Copyright © 2011 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording , or by any information storage and retrieval storage system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. (Permission to post electronically is given to www.nifty.org and its affiliated mirror sites only.)
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to any person, place, or written works are purely coincidental. It may contain consensual sex between young men. Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is illegal for you to view this content for whatever the reason.
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In the Shadows of Our Lives Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow III ~ Warming a Frozen Rose ~
"Someone's at your door tonight, Someone wants your love, Is it real or just imagination? You decide to wait inside 'til the break of dawn, In dreams you see yourself seeking affection."
Love Chaser, by Europe
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JON
For the last week Tim has made it his personal quest to hook me up with some guy he knows, but he won't tell me who. He tells me not to worry, and swears that it's a no-brainer; that we are compatible. Still, just both being gay doesn't necessarily make us compatible. He knows I've already been there, done that with Brent Liddle, and have the proverbial notch in my belt to show for it. He's really messing with me though. Sometimes he swears it's not Paul Hunter, other times he swears it is, and then changes his tune. Who else does he know that's gay? How does he know that I'll like the guy?
While Tim promises me that the super-secret guy is not Paul Hunter, I seriously doubt him. Tim knows how bad I have it for Paul, a loose friend of his through baseball. In fact, I think I'm right because he can't quite keep a straight face when he tells me this guy I'm to meet isn't Paul. But then, who even really knows? Come to think of it, I still don't think that Paul really is gay, so maybe it is some other guy after all. To add to that, Tim hasn't tried to get me alone with Paul at all this past week. So maybe he's trying to wean me off my obsession for Paul and onto some other guy.
It's already Thanksgiving weekend. Thinking back, things have changed a lot in my life this year. Now my roommate and best friend, Tim, is dragging me by the hand to a festival at Moody Park. Yeah, literally by the hand as he pulls me out the door of my home. Make that our home. He doesn't care one way or another about my sexuality. I really honestly thought that if not on the surface, than below the surface, that he'd feel different and I'd slowly get pushed aside. But that hasn't happened.
After the carpet got pulled out on Tim's apartment, mom's boyfriend Larry suggested the Tim move into Deanna's old room. In case you don't know, Deanna is my oldest of three sisters. With her as well as my other sisters, Candace and Lacey, all having moved out at the beginning of the summer, Mom agreed to the deal. Tim's parents were quite relieved that Tim would not be completely on his own and instead back under the supervision of adults. Even more so, they were relieved that Larry is one of those said adults. So when Tim's not busy with one of the three baseball teams he plays on, he's almost exclusively mine.
The last couple months have been somewhat blasé. Neil and Tania are always fighting or making out. At first Tim was avoiding the drama, but now the tables have turned. Since we all got together to watch the `subway series' World Series where the New York Yankees beat the New York Mets a month ago now, Tim has started going at Neil pretty feverishly for always being a dick. This has caused Neil to keep Tim and me at arms' length, because Tim really lays into him over the drama he and Tania create. I guess it's true that a girl can come between best buds, even if in this case it's not that Tim likes Tania too, more that he can't stand the way Neil treats her. Too bad, they were best friends for the past three years.
Of course from what I can tell, Tim is too busy to care because he's trying desperately to get into Natalie Wilson's pants. The steamy phone calls at night have continued, and even escalated. Of course I don't try to listen in, (yeah right) but Tim is really open and honest with her about everything. I hate that they discuss my sexuality, but I can't exactly confront him on it because I'm the pervert listening in to his side of the private conversations.
Natalie is the exception to my claim on Tim's free time. All around, for me it's horrible though. At first this year, on days that Neil and Tania were civil we all could sit together for lunch. If the shit was hitting the fan Tim started bailing out and hung with Mickey Dawson and Ray Hart in the weight room. So I either got stuck with the Ike and Tina Turner wannabes, or dragged along with Tim to the gym so that we can work out with the weights.
