Arabian Nights

Arabian Nights by RJ

This story is about the relationship between two young men who have been best friends their whole lives.

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~ Chapter 2 ~

Once Zane gets a few things together and I grab the stack of photographs from my dresser, we hop into my car and start heading back to Baba's. Zane seems mildly awkward -- and it's not necessarily because of anything he's doing or saying. It's his energy. We know each other well enough to understand how the other person is feeling without having to spell it out. I understand why he's feeling a little uncomfortable, so I have to make sure that he knows I'm here for him.

As we head out onto the main road, I ask him something I'm curious about. "So... Who was that guy?" I ask, glancing at him. "Boyfriend?"

I sense him look my way for a quick second before he says "I wouldn't go that far. We've been seeing each other for a bit, I guess, but..."

"Not that serious?"

"I don't know," he says. Then he clears his throat a bit. "He told me he loved me."

I snort, my head turning towards Zane. I notice he's biting his nails again. "Seriously? How long have you guys been together?"

He shrugs. "Two, three months?"

"I guess that's reasonable," I say, even though I'm questioning it.

But he just shakes his head. "It was when we were in the middle of, like..." He uses a weird hand motion before adding "Having sex."

I try not to laugh, so I just say "Oh."

"Yeah. So things are a little weird right now."

I'm extra curious to know about this guy because he's never given me a single detail about anyone he's dated before. I wonder if this guy is the type of guy he usually goes for. "What's he like?"

"He's cool," he says. "He's pretty laid back, so... You'd like him," he adds.

Zane is an excellent judge of character, so I don't doubt him when he says I'd like him. "Well, I'd love to meet the dude. For real this time." I shoot Zane a little smile.

It's nice to see him smile back slightly. "Yeah?" he asks before nodding slightly to himself. "I could probably make that happen." Then, even as I shift onto the highway, I feel Zane's eyes on me. I can sense that he has something to say, or ask, so I'm not surprised when, after a few moments, he speaks up again. "Should I tell your father?"

I glance at him once but I have to focus on switching lanes. "About your newfound sexuality?"

"It's not newfound, bro," he reminds me with a tiny laugh, "but yeah."

"Hm," I say, thinking about it as I speed up so a healthy 65mph. "Do you want to tell him?"

"I don't know," he says. "I guess if you know, he should know."

I understand what he means. My father is basically a third parent to Zane, and because the three of us are so close, it'd make sense for Baba to know. "What about your parents?" I ask him, wondering about Rashida and Seth.

"No way," he says immediately. Then he second-guesses himself. "I mean... well... I don't know. My mom, I guess, but my father?" I just nod to myself. Rashida would probably be kind about it. After all, she's kept my father's secret for so long. But that's all because we know how Seth will react. And who's to say how he'll respond to his own flesh and blood being gay... "Part of me has always wanted to tell him," Zane says, "but it would... it would change everything."

"That's putting it mildly," I say, and I get a little laugh out of Zane.

He asks another question. "Promise things won't change between us?"

I look over at him and smile before reaching over and patting his chest. "I promise."

Baba is surprised but pleased to see that I've brought Zane back with me. He gives Zane a joyful hug before doing his normal fussing: "Please, get comfortable! Do you need anything? Tea? A cookie?" The impression of being a good host is very important to Baba, and he'll end up going through all the motions of ensuring Zane has everything he needs unless I distract him.

So I hold up the stack of photographs and wave them around. "Look what I got."

Baba's eyes go wide and he smiles, taking them from me and leafing through a few quickly. "Oh, this is perfect," he says, clearly happy. We all make our way into the dining room, where he has his scrapbook laid out and ready. First thing he has to do, though, is organize all the photos.

Zane and I slip into the kitchen first and help ourselves to some drinks and homemade chocolate kunafa before joining Baba at the dining table. Already, he has at least a dozen piles already for the couple hundred photos to be placed in. "Any rhyme or reason to this?" I ask, trying to see if there's some sort of pattern.

"Theme and age range," he says calmly before laughing at one picture and then placing it gently on top of the smallest pile. He takes a momentary break from his organization to look at Zane. "Why are you here?" he asks -- which would normally sound blunt and rude if not for the happy lilt in his voice. "I thought you had a date."

Zane turns to me, and I just shrug, nonverbally telling him that I told Baba that he probably had a date tonight. Baba and I spent some time speculating as to who it was. Of course, both of us were completely wrong. "Yeah," Zane says slowly before clearing his throat.

Baba chuckles as he keeps sorting through pictures. "You don't sound so excited," he says. "Didn't go well?"

"Not exactly," Zane says, looking at me warily.

"Well, there are plenty of other women in the garden," Baba says before looking at me. "Is that the expression?"

I just smile. "'Fish in the sea', Baba."

He just waves me off. "Agh. You understand what I'm saying." Zane nods a little, but it's an anxious nod, and Baba's quick to take notice. Baba pauses, looking at Zane, then me, then Zane again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Zane says quickly.

But Baba is perceptive of Zane's shift in mood. "You're quieter than usual." Then, he looks excited as he comes to his own conclusion. "The date DID go well?" he asks.

Zane laughs a little. "No, Baba G--"

"You're in love, aren't you?"

"It's not that--"

"Who's the lucky girl, hm? Are we finally going to meet someone?"

"It's not a girl," Zane says flatly.

Baba takes it almost as a joke. "What is she, a dog?" he asks, laughing to himself before he notices the strange shift in the air. He looks at the both of us curiously, inquisitively. "What's going on, boys?"

Zane looks at me, and I just give him a little nod. "I have... uh... something I want to tell you, actually."

