Hello all my readers, once again I have to apologize for the delay, but I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Please support Nifty and help keep this resource alive, it's inspired me many times in the past few years and helped me through some difficult patches.
Decent Progress Chapter 12
"I love him."
The words rang like a church bell, clear and high and joyful in the morning. They pealed and sang and flew up into the gym rafters, then came streaming down again like angel's music.
"I love him!"
He laughed aloud in giddy relief, the sound swallowed by the crowd's noise. Like a pain grown to one so accustomed it passes notice, but when removed creates a flood of ecstasy, so now he felt his uncertainty wash away. Fire ran through his veins while his heart pumped like a bellows sweeping heat from his fingertips to his toes. It wasn't happiness or confidence but a new feeling; freedom. Christian had a star in the sky, a north star that never flickered or diminished in its endless brightness. Seas could rage and storm and batter him hard, but he could look up and be sure of one thing: that he loved Brody. Words spoken weeks back in English class came to his mind now...
"Anna only loves what Vronksy represents; freedom, a quality that's denied her. But Levin loves Kitty for the qualities she possesses, qualities absent from himself, finding wholeness in her rather than through her. She's his compliment and companion, not a vicarious fulfillment of an impossible wish. Together they form one."
"Of course it was Brody that said that," Christian thought to himself with gleeful admiration.
Invigorated, he dashed down the bleachers into the crowd of wrestlers, pushing between them and bouncing off anonymous sweaty bodies until suddenly he was clasped tight in the arms of his love.
"Brody that was fucking amazing! You were so incredibly clutch!"
"Victory tastes even sweeter at the eleventh hour."
Christian savored the moments before they released each other. Brody was so wet, so firm, so alive, so unbelievably present.
"So it was all intentional then?" Christian laughed breathlessly when they were facing.
"If you're not going to win in dramatic fashion, what's the point?"
His smile could pierce an eclipse or cut granite. They laughed together giddily for a moment as the crowd milled around them. Still flowing with adrenaline, there was an almost dangerous appearance to Brody even as he looked Christian in the eye with affection. To Christian it was even more intoxicating. He couldn't stand it.
"Brody..?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you...."
He saw Brody's teammates looking at them but went on undeterred, even though his voice cracked and faltered.
"Do you want to...maybe... go do something? One night?"
Inside him was a small boy on his knees with his hands clasped in prayer.
"Are you asking me on a date?"
Desperately Christian tried to decipher the look in Brody's opaque black eyes, struggling to pierce the ocean depths of conflicting emotions and contradictory opinions that swarmed there.
"Yo Brody get back over here!" Thompson roared.
Brody glanced back and half-turned in their direction, leaving Christian bereft.
"Please no," A small voice begged inside of him.
But Brody stepped towards him and subtly raised his hand to Christian's chin.
"Of course I want to. But let's talk about it later, okay?"
Christian nodded and fought to keep his arms to his side.
"Good. Now come meet the crew."
"Ok but hold on Ive gotta pee!"
Christian became aware of his incredibly full bladder all on a sudden, and was practically dancing with his knees knocking like a chicken's.
"Beat it outside before the janitor's have one more mess to clean!"
The locker room and showers were a separate building to the gym accessible down a ramp, and Christian skimmed his hand along the iron railing at the ramp's edge, looking across the treetops in the distance as he rounded a corner. The wrestlers were coming and going at a steady pace, going in wet and sweaty and coming out wet and clean. Christian smiled ebulliently at anyone who made eye contact. After all, why not? Brody and he were going out! Even after all they'd done together this felt like a new beginning and the start of a real relationship. But his happy reflections were cut short when the one person he didn't smile at emerged: Justin. When Christian cheered from the bleachers and Brody blew him a kiss, Justin had glowered up at him. He looked just as angry now stalking up the ramp. Christian dropped his gaze to his feet.
Please just pass on by.
"It wasn't a legal hold, y'know."
Christian looked up to where Justin had stopped short. Fresh from the shower his wet blonde hair was scattered over his eyes. Damp grey sweatpants, like he hadn't dried himself.
"Huh?"
