Date: Fri, 24 Jun 2011 00:04:10 -0400
From: Jade <phantomscorpio77@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay/High School : In the Shadow of Our Lives - Wings of Tomorrow 5

Copyright © 2011 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved.  No part of this book
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>>).:.(<<

In the Shadows of Our Lives
Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow V
~ Someone to be Thankful For ~


"So they say he's a madman
And he don't understand,
But I know that he's tryin' hard
To act like a man.
All those years he has suffered, my friends,
All those years of pain.
But I don't think he knows for sure
If those years were in vain."

Dreamer, by Europe


>>).:.(<<

JON

It's somewhere between 7:30 and 7:35 a.m.  I know because I've only hit my
five minute snooze once so far.  Chris knocks on my bedroom door and lets
himself in.  He's crying.  I sit up in bed, shaking off my morning daydream
that is now free to run wild in the wake of Sunday's development with Paul.

"Whats wrong Babes?" I ask as he sits on the edge of my bed.

"Drew Bouvaird's dead.  His dad just called my dad.  As if we were even
friends.  They found him dead in his dorm, he hung himself some time after
heading back to his dorm yesterday.  Happy Thanksgiving...Must have not had
anything left to be thankful for," Chris relates between sobs.

I'm stuck, "Um, help me out here; Drew Bouvaird is who?"

"Remember the two guys that I told you about at Windham Academy that used
to pick on me regularly?  Bradley Braddock and Drew Bouvaird?" He asks.

Tim is at my doorway, already showered and dressed for school.  I'm drawing
a blank, "No, I don't remember if you ever even mentioned the name of the
private school to be honest, let alone the names of the guys."

Chris sniffles, I hug him before he starts, "They were roommates and best
friends.  Both picked on me a lot.  Yet when it was just Drew and I, he
talked to me so nicely.  Usually it was just a hushed apology for how he
has to act in front of Bradley.  But inside I could see he was so tender.
So many times I remember clearly thinking that even when they ganged up on
me, if he weren't putting on a show for Bradley that he and I could have
been together."

Chris sobs a bit more and takes a minute or so to regain his composure.  He
continues, "Bradley used to humiliate me.  Often.  Drew?  I could see it in
his eyes that he was sorry the times Bradley made him pick on me.  I always
thought he might be gay.  Even just into puberty, he spiked on my gaydar.
And you know my gaydar is damn good."

"So, he was gay and hung himself for it?" I surmise.

Chris nods affirmatively, "That's what they're thinking.  He sent out a
mass email, some sort of apology or open letter.  The police figure the
part directed at me in his apology is pretty hard to misinterpret.  I never
got it because I have him blocked.  That's why his dad called mine."

I could use some clarity, "Why do you care?  You weren't friends and he
picked on you enough to make you quit that private school."

He explains, "I don't know.  Because I saw through it.  He was just doing
what he had to, to survive, like me, not fighting it.  I know it was still
sort of harassment, but I know he was kind and didn't want to do it."

I make eye contact with Tim.  He's points to himself and nods to the door,
as if asking if he should leave.  I shake my head `no'.  Turning my
attention back to Chris I search for understanding, "Babe, he harassed you.
Whether he wanted to or not is irrelevant.  The fact that he took pity and
was apologetic doesn't belie the fact that he was still just being an
opportunist, preying on you.  So why the fuck do you care about him at
all?"

Tears are streaming down his cheeks, "Because his kindness was the only
kindness I knew once I started to appear effeminate to all the guys.  In my
head I believed it was the closest thing I knew to love in my whole life
then, living in a rich-kid dorm less than an hour from home for 9 miserable
years of school."

The floorboard creaks as Tim shifts his weight.  I feel his body tense in
my grip when Chris looks up and notices Tim, "Hi Tim.  I'm Chris."

Tim takes Chris's extended hand and shakes it, throwing in a half hug like
sports players give each other.  He rests a foot on the corner of my bed.

"Despite the circumstances it's nice to finally meet you," Tim addresses
Chris.  Turning to me he knowingly suggests, "Guess I'm going to school
alone today Farrows?  Looks like Chris needs you right now."

"Yeah they say that all good things must end," I jest, "This is the best
attendance streak ever for me, not that I necessarily consider perfect
attendance such a good thing, but I guess even this was bound to end too!"

"Yeah, two and a half months without skipping off school and only late a
few times, I think there's a Nobel prize for that - not!  Sorry for your
loss Chris," Tim says and heads to the kitchen.

As Tim throws some food together for school downstairs, Chris comments,
"He's calling you by your last name?"

"Yeah, call it a compromise," I say as I roll my eyes.

"But don't other kids add faggot to the front of it?"

"Not anymore.  At least not to my face, and not around Tim.  He didn't like
any nickname for me after I got him to stop calling me Cheesedick, so he
just went with his standard of using everyone's last name.  You know that
guy Train from the football team I told you about?  He calls me Farrows
too, and no one at school is going to go out of their way to piss him off,
not alone or with his linemen buddies," I say as I hop out of bed, no
longer worried about Tim seeing me naked when he comes back upstairs for
his book bag.  I don't make him uncomfortable, and after my sexual
exploration with Chris, I don't feel awkward with him either.

I absently grab for a pair of underwear in my hand-me-down dresser from my
sisters and come up with a pair that Chris bought me in New York.  I throw
on my army fatigue cargo-pants and start to search for a shirt.  I come up
with an Iron Maiden concert shirt of Eddie as The Trooper to go with the
fatigues.

Chris shakes his head no at me, "I'm going to go back home and change into
a suit."

It dawns on me that he is already in a dress shirt and black khaki's, only
missing the suit jacket and tie.  I dig through my closet and come up with
my Sunday suit instead; black dress pants, black button down shirt, and
black and white striped tie.  I undress and excuse myself for a quick
shower.

My mind races in the shower.  I've been dying to tell Chris about Paul, but
I've always downplayed my obsession, because it's not fair to throw it in
his face; that I've got it way worse for Paul than I ever did for him.  I
hesitated when we talked yesterday at first, but did manage to tell him.
He was completely unreadable in reaction so I didn't gush, just sort of
stated the facts.  Chris asked for all the details, but we both knew he
didn't really want me to give many, if any.  I just left it as basic as
possible, that we just connected and eventually kissed.  He wished me all
the best with Paul.

I haven't even really told Tim anything yet.  He asked me to tell him
everything and I wasn't sure all of a sudden what to do.  At first I tried
to be vague, for like a few seconds, but this news is too huge for me to
keep a secret and Tim is my best friend ever.  I squeezed him as tight as I
could in a hug and thanked him, telling I won't try to kiss him anymore
because I now have the boyfriend I've been after.  When I told him of my
promise to Paul to not tell him, he playfully smacked me upside the head.
Of course he also thanked me and promised to keep his mouth shut, only
saying he's going to go to Paul and pull the same admission out of him
without revealing I only lasted a handful of minutes with my secret.  He
wants Paul to know he can be trusted.

Chris is catatonic and in the same spot on my bed when I return.  I don't
think he's even bothered to snoop around my room like he used to the few
times I had him over in the past.  Now it's racing through the back of my
head as I dress that this is all some messed up murder-suicide plot that
Chris is executing.  I scan my room for a suicide note, but none is
immediately visible.

"Chris, Babe, this isn't some sort of murder ploy because I told you about
Paul is it?" I try to sound light and playful as the words slip my mouth.
Instantly I want to kick myself for letting my big yapper always voice the
fact that I'm an idiot.  A cheesedick to be precise.  Tim's right; I really
am a cheesedick!

As Chris addresses my tasteless joke his beautiful crystal eyes well up
again.  He sullenly answers, "No.  I love you too much.  We'll both find
the right guy someday.  Maybe Paul is the right guy for you.  Remember, I'm
the one that forced the split.  Shit yeah, I'm jealous of Paul even though
I have no right to be.  Fuck it; I hate him a little, even if I have no
right to.  I mean, I don't even know him, and you say he's a nice guy.
I'll get over it soon.  I'll find someone better than you too, and we'll be
even!  But this is really about Drew.  I can't help it Babes, he was my
first true love."

"Kay, so why are we dressing up then?" I question.

As if talking to his shoes, he slowly answers, poignantly emphasizing the
deep thought that has gone into his actions, "It's just right somehow.  I
hope Bradley Braddock is there.  I want to throw it in his face that I've
survived him, and defend Drew's sexuality."

I finish getting myself ready and it's almost 8:30 when I follow Chris out
to his car.  He drives aimlessly for a while, using side roads to get home
rather than the freeways.  My mind is set at ease as I note the unkempt
state of his rooms while he changes.  I'm happy to see it as lived in and
disorganized as always; no more tidy than usual, no more messy than usual,
teetering just on the edge of what his parents will allow him to get away
with.  He's still a normal teenage boy in that regard, and he hasn't done a
clean-up in advance of a suicide.  As we head downstairs I relate my
observations to Chris, hoping I'm right while a distant part of me is still
uneasy.

I'm stop worrying when Mr. Milner greets us at the bottom of the stairs,
"Ready?"

"Ready," Chris answers.

As we head to the car Mr. Milner puts a hand to my shoulder, "Thanks for
coming for Chris.  Your being here for him means a lot to us."

"I think your exact words earlier were safety-blanket," Chris grumbles.

His dad turns to me with a look of exasperation, "Yes, they were.  What
Christopher isn't understanding about our argument earlier is that I said
that if he needs to go get you, Jon, as his safety blanket to get through
this, then to do it.  I didn't criticize, I simply stated.  Frankly, even
if your are just friends now, especially for the reason we're going to this
right now, I'm just glad Chris has someone to lean on.  So again Jon, thank
you for coming."