Baba, who had been bending over the table to sort through the photographs, sits down in his chair, crosses his leg over his knee, and gives Zane his full attention. Zane looks almost uncomfortable getting my father's undivided attention, but I see it as a sign of respect. Baba's good at knowing when to have fun and when to get serious, and it's clear he can tell it's not a moment for jokes. "I... Um..." Zane laughs slightly, looking nervous and struggling with his words. "I..."

"He's not gonna be mad," I murmur to him.

"I know," Zane says, "but... Can you tell him?"

I blink. "Me?"

Zane looks up at me. "Please?"

I guess it'll take the pressure off of him a little bit, so I agree. I turn to Baba, whose focus is now on me. I decide to be straight-forward: "Zane's gay."

Baba looks completely surprised -- as I'm sure I looked when I found Zane and his not-quite-boyfriend together. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry, what?"

"He's gay, Baba," I say slowly. "That's what he wanted to tell you."

Baba looks at Zane, eyes still wide as he takes in this information. Zane just picks at something on the table. Unconvinced, Baba keeps questioning Zane. "Really? You?"

"I'm just as surprised as you are," I say.

Baba glances at me. "I don't understand," he says. "Is this a joke? Are you joking?"

"It's not a joke, Baba," I say softly. He looks at me with a bit of scrutiny and I just hold up my hands. "Hey, I only just found out tonight too. Right before we came over." Then, to make things a little more lighthearted, I add "I caught him in the act."

Zane punches me in retaliation for exposing him, but Baba just looks confused, not getting the joke. "'The act'?"

"Never mind, Baba," I say with a slight laugh, rubbing my thigh. "The point is, Zane is coming out, so..." I gesture to my friend, who's sitting idly beside me. "Say something to him."

Baba turns to Zane and stares for a moment. "It's true?" he asks.

Zane finally looks up and then nods.

I think Baba sees the sincerity in Zane's face, and he sighs, smiling gently. "Oh, Zane, my boy," he says, tsking. "I'm so sorry."

Now I'm confused. He's apologizing? "Why are you sorry?" I ask before Zane can.

"Being gay... It's not easy." I think Baba sees something in my face because he says "You wouldn't understand, Khalid." I'm a little offended that he's so quick to assume that I wouldn't have any sort of empathy in this situation. But before I can say anything, Baba asks me to leave.

"You want me to leave?"

"I want to talk with Zane," he says. "Alone."

"Why alone?"

"Because this doesn't concern you."

"But--"

"Go!" Baba says, practically shooing me away from the table. I glance at Zane before sighing and taking my leave, heading into the living room in forced solitude. But I have to respect their privacy a bit, I suppose. Baba's right: none of this really concerns me. Baba probably has some gay-related advice for him that I couldn't possibly give him or something. So I turn on the television loud enough for it to drown out their voices so that they can talk about whatever they need to discuss.

I nearly nod off by the time they come into the living room. I sit up abruptly, glancing at my phone to check the time. Seems that they've talked for nearly forty minutes. Jesus, what a conversation. Zane joins me on the couch while Baba sits in his loveseat, grabbing the remote. "Should we watch a movie?" he asks, clearly keeping things casual.

Zane seems quiet, so I just say "Sure," giving Baba the go-ahead to sift through all our options. I scoot a little closer to Zane, nudging him a bit. "Everything okay?" I mutter.

He looks at me and nods, giving me a short but unconvincing smile. "Yeah."

I'm nosy and am dying to know what they talked about, but I'm exercising restraint. I keep my questions to myself as Baba settles on a movie of his choosing: "Life of Pi". As usual, Baba talks through the entire thing. I engage with him often, because otherwise he's just talking to himself, but Zane is almost completely silent, spending most of the film chewing on his nails like he always does when he's thinking too hard. Part of me is worried about him, but he's a strong character. Worrying about Zane would be a waste of my time.

Once the movie is over, it's time to get ready for bed. Zane and I take Baba's king-sized bed (a gift from Seth and Rashida), and Baba takes my old twin mattress. This is our go-to arrangement whenever we stay over my old house since the couches (and even the twin bed) are too small for either of us. I use the bathroom first, washing up and brushing my teeth before I strip down to my boxers and get under the covers, waiting for Zane. Once he's out of the bathroom, I watch him undress, shut off the light, and then join me on my left side. He slides in with a sigh and adjusts the pillow behind his head.

I wonder if I should say anything. Is it my place to ask what him and my father talked about? Probably not. But I am curious, and I am his friend. I can be even more supportive if he keeps an open channel of communication with me. Plus I'm just damn nosy.

But he beats me to it. "Baba G doesn't think I should tell my father," he says, breaking the silence.

I look over at Zane, who's just looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah?"

He nods. "He actually insisted that I don't. He thinks he'll disown me."

I shift onto my side. "Like, full-out strip-you-of-your-name-and-title disown you?"

"Yep."

I bite my lip a bit. "I mean, he knows your father pretty well."

"I know."

"Did you WANT to tell him?"

"I mean, no, not really," he says. "It's kinda just a what-if, you know?" He sighs heavily. "I was kind of hoping he'd say that my father would still... I don't know... support me, because I'm his blood."

"What about Rashida?"

"I'll probably tell her eventually," he says, shrugging. Then he closes his eyes. "It's just stupid that I have to do this."

"Do what? Come out?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to," I tell him.

"Yes I do," he says. "Everyone expects me to bring home a girl. Even you did."

