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Decent Progress, Chapter 6
Bad dreams haunted Christian's night. They all contained scenarios involving disgrace and punishment, but the worst part was how disjointed and confusing they were. Interspersed with periods of wakefulness, the dreams and reality got melded together so at times the police were in their room barking orders with flashlights glaring, or he and Brody were lying peacefully as their parents suddenly began shrieking, finding their bed was somehow in Christian's living room. That bed became for Christian a tiny boat buffeted and tossed in a stormy sea all night, with Brody as the only constant during the whole weary tempest. When the sun showed its first light, he knew Brody was awake and slept as poorly as he. They turned and faced each other on the pillow they were sharing, communicating only by the mutual worry in each other's eyes.
"Time to get this day started."
"Yeah."
They slid out of bed resignedly, Brody going straight to his phone but Christian creeping to the other bedroom.
"Alex and Thompson are passed out, so they're good I guess."
Brody looked relieved.
"Thank god. Hunter and Bailey left early so that leaves Leslie."
He hammered off a text and went to the bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinets. In a moment Christian heard a buzzing noise and a sound like grass being cut. He dropped his preparations for making eggs, and to his amazement saw Brody shearing off his hair with an old electric trimmer.
"Dude, what the fuck?" He said with a touch of horror in his voice.
He just looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"C'mere and help, it's easier if someone else does it."
Christian took the trimmer, a solid german-made thing with a plastic guard, but didn't immediately begin.
"Why are you doing this?"
"The cops may review the videos like you said. My hair is my most recognizable physical trait, this'll make it harder to identify me."
Christian's eyes nearly did a vertical 180.
"They have a hundred ways of ID'ing someone."
"So let's make it ninety-nine. It's too late now." He already cut a stripe down his pate, but Christian felt compelled to point out how silly this was.
"There were a million witnesses and someone there knew your full name, probably through Hunter or Thompson. So the cops can look that up in their system and get everyt-"
"I KNOW Chris, I'm not a goddamn imbecile!" Brody snapped. "But this is better than nothing so please..."
He looked at him in the mirror with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. The gravity of the situation and the genuineness of his emotion, made Christian hold a jibe. Doing nothing was intolerable to Brody, and an impotent gesture was better than none. He was stressed out, and if this would help him feel better then so be it. Christian nodded and began cutting.
"Thanks."
Brody relaxed under the shears and even closed his eyes at times. Perhaps it felt good. Progress was slow given the hair's length and thickness. It could easily get caught and pinch him painfully if Christian wasn't careful. He went along methodically with Brody's dark eyes following him in the mirror, smiling bashfully when he caught his gaze as he checked his work. At last he got a towel and rubbed and swatted at Brody's shoulders to get the itchy debris away and they both appraised the results.
"Wow."
"I know. It's never been this short, not since I was five or so."
"It's crazy how different you look."
"Worse or better?"
"Neither, just... different. I've never seen your whole face before."
Brody smiled.
"Yeah, `cause it's an open book. It needs a cover to hide behind."
Christian thought that was preposterous. Brody could become as inscrutable as a wall if he wanted to. They swept up the hair and flushed it, Christian occasionally shooting glances at Brody from different angles, still taking in the change. Where most people's heads looked bigger with a buzzcut, his looked smaller. It was flat in the back rather than rounded and almost an even line with his neck, giving him a look of robustness. His long severe eyebrows and low widow's peak (another thing Christian never noticed) made him look slightly Vulcan.
"What time is it?"
"Almost 7:00." He knew the unspoken message. "My parents will be up."
"So are mine usually." A shuddering sigh.
"Let's do it."
Brody took his phone to the balcony and beckoned Christian to join him, who raised his arms and mouthed "why?" as the phone was at his ear.
"Dunno, rather you be here," He whispered back, before breaking off as someone answered. Christian felt a flash of pride that Brody trusted him this much.
"Hi Dad. No, unfortunately everything's not alright. I've got some bad news."
He gave the whole story to his father from start to finish. Christian sat in awe of his performance. He never lied or even massaged the truth, but the tone and emotion he used was nothing like the cavalier attitude he'd showed last night. No one was to blame in this retelling, no one was an aggressor or a victim, just fine souls caught in the maelstrom of life. The `bimbo' was as honest a girl as Brody was a good boy, it was a harmless mistake by two tipsy teens. The "douchebag" was an upstanding guy defending his girlfriend's honor, and Brody duly defended his own self. Christian was of course coming to the rescue of his friend. And It might have been better to stay and admit fault to the police, but the crowd's panic affected him and he unwisely fled with Christian in tow. Brody subtly avoided any words that might sound manipulative, but his very candor was a manipulation in and of itself. His father's voice was inaudible but judging from Brody's pained expression the man was angry despite the softened language. Finally he hung up the phone with a sigh.