"It sort of goes both ways.  Chris has helped me through a lot too, Sir," I
accept before whispering in Chris' ear, "It's just too bad a damn fine
piece of ass like you had to be a bottom too!"

As we get into a 2001 Jeep Liberty with its luxury package fresh off the
production line, a perk of owning a car dealership, Dom asks, "What am I
missing?"

"I was just saying I know Chris would be there for me too," I lie, hoping
I'm not blushing as badly as Chris.

It's a quarter past 10 when we pull up to a really manicured home, not too
far from where Chris lives.  I don't know how to act in this situation;
I've never been to a funeral aside from my dad's, and I was a complete
wreck then.  I certainly don't know the protocol at whatever this gathering
happens to be for.  I silently follow Chris as he leads.  It apparently is
the Bouvaird residence we are at, the family of Drew are all being consoled
by various groups.

Making our way around, there is a group of guys our age all gathered in the
kitchen.  One guy is obviously the leader.  Chris addressed him, "Get what
you wanted Brad?"

"Christopher Milner," Bradley Braddock snidely condescends and then changes
his tone, almost as if pleading, "Let it go with him Chris.  Let it go."

"No can do Brad.  I can live with what you did to me.  Despite your best
efforts I can, and have, loved.  I let your actions towards me go a long
time ago.  But I can't let this go.  You know you're to blame," Chris
reviles.

Brad is silent.  Looking away and not really addressing anyone, one of
Brad's apparent henchmen offers, "Milner's right."

At first no one responds.  The adult conversations around us have stopped
and all ears are on us.  Chris seizes the spotlight, "Bradley Braddock,
ball of hatred that you are, you started this years ago.  Drew never fought
you; he always did what you wanted.  So now I'll stand up to you, for him
now as much as for myself then."

A man steps forward and challenges Chris, obviously Brad's dad, "Son, you
best leave.  'Round here you type don't go throwing words about.
'Specially not the ones you want to."

Somewhere in the background Mr. Milner raises his voice, "It's hard to be
shown the truth from someone you hate and fear isn't it?"

All eyes turn to Mr. Bouvaird as he clears his throat.  He nods agreement
to Chris, "I've lost my son.  The boy's right.  Andrew only ever wanted to
fit in, he was too scared to ever tell us.  Maybe it is his place to
speak."

"Drew would never have hurt a soul if it wasn't for you Brad.  Himself
included.  Drew would be alive and happy right now if you didn't always
have to control him.  Everyone knows clear as day that he worshiped you,
and you always left him dangling.  You of all people had to know he was gay
Brad!  I hope every day you live you carry the weight of his death and it
eats you alive," Chris accuses.  He is the picture of poise and confidence,
neither showing anger nor apprehension in his voice.

It's almost surreal; the way one by one the people disperse, leaving
Bradley Braddock alone.

As Chris turns to walk away Bradley meekly acknowledges, "It will.  It
already does."

Revealing more than he ever let on to me, Chris stops, but can't face
Bradley, "We loved each other once, Drew and I.  You took that away.  But
you know that.  Just like you know I hate you with every ounce of my being,
and always will."

We tour the house and talk with people occasionally as we do so.  Instead
of focusing on the fact that he never told me that he was that close to
Drew, I instead question Chris, "What are you looking to find?"

"You see everything in music, like songs are the gateway to your soul.
Concrete Blonde, Jon.  Their song Joey, the lines always played through my
head.  `All is forgiven', `Joey, I'm not angry anymore'.  I forgave Drew in
my heart a long time ago.  Maybe I just want to find something, I don't
know - a picture maybe - anything really, to put my mind at ease now too,"
Chris deflects.

"He's gone Babe.  You're not going to find some kind of proof here that he
loved you," I persist.

Chris frowns, "No, but I can find some sense of him.  I can find some
closure.  Think of your observations of my room earlier, and then look at
his room.  Not a thing out of place like the rest of the house would mean
he was barely living and going through the motions.  Total chaos would mean
he had inner rage against his life.  I don't see either; his room looks
tidy enough yet lived in, but I do see a poster of *N SYNC.  We all live so
far in our shells, trying not to draw attention.  He was no different.  He
was just like you and I.  Only we managed to stick our heads ever so
slightly out of that shell.  Me more than you, but we have.  I guess he
couldn't handle that option."

One of the guys that was with Bradley when Chris confronted him in the
kitchen walks up behind us and addresses Chris, "Milner.  We're having a
brew for Drew out back.  In the end, we figure maybe you knew him best of
all of us.  Have a beer with us in his honor?"

The group is quiet.  Bradley is noticeable in his absence.  After the one
beer Chris finds his dad and we leave.

I'm supposed to work at the restaurant tonight but I can't leave Chris like
this.  I call work and try to get the night off, explaining that I really
need to keep a friend from possibly hurting himself.  My boss Rhonda won't
let me switch the shift, so I tell her that even if he is an ex-boyfriend,
he matters a million times more to me than her stupid job and quit over the
phone.  Not what I wanted to do, but there are more important things in
life I suppose than work.  I can always try and see if Daniel's uncle will
take me back as a busboy or dishwasher.

Instead of school and work, I spend a couple days with Chris.  We go to a
viewing Tuesday night.  I can't even describe how it feels.  I never knew
the guy but damn, it sure sinks in.  Pictures of Drew show a good looking
rich guy with an ever-present, playful smile.  The pictures make it look
like he loved life so much, and yet he hanged himself to end that life.  It
feels like I am outside of my body as I go through the two days.

I feel absolutely disconnected from Drew, but I feel the enormity of his
situation.  He was my age; he had friends and what looks like an
honest-to-God, loving family.  He was outwardly happy for all intents and
purposes, and his parents very clearly lived for him.  And yet inside he
was miserable.  Miserable enough to end his own life.

I never in my life have even entertained the idea of suicide beyond the
general idea of it.  You know like, if I were dead maybe they'd be sorry,
or I wouldn't feel this bad if I were dead.  Beyond that I am way too
chicken.  Almost every method has to involve more pain than I care to think
about, and once you've done whatever method you choose, you have whatever
time left before you die to think about what you've just done.  What if you
decide it was a mistake?  You're screwed then.  I've never wasted any real
thoughts as to how I'd do it, not even when I've felt sorry for myself and
thought that death would be easier than going on.  No, even in my worst
moods I've never been able to plan my own death.

Instead I've committed social suicide and embraced my sexuality.  I've
accepted myself, and told a few important people in my life that not only
am I gay, but that quite honestly, I am mostly okay with being gay.  As
private as that is, and with as few people knowing as possible, it is still
quite condemning.  What other people will think is the only downside to
being gay.  Well, that and a much smaller pond to fish from, although my
`fishing rod' definitely thinks it just nabbed a keeper this past weekend.
But at least I've chosen to live with who I am and to dream of better days
ahead, and good times for now with my family and friends that are here for
me, not to mention my new boyfriend!

It is unfathomable that someone my age can die before his life has had a
chance to really start, let alone the gravity of the situation that ended
that life.  His story is my story more or less, just like every other
closeted gay teen in a hate–filled world.  Worse to think, someone close
to me was just choosing to crack open the closet door around the same time
that this kid, Drew, was choosing to end his life.  What would have
happened if this was Paul that hung himself after kissing me and not some
random kid that I never in my life met?

Sick and twisted as it is, I liken this past Thanksgiving weekend to the
old game show Let's Make A Deal!  For Paul, I was behind curtain number
one.  For Drew, a homemade noose was behind curtain number two.  I don't
care to fathom what might lie behind curtain number three.  Yup, Mr. Monty
Hall, I traded up and got the man of my dreams, and all it cost him was a
corndog at a fair, and the both of us some ride tickets!  I'll keep him and
head home beyond happy!  No sir, let's absolutely NOT make a deal!

My mind is numb through the funeral the next afternoon, like I'm walking
around on valium.  I remember holding hands with Chris, I remember being
very obviously gay with him.  I remember Matt Johnson from my school being
there to see it all.  I've never even so much as spoken with him as he is a
year younger, and I had to fish his name out of a yearbook.  I don't
recognize his boyfriend.  They were holding hands when Matt and I made eye
contact.  I think without ever speaking, we wordlessly have agreed that
Drew's fate, or getting bashed with a bat, it the result of not keeping
each other's secrets and readily agreed to secrecy.  But aside from that,
in general, I have very few memories from the time we walked into the house
of the recently departed Drew Bouvaird Tuesday morning through the funeral
service Wednesday afternoon.

After school Wednesday night Tim stops by home on his way to a ball game.
He informs me that Paul has repeatedly expressed concern for me.  He has a
smirk as he goes to his room and grabs his personal phone book.  He places
the book into my hands with a wink.  The book is open to the H's and Paul
is the third name on the page, below Wayne Harris and Barry Hershey.

After Tim leaves for his game I go out back and plop down in a lounge chair
on the deck.  I take almost half an hour before I manage to screw up the
courage to call Paul, only to find out he's not home.  I leave a message
with his brother, saying that everything is fine; I'll be at school
tomorrow and to not worry about my half of the `project', that he'll be
happy with it.

After leaving a message for Tim I have a pressing need that needs to be
taken care of.  [No perverts, it's not in my pants!  Even though I am a
Scorpio and we are supposedly hyper-sexual, after a funeral today I need at
least a few hours before I masturbate!]  My pressing need is to find out
the name of a song.  I first call Dee, but she's in a meeting.  Ma knows
all kinds of songs, but she's useless when it comes to naming the artist.
There's only one person I know of other than Dee that maybe knows random
music trivia more than me.  Picking up the phone again, I dial a number
I've never risked calling yet for some reason.

