Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've been happy to hear from everyone who wrote to ask questions or say how much they liked this so far, and I wanted to say Thank You to everyone who's written.
And now, on with the show.
"OK," I said, shrugging. "Are you sure you're up for that?"
"I think I am," Josh said, sitting down on the bed. "I thought about it last night, and I think I really should sit down, and just try to explain some of this to him. I mean, he is my friend and all, and I just kind of want him to understand."
"I think that's a good idea," I said, sitting next to him. Josh took my hand almost automatically. "But what if he doesn't understand? Or doesn't want to?"
I was thinking of last night, and was worried that Josh might come back to the apartment hurt again. If he did, I wasn't sure anything would be able to stop me from going downstairs and beating Lance into a bloody pulp. I mean, sure, he was surprised yesterday, and a little upset, but he'd been almost deliberately hurtful, and I wasn't sure I wanted Josh exposed to that again.
"If he doesn't, he doesn't," Josh said. "But he's my friend, and I can't just write him off without trying to work this out. Besides, I think yesterday he was just surprised, and that's why he got so upset. Maybe if it's just me and him, he'll be a little calmer."
"Maybe," I agreed. Maybe he actually would be. Maybe winged monkeys might fly out of my ass.
The two of us got dressed, throwing on some casual clothes, and then had a quick breakfast after Josh finally showed me how to operate the coffee machine. I fidgeted nervously, but tried not to show it, as Josh pulled his shoes on, and then I gave him a quick hug, trying to infuse him with some of my warmth before he left.
"I love you," I said. "And I'll wait right here until you get back."
"I love you, too," Josh said. His voice quavered a little, but on the whole he sounded pretty sure of himself.
Josh gave me another hug, and then left the apartment. I sat down at the table with my coffee, and started to wait. I was going to read some more, but couldn't seem to focus on my book, and I began to pace the apartment instead. Realizing what I was doing, I went into the bedroom and made the bed. Then I mopped the bathroom after all, and bundled up all of the wet towels and the bathmats to take to the laundry room. After that I washed up the cereal bowls from breakfast, and was just pouring another cup of coffee when I heard a knock on the door.
Maybe Josh had forgotten his key? Had he even locked the door? I hurried over as these and a hundred other questions raced through my mind, wondering if I'd be spending another day hugging my sobbing boyfriend, or if maybe I'd spend it down the street at the county lockup facing assault charges. My pulse racing, I jerked the door open so fast that Justin jumped back, colliding with the walkway railing. For a second I was afraid he might pitch over the side.
"Jack! You scared me," Justin said, grabbing the railing. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What are you doing?" I blurted. "I'm sorry, I mean, what are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?" he asked, hands on his hips.
Justin was wearing a tight white tanktop undershirt, so thin I could see his rosy pink nipples through it as it clung to every ripple and bulge of his torso. It was riding up just a little at his waist, flashing the smallest sliver of his tanned, flat stomach above the baggy khaki pants that were hanging so loosely on his hips they looked as if they might fall at any second. They were loose enough to cover everything, but touched him in just enough places to offer a suggestion of what might be underneath.
"Sure," I said, pulling the door open wider, shaking myself from the remembrance of seeing exactly what was under those pants yesterday. "What can I do for you, Justin?"
"I was thinking last night, and I wanted to talk to you guys," he said, brushing past me. He slumped onto the couch, arms thrown back, legs wide. "Is Josh up yet?"
"He went to talk to Lance," I said, sitting down across from him.
"Oh, wow," Justin said, sitting up and leaning toward me. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"It's Josh's idea, so I hope it works," I said, sipping my coffee. "I hope he's ok."
"Are you ok?" Justin asked, staring unblinking into my eyes. "Do you need a hug?"
"I'm fine," I said, leaning back, puzzled over the offer of a hug. "Where's Brit?"
Justin sighed, and settled back into the couch, golden tufts of hair peeking out from beneath his widely flung arms.
"We're kind of fighting right now," Justin said, looking down.
