Wow, the response to this story is incredible. Thank you for all of the messages. I apologize if I don't respond to everyone, but I don't have as much time as I'd like. We're going to deal with some issues in the next few chapters that several of you have suggested, and this story gets a little intense, so hang on to your britches. I've been told many times by a lot of you that the reason you like my stories is there's meat in them, not just sex. Well, sex is fun to write, but the meat is the challenge, so let me know what you think.
One of my readers has suggested that I meet with anyone interested in a chat room to get ideas for my story lines. This sounds great, but I have no idea how to do it, and my attempts to join a chat room were a disaster. Anyone have any suggestions, like possibly a private chat room? Email me with ideas, and I'll get back to you.
If you under eighteen, go away. If you don't like stories about gay sex and relationships, you're way lost. Try Disney.com or something else.
Thanks,
Dan
Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Southern Knights 3:
Lorna Corbridge stood outside the office near her car and stared at the sheets of paper she held. She felt numb, and it was hard to think. In the midst of her Thanksgiving Day shopping, she had received an unusual phone call, which led to a meeting she could've never imagined.
With pure will, she got in the car and drove home, totally unaware of the passage of time, on autopilot. There was still two hours until the boys got home, and she made her way into the den and out of character, poured a stiff whiskey and sipped it, looking out the French doors at the garden. It had been such a shock to her, and to Pat, and she had no idea what to tell the boys.
Bryce dumped his books into his locker after the last bell and retrieved those that he had homework in, tossing them into the backpack that Tate had gotten for him. It had been like pulling teeth to get Bryce to accept his new clothes and shoes, but Tate had threatened to toss his ass in the Cumberland River, and Bryce had finally realized what an idiot he was being.
He really was grateful, just embarrassed.
It had been a decent day. It seemed that since he got the haircut, earrings, and clothes, all of the sudden he was a person. A lot of the people that never noticed him now spoke to him often in class, and Bryce started feeling like a person.
He pulled on his jacket and closed his locker before loping down the hall to meet Tate. The tall muscular quarterback was talking to two of his team mates, Joziah Jackson, a good looking black kid that played wide receiver, and Brad Wadman, the other star receiver. Brad was shorter than Tate and Joze, but moved like electricity on the field. His long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
"Hey, runt." Tate smiled as Bryce walked up.
"Hey, Bryce." The other two waved. They had gotten to know Bryce through Tate, and had challenged he and Tate to several matches of Final Fantasy VIII over the last two weeks.
"Hi guys." Bryce dumped his book bag on the floor and looked disgusted. "I got fuckin' sand bagged on my geometry test. Mr. Mathews thinks your dad has been teaching me." Bryce and Pat Corbridge had discovered a mutual fascination with architecture and geometry, and Bryce was just as likely to be doing his homework in Pat's den as in Tate's room.
"He is teaching you, Bryce." Tate chuckled and picked up both of their bags and headed for the parking lot.
"Yeah, but he ain't doin' it for me." Bryce threw up his hands. "He wasn't here taking the fuckin' test!"
"Maybe Mr. Corbridge would call Mathews for you. Maybe that would help." Joze offered, pulling the door open for everyone.
"'Course he would, if you asked." Tate offered.
"I guess." Bryce leaned against the Camaro and held the bags while Tate unlocked it.
"We on for a game tonight?" Brad asked, hands in his pockets. "You owe us a chance to even the score, man."
"Sorry, bud. I got all kinds of homework, and don't forget early practice in the morning." Tate caught his bag as Bryce tossed it to him and dropped it in the back seat.
"Oh, shit. That's right." Joze winced.
"How do you expect to get up that early, Tate? Is Lorna gonna use ice water?" Bryce quipped.
"Get in smartass." Tate chuckled and waved to the others. "See you in the morning." He started the car and laid rubber out of the parking lot, causing he and Bryce to both laugh like madmen. "Do we need to stop at your place, or did you already ask if you could stay tonight?"
"I asked last night." Bryce looked down at his hands. "She's sick again, and wants to be alone."
"Again? Didn't she just have the flu or something?" Tate asked, then instantly wished he hadn't. "I'm sorry, Bryce. That was rude."
Bryce took Tate's hand in his and squeezed it. "It's okay. She does get sick a lot more than other people." He looked out the window at the passing trees, still holding hands. "She don't look good."
They parked the car and gathered their bags, heading for the kitchen for eats. Tate looked curiously at the bags on the counter, some dripping from defrosting, and looked at Bryce. "That's weird."
