious to my recent distraction. "... But I probably don't have any for punk-ass freshmen who think they're too good for my party but not for my beer." Hannon was a beer snob, so he always kept his own stash of expensive microbrew IPAs and stouts in his room. That had actually been another big benefit of being his favorite underclassman, though, since he was always very generous about sharing with me. "Hey, I never said that I was," I protested. "... But it looks like I'll need somethin' else to entertain me here after you ditch me for Jessica the next time she bats her eyes at you." Hannon looked back over at Jessica, and I could tell any thought of giving me more grief quickly dropped out of his mind. "Sure..." he replied absently, still watching her for a second before he turned his head back to me. "... I think there's still a few cold ones in my fridge." He reached into his pocket, fished out his room key, and handed it to me. "Take a couple if you want." "Thanks, man," I smiled and clapped him on the back, nudging him over in Jessica's direction. "... Now let's see some of those moves you're always talkin' so much shit about." Hannon flashed another quick smile before he started sauntering over to that side of the room. I followed him with my eyes long enough to see him approach Jessica and start talking to her before I turned to make my own way across the party to the small hallway that led down to his room. I stopped a few times along the way to say hello to some of my other friends, and when I'd almost made it across the room I turned to look back over to the corner with the beer pong table. Pete wasn't there anymore, though. When I saw that, I immediately felt my stomach sink as I realized I'd lost track of him. Feeling disappointed over something as silly as that quickly disgusted me, so I hurried my steps to get away from everyone and collect myself. I made it down the short hall to Hannon's room, unlocked the door, and was pushing it open when I suddenly saw an arm reaching out from behind me and pressing on the door. At the exact same instant, I also felt another hand on my back between my shoulder blades nudging me forward into the room as the door swung open in front of me. I was too fucking surprised to even jump. I just as quickly found myself inside Hannon's room and felt the hand on my back spinning me around until I was suddenly face to face with Pete. Immediately, Pete pulled my chest tightly against his with the hand he had on my back as I heard him kicking the door closed behind us. Before I had time to speak or to even react at all, Pete's lips were on mine. I closed my eyes. Fuck, his lips. They felt so soft and smooth against mine. But they seemed strong, too, pressing against my own and urging them open. Then I felt Pete's tongue slide into my mouth, and I instinctively stretched forward with my own to meet him. They tangled together for a long minute, but Pete kept reaching further into me, pushing our kiss until it became deeper and more insistent than anything we'd done last night. It felt like Pete was fucking devouring me, and after a couple of minutes I found myself struggling for air until he pulled his lips off mine and broke our kiss. Stunned and panting for breath, I couldn't even manage to open my eyes yet, but I felt Pete's stubbled cheek sliding against mine until his ragged breath washed warmly over one of my ears. "God, I fucking want you," he whispered, the smooth, deep sound of his voice pouring into my ear and humming through my body straight down to my throbbing, rock hard dick. I gasped out loud, too, when I felt Pete reach out his tongue to lick lightly along the edge of my ear before he dropped his lips down to kiss me, softly, on my neck at the spot just below. "I want you," he whispered again into my skin, his tone more urgent this time. I felt Pete's cheek scratching against mine as he pulled back to look at my face. I opened my eyes to meet his, and I immediately felt overwhelmed by the intensity I saw in them. I couldn't think of anything to say before Pete's lips crashed back down to mine. His kiss was deep again, and I felt part of myself buckling under its insistence. But there was another part of myself, too, telling me this was too risky. That part won. I wrested my mouth away from Pete's and finally spoke: "Pete, we can't do this..." I panted, trying to catch my breath after that kiss. "There's..." I stumbled to put everything that'd been wrenching through my gut all day into words, but I could only stammer out the one thought that seemed the most immediate now: "... There's too many people here," I explained, trying to look around him, over his shoulder, or anywhere except for Pete's eyes. At that moment, I wasn't entirely sure if I was worried about being caught for his sake or for mine. It was yet another thought I didn't like, and I'd had way too many of those today. I felt Pete's hand on my back pulling my chest even more tightly against his until he had my eyes again. "Relax," he said, his eyes serious and locked onto mine. "... People have better things to do here than worry about you and me." I quickly dropped my eyes down and nodded in response, suddenly feeling ashamed. Pete was right, and I felt foolish and self-centered now for thinking anyone's attention here would revolve around the two of us like I'd just assumed it did. "But... I think we should talk about-..." I began to protest weakly until he cut me off. "...