"It was a choke, it wasn't legal. You're not supposed to cut off the airway and it should've been called."
Christian resented the accusatory tone: he wasn't the negligent referee.
"There's nothing I can do. Talk to Brody if you've got a problem."
Justin balked.
"Yeah right, he'd just make fun of me and treat me like crap, the way he does to everyone!"
They've definitely met before.
Justin's highish voice and soft features indicated a late bloomer, and his wounded expression made him even younger.
"He's just competitive like everyone else," Christian responded adamantly, "More so: that's why he wins."
Justin stepped forward. Christian braced himself with a leg forward in case Justin shoved him.
"You can be competitive without being a total jerk. You know that."
His bright blue eyes sparkled with passion behind his hair. From the gym entrance the light shone through a few fitful hairs beginning to grow on his narrow jaw.
"Why are you telling me all this? What's it got to do with me?"
Justin opened his mouth a couple times. His face said he knew what he felt, but not how to verbalize it.
"' 'Cause I guess you're his friend and you should...know about it."
Christian was getting tired of this.
"I can't change Brody as a wrestler. If you think his style or his strategy or whatever is bad, send his coach an email."
He proceeded towards the locker room.
"Why do you like him?"
Christian stopped and turned.
"What?"
The question was unnerving. He hoped his tone didn't betray him.
Justin raised his shoulders and shook his head wonderingly as he repeated it.
"Why do you like him?"
"Oh grow up."
Christian went in and relieved himself, leaving Justin watching after him for a few moments before going on his way.
Back inside the gym, Brody ushered Christian over to his circle of teammates and introduced him. Christian learned later that much as he felt about Jameson and the other gymnasts at his academy, wrestlers made close bonds with their tribesmen. It was the grueling nature of the workouts, much like gymnastics, and the sheer amount of time spent in their company, also similar to gymnastics. They thought each other family. It was common to travel cross-country together or stay on a friends couch in a far-off place attending a special camp. But Brody maintained his distance from them all. He considered wrestling a solo sport and his teammates as just workout partners. Christian witnessed as much in Brody's interactions with them. They had piled into their cars for celebratory burgers (Christian frantically dashed off a text to his mom) and blew into a local diner, which was a shiny stainless steel old-fashioned thing, with a hurricane of laughter and loud music. At the table talking obstreperously and feeling a giddy delight in being provocatively annoying as teenagers do in packs, Brody alternately joked with Thompson, fended off assaults on his alpha-ness from Miguel, (who threw constant barbs at Brody's ostentatious word choice) spoke serenely to the quiet Sam, and best of all exchanged little glances with Christian, who's impression of a certain distance that Brody maintained from his companions, increased. He wasn't unfriendly but there was a stiltedness in his voice and manner at times, as if he treated them according to a personality profile he'd developed individually for each one. Perhaps they simply perceived Brody as being himself, but Christian picked up on subtle changes in manner like light refracting in different shades through a prism, as Brody turned himself to shine in the appropriate way upon the correct person. And boy could he be touchy! Sharp glances at ingenuous comments and verbal put-downs at the slightest challenge were pro-forma and a natural assertion of his tightly-wound personality, and it's mechanism wore people down with constant activity. It was clear Brody's teammates liked him, but clearing away their rubbish and belching their flip-flopping way back to their cars, they were also eager to be away from him.
"Fuckin' great night, bro, GREAT night," Thompson said with one last stinging low-five, leaving Brody's hand tingling. "Pasted that St. Arby's bitch."
"You too man, a silver against Clark earns serious bragging rights."
"Guy's a monster. Anyway seeya," He said as Miguel ushered him into his creaking old SUV.
"Workout tomorrow?" Brody called after them.
"Maybe, you may still be too tired by then," Miguel said as he slammed his door shut.
Brody and Christian watched as the SUV hauled its bulk away.
"Insolent ape."
"Yeah," Christian agreed. He didn't quite like the look Miguel gave them before he left. "What was that Thompson said?"
"He was referencing on Justin Highgate's school, St. Alban's. You know that snooty hilltop Versailles outside of town?"
"Oh! Yeah, I... I know about it."