"Why'd she leave this stuff out?" Bryce asked. "Her car's in the garage."
"I don't know. Gimme a hand, will ya?" They put the groceries away quickly and cleaned the counter. As they finished, Lorna walked in and smiled wanly at them. "Hey, Momma." Tate greeted her. "Are you okay?"
"Hi, boys. Yes, dear, I'm fine." She sighed and leaned against the counter. "Thank you for cleaning up for me. It's been a long day. Tate, will you do me a favor and order pizza when your dad comes in? I don't feel like cooking tonight."
"Sure, Mom. What's the matter?" Tate asked, feeling the hairs stand up on his neck.
"We'll talk about it when your dad gets home, but first I need to talk to Bryce. Would you mind going up and starting your homework and giving us a couple of minutes?" Tate nodded and glanced at Bryce, then left for his room.
"Bryce, sit down, honey." Lorna pulled out a chair at the table for him. "I had a call from your mother today, sweetheart, and she's asked us to watch you for awhile."
Bryce's throat closed up, and he forced a swallow. "Is it because she's sick?"
Lorna nodded. She felt like he heart would break as she watched Bryce's face. "Honey, she and I met with an attorney today, and as of today, Pat and I have taken custody of you. You see, your mother is a lot sicker than she's told you."
"What is it?" Bryce asked. His face was hot, and he felt like he needed to throw up.
"Your mother has AIDS, Bryce. That's why she's never been able to throw off all those colds." She sat in the chair next to his and put her arm around his shoulders. "She's going into the hospital, honey. It doesn't look good."
Bryce sagged against her, suddenly very weak. His mind whirled, and bitter bile rose in his throat. "They can't help her, can they?" Hey whispered, then looked up into Lorna's face.
"Not very much." She shook her head. "Oh, Bryce, I am so sorry. We love you so much, and we're here for you. This is going to be so tough to go through. I hope you realize how welcome you are here, and that we're glad to have you."
Bryce tried to answer, tried to nod his head, do something, but he couldn't. Numbness welled up inside him, and he felt tears start to sting his eyes. The world was ending for him, and he couldn't stop it. Why didn't she tell him? Why couldn't she let him get prepared for this? Why was he always alone?
A few minutes later, he made his way into what would now be his room, the former guest room that joined Tate's through a set of French doors. He wandered into the bathroom, identical to Tate's, and washed his face with cold water. Red eyes and pale skin looked back at him from the mirror, and his expression hardened as he turned away.
Bryce took of his jacket and tossed it by the door, a bad habit he'd acquired from his love, then stood in the open space between the bed and the door staring. It was so hard to think. His head ached, and his stomach knotted up.
Without thinking about it, be backed slowly into the corner of the room, then slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. In a moment, he rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He'd just rest for a second.
It was dark when he lifted his head. His neck and back ached, and the headache was still there. He blinked several times to focus his eyes, and noticed Tate sitting on the floor not to far away reading from a school book, his back against the bed.
Tate looked up and smiled, although his face was drawn. He looked tired, too. "Hey." He said quietly, setting the book on the floor. "Have a good nap?"
"I'm stiff. It's hard to move." Bryce groaned and straightened his legs out.
"I guess I should've woke you up. Sorry." Tate rolled onto his knees and crawled the short distance to the corner. He folded his legs under himself and sat in front of Bryce.
"I didn't even think I was tired."
Tate nodded and reached out to touch Bryce's hand. "Mom kinda clued me in.
For what it's worth, I always wanted a little brother." He chuckled. "No pun intended."
Bryce tried to smile back but couldn't. He sort of rolled forward into to Tate's lap, relaxing as Tate's powerful arms circled around him. "Can we just sit like this awhile?" Bryce mumbled, his mouth buried in the curve of Tate's shoulder.
Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want."
It was impossible for Tate to get Bryce to eat. Frustrated, he set the slices of pizza on the table in his room and sat down to finish his homework. At around 8:30, he heard the shower in Bryce's room start running, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief.
Lorna had given Tate a nutshell version of what was happening when Bryce had come up the stairs. Surprised by Bryce's quietness, and the fact that he went in the other room and shut the door, Tate had gone down to see what had happened.
The new living arrangements, and Bryce's retreat inside himself were already wearing on Tate's nerves. Disgusted, he threw his pen down and silently cursed that piece of shit Bryce called mother.
For years she knew that Bryce was getting the shit kicked out of him, and she did nothing. Bryce's one wish was to know who his dad was, and she wouldn't tell him. She was sick constantly, worrying Bryce to death, and the stupid bitch wouldn't even tell her son why!
