Shane and Trey

Disclaimer: Story characters belong to the author, any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental.

Content Advisory: Adult situations, language, sexual references

Copyright, 2010, Anyta Sunday

I hope you enjoy it. Please comment to: anytasunday@gmail.com

This story will continue to be posted on Nifty. It is COMPLETED, however, and can be found also at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/shaneandtrey

Also, St-st-stuffed (following Karl and Paul--introduced in this chapter, I believe-is just completed and can be found at http://www.gayauthors.org/story/anytasunday/st-st-stuffed )

Chapter Seven

I glanced at my watch. Quarter to two. It was time to get going. I hurried back to the dorms, hoping Trey had forgotten or changed his mind about helping out. I glanced skyward, I mean, couldn't I get a break?

I scooted down the hall to my room. Maybe I'd--yeah, I'd leave right away and claim I'd thought he'd forgotten. There would be no harm in that, surely. Loving the plan, I shoved the key in the lock and twisted. Just nip in, change into sneakers, and grab car keys.

I stepped inside, and my face fell. Well, okay, I couldn't see if it fell or not, but it felt that way. At the sight of Trey, a rush of nerves, worry, embarrassment--not to mention liking--assailed me all at once. It was like someone stirred my insides with a giant spoon. "I thought you had class until two," I said, hearing the accusation in my voice, but unable to do anything about it.

Trey fiddled with his computer game control, and looked at me. "Last class was cancelled. How'd you know that anyway, you're rarely around?"

"I--ah--I don't," I said, slipping off my flip flops. "I just thought so, because usually no one's in the room at this time."

He switched off his television screen, and grabbed bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "I wasn't going to be late for the free ride home."

"Hey, hey, you will be pitching in for gas."

Trey cracked a dreamy smile. Okay, don't worry about it. Your wish is my command. Man I was a sucker. "Let's go then."

For the first half of the journey I said nothing. I didn't care to start any conversation. But as we neared the school--and because Trey also hadn't cared to say or ask anything --I gave him a run-down of what we'd do with the kids.

"We get paid to do that? Doesn't sound like work at all. Sounds like fun to me!"

I smothered a grin at his naivety. Of course it was fun, but, well, he'd see.

At Treewok Elementary, I introduced him to Mrs. Rollins. She craned her neck looking at him, and shifted nervously in her chair.

"I'm Trey." He used a deep but soft pitch and I stirred at the sound of it. Mrs. Rollins seemed to relax, flashing him a large smile. "Ah, Trey Brennan."

Brennan. Trey Brennan. That sounded good. Nicer than Shane Watson, that was for sure. Hmmm... I drifted off and in a matter of minutes I'd just outlined my whole life. And all because of the name Brennan. Shane Brennan. I began to sigh internally, and that's when--snap!--what the hell was I doing? Never. Going. To happen.

Mrs. Rollins's laugh brought me back to the conversation. She bit her bottom lip and nodded as Trey told her what he studied. "Interesting, and what made you want to study that?" she said, touching her hair and smiling again--wait a sec, was she--was she flirting? She was twice his age! Okay, so she looked after herself, and it wasn't obvious she was in her early forties--actually the first time I saw her, I thought she was thirty--but still!

With a sharp flick of my hand, I motioned to the clock above the door. "We wouldn't want to be late for the kids," I said. How annoyed did that sound!

Trey glanced at me and caught my eye for a moment. Although he didn't smile, I sensed one in his stare.

Then, almost as if she'd forgotten I was there, Mrs. Rollins faced me. "Oh right," she said, pulling a set of keys from her desk drawer. "Please drop these into the box outside my door when you're done."

"Of course."

She handed me an attendance list, and insisted on accompanying Trey and I to the gym.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Rollins--"

"Kathy, call me Kathy."

"Well, Kathy, I hope we get a chance to talk again, sometime."

"That would be lovely." She faced me. "Well, if you have any concerns, you'll find me in the staffroom."

I nodded and smiled, waiting until she'd turned the corner before I turned and glared at him. "You flirt!"