"Is it bad?" I asked. They had seemed so happy yesterday. I realized suddenly that it might not be my place to ask. "Is that what you needed to talk to Josh about? Because I'm sure he'll be back soon."
"No, it wasn't that," Justin sighed. "And it's nothing really bad. Just a lot of little stuff. We'll be ok."
"Do you want some coffee or something?" I asked, not sure of what else I should do.
"No, I'm good, thanks," Justin answered, staring at me. "Since Josh isn't here, maybe, would you mind if I, you know, talked to you?"
"Not at all, Justin," I answered. Was it me, or did he seem nervous? "What's up?"
"I was thinking about what Josh said yesterday, about, you know, you and him," Justin began, leaning forward. "Jack, how did you know you were gay?"
"That's an interesting question, Justin," I said, sipping my coffee again. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, well, you know," he began, running his hands over his stubbly blond hair. His shirt pulled up a little, and I glanced away from his golden treasure trail, snaking down into his pants, my eyes flicking back up to his face. "I was thinking about what Josh said, about how he was trying to figure stuff out. How did you figure it out?"
"Well, I guess I always knew I was different," I said, watching him. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, propping his head up on his hands. I had his full attention. "I always found myself looking at guys, and wanting to be friends with them, and thinking about them. Then when I was in high school I kind of realized exactly how I was different, and what it all meant."
"Did you, you know, did you date anyone in high school?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Not exactly," I said, trying to figure out exactly why he was asking. Did he just want to understand what was going on with Josh and I better, or was there more? "I had this guy friend, and we kind of fooled around a little, but we never, you know, called each other boyfriends or anything. When I went to college, I picked one kind of far from my hometown, and I just decided to come out."
"Weren't you scared?" Justin asked, leaning forward.
"A lot, actually," I answered. "But college isn't really like high school. It's a whole different world, and your family isn't around. Everybody's trying all kinds of things, so it seemed like the right kind of place to try being myself."
"What happened?" Justin asked. "What did people say?"
"Well, I went through two roommates before I got one who was ok with it," I said. "The first couple didn't want to live with me, because they were worried I was going to hit on them, or something, but then this guy was assigned to me who really didn't care either way."
"Was he gay, too?" Justin asked.
"Actually, no," I answered. "He had about ten different girlfriends, but he was a nice guy, and the way he saw it I was nice, I was clean, and I wasn't competition. We had a lot in common otherwise, and got along really well, and we ended up living together all four years we were there."
"That's cool," Justin said.
"I guess," I agreed. "Not everyone was that nice, though. Lots of people said things, and people used to write stuff on our door. Once I even got beat up by some guys on the football team."
"Did they get in a lot of trouble?" Justin asked, leaning forward again.
"Not really," I said. Justin's eyebrows popped up, and I sighed. "I didn't turn them in."
"What? Why didn't you turn them in?" Justin asked, confused. I could tell that he was also kind of angry. "Nobody deserves to get beat up!"
"But I thought I did," I sighed, looking down. I set my coffee cup down, and Justin took one of my hands.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Jack?"
"I'm sorry, Justin," I said, starting to stand. "You don't want to hear any of this."
Justin pushed me firmly back down into my chair, not letting go of my hand.
"Yes, I do," he said. "Josh is my friend, and you're my friend, and if somebody hurt you I want to hear about it."
And looking at Justin, seeing the concern in his eyes lined on his face, I discovered that I wanted to tell.
"The guys who beat me up ended up breaking my arm and cracking a couple of my ribs," I said, still looking down. I didn't want to look Justin in the eyes. I didn't want to look anyone in the eyes while I told this story. "My roommate took me to the emergency room, and when my parents got the bill, I lied and told them I had fallen down the stairs. The guys who beat me up never got in any trouble, because I never reported them."
Justin now had my hand held between both of his.
"But Jack, why not?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't report it because I thought I deserved it," I admitted quietly. "I thought that I deserved it because of who I was."
Justin sighed, squeezing my hand comfortingly.
