Play Me, I'm Yours [Library Edition] (7 page)

Zach was in the water, working on his best event, the butterfly. The butterfly was the most difficult stroke to perfect, but the most beautiful to watch. Zach had impeccable technique, moving in a wave-like body motion with smooth, fast strokes and a dolphin kick. The way Zach undulated his hips to help propel him out of the water as he pulled himself forward with strong arms and shoulders was breathtaking. Lucas couldn’t tear his eyes away when Zach swam the fly. It was masculine beauty at its best. Watching Zach swim never failed to stir something deep inside Lucas.

He usually tried to be discreet about watching, but after what had happened at the cast party, he decided not to hide it anymore. He was gay. It was a relief to be honest about it.

His thoughts were interrupted when Zach, now sitting on the edge of the pool, lifted his goggles. He looked right at Lucas, who’d been staring for several minutes. Lucas quickly glanced away and rummaged through his backpack. He didn’t need to be
that
honest.

Better do some homework, he decided. He had an English assignment for Mr. Rose due at the end of the week. He was supposed to choose “someone special in his life” to use as the subject of an acrostic poem. He ran through the list of potential subjects, doodling and jotting down notes, while trying to ignore the wet, mostly naked bodies only feet away from him.

He wrote about his dad, Will:

 

W
oefully

I
nadequate at making

L
ucas feel

L
oved

 

Then his mom, Sharon:

 

S
he loves me in

H
er way

A
lthough she doesn’t

R
eally know

O
r understand me

N
owadays

 

His brother, Mason:

 

M
ad

A
ll the time

S
ince his

O
lder brother likes

N
aked boys

 

And finally, his friend, Trish:

 

T
he first

R
eal friend

I
’ve made

S
ince starting

H
igh school

 

This assignment sucked. He couldn’t turn in his dad’s poem—too personal. Or his mom’s—too angsty. His brother’s?—too embarrassing. Besides, Mason would find out and murder him in his sleep. Trish’s?—too honest.

When Mr. Rose had given the assignment and instructed him to write about “someone special in his life,” the first person he thought of was Alex. Alex, who despite misguided efforts, had treated him with kindness. Alex, who’d shared an intimate moment with him that he’d remember forever. He couldn’t write about Alex, though. For one thing, Lucas would be ridiculed for writing about a boy like that. For another, Alex would find out. It would be an admission of how much Lucas liked him, and Alex had made it clear he didn’t want that. Lucas didn’t know if Alex even considered him a friend. When he’d seen him in class last period, Alex had smiled and said hello but nothing more. Besides, what word started with the letter X? It was impossible
.

 

 

S
PRAWLED
out on his bed later that night, Lucas opened his notebook, determined to give his English assignment another try. He decided to rewrite the poem about Trish, using the more traditional approach of one adjective per line. He knew it was a cop-out, but he couldn’t expose his emotions so openly. Poetry was a personal thing. He hated when Mr. Rose made them share their writing.

Now, how to describe Trish? He hadn’t known her long—less than two weeks. She’d been a good friend to him in that time, though, complimenting him, encouraging him, introducing him to her friends. He knew she felt bad about what happened at the party. She’d called him twice on Friday night and three times on Saturday before he found the courage to answer the phone and talk to her.
Persistent.

Lucas grabbed his phone and sent her a text.

Lucas:
is your real name patricia?

Trish:
yeah, why?

Lucas
:
it’s a surprise :-)

Trish
:
ooh, i love surprises!

One letter down, seven more to go. When he talked to her on Saturday, he’d told her the truth. He told her about the kiss and how the part at the end was just a joke. She didn’t press for details. She didn’t ask if he was gay. She didn’t make a big deal of it at all.
Accepting.

The next few letters were easy.
Theatrical, Rambunctious, Imaginative.
Lucas had never met anyone who expressed herself with such enthusiasm. Her personality was so diametrically opposed to his own, he didn’t know what she saw in him, or how they managed to get along. He really liked being around her, though, despite their differences. She made him feel cared for.
Caring.

The one thing she didn’t seem to care about was blending in. She wasn’t one of the popular girls. She had a unique style and made no apologies about it. Her best friend was gay, and her newest friend was too.
Individual.

One more letter to go.
Admired.
He certainly admired her. And he knew of at least one other person who did too. Lucas felt his phone buzz and looked to see an incoming text.

555-817-0512:
hey, how are u?

Lucas:
who is this?

555-817-0512:
your pucker partner :-)

Alex? Lucas stared at the display. It wasn’t Trish. Who else could it be?

Lucas:
alex?

Alex:
yeah, lol. how many other pucker partners do you have?

Lucas:
stop saying pucker partner, it sounds dirty

Alex:
better than pecker partner

Lucas:
!!!

Alex:
LMFAO… r u blushing?

Lucas:
!!!

Alex:
i sent u a msg on facebook

Lucas:
i’m not on there much

Truthfully, he hadn’t been on Facebook at all since the Chris Robins incident. He’d even turned off his notifications.

Alex
:
i wanted to know if u had any problems at school today—i had a shit ton of explaining to do

Lucas
:
it was fine. mostly just people staring

Alex
:
good. call me if u ever need to talk

Lucas:
thx

Curiosity got the better of him. Lucas booted up his laptop and logged into Facebook. He was surprised to see that he had a dozen friend requests. Most of these people hated him. Why were they sending him friend requests? That old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer came to mind. He accepted the requests from Alex and Trish and ignored the rest.