I don't have an excuse. He's right. I definitely just assumed Zane was straight all this time -- as does everyone else, I'm sure. "I mean... you've gone this long without anyone suspecting a thing," I say with a little grin.

"Yeah, but I hated doing it," he says, looking at me. "It sucked keeping this from you."

I smile at him. "Well, now I know."

He laughs. "Now you know."

He smiles at me a little bit before saying he's going to try and sleep. I concur, going back to my original position, fluffing up the pillow behind my head, and shutting my eyes while I listen to Zane's deep, calming breathing pattern. Lying next to him in the same bed still doesn't feel weird. After all, I promised him things wouldn't change between us, and overall, I think I'm staying true to my word. But at the same time, I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe it's just the shock of it. I'm hoping that I'll stop harping on this one detail about him after a few days. The trick really is to make sure I don't redefine him based on this new tidbit of information. Zane is still the same person, after all. And there's so much more to him than his sexuality.

Over the next week or so, things remain normal, though. The only thing that changes is that Zane starts talking about his "endeavors" more. Nothing graphic, but he's much more open to talking about what he's done with his new squeeze, Jason. I'll get the occasional story about a date they had, or something funny Jason said, or a vague detail about their sex life -- things I've never gotten before. Regardless of how Zane feels concerning his father, he seems happier being more open with me. And that's what counts.

What's most exciting is that I finally, finally, finally get to meet someone he's involved with. He's told me he's had a "handful" of boyfriends in the past (whatever that means), but at least I get to meet one of them. Zane's bringing Jason over to visit me on my lunch break (since I picked up a Saturday shift) so we can all grab a bite and get to know each other a little.

I meet them outside the care facility a little after noon, smiling as I strut onto the sidewalk in my blue scrubs.

"Hey, Scrub," Zane says with a smile, turning away from Jason and giving me a quick hug.

"Fuck off," I say, patting his back before stepping back to look at Jason. Technically this isn't my first time meeting Jason -- but my first impression of him still remains the same: he's intimidating. He gives me a tight-lipped smile and offers his hand, and I shake it. "Nice to finally meet you," I say.

"Same here," he says, sizing me up. "Heard a lot about you."

Wish I could say the same about you, Jason. "How much time do you have?" Zane asks me.

"'Bout an hour," I say. "Pretty flexible here."

"Okay, cool," he says, nodding before addressing us both. "Where do you wanna eat?"

Jason just shrugs, removing himself from the voting. "Wherever."

I appreciate someone who's laid back, but something about Jason reads more uninvolved than chill. Maybe it was the tone he used... or maybe it's the way he's kind of squinting at me. I glance at Zane. "Hibachi?" I suggest.

A wide grin appears on his face. "Hell yeah."

Our favorite hibachi place is just a short eight-minute walk from my job, so the three of us travel a few blocks down the street. We're greeted by a bored-looking host who seats us with a quiet family of five. The three of us take the corner of a hibachi table, Zane placing himself between me and Jason. We put in our drink orders with a separate waitress before she practically jogs away from our table, looking rushed.

"I've never gotten hibachi before," Jason says.

I feel a little relieved that he's initiating conversation. After that "uninvolved" vibe I received from him, I was worried I'd be pushing buttons. "Really?" I ask.

"It's fun," Zane says, "and the food is good, I promise."

"You like Japanese food, right?" I ask.

He shrugs. "It's okay," he says. "More of a burgers 'n fries kind of guy."

I try not to squint at him, but his comment irks me. I know his type. I work with plenty of "All-Americans" who refuse to add a little culture to their diet and won't touch anything that's not fried and greasy. I don't know why it's such a sore spot for me, but his comment makes him seem... boring, in a way. I suppose it's because Baba always made sure my palate was expansive growing up. Even as a young American boy, Indian food was always my favorite.

Luckily Zane's on the same wavelength as me. "We're the exact opposite," he says, looking at me and smiling even though he's talking to Jason. "Khalid and I eat nothing but ethnic food."

"It's been curry all week, baby," I say, laughing.

Jason makes a face. "I hate curry."

"Guess you can't hang with us then," I say. I meant it as a joke, but I think he took it somewhat personally because the glare he gives me is stone-fucking-cold. I just wince slightly, thankful that the waitress is back with our drinks to distract me from my embarrassment.

I don't know about this guy. For one thing, I'm surprised by how similar he is to Zane. In a lot of ways, they're the same: they both carry themselves the same way, have the same low, deep voice, and each have a quiet, reserved strength about them. The only difference is that Jason seems a little humorless, sorely lacking Zane's barrel-chested laugh. It's fair to say that out of the two of us, I'm more of the "goof," but Zane is by no means a prude when it comes to laughing, cracking jokes, or just having a good time. It's possible that Jason's just nervous to meet me or something, but he doesn't seem nervous at all -- just cold. And I like to think that I'm pretty friendly and have given him ample opportunity to... well, smile a little.

On one hand, it worries me and makes me wonder what Zane sees in this guy, since I'm already getting iffy vibes. But I do notice the way Jason looks at Zane, and vice versa. They're private, romantic looks, meant only for each other. Plus, as the lunch goes on and we watch the hibachi chef works his magic, Jason seems to lighten up a tad. Maybe I just need to give him a chance.

Zane gets a chance to ask my opinion when, after the chef has gone and we're just eating our meals, Jason excuses himself to go use the restroom. Zane looks towards me mid-chew and says "So?"

I grin a little. "So?"

"So... What do you think?"

"Of what?" I tease.

"Don't be stupid, bro," he says, elbowing me hard.

I wince but laugh. "He seems okay."