"I don't understand," he said. "I thought you said you were out."
"I thought I was, but the night those guys beat me up, I realized that I still didn't really know who I was," I explained. "I was out to everyone at school, but not to anyone at home, or to my family. I was still kind of ashamed of who I was, and I tried to hide it by being as gay as I could be on campus. I joined all the groups, I had pink triangles and rainbow stickers all over everything I owned, and all I ever talked about was about how great it was to be gay. And it was all because that was who I thought I was supposed to be."
"And then?" he asked.
"And then one night I was leaving a bar," I said. "I'd been out with friends, and decided I wanted to go home early, and these guys stopped me in an alley, and started calling me names. And because I was all out and loud and proud, I started yelling right back at them, and I got the shit beat out of me. And afterward, I realized that those guys didn't even beat me up for the right reasons. They didn't know me, or anything about me, except that I was gay, because that's all I told anyone. So I decided to change."
"You started dating girls again?" Justin asked, baffled.
"No, Jesus, no," I answered, smiling. "I took down all my stickers, I stopped going to meetings, and I spent a long time figuring out who I was, and who I wanted to be. I came out to my family, and I went on with my life."
I hadn't realized that a tear had fallen down my cheek until Justin reached out and wiped it carefully away with one of his fingers. I looked up, and his dark blue eyes, so much darker than Josh's, were staring into mine, and they were wet, as if tears were standing in them. His finger slid across my cheek, just under my eye, feather light, and I jumped up out of my chair. Justin stood with me and wrapped me in a hug, both of his arms circling around my back and crushing me against him.
"I'm so sorry for you Jack," he whispered, his hands sliding over my shoulder blades. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
I pushed him away, my hands on his strong, smooth arms, sliding over his tanned velvet skin.
"It's ok, Justin," I said, staring at him, aware of how close our faces were to each other. "It was a long time ago. I'm better now. I know who I am."
He stared at me, not blinking, mouth open, pink lips parted as if he was going to say something, and I shook my head, as if to clear it.
"Do you, um, do you want to stay for lunch?" I asked, stepping away from him.
"Yeah, sure," he said, blinking quickly. "Do you, uh, do you need any help?"
"I was just going to make sandwiches," I said, turning toward the refrigerator. "I thought I'd just put the stuff out, and we could make our own."
"Yeah, that'll be good," he said, stepping past me. "I'll get plates."
What the hell was going on? What had almost just happened? Had I really just been standing there in Justin's arms? Justin's? Had we actually been face to face, only inches apart? I could have sworn we were almost about to kiss, but was that something I wanted? Was it something he wanted? Or was he just trying to comfort me? My inner musings were interrupted when Josh walked in. I rushed over to him and hugged him fiercely, pulling him against me, and he hugged me back with equal enthusiasm, burying his face under my chin.
"Josh," I said, holding on. We were kind of rocking back and forth.
"Hey Jack," he murmured into my neck. He lifted his head up, and I kissed him.
"You ok?" I asked. He kissed me again.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm ok," he answered, still holding tightly to me. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," I said. "Did you talk to Lance?"
"Yeah, I did," Josh sighed.
"Did it go ok?" Justin asked, stepping up next to us.
Josh looked at him quizzically, and didn't let go of me.
"Justin came up for lunch," I explained, leaving out the rest. "How did it go?"
"Not bad, but not great," Josh said, leading me over to the couch. We sat, holding hands, and Justin sat in the chair. "He's still not ok with it, but he isn't yelling anymore. He thinks I'm just confused, but at least he'll talk to me now."
"Did you try to explain how you feel?" I asked. "All the stuff we talked about?"
"I did, and he listened, but I don't think he really wanted to," Josh said. "He went on for a while about God, and how it's a sin, and stuff like that."
I sighed. I'd heard that too many times before.
"Are you still friends?" Justin asked.
"I think so," Josh answered. "He's just really confused. And I'm kind of beat. Maybe we should have lunch now."