"Yo, it's your dime," a guy answers.

I confirm, "Hi, is this Duncan?"

In a cartoon voice I don't recognize he answers, "Last I checked, yo!
Who's this?  I don't know you, you've got a messed up area code, dude.  Oh
shit, you're the police aren't you?  I swear, I didn't do it officer!"

"Dunny, cut back on the sugar!  it's Jon, from Houston," I state.

He sounds as hyper over the phone as I guessed him to be.  Switching to
another voice, one that sounds like Bullwinkle Moose, he fires right back,
"Du-uhh!  It was either you or my dead grandmother!  You kinda sound like
her, come to think of it, but you're the only person with a whacked-out
area code that has my cell number.  Not that I know what the area code for
Heaven looks like...so...Jiffy from Houston, you're on the air, wassup?"

"I can't believe I finally called you.  You sound as crazy as I imagined,"
I say through my laughing fit.

"I'mma plead the fifth on that one-yo!  I may or may not have just
shot-gunned like a whole bag of Skittles and a Mountain Dew.  Ow, damn-it
girl, don't hit me!  You gave them to me; you didn't say you wanted any
back!  Stop, stop, stop, Jiffy's on the phone, long-distance," Duncan says
in what I finally believe to be his real voice.  I love his accent, even if
he seems to be fighting with his fake girlfriend Yvonne.

When I get a chance I cut in, "Kay, you kill me, I'm going to have to call
you again 'cause you're too damn funny over the phone, but I've got a quick
question before I go to work."

"I'm flattered, but no sex on the first date, I have standards," Duncan
quips.

"I guess that's good for you, after using you I'd have to kick you to the
curb for something better anyway.  No, I called to use you music knowledge
instead," I joke back.

Duncan keeps distracting me from my purpose, "Kick my ass to the curb-yo?
Pshaw, as if!  I'm supposed to believe that all of a sudden now you're the
big, bad, dominant top who doesn't get strung out on love?  Sha-right!
You'd bow to me in bed just like you're bowing to my musical knowledge
right now!  Fire away, Dr. Dunny has the answer you're looking for!"

"Oh you so know you're a bottom too," I fight back.

"I'm a whole lot more versatile than you and you know it!  But I happen to
be in a lady's bedroom right now and don't wanna to get into that at the
moment.  So...about your question," Duncan steers the conversation.

"Kay, right.  So there's this song I heard at the funeral today that I'm
trying to figure out.  I didn't want to ask anyone there because it didn't
seem appropriate, and Chris didn't know either.  We both know the song, but
I can't place the guy singing.  He's British," I start.

"Sing it to me baby!"

"Good lord no!  I don't sing.  The words are something like `I want
somebody to love, share the rest of my life, da-da-da-da-da,
da-da-da-da-da, and then something about being converted and perverted, and
then not wanting to be tied to anyone else's dreams, but wanting something
different when he's asleep, and then something about getting away with it."

"You sooo butchered it, but that's `Somebody' by Depeche Mode," Duncan
states.

"You know this for sure?"

"Pshaw, bitch!  Trust me, that's your song!  I can e-mail it to you later,
or you can download it from my Napster now if you're near your computer.
It's a guy singing and playing piano right?  Depeche Mode, Morrissey, The
Smiths, Stone Roses, Blur; Brennan and my cousin Hazel totally got me into
all that stuff years ago," He confirms.

"Awesome!  Thanks!  Sorry to cut it short but I have to get my ass moving
for work.  I just quit one job yesterday so I better not be late at the
other one, but it's great to finally talk to you!  Say hi to your
`girlfriend' for me!"

"I'm so happy you called dude!  We for sure have to talk soon!  Peace-yo,"
he says and lets me go.

Almost two hours later Tim swings by the record store, freshly showered
from his game, to drop Jackie Wilson off for work with me.

I ask, "How'd you do?"

Tim starts throwing stats at me.  He looks so cute as he enthuses about it
so I pretend to understand exactly what he means when he says, "Two for
two, and a walk.  I had a single, a double, stole a base and got thrown out
at home plate.  You wouldn't guess it by the score, but it was a real
barn-burner.  Lots of contact, but mostly fly outs or ground outs.  It was
mostly three-up, three down.  We lost one-nothing."

"That's great," I say before I realize it's the wrong reaction.  I can see
Jackie Wilson chuckle to himself about my gaffe as he heads to the back
room to get his nametag.

Producing his phone book for the second time today, Tim hands it to me
again, "Yeah, well, you're up to bat now.  Your mom said you asked her to
not let you forget to bring this, and then you forgot it.  Give him a call
tonight and don't strike out."

After Tim leaves and Jackie and Bobbie-Sue are watching the floor, I start
loading the CD Jukebox with some of this week's new CD's, and pick a new
play rotation.  Last week was the first week of new music that I didn't
hate since Scorpions came out with Moment of Glory in September.  I just
don't like the current mix I have right now, there's not enough contrast
going on to have something for everyone while they're shopping.  New
releases from Backstreet Boys and Enya, along with compilations by Tim
McGraw and Johnny Cash get thrown into heavy rotation this week and I cut
back a little on last week's live albums from Oasis and Blink 182.

I spend almost an hour working out the playlist to make sure it's also
heavy on last week's new releases from U2, Spice Girls, Marilyn Manson,
Limp Biskit and The Offspring.  Rounding out this week and last week's
stack of CD's, I make sure to include some classics to go with the new song
from The Beatles 1 compilation, as well as the melancholy debut song Yellow
from a new band Coldplay, and a bunch of songs from my instant new
favourite for the moment; Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park.

Everyone that works for the store knows not to mess with the sound system;
that I've been in charge of programming it ever since my sister became a
manager here, even before I worked here officially.  When Somebody by
Depeche Mode off of their 1988 live album comes on for the third time,
almost hourly by design, Jackie becomes the only person other than my
sister with the balls to comment on my random throw-ins.

"Who is this?  I think that's the third time this song's been on and I
haven't been here three hours yet.  When you use it to follow up that
Yellow song, I don't know if you're trying to make people cry or if you're
about to slit your wrists," He comments.

I nervously tease Jackie, "Does it make you want to cry?  The big jock has
a sensitive side!"

"No.  Is that what you really think?  Besides, boys don't cry," He says,
looking away so that I can't see the sting in his eyes.

I don't know why I was suddenly a dick to him.  He's been really cool to me
at school lately, and always makes an attempt to talk music with me since I
hired him.  And on top of that, he could have told the whole world he saw
me and Chris holding hands back in the spring but has never even made
mention of it to me.

Right when he's about to walk away I get bold, risking a hand on his
shoulder to stop him, "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a dick.  I don't think
that, I just thought you were making fun of me."

Not turning to face me, he says, "You seem sad or something and that song's
either really happy, or really sad.  I was just seeing if you're good, you
know?"

"I know boys don't cry but I was at a funeral today for a friend of a
friend.  He was our age and took his own life.  I'm just a little depressed
by it all.  To me, the song's really happy, and I really feel it right
now," I share.

Jackie turns to me, and playfully teases a little loudly, "Why?  Are you in
love Farrows?"

She probably already knows through Chris, but still, with Bobbie-Sue in
earshot I deny it, "No!"

Jackie just smiles knowingly at me, "Then I guess the song's okay.  It's a
little cheesy, but if you're in love it's pretty bang-on.  I might even get
you to rip me a copy and get it on my Napster before Metallica has them
shut down for good."

When I get a minute I go to the back room to give Paul another call.  I get
his brother again, and have to think quick when I'm told Paul is still at
work and asked if and what message I want to leave for Paul, "Oh, sorry.  I
was just calling him about...uh, a song he plays.  I work in a music store,
you can probably see that on your call display, if you have call display.
I was uh, just seeing if he knew the answer quickly, uh, before I had to
look it up."

"Oh, oaky.  Well, good luck with that then.  You're the same guy as earlier
right?  I'll let P know you called again," His brother says and hangs up.

Getting distracted by a customer as soon as I get off the phone, I leave
Tim's phone book open in the back room.  Why I haven't already programmed
it into my cell phone is beyond me.  Later on I can only hope Jackie didn't
notice it any of the handful of times he went back there to do his restock;
my leaving out his best friends name and number in plain sight might just
stand out to him.  When I catch my mistake before the end of my shift I
work on memorizing Paul's number so I don't make the same mistake twice.

I don't think he did, because every chance he gets he keeps bugging me with
questions about who I am in love with.  I deflect it every time, but
Bobbie-Sue gives me knowing smiles every time he asks.  In turn, I try to
get to know a little more about Jackie to compensate for being a dick
earlier, and discover that he's dating a cute blonde from our grade named
Shannon, and that he plays guitar.  More importantly, he also plays bass
guitar in his garage band alongside Paul!  I try hard not to perk up each
time Paul comes up, but being best friends with Paul and another guy named
Wayne, Paul naturally comes up often from Jackie.

It seems important to Jackie that I don't think of him as just a jock.  I
swear I apologize a dozen times or so to him, but I'm so excited that he
and I are actually hitting it off.  I don't say anything to him about Paul
and me, just in case, but I'm getting a strong suspicion Paul is out to him
like I am to Tim.  I also think he knows I'm gay just because he's doing
the careful thing Tim was doing; never assigning a gender when he asks
about `who' I'm in love with.

The timing couldn't be better.  If I'm going to be secretly dating one of
his two best friends, it will help me get along with him in situations
where I'm not his boss.  Like when Tim bails on me in the weight room in an
attempt to give Paul and me a moment, but Jackie comes over to spot me
instead, because Tim always asks one of the two, rather than singling Paul
out directly.