Zane stares at me, chewing slowly before he swallows and points his fork at me. "You hate him."

"What? No I don't."

"You hate him. I can tell."

"I don't hate him," I say. "I just don't... love him," I add slowly, trying not to laugh at Zane's expression.

"Why don't you like him?"

"It doesn't matter, Zane," I say, popping a leftover sweet potato roll into my mouth.

"Of course it matters," he says very seriously, pushing his food around with his fork as he digs for a piece of broccoli.

"Since when do you trust my opinion?" I ask while chewing.

"He's not a girl," Zane says, smirking. "I don't trust you when it comes to girls."

"I'm perfectly trustworthy."

"The hell you are," he says. "You date the trashiest chicks."

"I do not," I say, trying not to laugh.

"Yes you do. The only girlfriend I liked was Maggie, and you fucking cheated on her."

I wince, remembering Maggie. She was really good to me, mostly because she was just a quality person. For whatever reason, I just didn't give her the respect she deserved. "I get it, I suck."

"You don't suck," he says softly, patting my thigh. "You just... fuck up a lot when it comes to this stuff."

I laugh. "Easy for you to judge. You know all my shit, and I know nothing about you and Moody."

Zane grins. "You think he's moody?"

"I just..." I sigh. "I don't know. I'm trying to, like, give it time, but he gives me a weird vibe. And I think it's because he hates me or something."

Zane looks skeptical. "I doubt that."

"Well, he's uptight about something, so either you're in trouble, or it's me," I say with a grin. He's about to continue speaking but I shush him since Jason is coming back to the table.

The rest of our lunch is spent making idle chat as we finish polishing our plates and wait for the check to come around. Once the waitress sets the bill in front of us, Zane doesn't hesitate to scoop it up. "What are you doing?" Jason asks.

Zane simply says "I got it" as he reaches into his back pocket to pull his wallet out.

"You got it last time," Jason says.

"And I got it this time too," Zane says back with a smile, pulling out his debit card and wrapping the bill around it.

Jason (for the first time today, if I'm not mistaken) smiles softly towards Zane. "Ever the gentleman."

Zane just chuckles and says "You know me."

Zane said it with an airy, playful tone, but I can't help but wonder: does Jason know him? They've only been dating a few months. How deeply could he possibly know Zane? And then, another nagging, lingering thought pops into my head: does Zane tell Jason things he doesn't tell me? All that sexual and romantic junk, sure. But what about more profound or emotional things? I've always wondered if Zane is as open with me as I am with him, and suddenly, it's all I can think about. What if Jason has the upper hand somehow? Even as we leave the restaurant and walk back towards work, I'm questioning their closeness. It's not until I say goodbye to them both and step back into the facility that it hits me: I'm jealous.

It's a silly feeling. In fact, it makes me feel like a child, especially because it's not my place to be jealous of Zane's romantic partners. But Zane is my guy, my go-to, my ride-or-die, and, in a weird way, Jason is threatening that. Somehow, with my stupid, somewhat regressive thinking, I'm convincing myself that me dating women is not as much of a threat to my bromance with Zane as much as Zane's homosexuality is -- especially since (and I'm convinced of this) Jason seems to harbor some sense of hostility towards me.

I should stop worrying. There's no point. This is Zane we're talking about, and if there's anything I know about him, it's that he's constant.

I hear the door slam and I raise my eyebrows. I've been lying in bed scoping out Reddit for the past hour as a way of doing something mindless and meaningless after a long day of work. And what a day it's been. More patients have coded today more than they have all week, several confidential patient files conveniently went missing at the hands of a newbie, and several nurses are trying to talk the rest of us into going on strike because of lack of benefits (even though a lot of us, myself included, get what I need). As soon as I got back to the apartment, I threw myself into bed and have not moved since. But the door slamming piques my interest. My guess is, Zane didn't have a great day either.

I slide out of bed and make my way into the kitchen, where I see Zane rummaging through the fridge. "Sup, big guy?" I ask.

He glances back at me, looking exhausted. I see that he's unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt as well as loosened his tie. "Hey Khalid."

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. "Bad day?"

"You have no idea," he says, still sifting through food and drink, clearly looking for something specific.

"I feel that."

He glances at me. "You too?" When I nod, he shakes his head. "Something must be in the air or some shit." He sighs a bit, pushing aside a few cartons of juice in frustration. "Don't we have anything to drink?"

I know he's talking about alcohol, so I shake my head. "All dry."

"Fuck," he whispers, rubbing his forehead.

"Wanna get plastered?" I ask with a grin.

"Kinda," he says, laughing slightly.

"Let's go to Dee-Man's or something," I say, suggesting the nearby bar.

He winces. "That place is so dingy."

"Yeah, but they have decent food. And we can walk."

He sighs before shutting the fridge. "Alright."

"Sweet," I say, excited by the prospect of drinking to forget the stress today caused. "You can invite Jason too, if you want," I add. It's my way of playing nice. Last week, Zane basically confirmed that Jason doesn't like me very much. Technically I inferred it from how he responded when I asked him what his boyfriend thought of me: all he did was give me an uncomfortable look before completely switching the subject. Ever since, I haven't asked much about the guy, and Zane hasn't said too much either.

And for good reason, apparently -- Zane closes his eyes for a moment and then says "Yeah, about that..."

I cock an eyebrow. "What?"

He looks at me before saying "We broke it off."

"Wait, what?" I ask, surprised. "What happened?"

He shrugs. "I don't wanna get into it right now," he says vaguely.

Damn. I really want to know. But I have to ask more important questions. "Are you okay?"