"Good or bad?" Christian asked softly.
"Mostly bad, but it could be worse. He's calling an attorney who specializes in juvenile law, and giving my coach a heads up. They know each other and it's best coach hears it from him. And he's not telling my mother right now because..."
He shook his head.
"She's got enough to worry about." He stared absently at the ground before rousing and looked at Christian with an encouraging smile.
"Your turn. You want me to...?"
"No, stay." Christian felt it'd be churlish to order Brody away at this point.
His own confession went much worse. Having none of Brody's finesse with word craft and the misfortune of reaching his mother (dad didn't pick up), it was a long and exhausting affair filled with unintelligible yells, alternating pleas for the other's ear ("Just calm down and LISTEN to me, PLEASE!"), and emotions swinging wildly between reconciliation ("I'm not mad, honey, really") and recrimination ("How did you not consider ANY of the consequences!?"). By the end it had been established that a lawyer need be called, approximately 1,000,000 emails sent to the school, only a few less sent to his coach and gym, and Christian himself was grounded in perpetuity, and Brody was officially the worst influence in the entire world. Only with the utmost effort did Christian persuade her not to drive to the beach and retrieve him that very morning. She didn't trust Brody to refrain from killing them both in some drunken fiery collision.
"Christian, everything you've said about this kid is a Red Flag. Why did you even hang out with this loser?"
"He's not a..." Christian caught himself, looking at Brody for the millionth time since he picked up the phone. The whole time Brody had been a silent partner in the ordeal, echoing Christian's outrage with thunderous expressions, squeezing his shoulder when he came to tears, and smiling faintly when things sounded hopeful. Christian wouldn't return these gestures by saying aloud what his mother called him.
"After you get home, I don't want you hanging around this kid anymore. He's not welcome at our house, I don't care how much you or your dad like him. I'll be phoning his father after we're done here because he and I need to talk. Don't interject!"
Christian had been about to protest.
"But first I'm calling an attorney. My friend Marcia's husband works in criminal justice so they must know someone. Just remember not to speak to the police if they call, okay, even if it's not likely."
"You think so? I mean you think they won't care?"
His mother sighed. Christian could almost see her doing those rapid, prim little shakes of her head.
"I don't know. They probably won't pursue you guys for underage drinking, not if they didn't catch you in the act. The responsibility will mainly fall on the homeowners for the noise and alcohol. As for the fight, it may depend on the kid your friend attacked-"
"Brody didn't attack him!" Christian said fiercely.
"It may depend on this kid making a stink," His mother stolidly went on, ignoring his outburst. "I don't know, I'm not a lawyer." She paused. "I still think I should come get you."
Christian groaned and sank to his knees.
"PLEASE don't, mom. We're not going to go anywhere besides the store until Sunday, I promise. If I'm in legal or school trouble being here or at home won't matter."
She blew air through her nostrils like an ox.
"I'll talk with your father, then decide what to do on that front. In the meantime, you have your phone on you at all times, understand? I want updates on your location every hour."
"Okay fine." He was now desperate to get off the phone.
"You know I'm just worried, right? I don't want you in the hands of irresponsible people, Christian. You're my baby boy and I couldn't stand if something happened. I really could not stand it."
"I know mom. I really do. I love you."
"I love you too. I'll make some calls, and call you back soon."
Brody placidly looked at him as he lowered the phone, his ear aching. He hadn't realized the force with which he'd pressed it to the cartilage. In fact his whole body felt unbearably tense.
"How was it?"
"You know how it was," Christian muttered.
"Be open with me man, I was with you. It's too late to shut me out."
"I mean, basically the same as you I guess. She's calling a lawyer and saying something to the school to head things off." He looked at Brody guiltily. "She may or may not come pick me up early because she hates you now."
"So she'll never be a happy mother-in-law?"
Christian couldn't help but sputter a laugh.
"Shut up dude, this is serious!"
"I know it is! Can't help to have a sense of humor about it." He stared longingly out at the ocean for a moment. If not for last night they'd be frolicking carefree in the water right now. It sucked that this business was ruining things.
"C'mon, let's see if the others are awake. We still know nothing about what happened after we left, maybe they do."
They weren't awake, but eager for details they roused them grumbling from bed. After a few sips of soda to fortify against their throbbing heads, the two regaled them with their own misadventures. Thompson had scuffled briefly with a few guys but was unhurt.
"But then I was stuck when the friggin cops got there."
In typical procedural fashion, the police rooted everyone out of the house and went half-heartedly poking around for contraband. Luckily the cops had busted only a few unfortunates for underage drinking who brought their own beer, since the booze was mixed and served in a punch bowel and there were no bottles evident. Alex called it "plausible deniability". He himself had a much more sedate night, harmlessly flirting with a few girls and making friends with some college students.