Tonight is awesome in getting me out of a funk because I see Jackie in a
third dimension.  He's no longer just an employee to me, or the guy in the
weight room that has a curiously tight fistful that sits high and forward
in the front of his jogging pants.  [Hello, gay here, yes I look!  He also
fills out the crotch of his low-rider cowboy jeans quite nicely too.]  I'm
not as worried now, should he be around when Paul and I are hanging out.
Not like I'm going to do anything stupid and out either Paul or myself, but
it makes me so excited that I'm not as intimidated by Jackie as I was
before the day started!

Throughout our banter, before the end of the night Jackie, Bobbie-Sue, and
I all admit to crying to the movie Boys Don't Cry.  Jackie tells us about
the songs that he and his friends play, and the ones he likes.  It occurs
to me that next week when I change up the music playlist again that I
should include more country.  Despite living in Texas, it's a genre I
ignore too much in my selections.  The fact that Jackie likes at least 5
country artists compared to one pop/rock artist, and easily ten to one
compared to alt/hard rock/metal artists reminds me that my tastes aren't
the be-all and end-all.

Paul calls back when I'm at home.  I don't hear the phone because it's
downstairs and I have my headphones on, catching up on my homework that
Larry has so kindly brought home for me.  Tim nearly scares the life out of
me when I look up from my notebook to see him looming over me with the
phone.  Tim gets exactly the short scream he was probably hoping for by
sneaking up on me!  He then mouths to me that it's my loverboy and hands me
the cordless phone.

We quietly start a conversation that lasts over an hour.  It's easier to
say things over the phone sometimes than it is in person.  Up until the
past Sunday I was too afraid to talk at any length with him at all, let
alone in person, for fear of revealing my attraction to him.  Honestly,
well over a year ago was when I first started checking him out.  He was so
cute in his tight little pinstripe baseball uniform with his perfectly
shaped ass and glorious bulge in front, the sleeveless baseball shirt with
the black t-shirt underneath, and perfectly shaped and formed ball cap.

[Side note - I love our school's baseball cap.  Part of it is the gay me
loving the yellowish-orange colour with the maroon logo, but more if it is
me loving the boys associated with the cap.  I have a new one from Tim, and
as of this weekend, I now have one that comes perfectly molded right off
Paul!  I next to never wear hats - they're not my thing - but as soon as I
remember while talking to Paul, I take his off its hook on the back of my
door, breathe it in deeply, and then put it on.]

As we talk I reveal, "Daniel and I both almost always picked you out as our
`hottie of the game' when we went to your games to support Neil and Tim."

"Nah, you're just saying it," he tries in a hushed voice.  I can almost
feel him blushing over the phone.

I call him on it, "I'll bet you're blushing right now!  Well picture
yourself wearing your ball cap, the brim perfectly curved around your
rockin green eyes.  You're eyes pop because they are in contrast to the
hat, sitting there all glossy under the most perfect eyebrows and maybe a
bead of sweat on your brow, above just a few freckles and the most glossy,
kissable looking lips I've ever laid eyes on."

"Aw, stop it," Paul says with embarrassment.

I ignore his request and keep on, "The hat fits more with your perfect tan,
and neatly trimmed hair, but it's the slight rosey cheeks showing through
the tan, under that hat that make me want you in the worst way.  Probably
just like the blush you must be sporting right now."

"Nah, I'm not blushing," he counters.

"Sure you're not!  You blush all the time!  I know you do because it drives
me crazy," I argue.

He caves, "Fine, ya got me there.  I'm blushin!"

"Of course you are!  Now back to you on the field.  Your graceful arms are
catching and throwing the ball, taking a swing at bat or tagging someone
out at first base.  Your wicked chest and tight body is breathing a little
heavy, and you're showing off the most perfect bulges in the front and back
of your pants above perfect legs."

"That could be anyone, certainly not me," Paul tries.

He can't handle me complimenting his body, so what do I do?  I push it even
further of course, "Oh no, it's definitely you.  The hard-on in my shorts
right now when I think about your cupped crotch definitely means it's you!
Damn, the only thing I don't know for sure is if you even have feet.  I
mean, I should, you float so far off the ground in my eyes that they should
stand out!  If you weren't the hottie of the game, every game, then I have
bad eyes.  And if I have bad eyes, I don't want to fix them!  I don't want
to scare you off and have you thinking I'm shallow and only want you for
your looks; I just want you to understand how my whole body reacts to
yours."

After a moment of silence I'm getting really nervous, "Sorry if I scared
you off.  I guess I should have kept that to myself.  I swear on my life,
you could be a toad and I'd still be in love with you because of who you
are.  It's just a bonus that you're so damn sexy it hurts."

He protests, "Nah, no, it's not that.  I just have to be quiet.  Belinda's
asleep right here and my parents are still awake.  J's not home yet so we
have until he gets home."

"Is J your brother James?"

"Yeah, we share a room mostly."

"Does he know?"

"Hells no!"

"That's what I thought.  It's okay, I won't do anything to make him find
out.  Now that I have you I'll die if I lose you!"

He's embarrassed again, "I can't believe I look like that to you.  I mean,
no one's ever described me like that, like you just did.  Even with my
contacts in, I look in a mirror and I see these crooked eyes, and thin
eyebrows that I swear I don't pluck or tweeze or whatever, and these like,
painted lips.  I have bumpy skin and still get way to many pimples and I
don't like my freckles either; I wish the tan would hide them better.  My
arms are weird; I can't get my biceps big enough and my forearms are too
big, my wrists and elbows are too knobby.  I'm not fat like I used to be,
but my belly is certainly not tight like you describe it.  I'm with you on
my legs though, I like my legs.  And my noodle too, I like my noodle!  I
don't know about my butt.  It's a bit small on my legs I think maybe."

Thinking about his `noodle', I silently pump my fist in the air repeatedly.
If he's satisfied with it's size, it's got to be nice.  Instead of
commenting on the part of him that I hope to feel first-hand inside me
soon, I instead defend his butt's honour, "No!  Trust me, it's perfect!
Even Tim concedes that!"

"Speaking of, at least I don't have a hairy back.  He sorta let that slip
and I guess it's a turn off for you, so that's a good thing," He kids.

"Oh my God!  I am so going to go kill Tim right now!  I can't believe he
told you that!  Screw him!  In fact, it was him that was all worried about
your back if he's going and telling secrets," I reveal as I get up and head
to Tim's room, making sure he can hear the last part over whatever Mario
Brothers game he's playing.

Paul checks, "He's not gay too is he?  Have you and he ever?  Ah shoot,
nah, don't answer that.  I shouldn't have asked you that."

I've had one short conversation with Duncan over the phone, and somehow his
calling other guys bitches has already snuck into my terminology, "No, the
bitch is straight.  I see gay qualities in him, but as far as that goes,
he's comfortable with guys being gay and all, but we do nothing for him.
He's got some girl that has him totally frustrated.  His biggest fantasy is
blowing his load while fucking a girl between her tits."

Laying flat on his stomach on his bed, Tim pauses his game and deftly grabs
the phone from me for a second, "Sorry Hunter.  I know Farrows doesn't have
any fashion sense like me, but he cries out your name at night and he
cleans up pretty well.  You'll just have to settle for him 'cause you're a
little too flat-chested for me and your boy parts would get in the way.
And if you decided not to shave I'd have to kick your ass to the curb."

"Sorry about that," I say, grabbing the phone back from Tim.  I say it to
Paul over the phone, but tap Tim on the back of his shoulder blade and
mouth an apology to him before I leave him to resume his game.

"Do you guys share everything?  I know you told him Sunday.  He tried to
cover for you a little too late," Paul brings up.

"Yeah, sorry about that.  I owed him.  I know I promised you, but if
there's one person who's going to keep it a secret, it's Tim.  He's the
best friend ever.  I swear to you, I'll keep other things just between us,
but he knew we finally talked, and I didn't want to lie to him."

I don't think Paul is much relieved, "It's okay I guess, he helped calm me
down this week.  I'm still feeling kinda insecure about the whole thing.
If he didn't let me know time after time why you were away and that I rock
your world, I would have gone crazy when you didn't show up at school after
what we did on Sunday."

I joke, "He did that for you?  For me?  I knew there was a reason I was
keeping him around other the shirtless lawn mowing and free car rides to
school! "

With a pang of worry Paul asks, "Does he mow the lawn shirtless?"

"No, Ma would skin me alive if I let him do my chores.  But he does like to
be shirtless a lot and he doesn't think twice that he's a guy, and I'm into
guys.  You'll have to get used to it I guess.  It's not exactly a look but
don't touch policy or anything.  I've gotten past his body and have this
guilt built up if I even check him out.  He's been too good of a friend."

Paul catches me off guard, "Do you think he's hot?"

I speak before thinking, "Don't you?"

"Nah, you're more my type."

Dum-dum me has to go into damage control, "Well you're exactly my type.
Tim's closer to you than someone like me, so he sort of fits my type
totally, but you're the mould.  If he's my type at all then it's simply
because his body is a lot like yours.  I swear!"

"You think he's hot!  It's okay, I wouldn't kick him out of my bed either,
I'm just funnin ya."

Kay, that's a relief.  I still feel a compulsion to explain, "Like yeah, I
think he's hot.  He even looks a lot like this gay porn guy I saw.  To be
honest, that sort of killed it for me a bit, and while I like his body,
it's only 'cause it's like yours.  Honestly, I like yours even better.  I
thought I'd wet myself when he showed me his eight-pack he worked on over
the summer, but you abs are better.  Yours show when you breathe hard or
flex and they're all pillow-ey, for lack of a better word."

