A Shift in the Universe Christian Mitchell Copyright 2004
CHAPTER TWENTY:
Samantha led us to an apartment that was slightly smaller than the one we had just been in. It looked very much the same except the furniture wasn't quite as nice. There was a light on in the entrance area and one lamp illuminated the living room.
"This is my best friend's apartment," she explained. "I've been staying here until my new apartment is ready to move into."
"It's nice," Kyle smiled.
She quickly scanned the room. "Yeah, it is."
We followed her into the kitchen. "Let's see," she said as she opened a cupboard by the refrigerator. "We have vodka, gin, brandy, tequila and wine."
"Um, I don't know," I said as I thought about the options.
"If those are the only choices, then I'll take some vodka with some sort of juice," Kyle replied.
Samantha opened the refrigerator. "There's orange or cranberry."
"Cranberry is fine by me," he replied.
"Me, too," I smiled.
"Me, three," she giggled. She retrieved three glasses from another cupboard and filled them with ice. When she had the cocktails prepared she motioned for us to follow her to the living room.
Kyle and I sat on the sofa while Samantha sat in a chair close by.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Almost two weeks," she answered. "I'm happy that I was able to stay here. But I'm ready to leave. I wanna move into my place and start getting it set up."
"That's understandable," I replied.
"You know, have my own space," she smiled. "I'm not used to not having all my personal things around. Photographs and stuff, you know?"
I nodded my head as I sipped the cocktail. It was strong. I glanced at the glass and noticed that the drink was light pink rather than red.
"Your friends are from Los Angeles, too?" she questioned.
"Yes," I answered. "This is our last trip before college."
She looked puzzled. "Returning to college or starting college?"
"Starting," Kyle responded.
Her eyes widened. "You're kidding? I swear, I thought the two of you were at least twenty-one."
"No," I smiled.
"I could get arrested for serving you alcohol."
"We won't tell," Kyle grinned.
"Good," she replied and raised her glass to toast us. "Let's keep it between us."
"I hope you're not offended," I said. "But, how old are you?"
She smiled and placed her glass on the table. "Twenty-seven."
"What do you do for a living?" Kyle asked.
"I work for a fashion magazine."
"You could be in one," I replied.
"Thank you," she beamed.
"Well, it's true."
Samantha smiled. "So," she sighed as she lit a cigarette. "How long have the two of you been together?"
"About three months," I responded.
"Since Marcus' eighteenth birthday," Kyle added.
"I see," she smiled as she exhaled. "Happily married, huh?"
"Yes," we replied in unison.
"That's nice."
Samantha stood up and grabbed her glass from the table. "Would you like to join me on the terrace?"
Kyle and I followed her outside. There was a light breeze and the moon was full. Like Los Angeles, you could not see any of the stars in the sky.
We didn't talk much as we listened to the party taking place a couple floors below.
I liked looking at all the buildings that decorated the street. I was impressed by the silence of the neighborhood. I expected to see people walking and cars driving by. Yet, it was only the occasional taxicab that could be heard as it passed.
"Where's the restroom?" Kyle asked.
Samantha told him where it was then finished her cigarette. She held the butt between her fingers for several seconds then extinguished it in a glass ashtray. She exhaled one last stream of smoke. "Kyle is a good-looking guy."
"Yes, he is," I smiled.
"So are you," she added. "I'd have a difficult time choosing between the two of you."
I blushed," thank you." I started to feel nervous.
She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not going to seduce you guys."
"I'm sorry. Do I look like I'm scared or something?"
"You had a funny look on your face," she smiled.
I apologized again.
"It's okay. Relax. I invited you here because I thought you might be bored with the party downstairs. I don't have any sinister plans to take advantage of two gay eighteen year olds."
Kyle returned to the terrace. He looked confused but he didn't say anything.
"I have a lot of gay friends. Some of them are very attractive and loving people. And I have no intentions of trying to get into their pants either."
I looked at Kyle and grinned. "I guess I was starting to act a little too nervous. Samantha just explained that she has no interest in seducing us."
Kyle looked relieved. "Oh, good." He grabbed my hand and smiled.
"Did you think that, too?" she asked Kyle.
He shrugged his shoulders. "The thought crossed my mind." He suddenly seemed embarrassed.
"I don't know if I should be flattered or offended," she grinned. "Maybe a little of both."
"I'm sorry," Kyle replied. "We don't want to offend you."