It was the very place Christian contemplated begging his parents for a transfer, to try and escape Brody. That seemed a lifetime gone and a world apart. Christian couldn't imagine wanting to be away from him now.
"His family owns some big car company so they're rich as Croesus. Doesn't your friend Peter's father work for them?"
Christian thought Peter's dad owned his own business, but maybe not.
"Y'know he actually spoke to me when I went to the bathroom. Justin, I mean."
"Really?" Brody looked suspicious, amused and intrigued all at once. "What'd he say exactly?"
"Just complained that you were a jerk."
Brody sniggered.
"Poor goody two-shoes, unaccustomed to losing or trash talk. Maybe when his balls drop he'll learn not to take it personally."
Christian rolled his eyes internally. Clearly a lack of maturity wasn't limited to Justin.
"I can't get over how you beat him," He said, changing the subject slightly. "How do you pull a move like that under so much pressure? Down in points, clock running out..." Christian smiled in admiration and wonder. It was so, so unlike gymnastics. There was pressure, sure, but at least you didn't have to improvise your routine, under a time limit, while someone was fighting you. .
"You've got to detach yourself to think laterally in situations like that. You can't run through a mental playbook because there's insufficient time. Wrestling happens in the blink of an eye so you've gotta be in perfect tune with your body and your opponents'. Feel them together like they're one, feel the ebb and flow of movement between them, and then turn the tide in whatever direction favors you. Does that make sense?"
Surprisingly it did.
"And how's it feel to pin someone?" Christian asked with a smirk.
"Unbel-EEEE-vably satisfying!" Brody threw his head back as he said it. "Especially when they've hammered you the whole damn match."
"Justin did look pretty good."
"He's high on the national rankings. Only a freshman but he's a wizard on the mat; elusive, flexible, and calculating."
Christian liked Brody's acknowledgement of his opponent's skill. It was more grounded than the chest-beating boastfulness. They both stood quietly there in the parking lot for a few more moments, an expectant tension growing between them, each waiting for the other to break it.
"So about what I mentioned before..."
When his mother picked him up, Christian was strangely uncommunicative. She scanned him a few times on the drive home to assess why. Usually when her son was quiet he had a problem on his mind, and his analytical brain turned many gears over and over to solve it, giving his face a concerned, pensive look. But she didn't see the slightly lowered eyebrows or pursed lips. Instead he looked almost blissful and dazed. Had he been doing drugs?
"Are you alright?"
"Hmm?"
"You seem out of it. Was the match okay? How did Brody do?"
"Oh, he won! It was incredible, the other kid was beating him really badly but he came back at literally the last second and pinned him."
"That's fantastic! Did you congratulate him?"
His mother never overlooked a family-related social formality. OF COURSE her son poured adulation upon Brody, the boy he was utterly infatuated with. Still, it was the hardwiring of a parent and the learned charm of a lobbyist to care about the dotted I's, crossed T's, bows and frills of human interaction.
"Duh! And I kinda seized the moment and asked him out. And he said yes."
"Oh my God that's wonderful news! I'm so proud of you!!"
Her opinion of Brody was less than stellar, and this advancement towards "seriousness" between him and Christian made her cringe internally with trepidation, followed by a wallop of guilt for being disingenuous. Still, her enthusiasm wasn't all feigned: asking someone out was scary and required courage. She was proud of his fortitude.
"My little man so grown up all of a sudden," She said with an affectionate squeeze of his muscular shoulder, "Where are you taking him?"
Having said that, she remembered Christian had no license or car. A combination of hectic schedules with acclimation to the ancient regime of picking up and dropping off made the Carters neglect this milestone.
"He said he'd pick the place and pay for it."
"Huh. Usually the person who asks proposes the place, not the askee. Did you offer to pay at least?"
"Nooo," Christian replied with that annoyed-sounding rising tone in his voice, "He just said it like it was final. That's what he does."