In the weight room it's like a family reunion with Larry there too. He's always working out too while supervising the football and baseball guys, and two girls that use the school facility. Our other close friend of late last year, Kevin, has found his own clique with a couple of skids that live in his townhome complex. I could never stand Andy Jones or Ron Ferguson beyond buying off of them. Even then, they were a last resort. Hell, since Kevin has fallen in with them I can honestly say I have been clean. I haven't smoked so much as a cigarette since the first week of school now, let alone anything else.
Recently Tim has become like a brother to me, and is living out of the bedroom right next to mine. At the same time he is my best friend and yet has managed to avoid becoming the overly supportive smothering friend. He's just left things at face value. He still calls me Cheesedick on occasion out of habit, but he's trying to call me Farrows instead and let the comments fall where they may.
He still wrestles with me like we used to in his pool, only now we're on dry land and he can't pants me nearly as easily as he could in the pool. He doesn't waste a second thought on sitting in only his boxer-briefs in the living room at home to play video games with me, or changing beside me in the locker room at school or with his door open at home. At first I was hesitant about pitching a tent all the time from seeing him in only his underwear, but now at home I sit there in mine too and get my ass kicked in one video game or another right there with him.
At school, changing in front of me is no big deal to him, and when spotting me as I lift weights he will touch or grab hold of me when necessary, even press his body right against mine from behind when trying to correct my arm curls. Fuck, I haven't had any sex for a couple months now and the feel of his body around mine almost makes me faint, but I try not to make a big deal out of it and he just laughs it off. And no, he hasn't revealed to me that he's gay too and madly in love with me. I know for sure he's hopelessly hetero. I respectfully leave it at face value for him too.
So getting back to the here and now, on this Sunday after church I'm get dragged by the hand to be wingman or third wheel with him and Natalie Wilson. I'm pretty sure this is unofficially their second date, and Natalie thinks that I'm coming along out of my own free will. They are long time friends and are getting friendlier if you follow, but I'm also pretty sure Tim won't jinx it by talking to me about it. To be honest, I don't want to get dragged along, especially seeing as though I'm certain the entertainment Tim has planned for himself is hooking me up with some guy that isn't Paul Hunter.
I'm not anti-social, but then again, growing up in a busy and extremely small house I never got the chance to be, anyway. There was next to never any time alone for me. Nowadays, there are times when I just want to be by myself. Today is one of them. Not for any specific reason; just because. Tim was supposed to be going to the fall festival with Nat and meeting up with Neil and Tania. Neil and Tania backed out; I think they want to let things develop between Tim and Nat by themselves.
Oh yeah, no one's supposed to know something is developing there. As far as Neil and Tania go, Tim painfully twisted my nipple yesterday and told me he'd do ten times worse to the other side if I try telling them that Tim and Nat have something brewing. Not that I'd dare share that there is a weird late night thing going on that they somehow need calling cards for. Heck, not even if Tim knew I listened in every chance I get. I wouldn't be a dick to him like that because he's been way too good of a friend to me. In fact, Tim swears he doesn't have anything going on with Nat. But still, like it isn't obvious Tim likes Nat. Tania and Neil sure think so as well. While I don't promote their belief, I don't go out of my way to avoid the obvious either.
It's all moot point anyways and I can't even open my big mouth in front of Tim on that one. Tim thinks that Neil and Tania backed out because they had another fight, when in actuality they conspired to force Tim and Natalie to spend some time alone together. Of course the staged fight turned into a real one between Neil and Tania so that sort of back-fired. Kevin never wants to do anything that doesn't involve getting high lately, so he's not going with us either. I'm A-okay with that though. Ever since betraying me, I still won't so much as speak to him so I am glad Tim seems to be pushing him out of our loop too.
But, as for today, Ma left right after church to go visit Deanna and Scott in Austin, and Larry is on his way to his place to catch up on some final fall maintenance. I only work every other Sunday at the music store right now, and hours have been hard to get at the restaurant despite my boss's promise of a set schedule, so I thought I'd have a rare Sunday afternoon to myself. On top of that, in my attempt to not get dragged into this, I can't quite figure out why if two long time friends are secretly seeing each other, that my presence is necessary. But I can't quite say anything because, well, Tim's proven to me he's the best friend I've ever had and I should help him in winning Nat over. He's never asked, but based on everything I've dumped on him lately, it's the least I can do.