"Y'all need to learn from me," He joked.
Almost everyone was allowed to leave, but worryingly, Thompson said he saw Elliott (the older boy they had fought) talking to a cop for a long time. And this wasn't the worst of it.
"Yeah, it's up on Tiktok. Sorry."
"Shit!" Brody hissed, seizing the proffered phone.
"Hunter texted me the link. He's fuckin' pissed at you, by the way."
"Huh?" he said, glancing up distractedly.
"Elliot's a friend `a his, they went to camp together and their families know each other. And you did make out with the guy's girl," Thompson said with mild accusation in his voice.
"I didn't- T, she just came at me!"
"She came on you?" The redhead chortled. "Shit you must be good!"
"Don't be difficult man, not right now."
Thompson waved his hand.
"Look it's Hunter you need to talk to, I don't really care. He'll be over here soon."
He was, and he was indeed pissed.
"Naw I don't wanna hear excuses. You seriously fucked up, and now Elliott might be pressing charges on you AND Christian."
"Charges?!" The two of them said in unison.
"Last I spoke to him he was talking with his parents about it, so you better hope they blow him off."
"Hunter," Brody said, shaking his clasped hands together before him, "Could you please say something to him?"
Hunter folded his arms and shook his shaggy, surfer-blond hair out of his eyes. He was a senior but about Brody's height, with the beginnings of a beard on his cheeks. Christian had never spoken to him at length.
"What, apologize for you? Not gonna happen, because y'know what?"
He took a step closer.
"I've been watching your show-off bullshit for too long and I'm sick of it. It's about time there started being some consequences and you were held accountable because otherwise you're gonna keep fucking up more and more and worse and worse."
Brody said nothing. Hunter went to the door.
"I'll send you his number and you can apologize yourself. Anyway Bailey and I have to bail early on you guys, we're going to see her family."
"C'mon bro, don't go." Thompson pleaded but Hunter shook his head.
"We weren't planning on staying the whole time anyway. I'll catch up with you next week. And Christian..."
He glanced at Brody, then back to the one he addressed.
"Take care of yourself."
Then he left. Thompson turned to them eyebrows raised.
"Told you he was pissed."
"Yeah, I gathered from the tongue-lashing he just gave me, thanks for the lesson T."
"Hey," the red-head said consolingly, chucking Brody on the shoulder, "he'll get over it, he's just caught between bros."
"And it's the other bro that's our concern right now." He looked mournfully at Christian. "I'm so sorry I got you in trouble."
Christian shrugged. "It is what it is." There was no use being mad now. All they could do was see things through to the end.
After breakfast they made it down to the beach, and even the looming prospects ahead of them couldn't detract from their fun. The water temporarily washed everything away. It was a cloudy and brooding day to match the matters at hand, but it only added to their enthusiasm. The excitement of a coming storm was a different sort. A tinge of fear created a new type of frenzy in their play, almost challenging the dark purple clouds to do their worst.
"It looks so ominous," Christian noted.
"They never look more grand than at the sea," Brody agreed. "Reminds me of that Shelley poem. Here, it's time you learned to skim."
Brody gave instruction on skim boarding to Christian, who was shaky at first but soon put his superb balance to work, and fast was as good as his teacher. They decided to race and see who got the furthest.
"No good waves, so we'll go for length." He waggled his angled eyebrows. "I'll always beat you in that department.
"Shut up, no you don't."
"Yeah? How big then?"
Embarrassed, Christian turned to see if anyone was listening. Thompson was pawing at Leslie who was squealing with delight. She hadn't returned Brody's text that morning and wasn't speaking to him, suddenly preferring Thompson's company. Christian turned back to his interlocutor.
"I dunno" he said lamely. It was true, he had never obsessed about his size like many teenagers who constantly pilfered the ruler from the kitchen drawer. Not that he wasn't a little intrigued by others, far from it. Occasionally he saw a flash of one in the locker room at gym. Jameson's was thick and heavy and Christian had seen him tuck it forcefully into his underwear. Even so it bulged a lot when he wore the white stockings frequented by gymnasts. Thinking about it made him a bit hot, and thinking of Jameson himself made him almost homesick.
"I should call him today" he thought, "He's such a rock."
"Well we'll find out, but for now, let's race."
He lowered his board and began running, Christian hastening to catch up while trying to process what he said. Find out? How? But he lowered the board and concentrated on keeping his hips back and shoulders forward like Brody said. They flew along together neck and neck, smooth as ice skaters. Christian looked over to his adversary. Brody was, for the brief half-second he saw him, framed against the purple and black sky. The brilliant white of his skin was a source of light compared to the oncoming storm. For the second time he looked like a vision to Christian, something that wasn't real yet more real than everything else. Then he disappeared with a shout and a curse.