The message from Alex was short but sweet, expressing his concern for Lucas. Lucas followed the link to Alex’s wall and spent some time looking at his pictures. He smiled at the sight of him. It’d been dark in that closet. He hadn’t been able to get a good look. He didn’t dare stare at him in school, at least not in close proximity. He liked being able to look at him now, like this. There were lots of pictures of Alex at parties, and it seemed he had a different girl hanging on him at each one. He was always smiling or laughing, always seemed to be the center of attention. Lucas didn’t fit into that world, but he hoped he and Alex could somehow be friends.

Alex had swooped in like a knight in shining armor, rescuing Lucas from what could have been the most humiliating experience of his life. Instead, Alex had made it a memory Lucas would always treasure. Lucas went back through the pictures from the cast party, wanting to remember exactly what Alex had looked like that night. He saw a photo that must have been taken right after the closet incident. Alex was talking to Trish, who looked worried, and Donovan, who looked pissed. There were several comments posted underneath.

Brian Kim:
wtf happened in the closet, dude?
Alex Goodman:
sorry, my lips are sealed
Andrew Brooke:
yeah, around Fairy Tate’s cock

Lucas closed his laptop and lay back on his bed. Why did they have to make it sound so dirty? When he closed his eyes and replayed those minutes with Alex, it didn’t feel dirty. It was warm and soft and sweet. He ached for that feeling again. He played it over in his mind.

Then his thoughts began to wander. What if their time hadn’t ended there? What if Alex really had undone his fly and reached in to—

A pleasant sensation had slowly built in his groin while he’d relived the memory of kissing Alex, but
that
—the thought of Alex’s hand around his dick, made him fully hard. He knew it was wrong, but the desire to touch himself was overpowering. Lucas opened his fly. He slid his jeans and briefs partway down, just far enough for easy access, and then took himself in hand.

He closed his eyes and pictured Alex hovering over him, staring down at him with sultry green eyes. Lucas ran his tongue over his lips, trying to remember how it felt to be kissed. He tried to remember how it felt to be pressed against Alex’s body. When they’d been together in the closet, Lucas had smelled a hint of sweat and woody cologne through Alex’s clothing. He wished now that he had something of Alex’s to bury his nose into. He wondered what Alex looked like without a shirt. He pictured strong shoulders, lean muscles, dark nipples. A long, smooth torso. Zach. He was picturing Zach Teagan. And as he sped up his strokes, he wondered how Zach’s lips would taste. What would he smell like after a swim? Lucas came quickly, and felt overwhelmed with shame afterward.

He cleaned himself up, and then lay in bed thinking about what he’d just done. Did it mean he had a crush on Alex? On Zach? He didn’t know how he felt. Sure, he’d jerked off before, but never thinking about someone he knew—someone he’d talked to, touched
.
There had been times when he slipped those armbands on his wrists and summoned up images of Mark while he attended to his needs. But he hadn’t thought about Mark in years. And besides, that was different. Mark was just a fantasy. He wasn’t in his life. He wasn’t a friend. Alex was.

He was pretty sure what he’d just done was wrong. He wondered if it was normal, if other people did it too. He didn’t have anyone to ask. Even if he did feel comfortable talking to Trish, she was a girl. She wouldn’t understand. He knew girls masturbated too, thanks to Cyndi. He didn’t know exactly what they did, and he didn’t want to know. But did Trish ever think about Donovan when she did it? Did she ever think about Lucas? No, no one would think of him like that. It was probably different for girls anyway. They didn’t have to deal with hard-ons demanding attention.

After visiting a dozen sites using search terms like “if you think about someone while you masturbate does it mean you’re in love” and “is it okay to think about your friends when jerking off,” Lucas was no closer to making sense of his feelings. He did, however, decide he shouldn’t be so hard on himself. Between watching Zach Teagan swim the fly, and then all that talk about puckers and peckers and lips and cocks, he didn’t stand a chance at resisting the urge when it hit. Even so, he probably wouldn’t be able to look Alex in the eye for a while. Or Zach for that matter.

One thing he did know was that Alex was someone special. He lay in bed for nearly an hour, trying to write a poem for Alex. He’d written one for every other person who was special in his life. He was determined to write one for Alex too. He scanned the dictionary for words beginning with the letter X until inspiration hit.

 

A
knight in shining armor, like

L
ancelot du Lac

E
scort me to

X
anadu

 

 

“W
HAT

S
that on your wrist, Mason?” his mom said the next night during dinner.

Lucas glanced at his brother’s wrist and saw what appeared to be a hemp bracelet.

“Oh, that. Becca gave it to me.”

“Becca from the swim team?” his dad said.

“Yeah.”

“It looks handmade,” his mom said. “That’s so sweet. She must really like you.”

He groaned. “Yeah, she’s like, totally in love with me.”

His mom smiled. “You must like her if you’re wearing her bracelet.”

“She’s okay, I guess.”

“Mhmm. In Mason terms, that means you’re totally in love with her too,” she teased.

Lucas had been quiet until then. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he blurted out, “How do you know when you’re in love?”

His family turned to look at him.

“Not you too?” his mom said with raised eyebrows.

“Hypothetically speaking.”

She smiled. “That’s a tough question.”

“Duh. You just
know,”
said Mason.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But it can be confusing your first time.”

Mason cocked his head. “Okay, then how
do
you know?”

“Well,” she said, looking back and forth between her boys. “When you first fall in love with someone, you usually feel like you want to be with that person all the time. You have a hard time thinking about anyone or anything else, and you think all the silly, quirky habits that person has are cute. You care more about that person than yourself. You feel happy when they’re happy, sad when they’re sad.”

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