So off we go, me silently getting dragged to the festival against my wishes. There always are midway amusement park rides and games, lots of different food vendors, and crafts and knickknacks being sold. Yup, pretty much everything short of a demolition derby later in the night away from being an all-out fall fair. I used to love fairs; I don't know where my current apathy comes from. Maybe they've been right all along at home when they call me Moody. I try not to, but I'm sure I come across as sullen when I lock the front door behind us.
As I get into the passenger seat of Tim's Mustang I put my hand over his stick shift right before he's about to reach for it and put the car in reverse, raising a curious look from him, "What?"
"If you even try to hook me up with a guy, with Nat with us, I'll grope you in front of her and say something about maybe letting you put it in me for a change," I threaten.
"Any excuse to get your hand down the front of my pants," Tim jokes back.
"Front or back, neither is a losing proposition. Seriously Timbo, don't do this to me in front of her. Please?"
Tim smiles, "Just trust me. If things go to plan, even I won't see it happen."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing and everything."
"Gee, don't be too vague. Fuck off and spill," I beg.
Instead he pries my hand off the gear shift and puts the car in reverse, "Don't worry, I've kept our secret. Nat does not have any confirmation from me that you're a Paul Hunter lover. Even though you've come out to some people, the only people I talk about your man-love to would be you and your family, so chill out!"
We pick Nat up on the way, and I instantly feel that I should have backed out. I almost want to call Chris to join us, but that would be using him despite our solid plutonic friendship. Although we'd have fun, I don't want to be a user. Plus that would thwart Tim's threat of hooking me up with a boy, which I have to admit, I am beyond curious about. There! There it is; yes, I'm interested in seeing just who this mystery man is.
After paying for parking on someone's front lawn, Tim is racing us through the midway like a madman and keeps looking at his watch. For some reason we seem to be heading straight to the amphitheatre where music is coming from. I really don't care for the folk scene, but after only a few minutes of being here it becomes obvious to me why we are. There is an older man who's just finished playing acoustic guitar. We caught the very tail end and I'm not too certain, but I think the song was The Air That I Breathe by The Hollies. But he's not the musician we've apparently come to see. No, the boy who's sitting beside him is.
A few lines into Randy VanWarmer's Just When I Needed You Most, as we weave through a small crowd and approach the stage, Tim nods at the man I obsess over. On stage, sitting on a stool just off to the side of his father with a honey coloured acoustic guitar in his hands, is the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. Paul Hunter. Paul nods back at Tim and smiles my way. Not our way, but my way. I can see that even though he is returning Tim's hello gesture that his eyes are locked on mine. My heart leaps, the smile is at me.
I'm warmed by his smile. I can feel my pulse quicken as a pang of desire builds in my chest to accompany the butterflies that just took up residence in my stomach. My hands are instantly clammy and I'm starting to sweat. Despite the smile I can't wipe from my own damn face, overall I feel like I need to puke! This has to be it; this has to be Tim's set-up. I know I had it bad for Paul before, but seriously, now I get why Stan pukes on Soutpark when Wendy gets all girlfriend-ly to him. I need to get my head checked because Paul has such a profound effect on me. I need him to live me.
It's the first time since school ended before summer break that he smiled at me. There was the one run-in we had in the mall, but that doesn't count. He was probably smiling despite himself when he really wanted to laugh at the poor fool I was, splayed out in my moment of uncoordinated glory. Nope, it doesn't even bother me that there is some major setup going on here. Paul and his father follow up one folk song after another, sometimes both harmonizing, sometimes trading off parts, and on some songs only one or the other singing, but both always playing guitar. They finish their set with Paul singing by himself.