"I win!" Christian celebrated.
"My board got caught on a shell!" Brody refuted. "I was going further towards the ocean, redo."
"Uh-uh, just like in wrestling there's no redos" Christian patronized, savoring his victory. It was fun to watch Brody cope. "Someone's a sore loser."
"I'll make YOU sore" he replied, aiming a weak kick that missed.
They sat on their beach towels for a while drinking soda and pondering the ocean. Brody broke his reverie with an unexpected question.
"Do you think I should call that Elliott guy? Apologize?"
"I dunno... if he's already started legal stuff, that might be bad." Christian had seen enough television to know you shouldn't talk to a person pressing charges against you.
"But if he hasn't, an apology might dissuade him from it."
"Our parents are already calling lawyers, we're past apology stage."
"Says who? You're not a legal expert."
"No, but I think playing it safe is safe," said Christian, heating up a bit.
"That's your problem, you're too risk-averse. That's why you're perpetually feeling `held back', like we said in the car. Inaction kills your spirit." Brody's leg was jittering and his dark eyes were pensive. Christian knew his nerves were coming back and that was probably why he was getting testy. Still, Brody had no call, especially given last night, to lecture him about this. He tried to tread the middle ground.
"Maybe that's true, and I wanna change that. But you're too much the opposite, you fly off the handle and act too soon. Our problems right now weren't caused by me NOT acting."
Brody ignored that.
"I still think it's a good idea. The alternative is sitting here on this beach until Sunday just waiting for our fate. Does that sound bearable to you?"
"There's no other option! You can't fight this, or run from it Brody. Waiting is all we've got!"
"God above, that's the most gutless thing I've ever heard," he said in disgust.
"Well it's the truth so deal with it." Christian said stolidly.
"Fuck this," Brody spat, and stalked angrily to the condo.
As he left, Alex approached.
"What's his problem?"
"Feeling helpless, I think," Christian responded, patting the towel next to him for Alex to sit on.
"I get that," Alex groaned as he sat, flicking his curly salt-encrusted hair out of his eyes. "We haven't talked much since Brody started monopolizing you."
Christian chuckled. "He's got a way of being in the middle of things."
"Comes with being a drama queen." His smile faded slightly. "Are you doing ok?"
"I guess. I'm nervous about all this." He shot a meaningful glance at Alex. "I've never been in trouble before. Was I wrong to even come here?"
"No you weren't. It's been a great time and the stuff at the party was just life happening, just a shitty circumstance." He paused. "Last week I said Brody's not a bad guy, and I totally stand by that. I do. But maybe..." Alex scratched his head. "...maybe it's not good to follow him in everything. Y'know what I mean?"
"Naw, I get that."
"Like, not do EVERYTHING he thinks is a good idea."
Christian laughed and nudged him with his shoulder.
"Message received, bro." He tried to seem amused, but inwardly felt wounded. Was he becoming Brody's lapdog?
"By the way, I have to leave early too man. I'm sorry," He said, raising his hands in defense as Christian opened his mouth in disappointment,
"My parents ALSO know about the party, and I may have kinda promised them that I wouldn't go to anything like that. So yeah, I'm grounded." He laughed.
"Sorry dude. Good luck crossing that minefield."
Alex ruffled his hair. "You too. Stay safe here."
Christian went up to the Condo last, fairly despondent. The gathering clouds were starting to mirror his mood, he thought. Brody was even more morose as he obsessively refreshed tiktok. The results weren't encouraging: they'd gone semi-viral. Christian watched last night's events play out from various camera perspectives, thinking how surreal it was to be the subject of such a movie-like event. He watched Brody and Elliott trading blows and himself tackling the older boy.
"Not a bad takedown," Brody smiled thinly at the screen, "You should think about wrestling."
More videos surfaced of the police arriving, but the brief fight was the main attraction. The biggest view count they saw was over 15,000.
"What's the chance everyone forgets about this by Monday?" Brody groaned, raising his hands to his face and arching his back in bed. "Maybe a nice shooting will divert everyone's attention."
"I thought you loved attention." Christian said testily.
"Not as much as you love being a snarky bitch."
Christian didn't reply, he just turned over in his bed and tried to nap. He awoke a short while later feeling discombobulated. The slate grey sky looked the same as before and Brody was gone. He went around the condo, but he and Thompson weren't there. Grabbing a granola bar he flicked on the television for the first time, but wasn't in the spirit for it. He didn't feel in the spirit for anything, just dull and hollow inside. The glow in his chest momentarily returned when he remembered Jameson, but he didn't pick up the phone or respond to text.