"Me? No. Her? Yes. And I'm flattered. Now aren't those kids waiting for us?"

I pressed my hand against the door, but didn't open it. "You were egging her on though."

Trey blinked, his long thick lashes kissing each other before coming up again. "Does that upset you?"

"Of course it does!" As soon as I said it, clapped my mouth shut. I hardly dared to look at Trey, but a quick glance told me he was smiling. Smiling? "I mean, you know," I continued, meaning everything I said, even if it wasn't what I'd originally been thinking, "that's not nice for June."

His smile broke at the same time I swung open the door. Kids swung from the wall bars, and did handstands and roly-poly's on bright blue mats. A few played knuckle bones in the corner. An exhausted Mrs. Treale flashed me a warm smile as we came in to overtake.

"Thanks," she said, coming over to us. "They're in a pretty good mood today. Only Paul isn't feeling so good, and Benji and Cameron are sick." She lowered her voice. "Now, a couple of others have been hassling Paul lately. So please keep an extra eye on him."

I nodded and did a quick scan for the boy. He sat alone, resting his back against the heaters, fiddling with a hole in his jeans. "Also, keep watch for Jessie and Karl, and inform me if they act up. I will be talking to their parents next month, sooner if things don't calm down."

"I'll tell you if I see or hear anything."

"Thank you. It's good to have you back, Shane."

She glanced briefly at Trey. "Right. Now it's off to the staff meeting."

In the time it took Mrs Treale to walk out the door, a handful of kids neared Trey. Most hovered at the edge of a five foot radius, but they were certainly curious.

Joanna--Jo, she was a bit tomboyish, and one of the youngest--didn't hesitate to cross that threshold. She ran right up to Trey and poked his leg. "He's not wearing stilts. They're real!" she screamed. Which lead to two reactions: one, the largest smile I'd ever seen transformed Trey's face so that he positively glowed, and two, the kids surrounding him whooped and cheered and--

"He's so tall."

"Funny."

"Not as big as my dad."

"Your dad's fat, not tall."

While Trey was doused in attention, I moved over to the heaters and crouched next to Paul. "Hey, man! How are ya? I've missed you over the summer."

Paul shyly smiled. "I-I-I'm d-d-doing okay. M-m-missed you, t-too."

I pulled him up from the floor. "We're going to play a game. Because see that giant over there?" Paul nodded. "Yeah, well he has to learn all your names."

As I headed back to Trey, Jo approached, puffing out her chest and standing as tall as she could. "What's your name?" she said, sizing him up. I swallowed a chuckle, and watched as Trey bent down and extended his arm to her. Wow, I'd never have guessed he'd to do that, ah, ever. Man it was--gulp--sweet.

"I'm Trey. Who are you?"

"Jo."

Karl, eyeing Trey up from across the room yelled, "Do you play basketball?"

Trey looked at him. "I do."

"And do you lift weights?"

"At the gym."

Shannon, Jo's friend, much shyer but trying to follow in her friend's footsteps, tugged on Trey's arm. From where I was standing (five feet away) it looked like she was shaking, too. "So you're strong enough to lift, um, Steve?" she said and pointed to the biggest kid in class.

Jo shook her head. "Of course he could do that. He could probably lift Steve and Daniel."

With gaping eyes, Shannon looked up at Trey. "Is that true? Could you really do that?"

Trey laughed, and it echoed around the gym. "Sure I could." He moved towards me. "I could even lift this guy." He slapped a hand on my shoulder. Then said quietly, "Do you believe me?"

Of course, with such keen little ears around, some kids heard it, starting a debate. Half thought he could, and the other half didn't believe it.

"So, do it then!"

Trey grinned like they'd made his day, and--shiiiit!--I was hanging over his shoulder, my face inches from his ass. "Put me down!" I fought thumping a fist on Trey's side. (I didn't want the kids to think it was okay to hit people, right.)

But the kids were in hysterics. Well done, Trey. He'd managed to make himself a hero the first ten minutes being there.