Wow. Paul has a great singing voice; his Texan accent all but disappears when he sings. As he sings I get choked up, almost to the point of fighting back tears. His voice is silky smooth and articulate; it's so rich, so warm and clear, and conveys the sorrows and joys of each song perfectly. His vocal range is amazing, but I can't believe the emotion that comes out in the lighter moments. I would never have guessed that he possessed this booming yet soft singing voice. It's so unreal that it sends tingles down my back. Ha, something else to obsess over!
And he has a lot of poise too. At times there are only about 50-75 people around the sound stage, but at some times there is easily upwards of a couple hundred people, with many more people walking in earshot. I doubt I could perform in public at all, let alone in front of a crowd. Once they exit off the stage, after talking with his dad for a minute Paul approaches us, nodding hello to us and again smiling at me.
"Hey you," Paul bashfully says to Nat.
"Hey yourself," She responds.
"You promised you weren't coming," Paul nervously whines to her.
In a somewhat apologetic manner she defends herself, "And miss the chance to hear you play? Yeah right!"
"So not fair! I'm sure these guys would like to see you with your fiddle up there next. Maybe you can be equally embarrassed in your cute little stars and stripes skirt and knee-high socks with matching vest and cowboy hat! How about it my little Nathalia? Or has stage fright claimed you forever?" Paul quips as Nat gasps and turns red.
Sucking air, Nat reveals, "Yeah. Um. No oneat school but Jackie and you knew about that costume."
Paul smiles, "Well, now we're even!"
"Well Hunter, you know Nat and me. You probably know Farrows here too. We could use a sitter on the rides for him if you would join us, because three doesn't quite work," Tim does a mock introduction and slaps me in the chest before he asks Paul, "Wanna hang with us for a while?"
Not giving Paul any time to decide Tim goads him, "So wadda ya say? Can we trust him to your care?"
Paul smiles at me and rolls his eyes, "Some friend you are Tim. I'm sure everyone lines up to be treated like that!"
Then he winks at me. I don't think he means to because he goes sorta red. He looks away as soon as he does so. Here we go again. I think that because he smiles naturally, that he's smiling at me. I'm staring into his eyes despite my personal pledge to never again do so, and I've weirded him out again because I stare at him. And he winks!
I wonder exactly how long it took before he realized he just winked at the gay kid that was staring at his crotch in his own car months and months ago. Milliseconds? I'll bet it was instantly like `I just winked at the little gay boy, now he probably thinks I want him. Gross.' Then right after the realization he went bright red. Next he's going to throw up in his mouth a little. There's my Crime Scene Investigation into the matter, no need to call in forensics. Case closed.
Just say no, or `nah thanks' as you politely do Paul, and let me go beat myself up over this on my own.
"Ah shoot, sure! Yeah that'd be cool," Paul answers.
Um, excuse me? What? My heart misses a beat. Make that a few beats!
Should I feel happy that I get to spend time with the hunk of my dreams, and even hope that out of no control of my own, that my body may by chance be pressed against him on the rides at some point today? Or should I feel fear that he might catch on that I'll secretly be making memories to last my lifetime as it happens? I don't know. Feel happy or sad. Ah screw it, I'll be depressed later; this is good news in the short term!
As we start to walk Tim whispers in my ear, "This is your chance my hopeless romantic, don't fuck it up!"
I'm so screwed, I don't even care. Upside? I want to cop cheap feels of his body. I'm going to relish the close contact as we get pressed together while being thrashed around on the rides. Downside? Fuck, all day I'm going to sport the biggest, most obvious boner ever!
We don't talk directly to each other until we are seated in the Ferris Wheel together. He tries to break the ice, "It strikes me as odd that almost every adult and near-adult on the amusement ride is probably sporting a gun."
He just said something, what did he day? Think damn-it! No wait, first check to see if I'm drooling...nope. Good! Now answer something noncommittal, "Uh, yeah."
And we're back to silence. Well that was a great conversation if I ever had one. I'm such a spazz.
"Wow, you're music's really good," I compliment as the ride starts, trying to carry a conversation, any conversation.
"Thanks," he replies with a shrug, his face beginning to blush, "I play all these songs that no one knows. They're all from before we were born."