"Did he see the video? Does he think I'm a piece of shit now?"
The prospect made him downright miserable. It produced a few sniffles, though he refused to outright cry for the second time in 24 hours. Even with his parents on tenterhooks (or at least his mom) and 15,000 eyes on him he felt quite alone. If Brody were on his side right now he'd feel better, but he was busy raging around like a declawed tiger in a cage. The hours rolled on and Christian zoned out on his phone in the dark bedroom, the sky going from grey to black and his eyes steadily becoming bloodshot. At last they became so irritated he tossed the device down and rolled himself back into the covers, craving sleep that would actually bring rest. Instead more tortured thoughts about school and juvenile detention rattled around his brain until he wanted to dig a hole in the sand and crawl in forever. At last the condo door opened and Brody came in, disheveled and tired. He kicked his shoes off in a way that told Christian his mood hadn't changed.
"Where's Thompson?" Christian ventured.
"He and Leslie are off somewhere. Fucking, probably."
Brody fell into his bed, making the mattress bounce and creak.
"And you?"
"Just driving. Christian, I... never mind. G'night."
With that, Brody turned over falling silent and motionless. Christian waited a long time for sleep to claim him.
~
Brody awoke rock hard, anxious, and slightly remorseful, a bizarre combination. He had bitten Christian's head off yesterday (not a big bite really) and was now guaranteed a full day of sulkiness in exchange. Though he believed his own testiness might excuse his attitude. Sorry if he wasn't treating all and sundry with the utmost delicacy. Not now when suspension, expulsion or possibly imprisonment faced him.
"Don't panic. Face your problems like a man, not a fretful child." He rolled over in bed.
Christian was peacefully asleep. The covers exposed his torso which a ray of morning sun illuminated like a spotlight on the stage's lead actor. Brody's cock grew painfully hard as he drank the sight in. His skin was tanned from the beach, his pert nipples a light shade of brown. In contrast his hair had grown blonder. His firm belly rose and fell, and Brody admired his wide lats and shoulders, so powerful-looking even at rest. His body was really fascinating for Brody, he could look at it all day for some reason. Christian occupied a delicate space between stocky and slim as many gymnasts did. He wondered if Christian might actually be stronger than him. It would be interesting to get him into a singlet and go at it with him, given a bit of training of course.
"But what is he about? What the hell does Christian Carter want?"
Sometimes he seemed responsive to him, sometimes not. His guarded little personality was tough to penetrate. No definite idea of what to do with Christian had occurred to him, right now he just loved how he felt. In his hands, his arms, his legs, he just wanted to possess him, to draw him in close and be in contact. It wasn't exceptional treatment given Brody's nature and sport of choice, but the nagging notion that Christian was somehow different was unshakeable.
"Yet how to find out?"
Probe harder. He'd figure this kid out and get a definitive answer to this little enigma, even if making him like him as a friend still presented an obstacle.
"He's so sensitive and touchy. Then again, so am I."
Silently, Brody got out of bed and on pure impulse stripped off his underwear, letting his veiny tool spring free. He padded his way a bit closer to Christian's bed and stood over him, completely naked and throbbing. What an amazing thrill! The boy so blissfully at rest with every muscle at ease while Brody's yearning was a foot away from his face.
"What if he woke up right this second?"
For some reason that increased his arousal, and he began to feel lightheaded. An almost overpowering urge to jump on him was taking command of his mind, and with great effort he walked to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water enraged his cock and he had a quick jerk-off, fantasizing about leaping atop Christian and owning him on that crappy little bed. He stroked himself rapidly to the images flitting by, tearing off Christian's briefs as he squeaked in that high voice of his, holding him firm around his thick little waist and grinding their nude bodies together.
"Ouughh, fuuucck" He hummed.
In his mind Christian bucked like an unbroken mustang and he had to fight to subdue him. Their cocks drooled and slicked against one another as he ground the boy into the mattress, melding their bodies together, penetrating him with his tongue...
"Huuh, HUHhh!" He grunted as he tossed his load into the water stream, bracing himself with one arm and breathing deeply to recover.
"Christ that was fucking perverted. And amazing."
He'd never fantasized about a boy like this before.
"I've got to do something. Something more."
It could end disastrously, he thought as he toweled his newly shorn head dry, still marveling at the novel sensation of the short bristles. Christian wouldn't be repulsed and rebuke him; Brody had an instinctive knowledge that wouldn't happen, it wasn't in his character. But he may withdraw himself in that quiet way of his, like a lonesome oyster. Avoidance can hurt even worse that outright rejection.
"What to do then? Corner him even harder?"
Brody wasn't 100% sure of most things lately, but he was sure he would wring an answer out of this kid. Some answer, in some way.