After much too long upside down, the blood pounding in my ears, Trey put me down. I gave him a look that I sure hoped told him he'd pay for that.

The rest of the afternoon we spent playing a variety of games to help Trey learn everyone's name. Favorite was throwing a ball at someone and calling their name. But I suspect--okay I was sure they liked hurtling the ball at Trey as hard and as fast as they could. The monsters. Good on them. (Ah, yeah, I joined in with their sentiment)

"Jeez that was hard work," Trey said, slumping into the passenger seat. "What are you smiling at?"

I buckled up. "Oh, nothing. But, it's crazy we get paid for that right? I mean, it's just a whole heap of fun."

He lightly hit my side, grinning. "I can't believe how much I'm sweating. It almost doubled as a gym workout. Fuck it's hot. Wind down the windows."

I wound down mine and started the car, gasping as air whooshed inward. It helped a bit, but I really needed to change out of these clothes. Hmmm, a cold shower would be perfect.

"You spent a lot of time with Paul," Trey said suddenly. "He's your favorite, right?"

"I don't have a favorite." I did. Paul was it--but it was mean to the other kids if I actually said that out loud.

"Whatever man, you know he is. Was he why you want to become a speech therapist?"

Nail on the head. Yeah, Paul had been the one to inspire the choice. I wished I could help him myself. I knew he wanted to get rid of it--that it plagued him every day. He said he'd gone to drama classes, because sometimes that helped, but so far no improvement.

I stopped at a traffic light and took the opportunity to face Trey for a moment. "Sometimes he doesn't even talk. He just nods and points. Kids laugh at him and call him stupid. Which isn't true. He's really bright. I--I know there are others out there like him, and I want to do something."

The car behind me beeped, and I drove on. Trey didn't say anything until I neared his place. "It's great you know what you want to do with your life. That's cool." He lifted his bag off the floor onto his lap, already clicking open his belt although I hadn't come to a complete stop. "Thanks for the ride here. When did you want to head back?"

"I guess sometime after dinner. Say ten?"

"Sweet."

He got out of the car. Transfixed, I watched him walk up the path to his front door. Working with him today had been great. Refreshing and fun. I loved the way he interacted with the kids, how easy going he was. It sort of made me gooey inside thinking about it.

Trey rang the doorbell and after a bit bent over, checking under ceramic pots by the door. When he slammed his palm into the side of the house, I put the car in park, and clambered out. If he heard me coming up the path, then he didn't acknowledge it.

"The parents not in?"

Facing me, Trey gave a dismissive shrug, but I thought a hint of sadness tainted his voice. "Guess that's what I get for thinking to surprise `em." He picked up the bag he'd dropped on the porch. "You're driving past the Zebrini on your way home, right? Drop me there?"

"You play pool?" Ah--how dumb a question was that! He wouldn't want to go there if he didn't.

"Yep," he answered as we walked back to the car. "You?"

"I know the rules, does that count?"

Trey shook his head. "Maybe I'll teach you sometime."

"Sure," I said, starting down the street. "But only if I get to teach you how to drive."

"Are you serious, man? You'd want to do that?"

"Well, only if you want to learn." And it wouldn't be that hard to teach. The trickiest bit would probably be parallel parking. Hmmm, or hill starts.

As we drove through town, I outlined lessons in my head. Yeah, it'd be a piece of cake. I glanced at Trey every now and then, but he seemed lost in thought, and sort of sad looking. I didn't like seeing him like that, and as we got to the Zebrini, I drove past it. It was only at the other end of the street Trey even realized. "Oh, hey man, I think you've missed it. Just let me out here."

"No," I said. "You're coming home with me. Mom won't be in until eight. I'll be making dinner, so there'll be plenty for all of us."

"Man, it's like your family time. Seriously, I can look after myself."

I gave him a quick once over. "I don't think anyone would doubt that. Still, you're coming with."