"I recognize every one of them," I interject.
He smiles, "Sure you do, and pigs can fly!"
"No, really. My mom has the radio permanently set to a light rock/70's/80's and 90's station. I can name every song and band that you played. Not just that, but I kinda like those songs and can sing every word," I inform him, trying to be sincere and not mocking. Hell I am being honest, but wouldn't believe myself really either!
"Really?" He questions.
I confess, "Yeah, really."
"Cool. Then I won't feel so embarrassed now," Paul says, so quietly I think it's almost to himself. After a moment he goes on, stammering at first, "Nah, prove it! Can you like, I don't know, can you maybe sing one of them?"
"Yeah, um, Sorry. I would, but wildlife runs for cover when I sing," I respond, proud of my quick retort.
His smirk tells me he's convinced I fibbed about knowing the songs in the first place, "Oh. Or, or maybe, you could like, like just name one of them then?"
He's nervous, he's stumbling over words. He just sang in front of a crowd of people and was fine but now he can't talk in just my presence! How cute this is that all of a sudden for the first time in my life I'm the one that is the more confident in a boy-boy encounter!
I relax a bit, "Fine, I won't sing 'cause like I said, I don't sing in public. Hell, I've never sang around someone else to tell you the truth. The one song was Randy VanWarmer. Just When I Needed You Most. Cat's in the Cradle is Harry Chapin, not Ugly Kid Joe, although I like that one better. You guys did Bob Seger's Turn the Page, not Metallica's new cover version. Um, Leader of the Band by Dan Fogelberg. I'm pretty sure I heard Jim Croce's Time in a Bottle as we were walking through the midway. In fact I know it was, and you have the voice of an Angel. Like, it's just so amazing! Anyhow, those are the most obscure ones. Believe me now?"
Paul smiles, "Yeah, I guess I have to believe you; you can't just come up with that on the spot!"
And just like that the ride's over. I can't believe the ease I have with Paul. Past the initial fears, I am able to carry on a decent conversation with him. I figured by now I'd be either a drooling mess, or a complete embarrassment to myself in some manner.
We chatter back and forth about music as we go line up for the Grav-a-tron. Tim and Nat get into the conversation too, helping Paul from being tongue-tied. After getting off the next ride, Paul comments that Nat looks just like she used to when performing on stage. Poking fun at Nat getting nauseous and pasty-white becomes the focus as we line up for the tilt-a-whirl. After that we take it easy because Nat really is feeling sick after spinning around on the rides. She blames it on the Grav-a-tron. Paul and I both sigh. I know what my sigh was for; that I've lost my excuse to touch him. What is his reason?
Tim and I share a slice of greasy pizza while Paul and Nat both go to the washrooms. Eww! Public washrooms are fine by me, but I don't do Johnny-on-the-spots. This greatly amuses Tim; connecting my name to the outhouse and the irony therein; `Jonny-on-the-spot here won't use a Johnny-on-the-spot, even if Jonny here's feeling on-the-spot'! When Paul and Nat return Paul has three corndogs. He offers me one and I can't help but take it despite pretending to put up a fight. Tim takes his, pretends to give it a blow job for my amusement when Paul isn't looking, and then wipes the corners of his mouth before he bites off a huge chunk and acts like it's the best food he's ever eaten.
After that we play some games. The usual ones, darts at the balloons, ring toss, the water gun game. All throughout, Paul is stuck on me like Nat is on Tim. Seriously, like a sixth sense I can feel his warmth and sense his close proximity even when I can't actually feel his breath on my back. He's that close that I don't have to see it out of the corner of my eyes. I can smell his cologne. Calvin Klein Eternity I think. My heart whimpers. I can still feel it racing.
I wish I could have him; he fits like a glove. I wish he could be gay too, and in love with me. I have a good friend in Chris that I can be gay with, but the relationship thing died between us. Duncan is a good gay friend too, but he's a MSN messenger friend thousands of miles away. I want someone to love me again. Someone here. Someone real. Someone tangible. So, dangerously I start pretending in my head that Paul is with me as my boyfriend. Just don't do something stupid like kiss him and he'll be none the wiser I figure. What harm can come from my little pathetic fantasy?