"Okay, okay, as long as y'all have it worked out," She replied in a pacifying note. Brody sounded like the ultra-dominant type so it was true to his reputation that he'd brook no objection if Christian had even offered one. Maybe her normative judgement was precluded by alternate dating protocols for gay boys. Gay. It was still funny to think of Christian as being gay, even though she acknowledged the possibility before her husband. It altered her love for her sweet baby boy not one single iota, but gayness was a dense package of identities and problems which existed heretofore outside of her life. Now they occupied its center in a kaleidoscope of issues interacting with Christian in unexpected ways. It was a lot to take in.
"He'll pick me up from our house next Saturday and that's when we'll go."
"That sounds good, do you mind me coming along to chaperone?"
His look of mingled disbelief and horror made her cackle as they pulled into their garage. As the thumps of his footsteps up the stairs receded she leaned into the fridge for a snack, reflecting that the old policy of a guardian attending dates of unmarried couples wasn't a bad one.
"I'll be able to take this kid's measure."
She stared at a jar of pickles without seeing it, her pretty face lit in the fridge's pale light. It wasn't just the gay thing, it was the dynamic of this relationship that made her worry. Obviously her son was the... how do you even call it? The submissive party? The weaker vessel? The...girl? That seemed so insulting she was disgusted with herself for making that connection. It was offensive to his masculinity to think of him that way, but her conceptual arsenal didn't allow for another analogy. Christian was the less dominant of the pair, and as she slammed shut the fridge door and peevishly bit into a large dill pickle (the veggie's shape being apropos escaped her) it occurred to her that this imbalance, so natural and expected in all hetero unions, bothered her. If Christian were a girl it wouldn't be an issue.
"Am I being ridiculous?" She asked herself.
Not all boys and men are dominant. They get dominated by other men and boys all the time and in all walks of life; politics, sports, business, learning. And it was far more intricate and multifaceted than this simplistic Darwinist predator vs. prey track that her mind was lazily stuck on.
"Yes, but boys aren't supposed to allow themselves to be dominated."
God, was she a homophobe? And a sexist to boot? Surely not. This was just a complex issue that she needed someone to talk to about, so she went to their bedroom. It frustrated her when she was unable to fully solve a problem but hey, what else are husbands for? They're not totally useless.
Christian spent the week in a state of ebullience but on the afternoon of his date, anxiety butterflied in his tummy and he changed his outfit several times, flitted in front of the mirror to check his hair. He tried on a blue button-down with tan khakis but decided it looked too formal and dorky. Brody dressed a bit slicker than that. Maybe a tan button down with jeans? He perused his image in the mirror and deflated.
"Now I look like a grandpa."
He wished he had Brody's wardrobe. The best he'd ever dressed was at the beach when Brody leant him a shirt. And he wished he had Brody's body! Slim and anatomically ideal with the perfect amount of muscle. Christian looked at his own shirtless physique in the mirror, flexing his biceps then flaring out in a bodybuilders pose. He had impressive traps. They looked like wings when he broadened them, and his shoulders made sharp teardrop points with his arms. His thickly muscled waist and lower back were a round little pillar above his dense butt. He peeled his underwear down to examine it, still whiter than the rest of him. He pondered if Brody admired it. He wondered if Brody would want to... do something to it. The thought was so deliciously naughty he felt a tingly sensation in his core, down near his butt. He'd been noticing that more lately. It was like right before he became aroused he felt a pleasurable dropping and opening of an uncharted organ down there. Maybe he should try...
DING-DONG
Mrs. Carter opened the door and immediately knew who it was.
"Oh. Hello."
"Hi Mrs. Carter, I'm Brody. I'm here to pick up Christian for our date."
His tone was polite but with an edge of force to it. No hint of a request in his voice, his words were delivered with the confidant finality of a CEO informing the intern minding the meeting door that he was expected inside, not of a teen speaking to an adult. An adult who, by the way, reserved the power to make him piss off forever.
"Good to meet you Brody. Please come inside, Christian's getting ready."
Brody entered and went straight to the living room with an air of familiarity. She reminded herself that he had been to their house before.
"Can I get you anything? Water, tea?"
"No thank you, but I appreciate the offer."
He stood in front of the couch, and only lowered himself when she sat. A silence ensued as they attempted to size the other up without staring too conspicuously. The only audible sound was Christian's music playing upstairs, probably the reason he hadn't heard the doorbell and come rushing to answer.