Tate stood up and swept the books off the table and kicked his bedpost, then swore mightily and grabbed his foot. Smooth, very smooth. The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he got, and then he got mad at Bryce for being so quiet about it.
"Godammit!" He shouted, clinching his fists and shaking them at the ceiling. "This is fucking bullshit!"
Two things happened at once, and the situation rapidly dissolved into a meager shadow of the temper Tate had going. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and the French doors to Bryce's room flew open. Tate looked from one door to the other, seeing his mother come in one with a frightened look on her face, and Bryce come screaming in the other with a towel wrapped around his waist and shampoo in his hair.
"Uh, hi guys." Tate said, suddenly feeling like an idiot.
"What's the matter?"
"What's wrong?"
Lorna and Bryce spoke at exactly the same time, and then looked at each other and back at Tate. Bryce wiped soap out of his eyes, and Tate and Lorna turned to him.
"Bryce, honey, you're dripping on the carpet." Lorna said kindly.
Bryce looked down. "Oh, whoops." Red faced, he turned and went back to his room, leaving Tate with his mother.
Lorna turned her attention back to Tate. "What is it, son?" She looked down at the pile on the floor. "What happened?"
"I was thinking about that stupid bitch in the hospital, and I got mad." Tate felt his cheeks burning. "It's bullshit, Momma. Complete bullshit."
She held out her arms to him, embracing him. "You're right, Tate, it is. But that boy needs us right now, and we're gonna be there. You can't blow up like this around him for a while. He needs a rock to anchor to."
"I'll try. It's just so damned stupid. How the hell did she get AIDS, anyway?" Tate sat on the edge of the bed with her and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Look what it's doing to Bryce. Do you have any idea how hard it was to make him a person again? And now she's messed it all up."
"You've been a good friend, Tate, and now you can try and be a good brother." Lorna shook her head. "I feel so strange, taking Bryce in, even though I know it's the right thing to do. Your dad nearly had a fit."
"Didn't he want Bryce here?" Tate asked, worried.
"No, that wasn't it at all. Bryce has really become one of the family. Pat thinks so too. He was just as angry at his mother as you are." Lorna sighed. "We don't know the story, Tate. Don't judge, and don't say bad things to Bryce about her. Imagine how hard that would be."
"I love you, Mom." Tate kissed her on the cheek and stood up with her. "I'll be careful what I say."
"I know you will, sweetheart." Lorna patted his cheek with her hand. "You could start by remembering your manners, and not swearing in front of your mother."
"Sorry, ma'am." Tate said, ashamed.
"I understand, honey. Now get to bed, and tell Bryce to try and get some sleep. I'm going to let you two stay home if you want from school, but you have a game tomorrow night so you decide."
"Goodnight, Momma."
"'Night, honey." She pulled the door shut behind her, and Tate cleaned up the mess on the floor. As he finished, he heard the doors open from Bryce's room and looked up. Bryce stepped in tentatively, unsure if the discussion was over, and Tate smiled.
"Hey." He said, letting his eyes wander over Bryce in his new silk boxers, the ones that Tate really liked that were split up the sides clear to the waist band, and a matching silk tank top. "Wow, you look great."
"Yeah?" Bryce smiled lopsidedly. "They feel funny, kinda sexy." He walked over by the table and picked up a pen, handing it to Tate. He could feel the sides pull open on the boxers, and knew that quite a lot of his ass was showing. It was very cool.
"They look sexy." Tate grinned and took the pen from Bryce and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "If you wanna stay in here tonight, you can. I'm gonna jump in the shower. The remote's on the bed if you wanna watch TV." Tate started peeling off his clothes and wandered towards his bathroom, dropping things as he went.
"Actually, I was gonna get on the Internet if it's okay." Bryce followed, picking up the clothes and putting them in the hamper in the closet.
"That's cool." Tate said over his shoulder and closed the door. Bryce heard the water start as he fired up the computer. There was specific information he wanted, and from the classes at school, he knew how to do a good search on the web. Several hundred sites came up, and he narrowed the search down.
One site looked promising, and Bryce read rapidly through the material, instantly memorizing points of interest. At one point, he wrinkled his nose in disgust, clicking quickly to a different page. That was more what he wanted, and he quickly digested the information.
Tate came out drying his hair, dressed in a pair of velour boxers. The shimmering maroon material caught Bryce's eye, and he hastily shut down the computer, not wanting Tate to see what he was doing.