The day is growing late. The sun has set and the lights are on all the rides by the time Nat feels like giving them a try again.
We start off with the Ferris Wheel again. Okay, interesting. Paul kinda brushes my leg weird and pulls back. I pretend not to notice. He does it again as we are about to descend on the very next revolution. I want to ask if everything is alright but I can't find my voice. Damn you voice, where'd you go?
No, no, better not. I'm sure he doesn't want me thinking that it's anything more than purely accidental. He'd probably die if I brought it up. I mean I'm already sure that just sitting beside me is uncomfortable enough for him. Why make him squirm more? The next decent confirms this; straight boy Paul doesn't brush my gay leg again. Instead he keeps his hands to himself.
Yup, he's probably recoiling from actually having touched the homo, even if it was completely accidental and totally, unequivocally, non-sexual. I'll just pull the leg of my shorts as far down my thigh as possible for him, so that he doesn't have to worry about touching gay skin, and then he can pretend that it didn't happen; pretend that he never so much as absently brushed me twice. Why did I wear cargo shorts today that have to slide up my legs from their own weight when I'm sitting?
Damn, why'd he have to go and do that! Now the heart that beats in my chest, the very one I'd like to hand to him forever, has hope. Hopeless-hope no less, but it's like a flood of warmth racing all over my body. Or else? Haha, Phew! Nope a quick check of my shorts tells me I haven't wet myself, the warmth is indeed coming from within. Boner yes, leaking no. Man, would that be embarrassing! I'm love sick. I'm hopeless.
As the ride slows to a stop Paul looks uneasy, "Damn. I still don't like Ferris Wheels. Any other rides are great but this thing just makes me want to toss my cookies."
So that's it; he was feeling sick from the ride. No harm, no foul, he wasn't making first contact with me like I could wish. The ride's over rand I don't know how many more innocent chances I'm going to get to brush up against his body.
For the love of everything I hold dear, please don't let this night end. I just want this one night. Paul Hunter you have no idea how giddy you make me feel. Just be with me for this one night until the end of time and I will love you from afar and never force the issue with you. You will be the one that got away in my life because I couldn't possibly ever have you anyway, and you'll probably never know one hundredth of one percent of the depths of it other than to think back about how that boy used to like you...what was his name? Farrows? Yeah, that's it; Faggot Farrows! Tim? Tom? Jim? Jon? Don?
Maybe someday when you're on this Ferris Wheel in some distant year here with your girlfriend, fiancée, or wife, you might remember this awkward moment. Oh wait, you don't like Ferris Wheels. On some other ride then. Maybe in a year or two when you are here with your daughter Belinda I'll be a hint of a memory, one that flashes so quick that you don't even realize it. But somewhere in the recesses of your mind, below your conscience, I'll exist for a brief nanosecond again. Man, I'm such a looser!
We head to the Tilt-a-whirl again. Yeah! Another chance to press against Paul! Ah shit. The reason there's no lineup is because it's not working. Tim sees the disappointment on my face. He smiles one of his warm smiles. What do I see in his eyes? Pity? No, Tim isn't the pitying kind. I think maybe for an instant I see genuine sadness for me in his eyes. He knows how badly I want Paul. Shit, Kevin, Neil and Tania know too, and I'm sure Nat is fully in on it as well even if she isn't a part of this elaborate mock chance-encounter Tim planned.
"How about the Zipper?" Paul suggests.
Us three boys all readily agree and Nat doesn't protest. Thank you Paul! Thank you! You are giving me at least a few more minutes to be yours. You just don't really know that I'm yours is all. White Lion's song, To Death Do Us Part, streams through my head. What a beautiful guitar solo! It captures the moment so perfectly for me.