Paul's shocked, "Okay, you keep talking about my abs.  When'd you see my
abs?"

"Only all the time!  You flash them so often and never think twice!  I
sneak peeks as often as I think I can get away with it!  Seriously, you
always wipe your face with the bottom of your shirt when you start to sweat
in the weight room.  You do it like once a minute at least, once you break
a sweat.  Have you never noticed my boners when Tim asks you to spot me?"

"You try your hardest to hide them," Paul reveals.

I can't help but laugh, "Kay, you knew I throw wood for you and it still
took us this long to get together?  We're something I'll tell ya!"

He agrees, "I know, and Tim's the one that had to make it happen!  We're
something all right!  At least I am.  I've had a crush on you since gym
class in grade ten!"

"No you didn't," I protest, "You might recall I was there for that!  I was
in the same gym class as you and I would never look into your eyes because
you were an ultra-jock and I was a skid.  Plus you were good in gym and by
the end of grade ten, to me, it was just a compulsory subject.  I stopped
liking sports because I can't help but stare, and that's not a safe way to
get through high school while still mostly closeted.  But no way you liked
me then, kay?  I still don't know why you do now!"

Paul argues, "Nah.  Hate to tell you, but you're so wrong there.  As hot as
you were, you're the one that probably never even saw me back then.  You
were with Daniel and he was a little ball of muscle with the cutest face.
I was fat and had bad pimples."

"No way," I correct him and offer all kinds of evidence to the contrary,
professing that I liked him back then too.  That gets us talking about our
eye contact game.

We also talk about Michael Edwards and his baseball bat attack on Daniel
and I.  We talk about how hard it was for me to come out to friends and
family.  We talk about his family and his predicament therein.  I don't
bring up Jackie.  It's a touchy subject because I think Jackie knows I'm
gay and he acts as un-bothered about it as Tim does.  In fact, he seems to
be the one working at making a real friendship with me at work where I'm
his boss.

We then talk about Drew Bouvaird, and why I have been with Chris for
support rather than at school this week.  Close to midnight Ma comes up and
ends the conversation, warning me that I better not miss school tomorrow or
even dare to be late.  Once I'm off the phone I pop downstairs to start a
transfer of Somebody by Depeche Mode from Duncan's Napster.  While I wait
for it to queue, I fire off a quick email to Duncan to thank him for the
song and to fill him in on tonight's developments before Ma discovers me at
the computer and shoes me back up to bed.


>>).:.(<<

PAUL

Something momentous in my life happened two days ago, and it ended with me
and Jon Farrows being boyfriends.  We shared a good kiss when I drove him
home, but right when I was dropping him off I was really hoping for another
kiss and he instead grabbed my school ball cap from the backseat and bolted
from my car.  I had to make do with watching him sniff it in my rear view
mirror after I turned the car around and pulled away.

Tuesday morning I have a plan worked out to push him into an empty
classroom before classes and sneak a quick kiss.  Not likely to happen, but
I'm going to be on the lookout for just such an opportunity.

Instead, in the weight room at lunch Tim breaks it to me while I'm off on
my own doing some standing leg presses, "Don't worry Loverboy; some kid
died and Farrows took the day off to help his friend out who's a little
distraught."

Stepping away from the weight machine after completing my reps, I
unconsciously run a hand over my butt and the back of my thigh to massage
it.  I acknowledge Tim, "Oh."

"Yeah, don't worry, he was all eager to see this," Tim says and slaps my
butt.

Jackie, Wayne and a few of the guys look over when they hear the smack.
Tim just rolls with it as he puts more weight on the leg press, "Damn
Hunter!  That's one fine ass.  Keep showing me cleavage like that and I'm
going to have to jump the first pair of tits I find!"

Neil, who is working out with Tim today, teases him, "Want me to go get Nat
for you?"

Normally Wayne, Jackie and I work out together, or Wayne will partner up
with Neil on the days he's not in the cafeteria with his girlfriend Tania.
Today with Jon missing, Neil and Tim have paired up.  A few machines away
to do knee lifts with Wayne and I, Jackie raises an eyebrow to Neil's
comment and asks us, "What?"

Wayne heads for the water fountain to avoid getting involved.  Instead of
letting Jackie voice the question louder across the weight room to Neil, I
explain, "He likes Nat.  You do know he took her to the carnival this
weekend, don't you?"

Jackie is careful with his words, "Yeah, but it was him and Farrows and you
with her.  I thought...I didn't think he liked her.  I mean, I thought
maybe he and...oh nevermind."

"No Dude, I've tried to tell ya he's into your sister," I shrug.

He presses his body against my side and whispers to me, "Yeah, but she
thinks he's gay!  I thought so too.  She wouldn't have let him kiss her if
she knew it was a date!"

"What?  Why?"

Hurrying to get it out before Wayne gets back, he tells me, "Keep it on the
down-low 'cause she doesn't want the drama, but she and Barry Hershey are
seeing each other.  She and I both thought Tim and Jon were together!"

With Wayne back we change the subject to the NHL hockey season currently
underway.  I'm a Kings fan, Jackie is a Stars fan and Wayne likes the
Colorado Avalanche.  We change the subject because Wayne is mildly tolerant
of homosexuality at best.  He believes Jon and Tim are together and that's
why he walked away when Neil mentioned Tim liking Nat.

Before classes end for the day Tim invites me over after school.  I decline
as I have to pick Belinda up from her daytime sitter and get her to the
Wilson's so I can go to work.  Sometimes when things are too heated at home
I stay the night at Jackie's and crash on the couch in their stand-alone
garage and use a baby monitor for Belinda in their spare room.  Mr. and
Mrs. Wilson are pretty cool like that.  They've been friends with my
parents since before I can remember and help relieve the burden from my ma
and the stress from me.  Just around the corner from my house, theirs is
identical to mine.  Also like at my house, their garage is carpeted and
insulated for our dad's, and now us, to jam in with our bands.

Talking in the garage before heading to bed for the night Jackie notes,
"I'm still a little surprised you don't think Tim and Jon are together."

"Why would I?  I can't believe Nat is dating Barry and let Tim kiss her," I
counter, although I know Tim has talked to her hundreds of times about how
much he likes Jon's sister Candace.  Jackie and Nat have it in their heads
that that was just a cover for him liking Jon.  I remember once Nat even
tried to feel Jon out by kissing him.  I wonder if she noted that Tim was
probably way more into the kiss?

Jackie just looks at me like nothing could be more obvious, "Why would I
think those two guys are together?  Tim and Neil were rumoured, Jon and
Rice were rumoured.  Now Tim lives with Jon?  C'mon bro, it doesn't take a
rocket scientist."

I have to know if that's what thinks, then how does he feel about it, "So
what if Jon and Tim were together anyways?"

"Nothing, I guess.  I'd actually like Tim more if he were with Jon.  Now
that he's chasing Nat I'm not sure.  He shoulda asked me first or
something."

"I think he has, but you've blown him off," I point out.

Jackie snorts, "Well not anymore.  I'm watching him now.  He can keep it in
his pants.  'Course, so can Barry."

I venture to ask, "So how about Jon then?"

Jackie weighs his words carefully, "You know, I actually like the guy.  I
feel sorry for the shit everyone says, he's alright.  If guys are his
thing, he deserves to be happy too.  Maybe Wayne's right.  Maybe it's not
Tim he likes, maybe it is you he has a crush on."

"Whatever," I try to say as calmly and dismissively as possible, "What even
makes you think he's gay?"

"Partly 'cause Nat and I saw him and some other guy holding hands once.
Partly 'cause he smiles at you all the time, and mostly 'cause he always
looks up your shorts when you spot him," Jackie says with a guilty look.
Fuck me!  If he's seen that then what has he seen me doing?

I press, "And you're okay with that?  You're okay with him?"

"Yeah man.  Why wouldn't I be?  He's alright, he's on the quiet side at
work, but way laid back.  I'd even hang out with him outside of school and
work.  You know what P-Man?  We should hang with him and Tim this weekend,"
Jackie suggests.

I sound a bit too dismissive, "Yeah, maybe."

"C'mon man, you'll see, he's alright.  If he were dating any of my friends
I'd be okay with it.  Don't you think?  You did spend a whole evening with
him Sunday while Tim was trying to score with my sister, that's gotta count
for something.  He was probably trying to score with you too!"

"Get lost," I say defensively.

"Yeah, that's not fair.  I don't even know if he has a boyfriend or not.
Maybe you're too ugly for him!"

"Not my thing Jackie," I say.  I know if we're both paying attention I
never use his name ever when we talk, so my use of it now is out of
character.

"You don't have a problem with gays do you?  We never really talk about it,
but I think that they at least don't get you all jittery like Wayne," He
asks.

"No, to each their own," I say, hoping to redeem myself and hopefully keep
Jackie thinking that I'm straight too.

Jackie extends his hand for a fist bump, "Anyways, an important date with
my pillow awaits.  Remember Ma said not to worry about the monitor tonight.
She knows your last couple nights have sucked balls with your Ma.  6:30
enough time in the morning for you?"

"Yeah that gives me time to get ready and get Belinda ready," I answer
while returning Jackie's fist bump.  I know if the line is free he's going
to call his girlfriend before bed.  That if is Nat isn't already on the
phone with Barry.  I wish I could call Jon and talk before bed.