"So where are you going this evening?"
"Duquesne. Reservation's at seven, we'll be back no later than eleven."
She nodded. Christian described him in his typical monosyllabic shy manner (medium, black hair) even after her wheedling and prodding, and she refused to use the internet to "look up" some pissant teenager, even one involved intimately in her son's life. It was a grudging admission (she didn't know why) to herself, but Brody was an exceptionally good-looking boy. He definitely placed highly on the universal 1-10 scale and the strikingness of his features made a career in modeling not all that implausible. Any girl would be jealous of those lashes and wooed by that jaw and cheekbone combo. For his part, Brody was unsurprised at Mrs. Carters appearance and presentation. After meeting his fair, brown-and-curly haired father, he anticipated the other genetic half to explain Christian.
"Both Christian and I resemble our mothers more than our fathers," he thought to himself.
For middle-age she was well-preserved. Both the Carter parents seemed to value fitness, and her light step and tight waist spoke to former athletic accomplishment. Her thick blond hair was tied in a business-like ponytail and her blue eyes accented by light mascara were quick and intelligent. Brody guessed she wasn't a woman to take lightly.
"And how did you meet?"
"Well we have English together," Brody said crossing his legs, "and interacted quite a bit in that class. Conversations ensued and gradually we became acquainted."
"What I'm really asking is how you knew you were... mutually attracted."
Brody smiled thinly.
"Has Christian given you his version of this origin story?"
"That's neither here nor there."
"Like I said, it just blossomed from an acquaintance, to friendship, to a recognition of deeper feeling than even that. Or maybe it's just a very advanced friendship. I think two people can unite in spirit and transcend any category. But directly to your question, it happened organically like it would in any ordinary relationship. It happens in a million little steps. Looks, gestures, words; they all cascade together and form a stream, which broadens and deepens into a river, who's passage is destined for the sea. And the current's brought me right here."
He stopped speaking and leaned back. She processed his words carefully. Poetic, sure. Candid, maybe. Impressive, absolutely, especially if he hadn't rehearsed that little speech (which he likely had). But above all, it was an artful way of dodging the question. She wasn't looking for elaborate metaphors, she wanted stories and anecdotes, solid recounts of specific instances where Christian and Brody had developed this bond. Her suspicion that Brody was the main instigator and manipulator of events....the dominating force... wasn't dispelled, and his bloviating about rivers and seas cemented her impression that he was one to keep an eye on.
"Well, what does this `sea' look like for you, this end goal I mean? Because Brody..."
Here she leaned in for emphasis.
"...I don't want my son toyed with. Christian commits to everything he sets his mind towards, and if you're not serious, you don't belong in his life."
"I'm very serious, Mrs. Carter."
"You take yourself seriously, a brief glance can-"
She broke off when she heard the music shut off and footsteps on the landing.
"Brody! You're here!"
"Hey Chris. We've just been gossiping about you."
Christian came down the stairs with a cautious smile on his face. He looked so cute.
"Why didn't you holler up to me?"
"And miss the chance to hear all the embarrassing details of your childhood?"
Christian chortled and Mrs. Carter suppressed an eye roll.
"Both of you are still children, you dopes."
But she noticed a shift in Brody's affect, and it was the one thing that inspired confidence. She'd been watching him intently. The instant Christian emerged and Brody saw him, his pink mouth spread into a smile, a warmth came into his eyes that wasn't there before, and even his body language opened up and became more gregarious and genuine.
"I'll interview your Dad sometime while you're at wrestling practice if you don't watch out."
"Go ahead, all he knows how to talk about is business. You'll be bored dead in five minutes."
Mrs. Carter half-considered asking about Brody's mother, her mysterious counterpart in this affair but stayed silent. She was growing more encouraged by that soft gaze the dark-haired boy fixed her son with. He reached over and plucked lightly on Christian's sleeve.
"Ready to go?"
"I think so."
"Have fun, and be careful ok?"
She ruffled his hair gently.
"Moooomm," Christian whined, immediately touching his carefully arranged hair and feeling even more embarrassed when he realized he'd whined like a baby in front of Brody.