The line for the Zipper is longer because everyone and his mother seem to be here now that it's dark and romantic. Well, as romantic as a carnival or festival can get, I suppose. I'm nervous. The night is going to end soon and Paul and I will go back to strangers in the halls at school. Acquaintance enough to nod hello to each other outside of school. Acquaintance enough to try and hit me up for an occasional joint or silently spot each other in the weight room. But not acquaintance enough to nod at each other in the halls anymore or even strike up a conversation. Not acquaintance enough as to be my boyfriend!
Tim leans into me, "You make your own luck Jiffy. It doesn't just happen. Take a chance already! I've got your back no matter what."
We've made our way to the front of the line. Tim and Nat should be the last people on this ride but we let a couple girls go ahead of us all so that we can go on the next ride at the same time. Time's almost got to be up on me tonight.
How do I fix that? Think damn-it! Common ground. What do we have in common? Hmm. I'm gay, he's straight. Okay, scrap that one. He plays baseball avidly, I sometimes watch it if I have to, and only play it to present a glimmer of a straight-boy image. Nope. Have to do better. Wait, I like hockey! I doubt he does though. Oh duh: music! He plays music. I know music! I know all the folk songs he played. We'll start there, again.
Nervously I attempt to spark up the conversation again, "So when'd you learn to play guitar?"
"I don't know. I just, hmm. I don't know, I've just always known. Nah, as far back as I can remember my folks have played and all my brothers too. It's just always been there, like, like learning to read and write, or like, even to talk. I've always been surrounded by music."
Why does he still trip over words? He never lacks confidence. Oh well, stop thinking! Speak damn-it! I ask, "Do they all sing too?"
"Yeah, we all sing. It's like we're misplaced from the Mama's and Papa's era or something. Like we're first-cousins to the Partridge Family or something. Our whole church is very musical, but not nearly into it as much as Daddy and his brothers are."
"Do you play anything else?"
He clarifies, "Like what? Instruments?"
"Sure."
He starts to rhyme off, "Drums. Piano. Keyboards. Harp. Violin. Fiddle. Cello. Harmonica. Bass guitar. You saw the acoustic guitar. Oh, electric guitar too! Not country either but hard rock, just so you don't go thinking all I play is pussy stuff!"
"I don't think that! I swear it, 'kay? Like I said before, I know every song you played and who does them. My Ma listens to that retro stuff on the radio at home exclusively. Just so you know I do listen to a lot more than that. But I do know, and have to admit, like the stuff you played," I feel like we're flirting as the ride ahead of us finally ends and we head for our turn in one of the car thingies.
Paul holds out his hand, signaling for me to get in first. What a gentleman! As I step by him he says, "Oh, and I'll deny this later, but I can play the banjo too."
We get seated and then the carnie guy makes sure the lap bar is locked. There's an awkward silence settling between us again. Some dream I have with Paul. Neither of can carry the conversation now. It was easy earlier this afternoon. Think of something Jon! Don't let him slip away! The best I can come up with is, "So what do you play on the electric guitar?"
"Well a lot of the same stuff actually, and like REO Speedwagon, Journey, melodic 80's stuff with big epic guitar solo's. You know, high school slow dance stuff. I've tried Metallica and even U2. I don't care for either though, you know? Nah, if I try something hard it has to be like Scorpions, Iron Maiden, Guns `N Roses. A little more melodic, a little less shredding. I can feel my way through that. For sure Def Leppard too, just not weak stuff like U2," He answers easy enough as the ride is just starting. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile, I think as the ride hits full speed.
I tune him out. Tim's words are resonating in my head. Make my own luck. Damn, I am going to hate myself in the morning for this but I have to do it. I clench my hand onto his thigh as we complete our first flip. Oh crap, get back here hand! Bad hand, bad! Oh, wait. He seems completely unaffected by it.
I brace my right hand on the cage in front of us and look directly at Paul. Taking the bull by the horns I put my hand back on his thigh and squeeze. He looks at me. Is he confused? We'll see if this clarifies my intentions; I move my hand to his crotch and gently squeeze. I can't read his face because we are getting thrashed around.