The next morning when I wait for Tim and Jon to arrive at school I am again
disappointed to see Tim alone.  He gives me the same assurances as
yesterday and says all is good; that the funeral is today and Jon will
absolutely be back tomorrow.  Today Tim works out with me, we work on our
arms, while Wayne and Jackie work on core training and Neil is in the
cafeteria with Tania.  Mickey Dawson and Ray Hart cycle in with us, trading
off weight machines as we go.  If anyone suspects anything is up, I
definitely don't notice.

>>).:.(<<

I'm sitting on the couch in Jon's living room with him, Tim, and Neil.
I've just come in from sitting on the steps of Jon's deck to his back yard.
Tonight Wayne and I waited for Jackie to finish work, and when he did we
had to head over to Jon's because Jackie wanted to borrow some CD's from
him.  So for a while my friends Wayne Harris and Jackie Wilson were there
with us in Jon's back yard too, however, they have just left.

I gave them the slip by saying I was going to catch up with Tim and Neil.
Wayne and Jackie are my best friends, and both are guys despite Jackie
having a girl's spin put on his name.  Jackie is actually Nat Wilson's
fraternal twin.  I say fraternal twin because Nat, or Natalie by proper
name, is a girl.  Why she goes by the masculine short form and Jackie goes
with the more girlish version of his name is beyond me.  It's just always
been that way.

Because my parents and their parents are church friends we've been thrust
together our whole lives.  Not that it's a problem for me; I am great
friends with both Nat and Jackie outside of church.

So, being with Wayne, Jackie, Jon and Tim has been a strange event.  I'm
dating Jon, even though we haven't had a moment alone yet since last
Sunday.  His best friend is Tim, who also just happens to be Nat's best
friend.  While I am friends with Nat aside from Jon's group, I am best
friends with her brother Jackie.  In a perfect world all would be great
except for a minor detail; Jon and I are both gay and in different levels
of still being closeted.  As for Wayne and Jackie, up until a couple days
ago I thought that it goes without saying that they don't know about me.  I
thought that they didn't know about me other than whispered rumors that
have been publicly shot down; that Stacey dumped me because I'm gay.

Ah Stacey, that witch!  Stacey Smith is my ex-girlfriend, and the mother of
my daughter.  Just so you know where some of the rumours about me started,
Stacey walked in one day to see me reading the Abercombie and Fitch
catalogue a little too intently.  It certainly wasn't uncommon for her to
just walk in and try to sneak up on me, ignoring how rude it was to always
show herself into my house, childishly hoping to scare me or catch me up to
something.

Seriously, the whole time we dated, she never knocked on the door.  She
would always just let herself in no matter how rude my brother James would
comment that it is to her.  So sure enough on that day that she accused me
of homosexuality, I was checking the boys in the A & F catalogue out, but I
was not in any way doing anything other than turning the pages and looking
closely.  My pants were not unfastened, the fly was zipped and my hands
were nowhere near my crotch.  I was however rather boned up at the time.

In actuality, at the time I was looking at a pair of low riding jeans that
I wanted, and thinking that while the guy was alright, my treasure trail
would look better in them than the guy in the ad.  She'd twist that
immediately and say I was checking the guy out, so I lied and said my eyes
were sore from the contacts so I wasn't wearing them, and I couldn't find
my glasses, so to really see anything I had to have the catalogue close to
my face.  The lie there being that I had my contacts out, but she could
never tell anyhow.

To any sane person my excuse would have worked.  But not to Stacey.  That
is the first time she accused me of being gay, and is the only thing ever
that could possibly support the claim.  That rumor went around like
wildfire; that I was masturbating to the A & F catalogue.  So I played the
card all guys use; I fought that one by telling everyone she is a drunk
stoner that purposely stopped taking the pill, lied about taking a
pregnancy test, and supposedly only found out she was pregnant after it was
already obvious to everyone but her, and too late for an abortion.  Further
to my argument now, I can add that the state will be permanently taking any
claim to Belinda away from her, AND that my case to get sole custody of our
little girl was all but rubber stamped even back at the time that she
spread the rumour, so it was just her trying to bring me down.

You see, back in September, at a party on the first weekend back to school,
she made a public scene in front of half the school telling everyone in
earshot that the State had awarded me sole custody.  She was drunkenly
screaming to everyone that I was gay and that she never wanted Belinda
anyway.  I pretty much beat the rap she was trying to give me of being gay
that day when I played it off to everyone that she was mentally unbalanced,
and that on top of her willingly giving up her parental rights, that the
State found her unfit for any custody of Belinda.  Who were the people to
believe, me or the drunken crack-whore?

Anyhow, back to the here and now.  Not being naïve, I figure that Jackie
knows about me for sure.  Jon hasn't out to him yet, but he told me he got
the same feeling that Jackie knows about him and that he's cool with it.
Jon swears that he hasn't told anyone, and has covered quite well for us so
far.  Heck, he's been so busy with his grieving friend that we have hardly
even talked.  I haven't told him yet that I think Jackie knows about me
too.

Now, while swearing that he hasn't told anyone, he admits that he told Tim
straight away.  Even though Tim's the one that forced us together on
purpose, I'm a little surprised that I'm actually relieved he knows, and
supports us.  It sure helped earlier in the week when I didn't know what
was going on with Jon.  I was concerned.  With good reason I might add,
when I think back to the days Jon skipped off school when he and Daniel
Rice started seeing each other, and again when Daniel left.  I was worried
sick that he had a change of heart with me and that last Sunday was a huge
mistake on my part.  Then Tim gave Jon my number that night, and Jon used
it, setting my mind at ease.  He left a message for me with my brother
James to call him about our `school project'.  When I called Jon back Tim
answered, and as Jon and I talked, Tim added a few good-natured jokes.

My worry is that other people have to know.  And once people know, who
keeps a secret for long nowadays?  If Tim's told Nat, at least I am quite
confident that Nat hasn't told Jackie about me.  If Jackie knew for sure,
I'd know.  He not a gossip but can't keep a secret to save his life.  It
just shows on his face that he knows something and is dying to keep it a
secret.  One question as to what he's keeping secret and he spills.  Yeah,
I'd have definitely heard it from him by now if he knew with certainty that
I'm in love with a guy.  Therefore Wayne and Jackie definitely don't know
about Jon and I being together yet.  No one knows that for sure yet,
outside of whoever Tim has told.

Speaking to Tim and Neil, I nudge Jon with my elbow, "I think Jon has
something he's been wanting to tell you."

Tim the comedian has to make it hard, "What?  That you're actually Jon and
Paul from an evil opposite universe and the real Jon and Paul are trapped
with the real Cartman on the other side?"

Jon interject, "No."

Tim goes on, "What then, even worse?  Don't tell me you're renaming me
Ringo instead of Timbo and changing Neil's name to George in order to
create the New Millennium Beatles?"

"Timbo!  Shut it already," Jon almost shouts, "We wanted to thank you for
setting us up as official boyfriends.  And now that you're back to chillin
with Tim and me, I wanted for you to hear it from us first, Neil."

"Halleluiah to that," Tim interrupts Jon, pulling Neil and him into a hug.

Jon goes on, "We know that you guys, my friends that is, are going to know.
We know that you're cool with me, and hopefully Paul too.  But Paul doesn't
want the word getting out too far, if at all.  He's hardly going to start
hanging with us, or me with his friends.  Not much anyway.  His parents
will seriously send him away to one of those church fanatic camps in
Tennessee to get help if they ever find out, so it has to be a well guarded
secret."

"Well then Farrows, maybe you should be almost sitting in his lap and
almost holding his hand, not mine!  I can lead you to water, but apparently
they're right, I can't make you drink," Tim shoves Jon away from him on the
couch, closer to me on the opposite side.

Neil then addresses me, "Congratulations Hunter.  You guys were made for
each other.  I'll give you home field advantage; I won't tell Tania until
you guys say so.  Just don't take long.  And I certainly won't tell Brent
because I think he'll be heartbroken that Farrows here has a new
boyfriend."

Tim adds, "I won't even tell Nat."

Neil takes back over, "Hunter, it's up to you to break her heart and tell
her that you got the guy she was really after.  Yeah Jon, she really liked
you, but you didn't see it because you were too busy tripping over your own
feet every time we were near Hunter.  Sorry Tim, you missed her signals
too.  But hey, Hunter, if you tell her, maybe send her Tim's way anyhow.
God knows he's unsuccessfully exhausted every other trick to getting her in
his pants, maybe this'll finally do it.  But hurt our little sweetheart
Farrows here, and say hello to church camp."

Should I tell them that Nat is dating Barry Hershey?  I wait for the right
moment but we never get back to it.

While I debate it, Jon chimes in, "I forgot that you guys know about
Brent."

Tim chuckles, "Hello.  Remember I read that email you sent me?  You pretty
much spelled it all out and then some!  A while after Neil and Justin
caught you spending the night in Brent's bed, Neil asked Brent, and he flat
out said that he's bi.  After telling us, he offered to give me head!  I
joked that I'd be cheating on you if I did.  He looked so hurt, like he
wishes there was still something happening between you guys.  I thought he
was going to hit me out of jealousy until it finally sank in to him that I
was joking about sex with you.  He has it bad for you I think.  I just told
him I am totally straight.  I told him not to hit on me or you; that it's
not cool to do to a friend.  He agreed.  Talk about your young and
restless!"

Jon excitedly informs us, "Wow.  I thought we were cool because he stopped
when I asked him to.  Of course he knows about me, and that I'm not into
him too.  He says he's messed with a number of guys; it's a wonder no one
ever talks about him."

"And, I haven't even slept with one yet," I joke, trying to join in on the
banter and trying to feel comfortable.

Jon kisses me in front of Tim and Neil.  We all realize my cheeks are
reddening under my tan.