"Drive safely." She directed that one at Brody, who nodded.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah. Bye mom."
As he left her side, Brody slipped an arm around Christian's shoulders.
"'Be careful'", Brody quoted as they walked to his car, his arm falling to Christian's waist, "Meant be careful of truck-driving, black-haired handsome young men who wrestle-"
"She meant be careful on the road, I think she likes you!"
"See it's your boundless optimism I like the most, even if it borders on delusion."
"Shut up," Christian said, but jokingly, as they got into the truck which could have been his own bedroom, Christian felt so at home within it now.
The drive was long but they chatted in their easy way for the duration. They never ran out of topics and found new ways of exploring old ones. Christian was content just riding in the truck and talking with Brody without any formal date. Being in his company and sharing the same space sufficed and when they arrived, he almost wished that was the plan all along.
"Whoah... Brody this place is..."
"It makes an extravagance of display but the food is reputable."
It was a low building, zig-zagging with superfluous sides in a sprawling overcomplex fashion. Glass and black steel and gossamer drapes were in abundance, as well as tasteful low lighting and black-clad waiters. The fashionable clientele milled around projecting easy affluence with well-tailored clothes and expensive haircuts. A tall man displayed whitened teeth as he tossed his head back in laughter, and the ladies he was with tittered along with tinkling jewelry, their wrists and ears sparkling periodically as they caught the light. Christian felt immediately out of place and painfully young. He couldn't match that guy's effortless fashion, his expensive shoes or his coiffed hair. He didn't belong here with all these older people. He was just a dumb teenager, trying to make his dumb teenager hair and dumb teenager clothes be something they weren't.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah," he lied.
Brody reached over and touched his shoulder.
"No you're not. You're feeling self-conscious and intimidated by all this showiness. Don't be. This is about us two, not any of these non-entities."
He smiled encouragingly.
"Just focus on me, okay?"
Christian snorted despite himself.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Don't I pay you enough attention?"
"Never. Now let's go."
As they went to the entrance Christian saw the ladies glance their way, and at Brody in particular. The receptionist did as well when Brody cooly gave her their reservation and they were lead to their table. They looked at Christian too but Brody's features demanded a head-swivel. Their table was in the middle of a row of booths and Christian felt eyes on them. Especially when Brody pulled out his chair and waited for him to sit, causing his cheeks to go red. Several people looked over and half-smiled with questioning looks. Christian could see their minds turning. "Are these two on a date? Are they just friends, and he's trying to embarrass the other one?"
"So. What looks good? Unfortunately for you, there's no fish fingers or chicken nuggets served here."
"I know that, I'm not a pleb. Unfortunately for you, there's no whey protein shakes or gross skinless chicken," Christian retorted.
"I told you I don't cut weight, so the pathetic calorie-counting those numbskulls suffer through is unnecessary for me."
"I think you DO cut," Christian said smugly into his menu.
"You're such a brat. I'll have to spank you."
"The wining and dining has to come first," Christian grinned.
"Or during," Said Brody, putting his chin on his hands and leaning on the table, "You think I won't pull down your pants in this place?"
Christian felt his dick stir when Brody said that. An image flashed of himself bent over the table, pants at the ankles, with Brody behind him, and his cock actually got hard. Jesus, hopefully he wasn't some sort of burgeoning exhibitionist.
"But in all seriousness," Brody continued, "I think the lamb shoulder looks delicious."
"Okay, umm...I'll get the risotto."
Brody looked at him with a serious but kind expression.
"You picked that because it's the cheapest item on the menu, didn't you?"
"No seriously, risotto sounds great!" He insisted.
"Christian Carter, first of all don't tell me a fib. Second of all, this is-" He lowered his voice as he spotted the waitress approaching, "-our night, and I want you to be happy and enjoy yourself." He spoke the last words in an emphasized whisper, breaking off with a charming smile when the girl, who was desperately trying to remain professional and not make excessive eye contact with either of these cute boys, asked what they wanted.
"Lamb shoulder for me. Christian?"
"I'll have the Salmon Provencal."
"And could we have an appetizer of scallops?"