Trey slunk into his chair in resignation. And I was happy. Sort of felt like humming a tune. Scarborough Fair, perhaps? I chuckled, eliciting a look from Trey that would have made my knees weak if I'd been standing. (Thank goodness we were at a stop sign.) The rest of the drive home I replayed that look in my head. It'd been curious and yet appreciative, the edges of his eyes crinkled slightly--as though he liked what he saw? Maybe. Hopefully. Stop projecting!

Finally we got to my home. Using the spare key Mom had made for us--she insisted we be able to come home anytime--I let us in. I took off my shoes and bee-lined for the kitchen, thinking rapidly of what I'd overlooked, inviting Trey here. How was I supposed to tell Mom now? Maybe I could send him to June's room for a bit or something? Hmmm, nup, didn't like that idea, but still... I was determined to tell her tonight.

Trey, right at home, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water. Good idea. My tongue felt dry too. I motioned for him to move out the way so I could access the cupboard. Instead he refilled his glass and handed it to me.

Without hesitation--although my mind was like, whoa! There are plenty of glasses, but hell yeah I'll take yours over them any day--I grabbed it and downed the water in two gulps. Mmmm.

"So what are we cooking, then?"

His use of `we' sent a shiver through me. I moved to the freezer. "Ah, I can make pretty damn fine pizza," I said, pulling two out.

Trey flicked a switch on the oven and turned up the heat. "I'm also a pro at Italian cuisine."

I checked my watch. Twenty-five minutes. Perfect timing for Mom. "Let's shove them in then." As I ripped off the plastic and preformed my arduous kitchen task (insert in oven, put on timer), Trey searched the fridge.

"How old is this gouda?"

"What?"

"This cheese. I think it's seen better days, man." He sniffed the block, shook his head, then put it back in the fridge. Yeah, back in the fridge. Gross. "Hmmm, this lettuce looks good though, and you have some feta. Cool." He took out said ingredients as well as a couple of tomatoes and chopped up a salad.

I scanned the floor and benches, covered with lettuce and tomatoes bits and juice from the cheese. Shit he was a slob in the kitchen too. I pinched some of the salad. Oh, but damn, that tasted good.

"So, who taught you to cook?" I said, putting away the honey and balsamic vinegar he'd asked for.

He chuckled. "Making a salad ain't cooking, babe--"

Like me, the second that word came out he froze, his shoulders rigid, muscles tense. Only now did I realize how close we stood together. I faced his side, but couldn't read his face as he'd twisted it away from me.

I remembered how it'd slipped from me on the run. Better just ignore it. Pretend like it never happened. I reached over and took some more salad from the bowl. "Well, it's probably the closest to cooking that goes on in this kitchen."

Trey spun on his heel. Surprised, I stepped back, ramming into the bench behind me. The pain subsided or was quickly forgotten as Trey came closer, our lengths almost touching. My heart raced, fuuuuck, what was happening, here? I didn't know how to react, all I could think was, shit I'm getting hard. I need to move away from him, or else he'll know.

I prepared myself to duck under his arm, when he leaned into me. With one hand he forced me to meet his gaze. His jaw was hard, and I read confusion in his eyes. And, um, yeah I guess there was desire in them too, because I could feel Trey's erection pressing into my stomach.

He dipped his head. "Do you think about it?"

My breathing doubled in pace, but despite all that air, my brain was foggy. All I could think of were the way his lips moved, how close they were to my own. How much I wanted kiss him.

"Hmmhmm."

Trey leaped off me at the sound. Mom stood inside the kitchen door, her eyes widened in shock. Shit, she'd come home early. She looked from me to Trey, back to me again. My stomach, only moments before flapping with butterflies, felt as if acid had been thrown into the mix. I had no idea how, but I kept cool, collected. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my keys and handed them to Trey. "Wait in the car, yeah?"

He took them, apologies screaming from his expression. Mom and I said nothing until we heard the front door shut. Somehow I clicked at the same time. Tears loomed in my eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry Mom. I wish you didn't have to find out that--that I'm gay that way." As I said the word `gay' I glanced at her. What was she thinking of me now? Did she--would she care, love me the same? And what if she didn't? Bile rose up my throat at the thought and I swallowed it back down.

