I woke up the next morning feeling inexplicably sad. My sleep-clouded brain couldn’t comprehend this feeling of impending doom and then I remembered. I kissed Bryson. A sentence that should be said with excitement, except he had ruined it by hiding behind his supposed heterosexuality. Here’s a hint, Bryson: Straight guys don’t kiss other guys that intimately. I lay in bed wondering how long I could hide there without my family noticing something was amiss. Somehow, I doubted they would let me spend the entire two and a half weeks I was there in my bedroom. So, I would have to see him at some point. Which was fine because, as far as I was concerned, nothing happened. That’s certainly how he wanted it and I was fine with that. No, you’re not said the less useful, mutinous part of my brain you were hoping that kiss would end in happily ever after and instead your time at home is even more awkward now.
My brain had a point. I took a deep breath and looked at the clock. Whew, it was already noon. I hadn’t slept in that late in a while. I suppose crying for hours really knocked me out. I cursed myself for acting like a female and rolled out of bed to start my day. I wasn’t sure what was on the agenda for today, but I knew that there weren’t any major events that had to do with the wedding. If I wanted to, I could avoid Bryson the whole day. I’m not sure if thinking that much about Bryson was actually conducive to the whole ignoring him plan, but I couldn’t help it. I’d been thinking about Bryson in one context or another for so long that, at this point, it was like breathing. I pulled on an old t-shirt and pair of jeans and walked down into the kitchen. My family was sitting around the table eating lunch. I wordlessly joined the table and started making myself a sandwich. Even years down the road, my family knew that I wasn’t one for chatter when I first woke up. I needed time to get used to being awake before I became a fully functional member of society. After about twenty minutes, we began talking about the plans for the day and Dane told me he was planning on going down to the river and drinking some beer on the boat and asked if I would like to join him. I was ready with a refusal, but it died on my lips as I say the hopeful look on Dane’s face. We had been pretty close when we were younger and I could tell at times that it upset Dane that we didn’t really talk that much any more. I went and grabbed some shoes and hopped into Dane’s truck with him.
I had to admit, the river was nice. It was beautiful out and I was enjoying my time spent with my brother. I hadn’t joked or laughed like this in so long. It was different from hanging out with my work friends. Even with the time apart, Dane knew me. He had grown up with me and I was able to be more comfortable around Dane than I was around any of my Chicago friends. I had grown up with Bryson, too. I had probably spent as much time with Bryson as I had with Dane since they were practically inseparable. Yet, I was anything but completely myself around Bryson. Dane excused himself to go to the bathroom so I took that moment to close my eyes and bask in the sun. I had my eyes closed for a minute or two before I got that prickly sense you feel whenever someone is looking at you.
I figured it was Dane, so I said “Keep staring at me and I’m going to charge you.”
“It’d be worth it.” That deep voice definitely did not belong to Dane.
I opened one eye and looked over at Bryson leaning on a tree. There was a slight flush on his cheeks that signaled he regretted what he had said. He wasn’t looking at me any more. Anger filled up my senses. What was this game he was playing? Kissing, flirting and then pulling back as if he was embarrassed by something I did. I was sick of this game and, without any pretense that I was leaving for any other reason than his presence, I got up and attempted to storm off. I’ve always wanted a good movie storm off. There was no door to slam, but I figured this would do just fine. I, however, did not figure out that Dane had left his sandals by his chair. So when I went to storm past Bryson, I tripped over the sandal and landed face first on the grass with my legs tied up in Dane’s folding chair. I suppose it was my fault for assuming I could be that dramatic without consequences. I turned around and sat up. I heard laughter and immediately shot a venomous glare in Bryson’s direction. His laughter only served to ignite my anger further. Bryson, with a smirk set solidly on his face, offered me his hand, but I ignored it and managed to disentangle myself from the chair and continue my storm out with just a little less dignity than before.
I passed Dane and, when he asked me where I was going, I yelled, “I’m walking home!”