We had a simple lunch of sandwiches and some fruit, and didn't really talk. Josh asked where Brit was, and Justin explained again that they were kind of fighting, but that it wasn't that important, and that they'd be ok. Josh asked me what I wanted to do today, since we had kind of stayed in so far, and I said that I'd be happy doing whatever he wanted to do.
"Why don't we go clubbing?" Justin suggested. "We haven't gone out in a while, and we can invite Chris and Lance, too."
"I'd love to go clubbing," I said. "What should I wear?"
The two of them looked at each other, and then looked me over.
"Let's go look at your clothes," Josh suggested.
The two of them looked through the clothes I had hung in the closet.
"Hmmm," Justin hummed, frowning thoughtfully. "Maybe something a little less, you know, khaki."
"What's wrong with khaki?" I asked. "I like khaki."
"And I like you in khaki," Josh said, hugging me. "Remember when you said you wanted to see the Beverly Center?"
"Yeah," I answered warily.
"You need some clubbing clothes," he said. "We're going shopping!"
He and Justin high-fived, and I wondered what on earth I was in for. Justin ran downstairs to put a different shirt on, and to invite Brit, and we agreed to meet at the parking lot.
"So what was Justin doing up here?" Josh asked, as we gathered up our wallets and keys.
"He wanted to talk to you, but then decided to talk to me instead," I explained, following Josh out the front door.
"Everything ok?" Josh asked, locking up.
"Yeah, he just wanted to know a little more about, you know, being gay," I explained. "I think he's still trying to understand where you're coming from."
"Did you help him out?" Josh asked, smiling innocently.
"Yeah, I think so," I answered.
When we got to the parking lot, Justin was there alone, having pulled a shirt over the one he already had on. He explained that Britney would go with us later, but didn't feel like shopping right now. After a quick discussion we decided to take Justin's car, which could hold the three of us, and Josh cautioned me to be sure to buckle my seat belt. Once we peeled out of the parking lot, barely making it past the gate before it could even fully open, I understood why.
"Jesus, Justin, did you just learn to drive yesterday?" I asked, clinging to the door handle for dear life.
"No, why?" he asked innocently, cutting off a bus and sliding across three lanes without signaling or checking a mirror.
"No reason," I hissed, rigid.
When we finally got there, and parked the car, Josh and Justin pulled on their disguises of hats and glasses, Josh carefully tucking all of his hair under the hat. I asked why they weren't wearing anything more elaborate, or why we weren't just going shopping as ourselves and bringing bodyguards, and Josh explained that the best disguise was usually the simplest one. People don't really expect to see a famous person, even in L.A., and they won't look twice at someone who just kind of looks like one. The three of us started out by just walking up and down the mall. At any store where I glanced inside, or stopped to look in the window, Josh and Justin pulled me inside, and began to look the racks over, but it became tragically obvious at some point that I just wasn't comfortable picking out anything for myself that the two of them considered appropriate to go clubbing in.
"Don't you want to buy anything, you know, sexy?" Josh asked, as the two of them frowned at the clothes in my hands. The expressions on their faces were pricelessly identical.
"I'm not sexy?" I asked. "You haven't complained before."
"I didn't say that!" Josh said, backpeddling quickly. "You're plenty sexy, Jack."
"Yeah, you're cute, but your taste in clothes is really, you know, preppy," Justin said.
"Josh, I just can't do this!" I said, throwing down the clothes in exasperation. I immediately picked them up again, not wanting the salespeople to get upset. "I'm no good at picking out clothes like these. I don't know what goes with what, and none of this looks good on me."
"A lot of it looks good on you," Justin said.
"You're just not used to it," Josh added, seeming not to notice that his best friend had complimented his boyfriend twice in under a minute. Josh put one arm around my shoulders, buddy style, and led me back to another rack. "Let's put these back, and look around some more."
"Josh, do you remember the first weekend we met?" I asked. "When I had to borrow clothes from you?"
"Yeah, I remember that," he said, blushing and grinning as he remembered the rest of it. "You looked hot in my stuff."
