attached—which was hard, because I genuinely liked Charlie. I hoped we could still be friends after this… attraction, or whatever, had flamed out.
Besides, as nice as he was, Charlie struck me as a ‘freaker’ and a ‘runner’—the kind of guy who might flip his shit once his balls were drained and he realized he’d just had sex with a man. Sex. The run-of-the-mill hetero sex education they taught in schools gave the impression that sex was anything that was likely to get someone pregnant or give them a disease—for the straights, that was intercourse. But often gay guys considered anything that involved shared orgasms ‘sex,’ and I was one of them. I had a feeling Charlie would be too.
I righted my clothing, gulped in another deep breath, and gathered my resolve to go back and face him—and face whatever reaction he had. When I returned to the living room, he was fully dressed again and sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed. As soon as he saw me, he blushed to the roots of his hair, but he didn’t make any moves to leave.
I sat down beside him, not touching, mirroring his pose. “You okay?”
“Sure,” he said, then cleared his throat because it had come out as a squeak. “Sure.”
Though I didn’t believe that for a second, I chose to go along with his delusion. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes as we both stared at the TV screen. Finally, I had to ask the question that had been burning a hole through my brain since I first saw him get hard watching two guys get together on screen.
“How come you’ve never been with a guy before? Does anyone else know you’re gay?” Okay, that was two questions, but they sort of went together.
Sighing, Charlie ran a hand through his already rumpled wheat-colored hair. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
“Sorry,” I said, instantly contrite. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable—more so than he already might be.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He sighed again and his gazed flicked up to the white popcorn ceiling as if he were thinking… or praying for guidance. “I’ll answer your second question first. My parents and my sister know. That’s all. It’s funny too, because they’ve always been pretty staunch right-wingers. They’re against abortion and never supported marriage equality, though they never actively protested against it. Dad’s ex-military, Mom pretty much supports whatever he believes, because that’s how it was in their generation.
“When I started realizing my attraction to men—much later than most people, I guess—I was sure they’d flip their shit, kick me out, disown me…” He trailed off and winced, giving me a guilty look. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And I meant it. Other people’s struggles or lack thereof didn’t change what I’d gone through, so who was I to judge? “So they didn’t?”
“Not at all. My sister, having been raised like me to be open-minded, thought it was cool. The parents… well, they went through all the stages of grief over the life they thought I would have had, but they never took it out on me. Once they were done with that, they rallied around me because I was their son. It might not have been what they wanted but, like my dad said, ‘it is what it is.’ So after a while, things just kind of went back to normal—except I stopped going on dates with women.”
I was more awed by the story than I cared to admit. It was vastly different from my own experience. However, I didn’t want to dwell on my old wounds. I wanted to hear more about Charlie.
“And my other question.”
He groaned and gave me a pleading look. “I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Not a chance, buddy.” I offered him a cheeky grin.
“Yeah, yeah. The short answer is, hell if I know.”
I laughed. “And the long one?”
“I went to high school in the University area, and my school was pretty diverse. My friends were of many different races,
Besides, as nice as he was, Charlie struck me as a ‘freaker’ and a ‘runner’—the kind of guy who might flip his shit once his balls were drained and he realized he’d just had sex with a man. Sex. The run-of-the-mill hetero sex education they taught in schools gave the impression that sex was anything that was likely to get someone pregnant or give them a disease—for the straights, that was intercourse. But often gay guys considered anything that involved shared orgasms ‘sex,’ and I was one of them. I had a feeling Charlie would be too.
I righted my clothing, gulped in another deep breath, and gathered my resolve to go back and face him—and face whatever reaction he had. When I returned to the living room, he was fully dressed again and sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed. As soon as he saw me, he blushed to the roots of his hair, but he didn’t make any moves to leave.
I sat down beside him, not touching, mirroring his pose. “You okay?”
“Sure,” he said, then cleared his throat because it had come out as a squeak. “Sure.”
Though I didn’t believe that for a second, I chose to go along with his delusion. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes as we both stared at the TV screen. Finally, I had to ask the question that had been burning a hole through my brain since I first saw him get hard watching two guys get together on screen.
“How come you’ve never been with a guy before? Does anyone else know you’re gay?” Okay, that was two questions, but they sort of went together.
Sighing, Charlie ran a hand through his already rumpled wheat-colored hair. “You get right to the point, don’t you?”
“Sorry,” I said, instantly contrite. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable—more so than he already might be.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just giving you a hard time.” He sighed again and his gazed flicked up to the white popcorn ceiling as if he were thinking… or praying for guidance. “I’ll answer your second question first. My parents and my sister know. That’s all. It’s funny too, because they’ve always been pretty staunch right-wingers. They’re against abortion and never supported marriage equality, though they never actively protested against it. Dad’s ex-military, Mom pretty much supports whatever he believes, because that’s how it was in their generation.
“When I started realizing my attraction to men—much later than most people, I guess—I was sure they’d flip their shit, kick me out, disown me…” He trailed off and winced, giving me a guilty look. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And I meant it. Other people’s struggles or lack thereof didn’t change what I’d gone through, so who was I to judge? “So they didn’t?”
“Not at all. My sister, having been raised like me to be open-minded, thought it was cool. The parents… well, they went through all the stages of grief over the life they thought I would have had, but they never took it out on me. Once they were done with that, they rallied around me because I was their son. It might not have been what they wanted but, like my dad said, ‘it is what it is.’ So after a while, things just kind of went back to normal—except I stopped going on dates with women.”
I was more awed by the story than I cared to admit. It was vastly different from my own experience. However, I didn’t want to dwell on my old wounds. I wanted to hear more about Charlie.
“And my other question.”
He groaned and gave me a pleading look. “I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Not a chance, buddy.” I offered him a cheeky grin.
“Yeah, yeah. The short answer is, hell if I know.”
I laughed. “And the long one?”
“I went to high school in the University area, and my school was pretty diverse. My friends were of many different races,
Similar Books