"It'll happen when it happens, Sexy," Jon soothes.

Tim gets up from the couch and in an Issac Hayes / Chef voice he leaves us
with the words, "And that's our cue to leave, let you two suck face in
private.  I should warn you however Hunter, he's wanted you for so long he
may forget to be gentle.  Oh, and when it comes to sex you better be a good
top.  Otherwise, all I've got to say is Chillun, behave!"

As I hear Tim and Neil going back outside, closing the sliding door to the
kitchen behind them I innocently ask, "Does Tim know everything you do?"

"Some, well, pretty much yeah.  Mostly everything, yeah.  He knows about
Daniel and about Chris.  He doesn't get all the details however.  And I
won't tell him anything we do if you don't want me to, I promise.  He knows
I prefer to bottom.  Not sure how that came up.  And he knew that I am one
of Brent's conquests because I sent an email to him rather than another
friend, by mistake, and never realized until he told me.  He was even using
the information against me, in a fun way, and I never clued in.  As for
Neil and Brent, I was going to have to tell you about that," Jon
acknowledges, "Neil and Justin Liddle saw me sleep over one night with
Brent in the summer.  I was asleep, but Justin opened the door to Brent's
room just to show Neil."

I feel jealous of the guy's Jon's slept with.  That's natural right?
"Bottom?" I inquire.

He educates me, "Yeah bottom.  There's a top and a bottom.  Like a pitcher
and a catcher.  One gives, one gets.  I'm good for both.  But I'm greedy,
like a kid at Christmas, I'd much rather get!"

I am boning up, and the fact that it is out of my control doesn't stop me
from feeling embarrassed about it.  I am such a virgin to the whole gay
world.  Jon has some experience.  It's funny, Wednesday night he revealed
that he worries that I won't want him because he's been with two,
correction, three other guys.  Are there more than that?  Come to think of
it, he's only said other guys, not how many.  I assumed it was just Daniel
and Chris.  Now more than ever I worry that he won't want me, because
although I have had sex more times than I can count, it was always boring
traditional sex with just one girl, and I was not at all into it.

I know a bit of what feels good to me, but I have no clue how to have sex
with a guy other than something goes somewhere.  At least he's more apt to
me putting it in him when we get to that stage.  That's getting a little
ahead of things though, I think.  I hope.  We haven't even gotten past
kissing yet.  How long is he going to wait?  I already feel pressured [by
myself] even though it's officially only been one week.

This is it; after adjusting myself I reach over and rest my hand on his
thigh.  I intend to put it in his lap, but hesitate at the last second.
Jon takes my hand and puts it where I was too afraid to go, and holds my
wrist.  He turns and kisses me.

His eyelashes are so perfect.  They are dark, long, and delicate, and
highlight his eyes.  I look into his glassy eyes, the light brown irises
that are the doorway to his gentle heart and soul.  After asking if he can,
he carefully places his hand in my lap and cups my balls.  Ever so
delicately he massages the area right behind them and then removes his hand
when I gasp.  We kiss again.

This is only our fourth kiss, and second of the night.  Our first one was a
peck.  Our second one last week was not much more than that, but enough to
wake my soul and tell me it was magic, that it was right.  Our third kiss
just now in front of Neil and Tim was another peck.  This, our fourth, is a
long drawn out kiss with lips and tongue and all.  I am actually kissing a
boy!

It still takes a lot to wrap my mind around the thought.  I planned for
this all week.  I came to terms with the first two kisses last week I
thought, but evidently I hadn't.  It's different.  It's not like kissing
Stacey at all.  It's much more firm, he's definitely pressing his lips
against mine harder than Stacey ever did.  But it's not forceful.  I just
can feel him a lot clearer with my eyes closed than Stacey.

And that's not all; there is a passion present that hasn't ever been there
before.  These feelings and thoughts swirl with other thoughts as we draw
out the kiss, his tongue parting my welcoming lips.  Feelings like doubt
and confusion battle with feelings like desire and joy.  I'm unsure if I
should stay and play or run away.

Jon undoes the top button of his pants after un-buckling his belt.  My hand
has been in his crotch for a good couple minutes now but I have been too
nervous to do anything with it.  He takes my hand and slips it just inside
the fly of the army fatigues he's wearing.  I've seen my brothers in army
pants so many times that the sight of guys in them no longer makes me
horny, but Jon is changing that.

[Okay, confession: my brother Peter is a boys' wet-dream-cum-true in just
army pants and boots.  But I try not to see him that way because he is my
brother after all.]

As for the rest of my brothers, well that's just gross.  Scrap that
thought, thinking of Pete as hot in fatigues is too, I am so not turned on
by that.  He's my brother.  Oh God, I have to clear my mind of those
distracting thoughts.  I'm here kissing the boy of my current dreams.  I
don't want the moment killed!

To clear my mind I think of the song that Tim planted in my head when he
told us to behave, written by Ritchie Cordell but sung by Tiffany: I Think
We're Alone Now


Children behave that's what they say when we're together and watch how you
play they don't understand and so we're

(Chorus) Running just as fast as we can holdin' on to one another's hand
tryin' to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me and
we tumble to the ground and then you say

I think we're alone now there doesn't seem to be anyone around I think
we're alone now the beating of our hearts is the only sound

Look at the way we gotta hide what we're doin' 'cause what would they say
if they ever knew and so we're

(Repeat chorus)

I think we're alone now there doesn't seem to be anyone around I think
we're alone now the beating of our hearts is the only sound


I want to feel Jon badly, but I feel strange about it.  I'm pretty mixed up
about finally being here with a guy.  Not just any guy either, but one that
I have loved from afar for a long time, and the one that I'd choose in a
heartbeat if I had to choose.  I don't want to be inadequate for Jon, but
as he slips his hand under the waist of my pants he's moving too fast for
me.  I decide to quickly feel his goods through his underwear, giving him a
quick playful squeeze, and pull my hand back out.  He looks at me
questioningly as I fumble but manage to zip his fly up, re-fasten the
button and then his belt.  I can feel the kiss dying off rapidly as I do
so.

Breaking the kiss but putting my hand back on his hard-on, once again
safely hidden beneath two layers of clothing, I explain, "Virgin here,
Jonny Appleseed.  You get me so hot that I want to go for broke, but I want
to savor things."

"I moved too fast, gotcha," Jon winces as he removes his hand from between
my pants and boxers.

"Nah, well, sorta yeah.  I'm not quite comfortable here yet," I confess.

"Well Sexy, I can hold off playing with your impressive low hangers for
now.  I was getting too carried away.  Good call actually; I want to savor
our firsts too, so lets' work on that!  All I've wanted for ages is to hold
you in my arms and for you to actually be mine.  Now that you're here,
boyfriend, let's start with that.  Here, lay yourself against me, like
this, between my arms and my legs.  Just ignore the wet spot on you sexy
ass later if I leak all the way through.  I mean hey, technically, it'll be
your own damn fault anyways," Jon says to my reaction of visible worry.


>>).:.(<<

JON

Paul is just so cute and innocent!  After pushing him too far to test his
limits, we start over by just spooning on the couch.  I'm only hugging him,
which in time I'd like to change, but all in good time.  I don't feel
comfortable being dominant, but I can't just be the submissive one until he
is sure of himself.  I can see him questioning everything and I realize
that he is clearly trusting me to take the lead and not force him.

One thing leads to another after Tim and Neil come back inside and head
upstairs, and before long I am straddling Paul on the couch, and we are
making out like crazy.  Fully clothed and all.  This fresh start with Paul
is different.  With Daniel it was self discovery.  With Chris it wasn't
supposed to be sex on the first encounter.  With Sam it was the excitement
of a random hook up.  With Brent it was sex for the sake of sex.

That's completely not what I am gunning for tonight.  I like the game of
romance.  I don't know why I pushed as hard as I did earlier.  I can only
be thankful that he didn't up and leave on me.  This is exciting; there's
suspense and uncertainty, and so much in the works here.  I can tell by his
twitches as my hands gently rub him that he has no idea of how far I am
going to try and go again, or if I am even going to try.  He doesn't have
the peace of mind that I am in fact not going to grope him again tonight at
all.

I'm quite happy at the moment to just have my body in contact with his.
He's got to have the lowest hanging balls I have ever felt out of my very
small sample of what's out there, and a nice fat penis, but we have all the
time in the world for me to get to know them.  Just being close, breathing
him in and getting to know his touch sends tingles all over my body.  I
love the feeling of cuddling up next to a solid guy, and I really do feel
that the male form is shaped perfectly for spooning with another man.

Letting the man I've longed for assimilate the situation of another guy
partially lying on top of him is what I'm hoping he'll get out of this,
while I'm getting off having this stud pinned between my legs.  Of course,
the fact that we are both causing each other's erections is exhilarating
and rather encouraging.  It's simple contact, and yet it's so much more.
This is how I would want things to be in a perfect situation, all things
considered.

He's quite the kisser and suggests the same for me.  When he offers me a
compliment I tell him it comes natural as I'm half Italian.  He doesn't
understand the inference so I let it slide.  I'll save it for another time
to teach him that Italians are renowned as the best kissers in the world.
By actions, not words that is.  Hehehe!

Taking a break for a minute I reiterate, "Thanks for putting up with me
this week."

He playfully flicks my nose, "I told you, once I knew you weren't hiding
from me I was okay!"

"You just flicked my nose!  Too cute!  Fuck, I'm so happy I have you!  It's
so sad that Chris's friend killed himself.  All I could think of is that
you just came out to me and we're boyfriends, while just getting this far
is too much for some people.  I'm, so thankful to have you!"