-I know what I want," Pete said firmly, his deep hazel eyes burning into mine. "... And I have for a long time..." Pete exhaled a little then and relaxed his grip on my back slightly before he continued: "... But I know maybe you can't say the same," his eyes dropped down from mine for a moment and then returned. "... Whatever happens from here is up to you, Max. But you think about things way too much." The shadow of another expression briefly flashed across Pete's face as he said that. It happened so fast that I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it looked something like fear. "... I liked it," Pete continued, hardening his eyes once again. "... I want to do more with you. And I have a pretty good idea that you do, too..." As he said that, Pete reached down and lightly cupped his hand not holding my back against my dick. I was bone hard and tenting out the front of my shorts again, and I immediately felt myself throb against his touch. Pete didn't squeeze or grope me at all, though. He just rested his hand and fingers against the length of my shaft pulsing inside my shorts. I drew in a sharp breath as soon as I felt him touch me there, and I stopped breathing entirely while Pete left his hand on me. Fuck, it felt incredible to have Pete touching my dick. "... I can tell you want to..." Pete said, his face breaking into a grin as he spoke. He backed away from me slightly while he went on: "... I think you know that, and..." Pete then deliberately dropped his eyes from my face down between us. I followed his gaze with my own and nearly passed out when I saw the large tent pushing out the front of Pete's shorts as well. He removed his hand from my crotch so that our matching erections were stretching towards each other less than an inch apart. It looked... it looked really fucking hot. "... I think we're both way past the point of denying it now," Pete said. I brought my eyes back up to meet his. Pete's were serious, locked onto mine as though they were pleading his case with me as much as his actual words were. "... Please, for tonight, just leave it at that, and let us enjoy it." As he said that, Pete leaned back in to me and kissed me deeply with his tongue one more time. This had all happened much too fast for me to process, but I felt myself responding, fully, to Pete's kiss this time, wanting it just as much as he did. Pete pulled back and grinned at me before he turned away and walked across Hannon's room to his fridge. He dropped down to a catcher's crouch in front of it, and I felt my eyes drinking in the sight of Pete's ass filling out the back of his shorts so nicely. He opened the fridge, reached inside, and grabbed a bottle of the stout Alex had been drinking out at the party. I watched the defined muscles of Pete's calves flex and shift under his tanned skin as he then stood back up and turned to face me. Pete opened the bottle for me as he walked back across the room and spoke again. "I'm going back out to the party now," he smiled, "but I'll leave for my room when I'm done with the beer I was drinking out there..." Pete stopped less than an inch in front of where I'd still been standing motionless as I watched him. He leveled his eyes with mine again and I felt myself getting caught up in that strange magnetism I felt anytime his body was this close to mine. "... If you're still in, come over," Pete said, handing me the beer and smiling confidently. I was just staring into his irresistible hazel eyes, and I could tell he knew he had me. Pete leaned forward and kissed me then, this time just lightly brushing his soft lips over mine. After that, he rested his forehead against mine and dropped his voice lower one more time: "God, it was so good last night... Fucking incredible, actually... And we're good, too, Max. No matter what you decide... we're good, too." Pete quickly pulled back as soon as he had spoken the words, looked me in the face, and smiled seriously. With that, Pete walked past me, adjusted his dick in his shorts, opened the door, and went back out into the shouts of the party while the door clicked shut behind him. "Fuck..." I quietly exhaled the word under my breath. It was more an expression of how absolutely overwhelmed I'd been by Pete's advance than of anything else. Alone in Hannon's room now, my throat felt completely dry, so I took a long pull of my beer and tried to process what the hell had just happened. For just a fraction of a second before he left, I'd seen Pete's face falter nervously, and it hit me then just how much balls it had to take for Pete to put it out there like this. He must really want more, that much was clear, but I sensed in my gut that there