"Whatcha got there?" Tate asked, tossing the towel back into the bathroom.
"Nothin' yet, but it'll be a cool surprise later." Bryce climbed up onto the bed and slid under the covers. "Lets just say it'll be worth it, 'kay?"
Tate Turned out the lights and slid into the bed, sliding up behind Bryce and draping his arm over him. After a moment he reached up and stroked Bryce's cheek. "I'm glad you're here, little buddy. I can't imagine how you feel, but I'm here, okay?"
"Thanks." Bryce wriggled up closer and sank into the pillow. It felt so good to have Tate's powerful body next to his, and it was almost possible to forget his problems. Almost. Long after he heard Tate's breathing deepen and even out, Bryce stared at the shadows on the wall.
How did his mother get AIDS? Was it sex? Did she pick it up from one of the guys she brought home, or was it from a needle? When did she get it? How long ago? What would people think of him? In the early hours of the morning Bryce finally slipped into a troubled sleep.
The next morning, Tate woke up when the alarm went off at five thirty for early practice. He was alone in the bed, and he sat up and looked around in muggy confusion. Where was Bryce?
The door to Bryce's room opened, and Bryce walked in, fully dressed, and smiled as Tate turned on the light. "Mornin, sleepy head. You better get crackin'. You have practice at 6:30."
"How long have you been up?" Tate asked, sliding out of the covers.
"I went into my room a few hours ago and slept in the bed so Lorna would think I was in there last night." Bryce opened the closet and tossed a turtleneck shirt to Tate.
"Thanks." Tate pulled it on and stood up, rubbing his eyes. "You comin' to watch practice?"
"Actually, I wanna walk to school. I need to think." Bryce sat down at the table across the room, pulling out his schoolbooks.
Even clear across the room, Tate could see the dark circles under Bryce's eyes. "I think you should do like Mom said and stay home today, Bryce. You look like you need the rest."
"I look like shit, don't I?" Bryce smiled slightly. "Seriously, though, I'll go nuts if I stay here by myself. I'd rather just have a normal day. At least you'll be at the school with me, right?"
"Right." Tate chuckled and shook his head. If he'd been offered a chance to miss school, he'd have jumped on it. Unless it messed with football of course.
They ate in the kitchen with Lorna, who also tried to get Bryce to stay home. Bryce followed Tate into the garage and closed the door, and then kissed him goodbye. He watched the Camaro drive away and waved. When it was gone, he went inside for his book bag, accepted a kiss on the cheek from Lorna, and headed out for school.
There was no rain for a change, and the air was clear and crisp. Bryce felt better, like he could handle what had been thrown at him. He thought about Tate, and how lucky he was to have him. He never had anyone love him like that, and it made his heart beat funny thinking about it.
Pat and Lorna were good to him as well, although he felt funny about them having custody of him. If he could've ever chosen his parents, they would've topped the list, but he would've just as soon been with his mom.
His imagination gave him image after image of his mother laying in a hospital room, tubes in her arms, and one of those oxygen masks on her face, or a tube up her nose. He stumbled over a rock and nearly fell, and angrily shoved the image away. She would be fine. She had to be. This wasn't really happening.
He entered the school after his long walk. There were a few kids in the halls this early, but not many. He found a bench near Tate's locker and sat down to re-read his history assignment for a test.
About an hour later, Tate ambled up and sat down with Brad and Joze. "Hey, Bryce." Brad said.
"Sorry to hear about your mom." Joze reached out and shook Bryce's hand.
"Yeah, that's a bitch."
"He'll be fine." Tate stopped them from getting Bryce upset. The halls were much more crowded now, and he put his arm around Bryce's shoulders. "You ready for this?"
"I'm fine." Bryce lied and stood up with them to go to first hour.
The day dragged, and Bryce got worse as he stewed about his mother. By lunch, he was bitchy and sarcastic. Tate tried to take him home, but he stubbornly refused. By the end of the day, Bryce was withdrawn and moody. As they stopped at their lockers, Bryce was completely silent. Tate walked up the hall to talk to Brad and Joziah about tomorrow night's game, leaving Bryce to get his books.
Bryce dumped his books in an untidy mess in the bottom of his locker, very out of character. As he leaned over, someone crashed into him hard, mashing his shoulders painfully into the sides of the locker.
"He can't protect you forever." There was a harsh whisper in his ear as Bryce straightened up. It was Curtis Mann. A brief lightening bolt of terror went through Bryce as he stared into those sunken dead eyes. It suddenly turned to rage.