"Yeah, but you picked it out," I said. "Josh, just tell me what to buy, ok? I trust your judgment, and I have no sense for this kind of fashion."
We watched as Justin picked out some sort of fringed denim and leather jacket for himself, and I winced.
"I'll pick out the clothes, and Justin can help, but you're not paying," Josh said. "This is my treat."
"Josh, I have money," I said. "I thought we talked about this already."
"We did, but Jack, I have more money than I'll ever spend on myself," he said. "I want to spend some on you. It makes me happy. Humor me, ok?"
"OK," I said, shrugging.
The next few hours passed in a whirl as I obediently followed them from store to store, trying on whatever they handed me. Frequently one or both would follow me into the dressing room, ducking in and out to grab something else, or to carry a shirt that they agreed on and that I liked around the store to find something that went with it. We began to accumulate a stack of bags as they purchased things for me and for themselves, as we ran from shoe stores to jewelry stores to hat stores to clothing stores of every style.
I was in a changing room, about to peel myself out of a pair of fringed black leather pants, when Justin pushed into the tiny closet, four or five shirts draped over his arm.
"Don't take the pants off yet!" he ordered. "Try these on first."
"OK, OK," I said, pulling my shirt off. I got tangled in the sleeves somehow, and felt Justin's hands brush over my sides as he grabbed the bottom of my shirt.
"Let me help with that," he said, tugging it off over my head.
I was now facing Justin, bare-chested, as he stood less than a foot from me, with my shirt in his hands. The dressing room was cold, and my nipples were both painfully pointed. Justin held a shirt out to me.
"Try this one first," he said, glancing at my chest and then back up at me.
"Thanks," I said, aware of the close proximity.
I could almost feel his breath on me in the tiny space, and could smell his body wash and cologne, a musky yet still clean smell.
"Where's Josh?" I asked, shrugging the shirt on. I turned to face the mirror.
"He wanted to look at some belts," Justin answered, looking over my shoulder. "Here, try this one."
He handed me another shirt, and I pulled off the other one and handed it over my shoulder without turning around. In the mirror, Justin watched me, and I watched him, neither of us saying a word or trying to hide it. I tried on the shirt and shrugged.
"I kind of like it," I said, looking at it in the mirror. Justin's reflection grinned behind me.
"We'll put that one on the keep pile, then," he said, handing me another.
I slid into the last one, and buttoned it up.
"I don't know," I said, turning from side to side. "I don't think it looks good on me."
"Try undoing some of the buttons," Justin said.
He leaned over, now right behind me, and I felt his fingers brush over my collarbone as he undid the top button. Sliding lower, his fingertips traced a line down my chest as he undid the next button. I watched him, in the mirror, as he looked down over my shoulder, his eyes following the line his fingers had drawn on my body. His hand slid away.
"See? It looks good now," he said, staring at my eyes in the mirror.
"I guess," I agreed. Actually, I looked pretty sexy.
Justin's hands reappeared in the mirror, crawling quickly down my torso as he undid all of the buttons.
"I can get those," I said, not really moving to.
"No problem," he said. I felt the fingertips of both his hands, soft and warm, brush quickly against my abs as he curled them around the edges of the shirt and pulled it off me. "We'll put this one on the keep pile, too."
"Justin," I began, staring into his eyes as he stared at me in the mirror, his face over my shoulder a little flushed, his mouth open. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "Justin, we need to talk."
"About what?" he asked, swallowing nervously.
He stepped away, and I turned around, aware again that I was only half dressed, that we were right next to each other, and that he had just undressed me without being asked.
"About whatever's going on with you," I said, watching his face go blank. "I know you saw me and Josh the other night, Justin."
He didn't say anything, just swallowed once, and he kept looking at me, unable to break eye contact.
"So why didn't you say anything?" I asked.
Justin swallowed again, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, and then Josh opened the door to the dressing stall.
"Say anything about what?" Josh asked, looking from me to Justin and back again.
That's it for now. I promise, more sex is coming soon.