Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) (5 page)

So, another religious source believed we weren’t going to hell. That gave me hope.
If scholars and religious men can’t agree on the subject, it must not be set in stone.
That one small detail made me feel better. Again, I checked out the window to make sure I was still alone before clicking the print button and printing the long explanation for Jamie, because I wasn’t sure if I would be able to relay all the information accurately enough or answer questions he might have on it. I wanted him to see the article for himself. Watching the paper come slowly out of the printer, I had to admit, even just to myself, a sense of relief. After the dozen sheets printed, I grabbed them from the tray and clicked the close button on the browser. It was only then that I remembered the other window that was open. First sneaking yet another glance around and out the window, I reopened the browser, allowing myself to look at it again. I felt embarrassed and guilty about looking at it, but I was curious.

That one flash of the screen I had seen before I minimized it made me really excited. I looked over each of the couples until my eyes focused on one pair. One boy was lying on his back, his head thrown back in obvious pleasure, while the other boy, a blond, performed oral sex on him. It wasn’t the act that caught my attention: it was the blond. He was beautiful.

Just then the wind rustled through the leaves of the huge maple tree next to the window. I checked guiltily over my shoulder again before turning my attention back to the blond on the screen. He was beautiful because he reminded me of Jamie. It was like watching Jamie give head. It made me hard just to think about it.

I shut down the computer quickly and, chancing another glance out the window, walked to my room. My shorts were tented when I closed the door behind me; those wild, decadent images had been burned into my mind. Only in my head, it was me on my back, and Jamie was on his knees over me. I hid the printed papers under a shoebox on my closet shelf, even though no one ever went into my closet since I did my own laundry. I didn’t want anyone coming across them by accident. After grabbing the towel I had used to dry off earlier, I walked over to my bed. Then I checked the window next to my bed, which also overlooked the drive, and saw it was still empty. I pulled the covers back and, after doubling the towel, spread it on the bed.

I had masturbated countless times over the last few years, and I had always forced myself to think about girls to try to pigeonhole myself into the mold I thought I belonged in. This time I wanted to think about Jamie. Though I couldn’t imagine why he would be attracted to a scrawny, mousy-haired boy like me, average in every way, right down to a mild case of acne. The only thing about my own appearance I really liked was my curly hair. Having let it grow out over the last few years, I noticed the resemblance to my mother much more clearly now. That single piece of paper I had carried with me from place to place and house to house was the only picture I had of my parents. When I was about eight, one of my older foster siblings, one of the few nice ones, had helped me find the news article on the computer, the one that described my parents’ deaths. We had printed it quietly, in the dead of night after everyone had gone to bed.

I pulled off my shorts and boxers, feeling more naked than I ever had, and lay down on the towel. Every time I had done this before, I had always just pulled my sleep pants down over my hips and pulled them right up afterward because I felt ashamed. However, this time I didn’t feel ashamed as I thought about Jamie’s kiss from earlier that afternoon, sweet and full of promise. I ran my fingers over my lips, remembering the perfect feeling of his lips on mine.

3

T
HE
following Monday, I tried all day to speak with Jamie about what I had found during my Internet search. He’d been busy with yard work for most of the weekend, so we hadn’t had a chance to get together, and this was certainly something I wasn’t going to get into on the phone. I wanted him to know that maybe we weren’t broken or wrong, maybe God didn’t hate us. Maybe knowing that even scholars couldn’t agree on whether or not being gay was a sin would help him sleep better at night. Unfortunately, whenever we had a few minutes to talk, we were always surrounded by people. I wasn’t going to risk being overheard, not about this. Finally, during art, I was able to at least have a discussion with him about coming over after school.

During class, I still felt awkward around Mr. Barnes.
Now that Jamie and I have kissed, now that we’ve defined our relationship as something other than friendship, will he know? Do we give off a vibe like he does?
We were sitting side by side, working on painting a bowl of plastic fruit. I tried not to notice the symbolism and instead focused on the way Jamie’s brush caressed the canvas, stroke after stroke. When I asked if I could come over, it made him happy. I liked that he didn’t even care why I wanted to come over; he just seemed happy to be able to spend time with me.

We let our eyes lock for a little longer than was really necessary. When I caught myself and looked around, I realized with relief that no one had noticed. Criticizing myself immediately, it occurred to me that I was going to have to be more careful. After that, we worked on our projects in relative silence, only talking to ask for a different paint color or water. When class was over, we walked quickly to his house.

“Hi, Brian, you’re looking better,” Mrs. Mayfield greeted us as we came in through the back door. It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about; church had been over a week ago, even though with all Jamie and I had discovered, it seemed much longer. I must have looked fairly ill after the preacher’s sermon for it to have made such an impression on her. Briefly, I wondered how many others of the preacher’s flock had noticed me, pale and sick-looking, practically running from the “queers are going to hell” tirade.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m much better, thank you,” I replied, smiling at her. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to be alone with Jamie. I was excited about what I had found and couldn’t wait to share it with him. I wanted to talk to him and see if it answered as many questions for him as it did for me. However, Jamie was perfectly at ease and sat down at the kitchen table after grabbing a bag of chips from the cupboard. Giving him a meaningful look behind his mother’s back, which wasn’t difficult, as she was a rather large woman, Jamie looked back at me questioningly. Sighing, I pulled out a chair next to him and sat to have chips and a Coke with him. He was right, of course; we didn’t want to seem too eager, and that was his afternoon ritual.