Paul answers me with a kiss, followed another kiss and another.  Lost in
the moment, we get right back to a lengthy kissing session.  All too soon
it ends.

"Hate to interrupt," Tim chuckles after clomping down the stairs, jumping
to the floor for added noise, and then clearing his throat, "Looks like
tonight's conjugal is over inmates, the wardens are back from bingo."

Paul can't help but ask out of surprise, "VP Maynes, as in big, bad, scary
Coach Maynes, plays bingo?"

"Yeah, you'd figure he'd be with Hulk Hogan winning a wrestling competition
or something on his Saturday nights, but Jon's Ma has him whipped good,"
Tim beams.

I make a sound of disgust, "Ugh!"

"Some could say the same about you two sucking face and making lovey-dovey
noises for the last hour in front of the only T.V. in the house too, so
don't be too harsh," Tim points out with a huge grin.

"Sorry," I shrug.

Tim rolls his eyes, "No you're not.  You loved every second of it!  Your
hands all over his bod, your tongue down his throat!"

Conversation abruptly ends when Ma and Larry round the corner from the
kitchen to check up on us.  We're all proper again so there's nothing to
give away what Paul and I were up to.  I hesitate and then make the
introductions, "Ma, Larry, this is Paul Hunter.  Paul, this is my Ma
Charlene, and uh, well you know Larry."

"Hi Ms. Farrows," Paul says, getting up and extending his hand to my ma,
and then turning to Larry, "Hello Sir."

Larry instantly recognizes Paul.  There's some history there I'll assume,
but I don't know what.  Tim sneaks back upstairs as Larry makes small talk
with Paul.  Paul stays long enough to meet Larry and my mother, and stays a
few minutes afterward to meet social protocol before heading home.  After
commending me on Paul's manners and `boyish-cute looks', Ma turns in to bed
for the night.  Larry flips the sports channel on in the living room.

Heading up to bed myself, I knock on Tim's door, "Timbo, gotta sec?"

He feigns contemplation, "For you, well maybe just a few."

"I didn't think about you.  It's one thing to tell you about me, it's
another for you to have to see it," I confess.

Tim bites his lip for a second and then explains, "It's not that.  Like we
don't know what you two are going to do.  You're not going to fuck in front
of me so I'm not worried.  If you are `on the bottom' as you put it some
night in bed, I'll probably smile for you despite myself, and I'll just
play my discman or something.  Not that you'll ever get a night without
your Ma at home anyways."

I feel exposed.  Of course he and Neil know what two gay boys do together;
it doesn't take much imagination at all.  I guess Tim doesn't know I've had
sex in my bed before with Ma and my sisters in the house.  I offer, "Kay, I
won't do that where we can be seen again.  My bad, sorry."

"Go ahead and kiss him in front of me, I really don't care.  I can't
explain it, but if anything, I felt a swell pride that you're happy," He
reveals.

After taking the opportunity to get some distance on Tim in their racing
game, Neil pauses it and agrees with Tim, "It's all good.  You can be
yourself at home in front of your friends, you know?"

I inquire, "You guys sure?"

Tim Jokes, "Totally.  Just don't rub it in all the time that you're getting
action and I'm not.  I and my friction-burned friend will get pissed off at
you.  And yeah, keep at least the Calvin's on in front of me.  You
understand all too well what it's like to see a fully clothed Neil and
Tania getting frisky.  Nobody needs to see that!"

Neil punches Tim for the remark.

Taking Tim's controller from him so that I can show Neil who's boss of Gran
Turismo 2 by catching and beating him, I nod my head in agreement, "yeah".

After Neil heads home Tim restates something that never occurred to me,
"It's not that it grosses me out.  Just so you know.  It doesn't to be
honest, but whatever.  I'm a tad jealous if you must know, you with your
man and me with my hand is all."

I want to go and hug him but thankfully there's enough sensibility in me to
fight off the part of me that wants to.  He is starting to undress for bed.
He's totally a flirt and still doesn't mind showing me his body.  Down to
his Haynes, he flexes his whole body for me.  I smile and wink at him.  He
returns them both as he brushes past me and pads barefoot to the bathroom.
When he gets back to his room I have a bottle of Wet Light hidden behind my
back.

"What're you hiding there?  Stealing a souvenir?  I'll give you these warm
babies right now if you want," Tim tugs at his boxer briefs, alluding to my
underwear/jockstrap fetish.

"No asshole.  I can grab them any time if I want to," I nonchalantly
inform.

"Yeah, but not still warm from my body," Tim teases, arching an eyebrow.

"It's okay.  There still all good when I wash them for you," I make a
jacking off motion and stick my tongue out at him, then hand him the
as-of-yet unopened bottle, "Here, try this. Your friend will love you for
it.  It's not as good as my other stuff, but the upside is it that won't
stain your undies when you hide them after wiping up."

"This is so gay!  You're giving me lube?" Tim whispers through red cheeks,
not taking it from me.

I toss it on his bed, up by his pillows, "Straight people use it too, it's
not just for taking it up the ass you know!  Way more straight people use
lube in fact, like ten times more.  It's called personal lubricant, smart
ass.  We both know you spank the monkey.  Just try it and you'll thank me."

"Who says I toss off?" Tim acts so straight and almost a touch defensive.
Like he didn't joke about it a couple minutes ago!

Stepping close enough that we're almost nose to nose I quietly tease,
"First of all, I could get off just listening to you this past week, that's
who.  Secondly, I found the laundry you were holding out on me with."

Tim is so perplexed that I found him out, but that's what he gets for not
doing any of his own laundry.  Of course sooner or later I was bound to
find his nudie mag and his stash of cummy underwear hidden between the
box-spring and mattress when I strip and later remake his bed for him.  The
embarrassment is even showing in his reddening neck and chest.  He resorts
to calling me the nickname I don't care for, "You're a freak, Cheesedick."

His lips brighten up with his body blush and I want to taste them, but
that's not going to happen for a myriad of reasons.  Instead I restrain
myself.  Still, he doesn't pull away when do I reach up and quickly kiss
him on the cheek, "I know.  So are you."

He looks me in the eyes and then hugs me, "Good night Jiffy."

"G'nite Timbo.  Love ya," I manage to get in before turning to leave.

I can feel his smile on my back as he closes the door behind me and snaps
off the light.

When I enter my room after getting ready for bed in the bathroom, on my bed
I spot the striped grey and black boxer-briefs Tim was just wearing.  True
to his word they are still warm from his body.  Looks like somebody is
having a harder time than he's letting on about his best friend getting a
boyfriend!  I swear he's trying to compete, even though the prize [me] is
of the wrong sexual persuasion for him!  Oh well, too bad!  I chase Bandit
from my bed long enough to jerk off into my own underwear to thoughts of
Paul, while burying my face in Tim's underwear.  When I'm done I toss my
2(x)ist into my hamper and slip Tim's Haynes on, get under my sheet, and
call Bandit back up onto the bed.


>>).:.(<<

PAUL

Walking in the door at home I have a shit-eating grin on.  I can't help it.
Even if it cost me use of my car next weekend to my brother J and his
girlfriend for babysitting Belinda late tonight, I'm walking on a cloud.  I
have made out with a dude for the first time ever tonight!  And what a guy
too; Jon Farrows.  He is such a good kisser; I was lost for nearly an hour
before we had to end it!  At first he was all touchy-feely and I was
getting nervous and ready to bolt.  But he knew it was more than I could
handle and took it to my level.  Instead we just held each other and
kissed.  All with Neil and Tim around too!

He did straddle me towards the end, and I was in heaven.  Ah!  His lithe
warm legs on either side of my body, his shirt riding up to reveal his
tight and tanned lower belly!  Oh, how right he felt!  I can still feel
where our bodies connected.  Boys are built different than girls, and
having him kneel over my body felt so much better than Stacey.  His lips on
mine were magic!  My tongue took on a life of its own while dancing with
his.  Lost in the moment, it almost seemed acceptable.  Socially that is.
Like what does it matter to the world at large what two guys do in private?
And to top it off, Tim and Neil taking it all in stride and acting like
it's nothing only helps cement that.  I almost felt comfortable in the
moment.

I check on Belinda and change her for the night.  Some nights she won't
sleep again, others she's asleep before I have her back in her crib.
Tonight she's lights out.  I smile to myself as I watch her, whispering to
her the answer I always tried to figure out.  Polo Sport.  That's Jon's
cologne.  I couldn't get a good enough whiff April Fool's night to know for
sure, and again the day I drove him home.  Last weekend I had a good chance
to try and find out, but I was too busy hoping I didn't smell from being
out in the sun all day.

Myself, I wear Aqua Di Gio, so I am just so happy I can still detect Jon's
Polo Sport on me right now.  It makes what happened tonight real.  It also
gives me warm feelings, and something to hang on to until the scent fades.
While the mix of colognes still lingers on my shirt I will keep it by my
pillow and bury my face in it as I doze off.

I can't wait to hold Jon in my arms again and be held and sweetly caressed
by him again.

[to be continued]

>>).:.(<<

Join my Yahoo Group @ http://ca.groups.yahoo.com/group/phantomscorpio77 :)

I'm sure down the road Duncan (In This Cruel World, Vancouver Canucks fan)
will be mad at Neville (If You Could Read My Mind, Boston Bruins fan) over
the just awarded Stanley Cup.  Both novels are available online world wide
in trade paperback format on any Amazon website if you'd like to purchase a
physical copy of either.  I'll be getting back to the continuation of their
stories soon as they fold into Jon and Paul's story.

Happy Pride Toronto!  xo

~Jade