I remove my hand partly by design, because getting flipped over I may just push hard unintentionally on him there, and partly because getting flipped around as we are, it is hard to keep my hand on his prize anyhow. He didn't even look my way. He just rolled his head back. The next rotation of our cage causes my hand to brace myself between his legs. Screw it I figure and take another good feel of his package, leaving no doubt that I am feeling him up. He looks my way. With my hand copping a feel I look the other way. Anywhere but his eyes will do.
He clears his throat, "Uh, what is this?"
You know what Paul? This is my freedom. I live with it all bottled up, but you make me so damn crazy. That is me feeling you up. Surprise, I'm gay! And you know what? I don't care anymore. Paul Hunter, I am so in love with you and I'll never get this chance again so I can't help it anymore, and I can't hold back.
I lie as I remove my hand, "Oh my Lord! I uh, panicked. Did I just grab you there?"
Huh? Hold on. His hand is on my leg. Not accidentally brushing my leg like before. It's lightly resting inside my leg just up from my knee and tracing its way to my goods. What is going on here?
I turn to look at him again. He smiles a bashful little smile. Almost a wince really. I recognize the fear in his eyes; that's the way I see the world. Can it be?
I smile back. He smiles bigger. He takes his hand away from my crotch but the smile remains.
Sure we're getting whipped around and he was pressed up against me but that did just happen. It wasn't an accident. He had that nervous little smile. I had a nervous little smile. He smiled bigger when I returned his smile, his hand still on my leg. Now it's gone and my leg is on fire where his hand just rested on it.
I smile back at him again and deftly rub the side of his leg as best as I can, up and down from knee to mid thigh and back, and pat him on the leg a couple times. He lets loose a big grin again.
Placing my hand back on his tented shorts he whispers, "You know, all you ever had to do was ask."
This has all transpired in, like, a couple seconds. Probably not even one full revolution of the ride.
Aware that anyone looking could possibly see this, I pull my hand back. We simultaneously break out into nervous laughter. The laughter is contagious. We're laughing our heads off as the ride finally stops. He puts a finger to his lips, asking for my secrecy. Hells yeah! I smile and wink back my response.
Oh life is good! This is real. I know by the feeling in my stomach, by the tingling all over my body, by the goosebumps I'm getting. My wet-dream-come-true has just subtly expressed interest in ME! I could just about die happy now! But I don't want to! My dream has just been realized and I want to play it out!
We're both red-faced as Tim and Nat join us. Even though it's dark out and there is a glow to everyone's face from the carnival lights, Tim instantly sees something has happened. With Paul and I unable to look at each other again lest we break out in spontaneous laughter, I'm guessing Tim's thinking I made a pass and got shot down.
Tim is always there for me, really he is. He does what he thinks is right, going into damage control, "Well it's been a blast Hunter. Good to see you. And you really do play great music. Don't take it the wrong way from a another guy, but you voice is amazing. I never knew you could sing. I do know you used to like to stare at things, peanut shells I think. Damn the stories I could tell. But I like you a lot Hunter, and as long as you give me reason to, I'll carry the blackmail material to my grave. But yeah, your music, you're such a stud! Anyhow, we're probably going to jet now. Take it easy. C-ya around."
Paul doesn't say anything. For the briefest of instants we do lock eyes. Quickly his eyes flicker from Tim to Nat, kinda like pointing at them with his eyes.
Letting out an exaggerated breath, Tim whispers almost inaudibly, "Or maybe not!"
I have a huge smile that I am trying my hardest to restrain. It's gotta show even though I am biting my bottom lip, giving Tim the subtle confirmation that something did in fact happen, and it was all good. I pass what I deem to be an acceptable lie, "Uh, know what? I'll catch up with you later. Paul asked me to help him grab his gear and load it into his car to keep it safe for tomorrow. I'll catch a ride with him."
Tim can't control himself. He grins at me as he says, "Cool. Why don't you invite him over later?"
I can only hope Nat is still in the dark as Tim leads her away!
[to be continued]