As his mama tied her hair back with a strip of some kind of cloth, she prattled on about a sweet elderly woman at church she wanted to take supper to. When she moved her hands, I saw the strip of cloth must be denim because it matched her long denim skirt. It never ceased to amaze me how this woman always wore such long skirts, no matter how hot it was. Carolyn was perfectly comfortable in a T-shirt and cut-off shorts, but as far as I had seen, Mrs. Mayfield and a few of her church friends never even wore pants, much less shorts. Apparently, God wasn’t a fan of jeans either. Thankfully, that didn’t apply to Jamie. I wondered if Mr. Mayfield had interceded on his behalf.

Finally, Jamie put the chips away, and we went upstairs to start our homework. When we walked into his bedroom, I pulled his door almost closed and sat down on the bed near his desk. Jamie started to pull books out of his bag and laid them on the desk, but I put a hand on his arm.

“I have something for you,” I told him quietly, but before I could open my bag to give him the printed papers, he caught my wrist in his hand. Glancing at the door, I looked back to give him a tentative smile.

“I bet you do,” he said with a smirk, his voice low. The desire in his voice escalated the nervous excitement in my stomach, and I was too stunned to say anything. Then his lips were on mine. I moaned at the swiftness and urgency of his kiss. It was almost like he had been waiting all weekend to kiss me, to touch me. For all I knew, he had.

“Shhhhh…. Mama’s right downstairs,” he said quietly as we broke apart. My body’s response to his kiss took me by surprise. The attraction was definitely there, but to get so involved in the kiss with his mother downstairs was dangerous. I didn’t really know what had gotten into me. It seemed that with Jamie, I just lost track of my surroundings.
Are all relationships, all attractions, so intense?
Jamie didn’t seem to lose his control with me. I didn’t have time to really ponder what that meant.

“Sorry,” I whispered and then cleared my throat as I pulled the papers out of my bag. “I really do have something for you.” He looked sheepish for a moment, and it was my turn to smirk. Taking the papers from me, he sat down on his bed and started to read. I did not interrupt him as he took his time getting through all the pages. I just sat quietly and watched his changing facial expressions. Mostly, he looked puzzled, but a few times, he smirked at the content and even outright smiled. I couldn’t help but smile with him. When he was finished, he handed them back to me.

“Well, that helps. I mean, if the pastors and priests and such can’t agree, then it’s really a matter of interpretation,” he remarked quietly. “Did you find anything else?” I knew he meant something like the reference materials I’d given him, but I couldn’t help but remember all the images from the site I’d found, and I blushed scarlet. He looked at me wide-eyed. “What else did you find?” I looked at the floor, and he pulled me to stand just behind the bedroom door so that if anyone opened it wider, it would hit him and stop them from walking in on us.

Pressing his body against mine, he whispered in my ear, “Did you find something naughty, Brian?”

I swallowed once and nodded. My heart was pounding, and I was more than a little embarrassed talking to him about this. I mean, I’d kind of admitted to looking at porn on the Internet. Only creepy guys in their basements did that, right? Before I could feel too weird about it, he asked, “Will you tell me about what you found?”

In a hushed voice, I told him about the images I had seen on the screen, not mentioning the fact that the blond boy reminded me so much of him that I’d masturbated to the image. I felt ashamed talking about it in the first place without telling him I wanted him to do those things to me. Being purposely vague, I described the boys and their positions. As I spoke, I felt his breathing start to accelerate on my cheek. With his body against mine, I felt him getting hard as his erection pressed against my stomach, which tightened in excitement. He was several inches taller than I was, and standing like that, he was pressed right against my navel.

“Jamie!” Mrs. Mayfield called up the stairs, and we jumped apart as if on fire. Our faces flamed slightly in embarrassment and guilt when we looked at each other. Then, he moved so I could come out from behind the door. As he opened it, he called downstairs.

“Yes, Mama?” His voice was a little higher-pitched than usual, excited. I took several deep breaths, willing my erection to go away.

“Will Brian be staying for dinner?” He looked at me, and I shook my head vigorously, as I didn’t think I’d be able to stand being at the dinner table with Jamie and his parents after what had just happened. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my face impassive; I’d blush and stammer, and they’d know that something was up. I was probably being paranoid, but I was still hard and wasn’t thinking clearly.

“No, he’s gonna head home,” he yelled back and then pulled the door closed again after hearing her acknowledgement. He looked at me for a long time. “Are you going to run again?”

I shook my head slowly. Sure, I was nervous. Our relationship was moving to a whole different level. But I couldn’t pretend to be saddened by it. He took my hand and led me over to his bed. As soon as we were seated, he let go of my hand, and the disappointment flared within me. We sat there, side by side, neither of us apparently willing to break the silence. He was looking at his hands in his lap. I turned slightly, pulling my knee up between us so I was facing him, and then he did the same.

“Jamie, you and I have been friends since we were eleven. For a while now, I’ve been feeling something else for you. I like you, as more than just a friend, and that scares the hell out of me. It scares me because if I like you that way, it means I’m gay, and I don’t want to be gay. It scares me because if this doesn’t work out, I could lose you, and I don’t want that to happen. I have to guess you feel the same way about me, since you kissed me on Friday?” I paused, and he nodded, and I felt a wave of happiness wash through me at his admission. He still looked nervous, almost anxious, like what I’d said hadn’t truly registered. “We have to hide this from everybody. If anyone finds out, it could be really bad for us.” Then, to my surprise, rather than being more upset at the thought of things going badly for us, he looked relieved, and maybe even a little shy. It really looked like he wanted whatever it was that was happening between us to work, and for the first time since I’d started to suspect I was gay, I felt some measure of hope.