"What is your fucking problem?!" Bryce demanded, advancing on an obviously shocked Curtis Mann. "Haven't I had enough of your fucking beatings, Curtis, or are you still trying to fuck me?"
Tate's head snapped up as he heard Bryce's shouts, and the three of them started to make their way through the gathering crowd.
"Is that what it'll take to get you away from me, Curtis? Do you still want to fuck me?" Bryce screamed. He yanked his belt open and unzipped his pants, shoving them and his boxers down. "Here, asshole. Let me have it, then get the fuck out of my life!" He turned and put his hands on the lockers and stuck his ass out.
Curtis was fire red, helplessly watching. The crowd was silent, all of them looking at him. He didn't know what to do, and looked for a way out. He wanted that little fuck dead, and considered several options.
"Come on, you fucking coward, do it!" Bryce sobbed, sagging against the lockers sobbing. Tate shoved through to him, followed by Brad and Joze. While Tate hurriedly pulled Bryce's clothes up, Brad and Joze confronted Curtis.
"What the hell's wrong with you, Mann? Can't you find a puppy to kick?" Brad snarled in the fat former linebacker's face. "Do you have any idea how many people want you dead right now?"
"Get the fuck out of here, asshole, and don't come back." Joze said quietly. The tall handsome muscular black boy slid himself in between Brad and Curtis to stop a possible fight. "Just leave." His eyes showed that he was serious, and Curtis turned to leave.
"No, godammit!" Bryce wailed, pounding his fist on a locker. "Let him do it! Let the fat bastard have what he wants so he'll leave me alone!"
Tate stood up and grabbed Bryce's wrists. "Bryce, stop it! Enough."
"But he won't leave me alone!" Bryce was hysterical, and the crowd began to move threateningly towards Curtis Mann, who looked like a ghost.
Joziah put his hand on Curtis' shoulder and pushed. "You better get outa here, Mann. Move."
"Is he okay?" Brad asked quietly, moving over to Tate and Bryce. Tate shook his head.
"I need a path out of here, guys, real fast." Tate pulled Bryce to him and pulled him towards the opening that Joziah was making. "Brad, grab the books."
There were mumbles and comments about Bryce's mental capacity as they went down the hall and out the doors. Joziah jogged out to the Camaro and opened the doors, and Brad followed them out, watching their backs.
The two cars practically flew out of town towards Tate's house. Bryce lapsed into silence, looking out the window at nothing. Tate was shaken, and he was worried, and he had no idea what to do about either situation.
When they pulled up, Joziah sprinted into the house to get Lorna, and Brad helped Tate. Bryce seemed almost catatonic as they lifted him out of the seat. His eyes were open, but he wouldn't respond to them. Tate scooped Bryce up, and Brad got the door. Finally, as they entered the house, Bryce slipped his arms around Tate's neck and squeezed hard.
Lorna came out of the living room and tossed her cleaning rag in the kitchen sink. "What happened?" She demanded, following them up the stairs. Brad filled her in as they went, and for the first time ever, the three football players, that had known each other for years, and had known Lorna just as long, heard her cursing.
"I told you he needed to stay home from school today. His poor emotions are shot to hell already. Why did you let him go?" She asked Tate not very kindly. They went into Bryce's room and Tate put him on the bed.
"I don't have the right to stop him, mother." Tate snapped back. "You didn't tell me to tie him up."
"Well for Christ's sake, Tate, if you knew he wasn't feeling well, why didn't you bring him home?"
"What answer do you want? I just told you!" Tate said through clenched teeth.
"Stop it." Bryce said weekly. He put his hand on Lorna's wrist and looked up at her imploringly. "Please don't fight. I started this."
"Oh, Bryce honey, I didn't mean to upset you." She sat on the bed next to him and helped him sit up and take his jacket off. "But what I need you to realize is that no, we really don't know how you feel about things, but that I think you need some time. You should've stayed home today and rested."
"I wanted to be with Tate." Bryce mumbled, then turned red, realizing what he'd just said.
"He should've stayed home, too." Lorna looked at her son and sighed. "Anyway, I want you to rest awhile, and then we'll decide if you need to see a doctor, or just need some sleep, okay?" Bryce nodded, and Lorna patted his arm and stood up. She gathered the others with a look. "You three, outside."
Heads hung, they followed her down to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of juice, then got glasses out of the cabinet. "What happened needs to not happen again, boys. I mean it. That kid is like a piece of thin ice, ready to shatter. Do you read me?"