He found Christian was up and making breakfast like a good boy, but said nothing to him when he hailed him. Great. Brody's own attitude yesterday was infectious. He didn't even look up when Brody presented himself wearing nothing but a towel. After sliding on a pair of shorts Brody noticed he had missed a call from his father, and his heart leaped. He immediately dialed back.
"Dad?"
"Hey son, I tried calling earlier." His father sounded pleased to hear his voice, but weary.
"I was in the shower, any news?"
A sigh. Brody could sense he was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah. Our attorney said the police aren't pursuing charges."
Brody nearly sank to his knees in relief but held firm.
"He's spoken to the family of that kid you fought and they're not bothering with criminal or civil. No real injury sustained besides a cut and after the video, I think they saw their son had a hand in things."
Brody lifted his eyes to the heavens in unspoken thanks, even if he wasn't religious.
"And Christian...?"
"Same goes for him."
"Thank god. I'm glad they're reasonable people. Dad, thank y-"
"I'm not FINISHED, Brody!" His father rarely snapped like that.
"I also saw the video. I wish I could say I'm only disappointed. YOU had a hand in things getting violent, didn't you?"
Brody was silent.
"DIDN'T you?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I thought so. I called Coach Ward and explained the situation. He used to be a teacher and knows the ins and outs. He said you'll be suspended from wrestling on the school team, and suspended from classes for I dunno how long."
To Brody this sounded like a fair exchange, but his father didn't think so.
"Dad, please, this will never happen again. I promise."
"What this specific kinda thing, or any other bad behavior?" His father chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't mean to sound self-centered son, but between the business and your mother's issues, d'you think this is what I need right now?"
"No." Brody said in a small voice.
"I love you Brody, and I'm so incredibly proud of the person you are. But I see some bad signs from you lately. If there's anything mental going on, we've got to head it off and get you some counseling."
"Dad, I'm not going to be like-"
"I just want you to trust me," His father cut him off again, "and come to me for help. You know you ALWAYS can, right?"
"Of course, dad. Why do you think I called you the morning after?"
"True." His father said, a hint of relief in his voice, "Take care until Sunday, don't go anywhere besides the grocery store and look after your friend Christian, y'hear?"
"If you saw the video, you'd know he's the one looking out for me."
"Also true! He seems like a great kid, I'm glad you've got him there. Anyway love you, drive safe, and... I guess we'll find out more on Monday."
"I suppose so. Thank you Dad. Love you."
Dial tone. He tossed the phone down and sat listening to Christian cook. The bulk of his anxiety was gone, but it was replaced by guilt and a feeling completely foreign; self-doubt. He'd never given his father cause to doubt him before, and what were these "signs" that he mentioned? He wished he'd asked. Were there subtle indications in his behavior showing change? Was he growing more erratic and strange? Was he starting to lose it like... no. No way. He was just a teenager that was all, a peculiar one to boot. Hormones were raging and there was Christian acting on them like gasoline on a grease fire. There was no way he'd go to "counseling" unless as a last resort, no matter what his father said. Right now, he owed Christian some good news.
"Chris."
"What." Sitting at the bar munching on his muffin & ham, he still didn't look at Brody.
"Got off the phone with my Dad, he says the cops aren't pursuing charges against either of us."
This time he looked, his big hazel eyes expanding into hubcaps.
"Serious?"
"As a heart attack. Elliott's family are dropping the whole deal. Now this doesn't imply we're off the hook school-wise," He warned. Christian had put his head in his hands, trying to take things in, "so you should still be talking with your coach. I don't know how school discipline affects participation in your gym, or club or whatever."
"Me neither," Christian admitted, lowering his hands from his eyes to cover his mouth, "Oh Jesus Fucking Christ this is such a relief." He sat silent for a few seconds, shaking his head slightly and staring into space.
"So... do you want to keep having fun this trip? I promise not to be a jerk. Until Monday at least." He gave his most charmingly coaxing smile, and thankfully Christian returned it.
"Cool. So at 11:59 PM Sunday, you revert to jerkdom."
"Absolutely. Let's get changed and get down there."
"Ok, but lemme call my mom."
As they trudged along the sand with towels and umbrella in tow, Christian related his conversation. His mother had related a similar message and had been about to call Christian with the news.
"My gym should be fine, but my mom still doesn't trust you."
"Huh. She's not the only one. My dad's losing trust in me too."
"Is that what he said?"
"In so many words."
"Well I'm not."
Brody stopped to appraise him. This kid plucked your heartstrings like a fiddle.
"Even with my acting weird?"
"Sure man, they're just moods. It doesn't change...anything."
His voice faltered a bit before he ended the sentence, and Brody wondered what he might have said. Or it was just a shy quaver. So hard to tell with this little oyster.