“Do you need help walking? Walking home, that is.” I ignored Bryson’s funny little joke and continued my walk home. My house wasn’t exactly close to the river so it would probably take me a while. I decided to cut through the forest so that I would save some time. I used to cut through this path with Dane and Bryson all the time. I remember the first time I ever followed them to the path. My gangly eight-year old self hesitated at the dark entryway to the path. It seemed ominous at the time and I’d heard rumors of bears the size of Mack trucks roaming those woods. Bryson and Dane mocked me from the forest with various jeers; all basically pointing out that I was a baby and that I didn’t have the guts it took to take this path. Bryson even suggested I get my mom to drive me to the river, since that’s what the rest of the babies do. When I looked in his eyes that day, they were full of mischief. He was daring me to do something, to prove that I wasn’t scared. It was the same look he had on his face today at the river when he offered to help me up. I think that look, along with a healthy dose of embarrassment and anger, was the reason I didn’t accept his help. I wasn’t sure I was ready to delve into whatever game he was playing. I’d reverted from an adult male to a scared eight-year old boy again. Well, I had taken the path then, but somehow I knew that a lot more was at stake if I chose to follow Bryson down this path. What did I expect to happen? That Bryson would admit that he loved me, always had, and then he’d sweep me off to his house where we would have our 2.5 children and attend PTA meetings in between our passionate lovemaking. God, that sounded so great. Jeez, I needed to snap out of it.
I turned onto my street finally and, when I got to my house and greeted my family, I made my way upstairs to my room. I was exhausted, sweaty, and in desperate need of a shower. I was stripping my shirt off as I entered my room and I regretted it as I ran into a wall while the shirt was above my head. I took the shirt completely off and gasped when that wall turned out to be Bryson. I couldn’t very well put on my shirt again without looking completely virginal, so I was forced to stand there shirtless in front of the man that had been haunting my thoughts lately.
“What…are you doing here?” I was struggling to come up with something wittier as I made my way to the dresser, but I was shocked. I pulled out a different shirt and put it on. I decided that I didn’t care about looking virginal. I just wanted to look fully clothed. I turned to Bryson as he began to speak.
“I wanted to talk…about the kiss.” He said as if there were anything else we would possibly need to talk about.
“No need. I get it. Everyone experiments sometimes. It didn’t mean anything and it’s already forgotten. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I heard you that night. You’re not gay.” I said all of this at mach speed with the hope that the conversation was over and we could move on to never speaking again. It killed me to say it didn’t mean anything. Even though that kiss had broken my heart, it had also been like my wildest dream coming true.
“I’m not sure about that.” said Bryson.
“No honestly, don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone.” I was a little hurt that he thought I would betray him like that.
“No. I meant I’m not so sure that I’m not gay. You see, I’ve kind of always had this thing for you. You were always so cute and innocent. I thought it was just brotherly love, but then, that night that we hung out just the two of us when you were 16, I had some very unbrotherly thoughts. After that, I was ashamed and I convinced myself that it was a one-off. I still liked girls so I ignored it. The other night at the fire, though, you looked so…I don’t know, beautiful I guess. The firelight was shining off of your hair and your skin and you looked like an angel. It just made me want to bring you down to earth with me, which is what led to the kiss. I am sorry about that. I got scared and I used my old defense mechanism: I’m straight. I’d decided to ignore it still. Then I saw you today under the sun. Do you know that almost any lighting makes you look like an angel? Well, I decided that I was sick of running from it and then you took that adorable spill and I was hooked even further. The look on your face when you sat up from the fall was so adorably confused. I normally try to be honest and straightforward. So, I wanted to talk to you and tell you that I would like to date you, if you are willing.” Bryson finished with a happy gleam in his eyes and a small smile crossing his face. He looked relieved and I was sure he expected me to run into his arms like any other fair maiden in a romance novel once she’s been told she was being courted.
Throughout his whole speech, I just sat there with a blank look on my face and it took me a few seconds to comprehend that Bryson was asking to take me on dates, as in romantic dates. When my brain finally caught up, I spluttered out, “No! Just no! You don’t have any idea what you’re saying. You’re not gay. You’re straight.” I explained it as if he were just a confused child who didn’t know the meanings of gay and straight. He had to be mixed up.
“Come on, Noah! Why not? Don’t act like I’m dumb. I know what I am and I’m gay. Gay for you, in particular.” He winked at me at the last part and it made me want to punch him.
“No, it doesn’t work like that. You like girls. Hence, you are straight. Or maybe bisexual. However, I seriously doubt you’re even bi. Can you honestly imagine being intimate with me? Seriously imagine it? With all the dirty, kinky stuff included.” I was trying to scare him away. What he was suggesting was just crazy. Right now, he looked a lot like that forest path: scary and leading into the unknown. He paused for a moment and I thought I’d gotten him. He’d never be able to imagine sex with me. It would surely repulse him.