He nods. "Yeah, I guess," he says before taking his tie completely off with one good tug and then tossing it on the counter. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

I still want to talk about this breakup, because I don't have any of the details: when it happened, why it really happened, who made that fateful decision. At first, I assumed Zane's rough day was because of work, but now, I'm not so sure. Still, I don't want to nag, so I do what I do best: keep his spirits up. As we walk to the nearest bar, I make sure to keep him distracted with a steady flow of jokes and friendly banter. We both complain about our work days, too, which is no problem for him -- complaining about something as trivial as work is much easier than talking about the complexity of emotions.

When we get to Dee-Man's, we grab a small, slightly-dirty table and order a few drinks and some small plates. Bar food isn't our favorite, but it fits the mood after a long day, and we spend about a half hour picking at French fries, sliders, mac-n-cheese bites, and nachos while gulping down our drinks. Rather, I'M gulping down my drinks. I'm on my fourth ginger mule, but Zane's still on his first cocktail.

The waiter comes back to our table after a while and glances at my empty glass. "Want a refill?"

"Yeah, thanks," I say, sliding the glass closer to him. I nod towards Zane but he shakes his head.

"I'm good," he says, even though he's almost empty.

I squint after the waiter walks away. I thought he was just taking it slow, but it seems like he's just not in the mood. "You're good? I thought you wanted to drink." Here I am, feeling the alcohol flooding my system, and Zane's still basically sober.

"I changed my mind," he says, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

I frown a little before popping a French fry into my mouth. "Thinking about Jason?" I ask, bringing him up for the first time since we've sat down.

Zane glances at me before shrugging. "A little."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah, but... not right now," he says, playing with his straw.

I look at him for a while, frowning slightly. "You're breaking my heart, dude."

He glances up at me and then laughs. "What?"

"You look so sad!"

He shrugs, at least finding my reaction humorous. "I really liked that guy, Khalid."

I smile a little before scratching my chin. "You know what you need?"

He looks at me before frowning. "Don't."

"A rebound."

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "I knew you were gonna say something stupid."

"What? Everyone says a rebound is a good idea."

"Everyone's an idiot," he comments, reaching forward to grab a nacho before stuffing the entire chip into his mouth.

"It's always worked for me," I say, and he gives me such a pointed glare that I burst out laughing. "Okay, I get it, you don't trust me, but it'd be a good distraction."

"So would coal mining. Or praying," he jokes, taking a jab at our total lack of religion.

"Too much thinking about things," I tease before glancing towards our waiter, who's mixing my fifth mule for me. I cock my chin towards him. "What about the waiter?"

Zane looks at me curiously, raising his eyebrows in surprise at my insinuation. "What about him?"

"He's pretty cute, yeah?"

Zane laughs. "No."

"What? You don't think so?"

"No, just-- He's fine. He's just not my type," Zane says, taking another nacho.

"What IS your type?" I ask, leaning in and resting my arms on the table.

"I don't know," Zane says mid-chew, shrugging. "I don't really have a type." I smirk a little. Somehow it seems fitting that Zane doesn't have a particular type. He knows my type though: dark-haired, flat-chested, long-legged beauties. Like one of the girls at the bar. "I just don't like twinks."

I blink. "Twinks?" The hell does that mean?

He grins a bit. "Y'know, like... Dudes that are slim, smooth, young-looking..."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that some gay guy lingo or something?"

"That's exactly what it is," he says, amused.

I smirk a bit, glancing at the waiter. He definitely fits that category. He's skinny, blond, and looks like he could still be in high school. "So am I a twink or something?" I ask. I'm not that skinny, but I'm smooth and young-looking. I check some twink-boxes, right?

Zane seems to think that's funny. "No. You're not slim enough. Or boyish enough."

"What would I be, then?"

He looks at me for a moment, reaching into his half-opened shirt to scratch his chest as he thinks. "A jock, probably," he says.

A jock? That hardly seems like an exclusively gay term. "Any dude can be a jock," I question.

"It has to do with body types," Zane says. "Like, you're pretty fit and active, and a jock is all about muscle and sports and shit. But... I don't know. You're more on the toned side, so... If you had more body hair you could be an otter," he says with a grin.

"An otter?" I say, laughing. "Seriously? Why animals?"

"I don't make the rules," he says, grinning.

"So what are you, then?"

He shrugs. "Jock, wolf. A hybrid between the two."

"What the fuck," I say, laughing. "'Wolf' sounds way sexier than 'otter'."

"That's why I'm the wolf," he says with a grin, and I mock him by doing my best impression of a wolf-howl. I'm fully aware that I'm being quite loud and obnoxious, but I'm drunk and want to make my friend laugh -- which he does, reaching across the table to hit me as if to shut me up while he's in the middle of a laughing fit.

We chuckle about it for a few moments before my eyes once again catch the two girls at the bar. I smile at one of them who's looking my way, and I see her giggle before leaning in to her friend. "It's a shame you're not into girls," I say, and when Zane raises his eyebrow, I tell him how those two girls have been eyeing us for a while now.

He turns around to get a look at them, and when he does, both girls are looking towards our table. They both start giggling once Zane notices them, and he just turns back to me, grinning slightly. "One for each of us? Was that your plan?"

"It was my hope, not my plan," I say cheekily.

"I hate you," he says, rolling his eyes, and I just laugh.

"I just need to get laid," I say, biting my lip when I make eye contact with the brunette again. She's giving me quite the sultry sort of grin. I'm tempted to go over there.

"How long has it been again?" he asks.