"I'm glad." He shrugged casually. "Nothing changes for me, because you act so consistent!"
Christian grinned. "Let's go play!" And dropped his things and ran to the ocean. Brody smiled ear to ear at his boyishness.
They tossed a foam football in the waves for a while, chatting the whole time. The talked about wrestling, gymnastics, college prospects, school on Monday, and speculated what the reaction would be like. Their tone was a mixture of levity and nerves, not knowing exactly what other students would think or how the administration was reacting right now.
"C'mon, this stuff really DOES happen all the time. It's not like everyone who gets into fisticuffs is instantly expelled."
"You're right," said Christian as he squinted into the sun to catch the ball, "there wouldn't be anyone left!"
"And the student body won't care, they'll have forgotten anyway. The boomers always say our generation has the memory of a goldfish."
"One study showed teens have attention spans LESS than a goldfish. I read it once."
"In a school of goldfish, we'll be dolphins."
"In the water, you're more like a dog."
Brody caught the ball and kept it. Was this boy STILL giving him sass?
"What are you saying?"
"Just that I've seen you swim, and I wouldn't compare you to a dolphin."
"As if you're any better!"
"Much!"
"Well then," he heaved the ball towards the beach, "You shouldn't have a problem getting away!"
~
"I'm gonna fix that attitude once and for all" Brody said, his smile now almost splitting his face.
"No, you'll have to catch me first" squealed Christian. Brody dived for him, and Christian stayed just out of reach by throwing himself back with his head momentarily submerging. To his almost horror he saw Brody was now in a full-on freestyle, aiming for him like a torpedo. With a yell he lurched sideways towards the shore and sloshed to firm ground. Brody was right behind him!
"Run, Christian, run!" He heard.
They had drifted a long way down the beach which came to a bend around some wild dunes, part of a small nature preserve. Christian was now in complete primal flight and ran pell mell along the shore, skirting the first dune and slingshoting around the bend. He twisted to look behind him, and sure enough, Brody was athletically pounding the sand just behind, the solid teardrop-shape of his quads jolting with each stride.
"OOOFF!" Brody had leaped and tackled Christian around the middle, and though he tried to sit down with him to soften the blow, Christian still went down hard.
"Goddamnit, Brody!" He hadn't expected such hard treatment.
"Don't be a wuss" Brody said, his face still vivid with the thrill of the chase. He seized Christian's wrists before he could do anything, pinning them above his head and pressing down with his hips to fully immobilize him.
"Whew," He sighed, officially settling into his dominant position and grinning mockingly down.
"Okay, you've got me, lesson taught."
"Not quite, it's time for your first wrestling practice."
"Who keeps making these decisions?"
"The one who matters. Come on, up."
Christian rose with him, trying to maintain a casual air but full of trepidation on the inside. More skin-on-skin contact with Brody meant boners, it was like a law of the universe. Suppressing his engorgement required such concentration that he couldn't function in anything else, certainly not wrestling.
"Alright, crouch low like this. Knees bent, dominant side forward. You square up too much, you'll get caught flatfooted."
Christian obeyed and assumed the awkward stance. It was almost like a sprinters lunge, but only halfway. Brody eased into it as well, his widow's peak and sharp eyebrows only inches away.
"The bread and butter of wrestling is the single-leg takedown. Dive for your opponents front leg, wrap your arm behind their knee, and bend."
He demonstrated on Christian in a partial slow-mo, in one fluid movement sinking to one knee and pulling behind Christian's. He felt his leg fold and unbalance, marveling at how little pressure it took.
"If this happens, you wanna either flip on your belly or grab my waist. Depends on how deep the hold is, and how high on your leg I've gotten. If you feel yourself falling lurch forward. Go ahead do it."
They did the pantomime and Christian wrapped his arms around Brody's sculpted middle as his "opponent" completed the takedown.
"Now you try to haul me over your head. Go!"
Christian pulled and Brody allowed himself to be carried over 180 degrees, landing on his back next to Christian.
"Don't just sit there, get on top and pin me!"
He hastened to comply, but still somewhat gingerly sat on Brody's stomach and his legs folded either side. Brody flopped his head back and laughed.
"A schoolboy pin isn't recommended, especially one executed so slowly, but I guess you'll learn. First you have to stop acting like my body will burn you if you touch it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Christian was becoming too aware of Brody's smooth firmness against his calves, and spread his legs away a bit.
Brody raised an angular eyebrow. "You're squeamish. Even now you're trying to get away from me."
"It's not that, I'm just..." What could he say? Unrelentingly horny?
Brody suddenly seized his upper arms and dragged him down. Sitting up slightly he snaked both arms underneath Christian's armpits, clasping his hands at Christian's chin. He dragged him down and to the side, and in a heartbeat, their positions were reversed.