"It's okay," she said as she leaned over the balcony and looked at the street below. "Believe me, I have enough problems with the straight guys I date. I don't want any new ones because I played around with some gay guys."
I nervously laughed and looked at the building across the street.
Samantha rubbed her hands together. "Now that we've addressed that issue, who needs another drink?"
The three of us spent the remainder of the night talking in the living room. Occasionally we would venture to the terrace as Samantha smoked and recounted stories about her life and New York. Kyle and I talked about Los Angeles and recited a brief history of our relationship. By the time we started to drink our third cocktail we were laughing and enjoying each other's company as if we had been friends for years.
It was about 1:30 in the morning when we parted ways. Samantha wished us well and suggested that we keep in touch. "If you're ever in New York again or I'm in Los Angeles, we should get together for lunch or something."
Kyle and I returned to the party downstairs to look for our friends. We spotted Jordan in the living room still talking to the girl we saw in the kitchen earlier. He explained that Tyler and Paul had both left the party already. He said that he would return to the hotel late or in the morning. We said good night and walked to Columbus Avenue to hail a taxi.
Once we had returned to our hotel room, we threw ourselves onto the bed. Kyle ran his hand through my hair.
"Would you have slept with her, if she wanted us to?" he asked.
"I don't think so," I replied. "I probably would have if that's what you wanted."
"Oh," he smiled.
"Why, would you have slept with her?"
Kyle sat up and looked me directly in the eye. "I don't think so. I haven't thought about girls at all since you and I got together."
"I haven't either," I replied. "Actually, if I really think about it, I didn't really think about them much before we got together either."
Kyle laughed. "It's just you and me. You're the only person I want to be with. No other guy or girl for me."
"Well, that makes two of us," I beamed. "I'm completely happy and satisfied with what I have."
"Good," he smiled.
"Hey, do you think we should say anything to Paul?"
"Huh, why?"
"Well, I don't want to embarrass him, but it was kind of weird that he was masturbating last night while we had sex."
"No, it's not weird. It was probably the alcohol and pot," Kyle suggested. "We're young. We do stupid shit. We probably shouldn't have even bought the weed."
"Yeah," I agreed. "So you don't think we should maybe mention it to Paul and see what his response is?"
"Actually, no I don't. For all we know, he may not have been watching us at all. He could have just been horny and needed to get off before he fell asleep."
"You're probably right," I replied. "I'm being stupid."
Kyle lay back down on the bed next to me and grabbed my hand. "Tomorrow you and I should go somewhere by ourselves. See some of New York City without the others tagging along."
"Okay," I agreed. "Where do you want to go?"
"I don't care," he answered. "Central Park. Walk around. Just as long as it's you and me."
The following morning we woke up and left a note for the others. Naturally we took the subway downtown to Chelsea. When the train stopped at Fourteenth Street we walked up Seventh Avenue for a while before crossing over to Eighth.
There were a lot of retail stores and restaurants along the street. Once we crossed Twenty-first Street I noticed a coffee shop called the Big Cup. "I want coffee," I announced.
We walked in and stood in line. The counter was so close to the entrance that the line of customers practically filed out the door to the sidewalk. Once we had ordered we found two empty chairs and a table against the back wall.
While we enjoyed the coffee we observed the patrons of the establishment.
There were a lot of gay guys sitting around, talking or studying. A few women sat at one table debating a topic. It seemed like some of the customers were possibly straight people who lived in the neighborhood.
"You know, this is nice and all. But I don't think I need to always be surrounded by other gay people to feel comfortable in the world," I said.
"Yeah," Kyle beamed. "It's cool, but I don't think this is my scene."
"I feel like we're purposely segregating ourselves."
"A little bit," he said. "I don't need to hang out in gay coffee houses or bars to feel like I belong."
"I don't either," I replied. "I'm fine with doing the same things and going to the same places we always go to."
"Me, too."
"I mean, occasionally going to West Hollywood is fun," I said.
"But not necessary," Kyle added.
I smiled and nodded my head. "Exactly."
Later in the evening we met our friends at the restaurant in the hotel. Basically, we entertained ourselves by doing what we always did together in Los Angeles. We exchanged ideas and plans for the future. We promised to keep in touch and always be there for each other. The five of us enjoyed our last dinner in New York with conversation and laughter. Yet, we were looking forward to returning home the following day.
After dinner we retreated to Times Square to take pictures of each other.
We walked around for a while but soon returned to the hotel to sleep. Our flight was scheduled early Sunday morning and we needed to be up and ready to jump in a cab at eight o'clock.