"Like a month." Kim, the girl I used to sext a lot, now has a boyfriend, so I don't talk to her anymore. The old me would have thought nothing of it and fucked her to high heaven. But after college, I realized the damage I caused in relationships (some that weren't even mine) via infidelity and vowed to never do anything of the sort again.

Zane whistles. "That's like a record for you, isn't it?"

"Shut up," I whisper, because all of a sudden, both girls are getting up to leave the bar. At first, I wonder if they're heading to the bathroom together or something. But then they turn on their heels and head straight for our table. Now I can see both of their bodies better. Each of them are showing off their legs in either a mini-skirt or a short, body-hugging dress. I try my best not to stare.

"Gentlemen," the brunette says while her red-haired friend brings her martini to her lips. She's positively sexy. She has a dark sort of look about her -- probably emphasized by her makeup.

"Ladies," I say back, smiling at them both.

"You've been doing an awful lot of staring," she says, looking right at me.

"Plenty to look at," I say back. In my head it sounded smooth, because I'm inebriated, but I'm almost embarrassed when I hear it leave my lips.

She doesn't seem to mind at all, though. "This one's cheeky," she says with a smile.

Then the redhead speaks up, addressing Zane. "What's your story, handsome?"

Zane smiles a bit. "I'm just tagging along for the ride."

"Ooo, I get it," she says in her squeaky voice, as if there's something to get. She points to Zane first. "You're the tall, quiet, surly one," she says, and then she points at me and says "and you're the talkative one."

"He gets 'tall and surly' and all I get is 'talkative'?" I ask.

Both girls laugh. "And sexy," the brunette says boldly.

I grin, liking the fact that the brunette is going for me rather than Zane. "I'll take that."

"You guys are a cute pair," the redhead says, giggling again.

"We are, aren't we?" I tease, looking at Zane, who just shakes his head as he laughs. "That's my boy right there."

"Well, what are you and your boy up to tonight?" the brunette asks me, licking her lips in a subtle but suggestive fashion.

"Depends what comes our way," I say softly.

"Or who?"

I grin, looking her up and down unabashedly. "Or who."

The brunette looks at her friend and they both grin at each other before the ginger speaks up. "This place is kind of a dump, don't you think?" she asks before looking towards Zane, clearly into him. "Why don't we all get out of here?"

I know this dance. We'll flirt around the subject even though we all know how this will end: with sex. I can't help but smile at the prospect of finally getting laid, but there's one glaring problem: Zane. This isn't exactly his rodeo. The opportunity to become some sort of foursome has never come to us before, and prior to his coming out, I would have leapt at the opportunity. Now, I can't imagine he'd be into it. "Well," I start to say slowly, "problem is, he's not exactly into--"

"Gingers," he spits out, cutting me off. The girls look at him skeptically, the redhead looking particularly affronted. He apologizes. "Sorry. Just not my thing."

The ginger scoffs. "Not your thing?" she mocks bitterly, her mood totally shifting from flirty to angry. Then she repeats it again, but louder: "Not your THING?"

"He didn't mean it like that," I say, but I know a lost cause when I see one. The redhead probably had one too many drinks and took the comment too personally, so she mutters a quick "Fuck you" to Zane before grabbing her friend's hand and tugging her back towards the bar. The brunette looks at me apologetically but stays with her friend, and I round in on Zane once they're out of earshot. "Dude?"

"What?" he challenges.

"The fuck was that about?"

"You were about to fucking out me," he says, and the fact that he actually looks upset with me makes me falter a bit. Shit, he's right. I really was just about to expose him. I think in my head, my plan was to convince them both to have me instead. Or something. I don't know. It was stupid.

Still, I try to come up with an exuse. "They don't know you," I say.

"So?"

I sigh heavily, rubbing my brow bone. "You're right. I'm sorry," I say. "I'm drunk."

He sighs too, slumping back in his chair. "It's fine," he says, scratching his neck as he absentmindedly looks around. Then, he says he wants to leave, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

I frown. "Okay. Want me to come with you?"

He looks at me. "I mean, that brown-haired girl seemed to like you still."

I glance towards her. It looks like she's just listening to her friend talk, nodding appropriately and giving her her undivided attention. I could just walk up to her and apologize on behalf of Zane if I wanted to. But she had the right idea: even if it got in the way of getting laid, she put her friend first. And I have to do the same thing for Zane. "Let's go," I say.

We split the bill, leaving a good amount of cash on the table for the food and drinks before we leave. Walking outside is a total breath of fresh air, and I sigh, forgetting how musty it gets in that building. But actually standing up and having to walk is making me realize how drunk I got. I'm really feeling it now. We take things slow, walking side by side towards our apartment.

"You could have at least pushed both girls towards me," I say, still upset I won't be getting any tonight.

He laughs. "The redhead didn't want you, bro."

"She might have!"

"Nah. She wanted a wolf," he teases, slinging his arm around me.

I just push him away, laughing. "I like you better when you're quiet," I tease.

"Ouch," he says, pretending to be wounded for a moment before he smiles.

I look at him as we walk, waiting several seconds before I speak up. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

He glances at me and smiles just a tad wider. "I know," he says, nodding as he looks down at his feet. He takes a few moments to himself before finally starts talking about what I've been wondering about all night. "I ended things with Jason," he says.

That answers one question. "Why, though?" I ask.

"He, um... He was jealous."

Jealous? "Of?"

"Well... you."

I almost laugh. Jason was jealous of me? That's not what I expected Zane to say, especially because, ironically enough, I was dealing with my own weird sense of jealousy. "Me?" I ask, baffled.