"Oh yeah, don't let your guard down." He smiled cheekily down at Christian, who was amazed at the turnabout.
"How'd you do that so fast?"
"I train for explosiveness. Wrestling is unbelievably fast paced. Some of the national champions I've rolled with are so quick it's almost unfair."
Brody's tiny swimsuit and spread legs accentuated his package obscenely. Christian could actually see his dick and balls, the former smushed against his thigh. Try as he might he couldn't avert his eyes. Brody rested his hands on his pecs, fingers brushing his nipples, and Christian's cock started seeking air.
"Hmm, I think I know the reason for this reticence of yours," Brody said with a wicked grin on his face, speaking in a mock deductive voice, "it's somewhere arooouund..."
"Dude, what're you doing?!" Christian yelped as Brody's hand wandered behind his own back and down towards his crotch. Christian ordered his cock to stifle itself, or better yet grow wings and fly away, but it obeyed neither command.
"Relax man," Brody cooed "I told you before it's no big deal. You need to get more comfortable with yourself...and others."
"Brody, let-UGH! Me go!" Christian involuntarily burst out a cry as the hand enclosed around his member. A few spots appeared in his eyes as if he'd been struck, except instead of pain it was a starburst of pleasure.
"I'm not holding YOU, I'm just getting to know your friend."
Cruelly he started rubbing him through the boardshorts, rolling the length of his shaft in his hand and polishing the knob with his thumb.
"Brody, stop, seriously. This is really..."
"Really what?" Christian couldn't bring himself to say the word. His throat choked on it. Why? Because it was wrong? Because it was right? Because if he said that word, Brody might actually stop?
"Really what, Christian?" Brody's eyes were boring into his, the grin not faltering. He was increasing the pace so heat and pleasure were surging into Christian's cock, making his mind numb. He wasn't jerking him off, merely manipulating his poor cock, rolling and kneading it.
"Uhh...uhhhh..." Losing the ability to produce words, his jaw went slack and his tongue flopped.
"See? You're not dying are you?" Brody gave a breathy laugh. His heavy-lidded eyes were half closed and Christian noticed his jaw was also slack. He could see the pink tip of his tongue as it slightly lolled out. But when his gaze wandered down, Christian's sleepy eyes expanded like steam in a sauna. Brody's bulge had inflated and crawled to nearly the end of the suit, the mushroom head outlined against the fabric as it borrowed its way to freedom. Christian was transfixed. His gaze darted up to Brody's in unspoken communication, and he gave a languid nod. Christian reached out to grasp this prize, his movements so automatic it felt like an out of body experience, like he was observing someone else go through these taboo motions. How could he possess the courage? His hand was brushing the suit fabric when they heard something.
"God this is such a pretty area!"
"Don't climb up those dunes, Meghan!"
They froze like animals aware of a predator.
"The water!" Brody hissed, springing up and hauling Christian with them. Sprinting into the surf they launched themselves into the safe bosom of the ocean just as the voices owners came around the bend. It was an amiable, chubby family with mousey hair, and they waved to the boys as they passed. Brody paddled up to Christian.
"Just a warning though, intimate as wrestling is, prolonged groping is kinda verboten."
"You started it!" Christian spluttered. The cold water had restored his senses, sanity, and doused his erection into flaccidity.
"Yeah, to accustom you to the contact! Hands on crotches is par for the course, if you pop a boner every single time people might start to look askance."
Christian just stared at his leering friend in wonder. What was his game? He wasn't really trying to get Christian into a whole `nother sport? This was just more headgames, but now he knew to roll with them. At this point not much Brody could do would surprise him.
"Whatever. D'you wanna get lunch?"
"Definitely," Brody nodded, "Let's get burgers from that food truck and watch something on Netflix. Do you like Stranger Things?"
"Yeah!" As it happens he did.
"Basic," Brody scoffed. Christian's countenance fell. He never failed to get in a punch. "There's a German series called Dark, you've got to see it, way better. C'mon, food's on me."
They freestyled to the shore and walked dripping back along the beach. Brody put a hand on Christian's shoulder as they went along, the latter looking over at him questioningly. Brody smiled in that knowing, mysterious way of his, with an underlayer of what Christian always hoped he didn't mistake as warmth. Cliché as it was, it was easy to get lost in those eyes, dark as the sea at midnight. Right now he was lost in the memory of what just transpired and the relief it gave him: physical proof Brody wasn't grossed out by his urges. There was nothing to fear on that front. In fact, he succumbed himself! The implication suddenly hit him. Did that mean...possibly...
Christian looked over at Brody again, who was contemplating the horizon, his elegant brows furrowed. Back to being opaque.
"Sure," Christian thought to himself, "No surprises."
End of Chapter 6