Mom stepped toward me, anger in her eyes. The sight of it was too much for me, I hunched my shoulders in an effort to suck back a sob, but it was useless. Tears already ran down my cheeks. She hated me. Fuck!

"Shane?" Mom's voice was assertive, bordering on hard.

I got my breathing under control and looked at her.

"I'm confused," she said, dropping her handbag on the bench and staring at it.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head, hurting so deep inside. I wished there was a way to turn these feelings off. I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing, as if that would strangle them. It was awful, because the stuff inside wasn't just sickness, embarrassment, and hurt, it was also love. Just the smell of my mom's perfume made me feel safe, and I could feel her hugging me whenever I was down, and imagine her smile as she said she was proud of me. That love, that fear of losing it made me wish I could change. Just for her, for us--our love.

But I knew that would never happen. I dangled at the edge of a cliff, without Mom I had no grip. And from that fear, I got angry. Why should she love me any differently? I was still the same person. I cared. Did it matter who it was I cared for? "Mom. I will be very sorry if you can't accept me for who I am, but I want you to know this not a phase, I won't grow out of it, and I don't want to."

Slowly, Mom turned away from her handbag and faced me. Mascara dribbled down her cheeks. "You misunderstand me, Shane," she said, coming over and taking my arms. "I'm not angry or disappointed you're gay. In fact, I'm--I'll always support you. I admit to being shocked, but--but darling, I'm confused to what I saw with you and Trey."

You're not the only one. I wanted to tell her it was nothing. That it wasn't what it looked like, but it would've been a lie. Besides, I'd already sort of admitted it, right? I wish you didn't have to find out that I'm gay that way. What else was that supposed to mean, but that I was--ah--being gay with him? But that wasn't important right now. Secondary thoughts.

The most prominent thing in me was relief. She still loved me.

I lowered my face, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands. Mom handed me a handy towel for my nose. "Shane, does your sister know what's happening between you two? How worried should I be?"

"Oh shit Mom, it's bad." I meet her gaze and continued, "I haven't done anything with Trey. I--I don't even know what that was what you saw. But," I sucked up whatever scraping of guts I had left, "on my part. I like him. And I care about June, I'm really trying not to do anything, but I just can't help it. I think about him all the time and it's, it's like this craving. When I'm around him, I want to be closer--it pulls hard on my insides. I know it's wrong. And I'm working on making these feelings go away."

Mom's sweet perfume engulfed me as she wrapped her arms around my waist and patted my back. "Sweetie. Oh, I'm so sorry. I know you love June, and I believe you when you say you're trying your best, but," She leaned back to look at me, "what you just described sounds pretty serious. I think you need to tell her what's going on. So she knows." A little sigh escaped her. "Should something happen, you wouldn't want her finding out on her own. I think that betrayal of trust would hurt her even more than you having fallen for her boyfriend."

I nodded, glad for the reprieve when the oven timer went off.

"Uh, I think I'm going to have to bail on dinner, Mom. I can't imagine Trey will want to come in for dinner now." Nor did I want him to. "It's probably best to get back to the dorms."

"I understand. Come back soon though. I miss you both so much. Also, I know you don't have time to talk about it now, but just to tell you, your father contacted me. He wants to meet you both at the end of next month to give you money for college. I said it was a good idea."

I looked at her, gritting my teeth, not that I had any right to be upset with her right now. But still--Dad? When had he ever done anything for us?

"You will meet with him, right Shane? I want you to get this money. I can't afford to pay for everything on a librarian's wage." She stopped me, anticipating my interruption. "I know you said you'd work alongside, and I think that's great. But don't turn this down. He owes you two so much."

I pushed Dad to the back of my mind, and hugged her. "Of course, Mom."

She smiled and surveyed kitchen. "Goodness. All this mess for frozen pizza and salad?"

I chuckled awkwardly. "Yep. Trey's fault."

I shut the door slowly as I left, not wanting to turn around. Aware, as soon as I did, another problem faced me.