“Can I imagine having sex with you? How can I not with the way you look right now? You walk in here all tousled and sweaty. It looks like you were just well fucked. I can even imagine the delicate keening noises you would make. I bet you love sucking cock. I can imagine every second of that, too. Your beautiful, red lips would look perfect stretched around my cock.” Bryson was moving closer to me and I was frozen in my spot. He reached up with his large hand and ran his fingers over my lips. I gasped and that motion made his fingers drag across my open bottom lip. I tried to hold back a shudder, but was unsuccessful as I felt his other hand graze the bulge in my jeans. I was so enraptured by his speech that I hadn’t even noticed how hard I had gotten.
Bryson continued, “Of course, I’m not a selfish lover. I would return the favor. Half of the surprise would be what your dick looked like. You’re a little guy. Is it proportional to your body or are you sporting a secret monster? Either way, I would lick up one side and down the other and then suck the head into my mouth, all the while playing with your balls. I wouldn’t let you come just then, though. I’d make my way up your body, slowly licking every inch of skin I could find. I would taste that sweet mouth again while I used my fingers to prepare your body. One finger, two fingers, three fingers, maybe even four if you’re being a good boy. I need to prepare you for my big cock because, after I’m done preparing you, I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” I couldn’t breath because, as Bryson was describing ravaging my ass, he was in reality just lightly stroking my ass cheeks in his one hand while the other hand roamed my entire body, spending the majority of the time on my face. It was such a tease. He was saying such hot, passionate words, but using such delicate touches. My mind and my body were at war. He stopped all of his motion and used both hands to grab the sides of my face and stared intently in my eyes as he said, “Every other lover will pale in comparison because you were meant to be mine. So, to answer your question, not only am I able to imagine fucking that sweet ass of yours, but imagining it seems to be the only thing I’m capable of doing these days.”
With that, I felt those lips touch mine again. This wasn’t the sweet, gentle kiss I had experienced out by the campfire. This kiss had passion, hot, almost palpable passion. I couldn’t believe how good his large, hard body felt against mine. He was so much taller than me, yet we fit together perfectly. I felt completely consumed by his heat. His lips felt soft and, instead of beer, he tasted of mint this time. The taste was warm and just so Bryson-like that I felt a shudder run through me as I gasped. This left my mouth open for Bryson’s tongue, which took no time to swoop in and taste every last crevice in my mouth. I was lost in passion. I realized that Bryson was holding me hard against him and, although I was definitely participating in the kiss, my arms were dangling there by my sides. I pulled away and raised my right arm and…slapped Bryson across the face.
“Ow, what the fuck, Noah?! I know you said kinky shit included, but I didn’t think you meant actual S + M!” Bryson cried while he held his cheek. What a baby, I hadn’t hit him that hard since I hadn’t had a good angle.
“What the fuck, Noah?? How about what the fuck, Bryson!? You weren’t supposed to actually kiss me, let alone attack me like you did. That was supposed to be a test. You weren’t supposed to actually want to sleep with me. It was just a test. Jesus!” I wiped at my mouth and turned away from him to hide the evidence of my arousal. The last thing I need him knowing is just how much I enjoyed that kiss. “You need to stop this, Bryson. This isn’t going to happen. I don’t believe that you’re really gay and, even if I did, I certainly don’t believe that you’re ready to come out. I refuse to be in a relationship with a guy who is going to wake up one day and realize ‘Hey, I don’t actually want to be with a man.’ and I certainly refuse to go back in the closet for you. Just give it a couple of days and this feeling will pass. In two weeks, I’ll be gone and you can return to the parade of women you no doubt have waiting for your call.” Silence followed my statement and I thought maybe Bryson had left in the middle of my speech. I turned around to see Bryson standing a few inches in front of me with a big grin on his face.
“What are you smiling at? I just told you no.” I had no idea why my rejection would please him that much.
“Well I refuse your refusal. Besides, I tried honest and straightforward. You don’t seem to respond well to that. I have a new plan now.” He said while maintaining that infuriating grin.
“And what, exactly, is this new genius plan? Are you going to kidnap me?” I said condescendingly.
His grin got impossibly wider before he leaned closer and said, “Not quite. Noah, my love, I’m going to seduce you. I’m going to make you fall in love with me.” He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips before breezing out of my room.
I collapsed onto my bed as one thought ran through my head: Oh fuck.