"I know, right?" he says, probably hearing the surprise in my voice. "It's so stupid."

Stupid, sure. But now Jason's hostility towards me when we met makes sense. No wonder I felt like he hated me. He DID. Though I'm still confused. "I don't get it," I tell him. What did I do?

"Neither do I," Zane says. "I think he just felt threatened or whatever. He wouldn't stop asking about us."

"Like after we met?"

"Even before," Zane says. "It only got worse after he saw how you and I vibe in person, I guess. It was just constant 'It's not my fault you guys have SO much chemistry' and 'How do I know something's not going on?' and 'You always talk about Khaliiid' and blah blah fuckin' blah." He sounds annoyed.

"You talk about me?" Figures that's the thing I focus on.

"Yeah, of course," he says casually.

I guess it's just strange to hear since he rarely talks about other people, even in a good light. So that's nice. Still, I feel somewhat bad that I played some part in ruining his relationship, as short as it was. Jealousy can really fuck things up. "Doesn't he know I'm straight, though?" I ask, arching my eyebrow.

Zane just shrugs. "He doesn't think so."

I nearly choke. "What?"

"He doesn't think you're straight."

I don't really know how to respond to that. Who is Jason to question my sexuality? Or is that just a tactic he employed to perceive me as an even bigger threat? I'm sure it was easy to paint me as the closeted homosexual that's been secretly pining for his best friend. "Okay..." I say, trailing off.

Zane just smiles. "He just didn't trust you," he says. "Or me, by extension. It was getting kinda like, weirdly manipulative and shit, so I shut it down."

I don't know what to say now. "I'm sorry, man."

"It's not your fault," he says. Then, to emphasize his point: "Really."

I smile a little. "First guy you bring home and I scare him away."

Zane laughs. "You're not that scary," he says.

"Whatever," I say with a grin. "How'd he take the breakup?"

He flinches slightly. "Not that well," he says. "He thought I was being 'unreasonable'."

I snort. Zane is the least unreasonable person I know. "You should have just told him he was right and that we're in love."

He scoffs. "He would have loved that."

Suddenly, a thought pops into my head, and drunkenly, I let it slip. "Have you ever thought about me?"

Zane arches his eyebrows, looking at me before laughing. "No."

"Okay, but are you lying?"

"You're my friend," he says, half-grinning.

"So?"

"So... you're like a brother to me."

"...So?"

He rolls his eyes. "I don't think about fucking every guy I meet, you know."

"Damn, must be nice," I say. "I'm always thinking about sex."

"'Cause you only think with your pretty dick."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I say with a grin, and I laugh when he shakes his head. "So you really have never thought about me? Not even once?"

"Have YOU thought about ME?" he fires back.

I smile slightly, pausing. "I don't wanna tell you. It's embarrassing."

He arches an eyebrow. "So you HAVE."

I try not to smile. "In a dream once, yeah," I admit.

He bursts out laughing. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," I say, laughing too.

"Yikes. How bad was it?"

"It wasn't like, bad," I say. "It was just... really fucking weird. I couldn't look at you for a whole day."

He chuckles a bit. "Guess Jason was right about you." I immediately hit him with a scandalized look, which gets him laughing all over again. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he says, nudging me playfully with his arm.

"You were terrible, you know," I tell him, just to fuck with him.

He grins. "In your dream?"

"Yeah. You give shit head."

"Musta been someone else," he says, "'cause I give great head."

"Damn, cocky much?" I say.

"Just stating facts," he says with a playful smile.

"K, Wolf," I tease, and he laughs gently.

Suddenly, though, he switches his tone. "So, since you're drunk and less rational, I wanna ask you something."

I glance at him, curious to see where he's going with this. "Don't take advantage of me."

"Too late," he says, smiling before he looks a bit serious. "I think I wanna tell my father."

What a change of conversational pace. "Zane, no."

"Hear me out," he says as if he has proper justification ready. However, all he does is pause as he thinks for a moment. Then he sighs through his nose. "Okay, I guess I really don't have a great idea or explanation or anything."

I laugh. "There you go."

"Seriously, though," he says. "After I came out to you, and then Baba G, I just... want to get it over with. Rip off the Band-Aid."

"Yeah, but..." I sigh. "I don't know." I can't help but feel like it'll get ugly. I've lived my whole life thinking about how everyone has kept my own father's sexuality a secret from Seth. That's enough for me to believe he can't be reasoned with, even if it concerns his own son.

"I have to tell him eventually, don't I?"

"I guess," I say. But does he? "I just don't think it's a good idea, Zane."

"I'm not asking you if you think it's a good idea," he says, seeming to have already decided.

"What are you asking me, then?"

"I'm asking if you'll be by my side when I do."

I'm touched that he wants me with him when this goes down, and I can't resist smiling at him before nodding. I don't even hesitate to support him. "Of course, big guy."

It takes us a few more minutes to get home, and when we do, we both head to our respective rooms. Zane needs to "think about things" for a little bit, and I need to lie down because I'm getting dizzy. Before I get to my room, he pulls me in for an appreciative hug, his body feeling firm against mine, and I smile, resting the side of my head against his. "Love you, bro," he says, giving me an even tighter squeeze.

"Love you more, my guy." I hear him chuckle before we separate, smile at each other, and then each head into our own bedrooms. That hug felt especially nice. Maybe it's because I'm a little drunk, but I really felt the brotherly love there. In general, neither of us are that shy about saying how we feel about each other, but after Zane has been more open with me than usual, it's all the confirmation that I need about our relationship.