They nodded their heads, and she poured herself a glass. "I'm going against Bryce's wishes, and I'm gonna call the authorities about this Mann kid. Nobody should have to live in fear like that. Especially Bryce, who already has enough going on with his mother and all."
"Momma, before you do that, can we have a crack at handling it?" Tate asked, meeting the other two's eyes briefly. They nodded, angry like he was, and he turned to his mother. "We can fix this problem."
Lorna looked at each of them, then set her glass down. "Tate, lynching that kid doesn't solve the problem."
"Neither does making Bryce a fool at Riverbend, Momma. It'll get out, and it'll be Bryce that pays for it, not Curtis. Even if he's arrested, Bryce will be the fool. That's the reality of it, and you know it."
She sighed deeply. "I have to think on it. We'll talk about it with your dad. Go check on Bryce." She watched them file up the stared and shook her head. God, this was a mess.
They found Bryce asleep, or appearing to be asleep, and went into Tate's room, speaking softly. "Go ahead and set up Fantasy VIII if you want." Tate whispered, shucking his jacket onto the floor by the door.
Brad nodded and sat in front of the TV. Joze took their coats and put them with Tate's. "Can I use your computer a sec?" Joze asked. Tate nodded, and Joze sat at the desk. Tate wandered into the closet and changed into shorts and a t-shirt.
When the browser came up on the computer, Bryce had accidentally changed the home page, and the caramel skinned wide receiver's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, Tate? What's with this page, man?" Displayed was a directory of sex secrets for gay men.
Tate felt his chest tighten and his face burn. What should he say? He either burned himself down, or he burned Bryce down. "Holy shit." He mumbled, looking at the computer. Even Brad looked shocked.
"I, uh..." Tate reached for the power switch, stopped, reached for it again, stopped, and then just stood there, out of words. Brad walked up behind him, and Tate thought it was to get their coats. Joziah's face was unreadable.
"It's okay." Brad said after a long silence. "I think I got it figured, and it's okay." His voice sounded strange to Tate, and he put his hand on Tate's shoulder. "Tate, are you and Bryce, you know, an item?"
Tate was shaking, realizing his worst fears were coming true. With great effort, he nodded, waiting for the blow. Waiting for them to storm out and tell everyone, or tell his mother. Waiting for them to beat the shit out of him, or something worse.
Something touched his hand, and he jumped. It was Joziah taking his hand. "We're your friends, Tate. Chill, okay?" The warm timber of Joziah's voice helped a little. "Uh, you actually solved kind of a problem we had anyway."
"Yeah." Brad smiled, turning red. "See, your not alone, you get me?"
Tate was confused. He wasn't sure what they were saying. He decided to keep his mouth shut for now. Joziah stood up and turned to stand behind Brad, his arms encircling his waist. Tate was blown away. His two best friends, whom he'd known forever, now stood in front of him hugging. He sat down on the bed hard. "Oh, wow." Was all he could say.
"Are you okay?" Joziah asked, kneeling down in front of Tate. "Come on, Tater, talk to me."
"I can't take this all at once." Tate looked him in the eye and started crying. He couldn't help it. He had hit over load, and he realized that for whatever reasons, he was just as torn up inside as Bryce was. Joziah pulled him into his arms, and Tate sobbed, releasing all of the pent up shit he'd been carrying around. He felt Brad's hand rubbing his back.
"What's going on?" Bryce asked quietly, coming in from his room. The three of them made quite a seen, all in a group embrace.
Tate leaned back and looked at him, sniffing and smiling. "They're like us, Bryce. They're okay with you and me."
Bryce's eyes narrowed as Tate stood up and walked towards him. "What do you mean?"
"I'll show you." Tate bent down and kissed Bryce on the lips, long and hard, and Bryce fell into the kiss fairly quickly. It was like drinking at a well, and he could never get enough. When they parted, he looked nervously at Brad and Joze, noting that they didn't mind. In fact, they looked happy for Bryce and Tate.
"Wasn't that cute." Brad said with a big pouting lip. "The big quarterback kissed his boyfriend for us."
"I thought it was romantic." Joziah whacked Brad on the arm. "You never kissed me in front of somebody like that."
"It woulda got us killed, Joze!" Brad returned indignantly.
Bryce wrapped his arms around Tate's waist and looked up into his eyes. "So am I really your boyfriend now?" Tate leaned done and kissed him again.
"I guess you're stuck with me now, baby."