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----- A Drink with a Stranger By: Sean Roberts -----
-- Chapter 9 --
Mrs. Jackson only put up with it because, at the end of the day, it always turned out to be a good discussion. Lane's senior English class was dominated with him and Veronica trying to outdo each other's answers. Whenever there was a discussion, both of their hands were always in the air. At some point, the hands became irrelevant and they would simply shout over each other. The rest of the class sat amused as Mrs. Jackson tried to mediate.
Lane was hung over from the night before, but it did not stop him. They went after each other as if their lives depended on it. Lane did not really want to be valedictorian. The idea of making a speech made him feel nauseous. Still, he wanted the highest GPA of the graduating class. Victoria wanted both.
"Hey, Victoria," Lane said when they left class.
"What is it now," she said.
"Look, umm, nothing. I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to ... I'm sorry."
"Right," she said. "Well, let's not talk about it. What were you doing there anyway? You seem to hate each other."
"Oh, umm, just needed to talk to him about something," Lane said. "Listen, gotta go. Sorry again." He walked off quickly to avoid any additional questions. He went to Finn's again that evening, this time invited. Finn pulled out a bottle of gin.
"My parents never drink the stuff," he said. "So they won't miss it. You know we've never really had a drink together?" Lane smiled.
"No, I guess we haven't. Cheers." They sat and finished the first round in silence. Lane looked at Finn, grateful to be there with his friend again. He was nervous; his heart was pounding a little bit; he had butterflies in his stomach. He was embarrassed about the day before and about what he needed to tell Finn.
"I'm really sorry Finn," Lane said. "About just walking in yesterday. I mean—" Finn held up his hand.
"Don't worry about it, really."
"I said sorry to Victoria."
"Thanks for doing that. So what brings you over?"
"Oh, nothing," Lane said casually. "Just that everything's all fucked up, and I don't know what to do."
"Ah," Finn said.
"I'm going out with Ellis."
"Oh," Finn said. Finn looked down at his glass for a few moments. "I didn't know Ellis played for the other team. But that's good news, isn't it? Maybe we could go on a double date—"
"No," Lane said. "Listen, neither of us are out, really. And also, no. I think that would just be too weird. So no double dates."
"Fair enough. So what's the part where everything is fucked up?"
"Ellis is trying to get me expelled."
"So that one you're going to have to explain."
"You can't tell anybody. Not even Victoria."
"Cross my heart."
"To be fair to Ellis, he isn't specifically trying to get me expelled. He doesn't know, you see, that I'm the one who's been selling assignments." Finn burst out laughing. It made Lane smile—this was not the reaction he was expecting. He was shaking, and he drank half his glass of gin, but he smiled.
"Okay, so are you serious, or are you just fucking with me?" Finn asked.
"I'm serious."
"In that case, that's the most incredible thing I've ever heard. Dude, do you know how much you've helped everybody? The stuff you do is perfect! I mean, I've never bought anything—but I've heard from others. Wait—you're sure Ellis doesn't know it's you?"
"I'm positive. The way I have this thing setup, there's no possible way for anybody to figure it out. Unless they trace my IP address. But only the cops can do that. What I'm doing isn't a felony. At least I don't think it is."
"Cheating on high school assignments? Of course it isn't a felony." Finn held up his glass and took another drink.
"I don't know what he's planning to do to figure this out, but he'll have to give up at some point."
"Yeah. I wouldn't worry about it. What's this about you dating him though?"
"That's weird too. It just kind of happened. And now there's this thing. It's like dating my arch enemy. But you're also dating my arch enemy. How long has that been going on by the way?"
"Since our sophomore year. I should have told you, but we weren't really talking." The room became silent save for the sipping of gin.
"Of course we weren't talking."
"I know Lane," Finn said firmly. "I know why we weren't talking, and every day ... Lane I'm so sorry. I know I fucked up, but I did everything I could to make it right."
"I don't know if that ever can be made right. Shit. I shouldn't have come here."
"Then why did you?"
"I don't have anyone else," Lane said. Finn leaned forward and put his hand on Lane's arm.
"I'm glad you did. You don't have to forgive me; I wouldn't deserve it anyway. I just need you to understand that I'm sorry."
Lane could not look away from his eyes. Finn's eyes shone like sparklers in the darkness. There was a flash of a memory as Lane traced his finger down Finn's smooth body, his skin the colour of moonlight, his cock quivering in anticipation of the touch. His body was harder now; his muscles had grown and his lips felt like feathers brushing the skin of Lane's neck. Lane tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes, feeling the tickle of each kiss as Finn moved up his neck. And then their lips met and everything Lane had been wanting to say; every feeling of worry and guilt that Lane had been feeling drowned like a fly in a glass of gin.
Finn tried to take his lips back but Lane held on with his teeth, tugging at the pink flesh until Finn kissed him again. Then the worry and the guilt returned. The fly was drunk but he was alive. Finn's hand was still on Lane's arm. They looked at each other worriedly. "I have to go," Lane said. Finn removed his hand, but looked like it was the hardest thing he ever had to do.