As I plop myself onto my bed, another realization hits me: Zane chose me over his boyfriend. I'm assuming Jason's jealousy of me insinuated that Jason wanted me out of the picture in some regard. I don't know. Maybe it's too dramatic of a thought, especially since their relationship was only a few month's long, but it still makes me smile that, at the end of the day, Zane truly values our friendship.

I rest on my back with a happy sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a few moments and resting my hands on my stomach. Slowly, they start to drift lower, almost absentmindedly brushing against my groin. Immediately, my dick responds, and I grunt very softly. When's the last time I got off? A couple days ago? Alcohol has a weird way of making me horny, and my mind automatically goes to the brunette at the bar. If only things had turned out for the better, I could be at her apartment right now with my face between her legs. If Zane were straight, he could be next to me, probably getting head from the ginger in the same bed as me and the brunette. That would have been wild.

Damn. Now I'm hard. I glance down at my crotch and see my dick bulging in my shorts, and I reach right into my underwear to touch myself. Immediately, I moan softly. Maybe I could just bust one out quickly...

I'm too lazy to grab my computer from the living room, so I'll have to settle for my phone. I find searching for and watching porn on my phone to be a tedious exercise, so I decide to scroll back through my photo gallery and see what nudes I have saved. Even though I have no intention of fucking Kim, I'm still very much okay with fantasizing about her -- especially since she has sent me some of the hottest pictures I've ever received. Plenty of them, too. I try scrolling back to one of the first pictures she's sent to me so I can jerk off to all of them in order.

That's when I come across a picture I don't recognize. But, when I click on it to full-screen it, I instantly remember where it's from: Zane "teaching" me how to send suggestive nudes. Turns out I never deleted the photo he took on my phone, so my eyes are filled with the sight of him teasing the camera, showing off his abs, his trimmed pubes, and an inch or two of the base of his cock. I gulp a bit. When I had seen this picture the first time, it didn't really faze me. In that context, it wasn't for me to ogle at. But now that I have my hand in my shorts, it's surprisingly... turning me on, I think. I'm not sure what's happening, but I find myself staring, studying every detail: the bulging muscle in his arm, his strong-looking fingers, the softness in his pubes, how thick his cock looks, the curve of his abs... Suddenly, since I'm horny, I'm looking at him in a different way.

He's sexy. There's almost no denying that. Any straight guy or gay girl can admit that Zane undoubtedly has sex appeal, regardless of whether or not it's for them. But the fact that I know him so intimately almost makes it more intense. All of a sudden, my eyes want all those clothes to be removed. I want to see the strong chest and the tufts of body hair on his torso. I want those shorts on the floor, and I want his dick to be hard and his fist to be wrapped around it, showing off his manhood to the camera. To me.

I don't realize I'm jerking off until I look down at my hand in my shorts, pumping my dick slowly. Fuck, this is messed up. Why am I thinking about my friend like this? I shut my phone off and toss it back onto the bed, ignoring it, my breathing a little labored. But it feels too good to stop now. I bite my lip, still working my cock inside my shorts. I close my eyes to try to think of something else, like Kim or the brunette, but an image comes to mind: Zane bent over the couch as Jason takes him from behind. That memory is suddenly all I'm thinking about. I remember how weirdly strong and submissive Zane looked. I remember the way his hand slipped between his legs and stroked himself in time with Jason's thrusts. I remember how tightly Jason's fingers seemed to dig into Zane's hips as he thrusted back and forth, back and forth. I remember the noises: soft pants, deep grunts, broken moans, and that slight wet noise penetration makes. I remember the way Zane's eyes rolled back a bit before he even noticed my presence. I took in all these details within a second of walking in on them, but that second is giving me all the masturbation material I need right now. I can't stop. I feel my chest heaving a little more as I stroke myself faster, and faster, contemplating how rough Zane likes it, if he's always the one taking it, if he really does give head as good as he claims...

Shit. Now I'm thinking about that cursed dream. It was a simple dream. I don't even remember the context, or the lead up, or why the hell Zane and I were fooling around in the first place. All I remember is that we went there. We undressed each other. Touched each other. Sucked each other. Kissed. It was strangely impersonal, though, and when I woke up, I was so weirded out by it that I did all I could to pretend it never happened. Now, all I remember is Zane's head between my legs, his lips parting to take the head of my cock into my mouth and--

I grunt hard, my whole body tensing as I cum. I let out a slightly loud moan, but I choke it back as best as I can as I cream my shorts. My breathing hitches, my toes curl, and I wait until my orgasm stops blinding me before I relax my muscles and loosen up. I collapse on my back, panting slightly and then glancing down at my crotch. I can't believe I just did that. I came in my pants like I was in middle school or some shit. I pull my hand out, wincing slightly at the sight of my load between my fingers before I groan a bit and carefully slide myself out of bed. I take off my shorts and underwear, checking out the mess I made before wiping my crotch and hand off with my briefs. I toss the underwear and my shorts in the hamper and put on a fresh pair of briefs.

I just stand there, feeling confused. And dirty. I feel like I jerked off to porn I shouldn't have been watching or something, because this time, my imagination featured my best friend. Between the photo on my phone, catching him in the act, and the dream I had all those years ago, I don't know what to do with myself. It's not a big deal, right? Nothing's different? Everyone has weird moments. Sexuality is fluid and all that. And I'm drunk. That's got to be it. I'll just blame it on the alcohol bringing out a strange sense of horniness.

I sigh, heading to my bed to grab my phone. I delete the picture of Zane off my phone, but it doesn't make me feel relieved. Honestly, it only makes me wonder how I'll feel in the morning.