was something beyond just horniness pushing Pete to suddenly advance on me so strongly tonight after two long weeks of neither of us making any moves. I thought about it, standing there nervously peeling the label off the bottle in my hand, and realized it seemed like something had spooked Pete. No, not something. Me. I had scared him. I'd suspected that Pete could tell I was freaking out when we'd seen each other this afternoon, but now I was certain of it. It'd bothered me a few times before how transparent I apparently was to him, and I suddenly understood that Pete must have put everything together: The wreck I'd been today. The two weeks of absolutely nothing before last night. That night I'd been so wasted and then choked when I'd gone to make a move on him... Pete was a hell of a smart guy, so he must've pieced together what a fucking head case all this had made me. I felt my face slipping into a scowl as I ripped the remains of the label off the bottle and tightly balled the paper up in my fist. I hadn't ever talked to Pete about any of this, but somehow he still knew what was happening. It was freaking him out now, too, and I was absolutely sure it was because he was blaming himself for all my shit. I knew Pete. I knew that whenever a problem came up with his team, or his friends, or his family that he completely internalized everything. So I knew that in his own mind he'd probably twisted my own stupid bullshit into somehow being all his fault. He'd probably been tearing himself apart because of that, too. Suddenly overwhelmed with frustration at myself, I hurled the balled up label into Hannon's trash can. I'd scared Pete, and now I was certain he'd spent this afternoon and tonight anxious about the same question I was: Could I do this again? Messing around with Pete once was one thing. I'd done what I needed to prove to myself that I really was open-minded enough to give it a shot. I had faced up to it, and I wasn't scared now. Well, not in the same way at least. Now I was just really fucking overwhelmed is more like it. Doing anything with Pete twice seemed like it would be really giving in to it. There'd be no denying it, no justifying things or rationalizing them away as some fluke or experiment. I wouldn't be able to pretend this was simply curiosity anymore. It would be something more than that. I sighed and took another long swig of my beer. Pete had probably been thinking all these same things, but then he'd decided to make a move on me here. Why? Sure, he'd probably been just as debilitatingly horny all day as I'd been. Fuck, we didn't even have time to get off last night. But I knew Pete would never have pushed me along like this if he'd thought that going further wasn't what I wanted. No, it was true; I did want it. I mean, it was pretty fuckin' obvious since my dick had been hard most of the day just replaying everything that happened between us. When it came down to it, too, that's what I'd been disturbed by most today: I liked it, and, good God, I wanted more. But I was also freaked out by how much I liked it. A big part of me didn't want to face that I wanted to do more with Pete because it still, even after last night, felt like it wasn't really... I don't know, me. I mean, I'd had fun, but it didn't have to change who I'd always been... Right? I was tripped up on that question all day, but now it seemed like maybe that's exactly what my problem was and nothing more. Maybe Pete really had been right to say that I was just thinking about all this too much. Actually, Pete had an annoying way of being right about almost everything, so I wondered if I should just trust him on this too. Why did it have to bother me just how much I'd liked being with Pete last night? There was no good reason. Why shouldn't I just accept that we both enjoyed it, leave it at that, and then let us both really enjoy it? Suddenly, the anxious parts of my mind quieted. I couldn't think of anything that could argue with Pete's logic, so I turned and headed for the door. I was mentally collecting myself and trying to will my dick to go soft again so I could go back out to the party when I quickly made another decision, too: I wasn't going to do this half-assed. Going for it with Pete half-heartedly was not an option. There'd be no point in doing anything with him if I wasn't going to really put myself in it and let us both enjoy it, just like there was no point in running a race if I didn't give it everything I had. Whenever I was with Pete, then, I resolved that I would really be with him. I'd clear my head and leave all this doubt and confusion out of Pete's sight. Pete didn't need to deal with this shit. I vowed to myself right then and there that I wouldn't let Pete see any of this hesitation from me anymore either. I was going home in six days. If I still needed to figure this shit out by then, I could do it while I was there. In the meantime, I knew I wanted Pete, and now I decided to quit being such a fuckin' wuss and just go for it. I was in for a penny, in for a fuckin pound. **** To be continued.