"Lane, please..."
"I have to go."
--
Lane went home and sat at his desk. More than anything else, he wanted another drink. But he could not have one. He decided that the best thing for him to do was absolutely nothing. Every time he did do something, another thing in his life became more complicated. Everything had been perfect for the last three years. Sure he had not been happy about losing Finn, but he had his life. He had his grades and his dreams about college. There was nobody looking into his not so above board activities and nobody tempting him to kiss them. There was no dating the enemy. There was no dating anyone, in fact.
Still, he had to do something. He was starting to shake and become anxious. He found his brother, changed into his trunks and jumped into the pool. He swam for an hour without stopping. Taylor gave up after a half hour and went inside. Lane continued to swim in the dark, against the silver lights illuminating the pool. He had heard somewhere that the body perspires while swimming, it just isn't felt because of the water. So he allowed the alcohol to flow out of him into the chlorine.
He scrubbed himself under a steaming shower, the way a boy would wash who knows he is about to have sex. But Lane did not want to have sex. He wanted everything off of himself; everything out of himself. He stood in front of the mirror, his towel wrapped around his waist. What ever happened to alcohol having a bunch of calories? He had lost weight over the past few weeks, he was sure of it. His muscles were there, but bits of him were skinny and stick like. He dropped the towel and brushed his hand against the hair above his cock. He was tempted to go a bit further, but then remembered what happened every time he did anything. Instead he pulled on some pyjamas.
He went to check his email—both accounts—and there was a new message. It was from an obviously fake address requesting an essay on Macbeth for senior English. Lane replied.
You know the rules ... who are you? What's the assignment? I'll get you the cost.
Lane shut off his computer and climbed into bed. By now, anybody who was a senior at Deer Creek Academy would have known how to request an assignment from him. It had to be Ellis.
--
Between school, soccer, Veronica and his friends, Finn had a busy schedule, and was easily avoided over the next couple of days. Saturday morning came and Lane felt free again. Ellis had not replied to the email and was himself busy. They saw each other once or twice at school, but they did not have an opportunity to kiss. Which was good, really, as Lane needed some time to sort things out in his head.
At breakfast on Saturday, Sally announced that she was taking Taylor to the mall for a haircut and some shopping.
"I'll take him," Lane said. "If you want. I need to get out of the house." He had a good, relaxing day. Taylor had started to talk about Jessica more than about his new senior friends. They got haircuts together and bought some new clothes, Taylor filling in Lane on the nuances of some of the latest fashions. Namely that everything Lane was picking out for himself was, really, not acceptable.
"You're my brother!" Taylor said. "Can't you at least try to be cool?" Lane rolled his eyes. When they got home, he went up to his room and took a nap. He woke up to the sun streaming through his blinds. He did not have a headache; he was not groggy. He went for a refreshing swim and made himself a cup of coffee. He checked his latest GPA. He and Victoria had swapped student numbers a while ago so they could keep tabs on each other. The Deer Creek faculty kept the numbers very up to date. He was winning at the moment.
Having finished his homework the day before, he had time on Sunday evening to work on his writing, which he had not touched for a while now. He bled onto the paper, disappearing from his bedroom and getting lost inside his story. He was abruptly pulled out with a knock on his door. It did not matter. He smiled. Really, his life suddenly felt perfect. It was Ellis.
He did not let Ellis speak. He did not want Ellis to explain why he was there, or say anything that might make Lane think about everything that was not going well. He shut the door, grabbed Ellis, and kissed him. There was no alcohol on his breath; there was no fear of being expelled in the back of his head. It was a perfect kiss.
"You scared me," Ellis said.
"How?"
"You've been avoiding me ever since we, you know—I wasn't sure if—" Lane put his finger on Ellis' lips, smiled, and pulled off Ellis' shirt. He looked at him, the soccer hardened body, some faint bruises from rough games and tough practices. He pressed one of the bruises. Ellis took off Lane's shirt as well. And soon they were naked. They were still standing, looking at each other's naked bodies.
"You're red," Ellis said. "You shouldn't be. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You're beautiful, Lane." Lane looked down at the floor. Ellis lifted his chin with his finger and kissed him deeply. They took hold of each other and they stroked, the pleasure mounting quickly, the boys half suffocated from not wanting to pull their lips apart to breathe. And then their hands were wet, warm and sticky. They collapsed into Lane's bed, facing each other, kissing and talking about nothing. The amazing thing was that Lane did not think about Finn even once.
When Lane checked his email the next morning before school, there was a reply from the unknown requestor. Lane had taken to just calling him Ellis.
It's Victoria Hamilton, and I need an A +.
Lane hit reply.
It'll be a thousand dollars. I can't guarantee higher than a 98% (but I'll try). Email money transfer please.