"Certainly!" The girl departed with a brisk flick of her ponytail.
"You're gonna like it," Brody said confidently, "this is a nice restaurant."
"I knew it was nice from the tasteful design and soft lighting and stuff. And the prices on the menu."
"None of that indicates good quality food, any fool can pay a grad student in hospitality to set up lights. A chef and cooks are more than mere show."
Christian nodded, then glanced down at the white table cloth, then the salt shaker, then the chandelier that looked like a crystalline starburst, then back to Brody, and smiled awkwardly.
"What's up with you, Mr. Fidget?"
"Nothiiiing," Christian said crossing his hands down between his legs, "We've just never done anything like this before. I've never sat right across from you."
It was genuinely amazing to Christian, like a fantasy come to life. Here he was with Brody Larson on a date. A date! They were actually dating! It was one of those instances of absolute clarity where everything around you feels more immediate than ever, more substantial and real.
"Well we can do the stereotypical dating interview to set you at ease. First off, what do you want to do after high school?"
"Go to college."
"Wow, how original."
"A GOOD college. I think with my gymnastics and grades I can even go Ivy League."
"Really? What're your PSAT scores?"
"99th percentile in math, 85th percentile in English," Christian said with a smug expression.
"That's utterly disgusting. You really are going to need a spanking."
"What about you then? What're your big plans?"
"Actually," Brody said with a hint of bashfulness, "I was kinda hoping to make it to an Ivy as well. Purely for wrestling in my case, since my computing power evidently can't touch yours."
`"Are the Ivy's known for having the best wrestling teams?" Christian wouldn't have expected that.
"Many do. If I can just make it to a Division One school I'll be happy."
"It'd be great if we could go to the same school. Wouldn't it?"
Brody's eyes clouded as he looked into the future and examined the vision offered by Christian, who wanted to bring him back down to earth. But he looked so deep in thought Christian was loathe to interrupt him. Suddenly Brody extended his arm across the table palm upwards and laid it flat. Christian looked at it stupidly then got the hint when Brody's fingers curled and beckoned. His heart nearly melted when he placed his hand in Brody's.
"It would."
They remained like that for a while looking into each other's eyes, not saying anything. Nothing needed to be said. A corner was turning as they sat there nearly motionless and time froze and their surroundings faded into a hazy background in the most romantic moment of their lives. Nothing needed to be said, except the one expression that could seal this night as the cornerstone of something greater. It was on Christian's lips...Brody's eyes were shining, so tender and liquid and inviting.
"Brody...I-"
"Aaaand, here's your appetizer!"
They both jumped and their hands instinctively parted.
"The main courses should be out shortly!" she chirped, clearly trying to earn her tip.
They gave her curt smiles and set about eating the scallops, which smelled and tasted divine, as did the entrees. Christian tasted the tender lamb and Brody sampled his juicy salmon. They spoke amiably and Christian balked minimally when Brody insisted on covering the check, and it was a delightful evening in total. But the undiminished yearning to complete his sentence, coupled with the certainty that the time for it passed when that stupid waitress broke the magic of the moment, nagged at Christian like a splinter in his mind.
"There will be other times," He consoled himself as they stepped into the breezy night air, "It's still too early anyway. It wasn't that long ago we met."
They heaved into the truck less adroitly than they left it, stomachs full of the restaurants generous portions.
"What's up?" Christian asked. Brody was frowning into space.
"Did I get my card from the table? Crap. Hold on."
He bolted out of the cab and into the restaurant. Christian watched him go and contemplated his next move. The next date would be of his choosing, it had to be, and it would be the occasion to reveal his true feelings to Brody. Any longer and it'd become intolerable. He'd never felt this way before and damming it up was impossible. He loved Brody from his toes to his cock to his slightly too wide mouth. He wanted to possess him and be possessed by him.
BVVVVVVVTTT
Looking down Christian saw Brody left his phone on the center console. It had received a text message. Curiously he craned his head around to read it, stopping short of actually touching the phone. That made it not an invasion of privacy, right?
"DAD: Mom's coming home. I'll fill you in tonight."
"There's no way that's good."
End of Chapter 12.