Chapter 2: Jitters
Throughout practice, I ignored both Keith and Stanley. I tried to focus on the training set; swim, flip, swim, glance at the clock, repeat. For the first time, Keith didn’t distract me. I didn’t even peek at the fast lanes to creep on his lean, long body.
Instead, images of my first blowjob replayed in my dead, first of any kind of ‘job’ from the most popular guy at school, the out-and-proud love-is-love advocate. The view of Stanley’s wet warm mouth bobbing up and down on me, stroking me, I shuddered. The intensity of the orgasm was overpowering, weakening. He’d drained me dry. Had I not come three times that day, my dick would have formed a rudder in Stanley’s suit.
Mr. Popular surmised my plan to get to practice early and rub one out. Was I so transparent, so obvious? Despite efforts to be discrete, he noticed I was staring at Keith and swam with a boner. If I didn’t wear a speedo, I hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable. I was kidding myself. What else did people see that I believed I kept close to the vest? Did everyone know I was gay? Did my dad? Everyone on the team? My heart raced. I stopped at the wall before I finished my lap. I couldn’t breathe, coughing and gasping. The water sloshed as the others in my lane flipped on the wall.
“Anderson,” I heard coach say. “Why’d you stop?”
I tried to catch my breath. I coughed again. My face to the sky, hands-on-hips, I drew deep breaths.
“I’m ok, coach,” I said, gazing at my watch. I took my pulse: 200.
I sunk below the water and pushed with my feet off the wall.
What did Stanley want from me? Hook-ups? Dates? Would he want me to hang on his arm at school, in public? I’m not ready to be out, not like that, not like him. He doesn’t even know me. Is he dating someone? Is he cheating on them with me?
I stopped again at the next wall. The pounding in my chest was deafening.
“Coach,” I said. “I don’t feel good.”
“What’s the matter, Anderson?”
“I can’t, I can’t breathe. I think I might throw up.”
A gagging sound projected from my throat. It was dry.
“Please coach, I need to go the bathroom.”
Coach nodded.
I sprung out of the water, coughing and hacking. Muscles tense, my head throbbed. Hands on each side of a bathroom sink, I held my head over the bowl, nausea surging in waves. Eyes closed, I tried to force deep breaths in and long exhales out my nose.
Quick, wet steps slapped on the deck, approaching the bathrooms.
Keith appeared behind me, his beautiful face reflecting in the mirror.
“You ok, man?”
My lips smashed together, my chin shook, brows crunched, tears threatened, I nodded my head anyway.
“You sure?”, he asked. “You seem, seem, uh stressed.”
I looked down, remained quiet.
More wet steps, Stanley appeared next to Keith.
“You o–”
“He’s stressed, Stan,” Keith answered, giving Stanley a face.
Stanley looked back at him, then at me. His mouth opened to say something, but Keith placed a hand on his shoulder. They both gazed at one another for a moment. With a nod, Stanley left the bathroom.
“Hey man,” Keith said. He reached his arm out and gave a pat on my shoulder.
“Stanley’s into you,” he said.
I looked up, my eyes studying his face.
“It’s true… He’d never admit it, of course. I’ve never heard him talk about a guy so much.”
I looked down again and took a breath.
“I don’t, don’t know what, what, I don’t see how to do this.”
My face crinkled, fighting the tears.
“Hey, hey, you figure any of us know what we’re doing?” Keith asked.
“We muddle through, we fake it. That’s all.”
“Not like you or Stanley,” I said. “I’ve never, never, I’m a virgin.”
Keith stood there, hands on his hips. He looked at the ground, then off to the left.
“Does Stanley know?” he asked.
“I told him.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Keith said. “Are you out?”
“No.”
“Not to anyone?”
“No.”
“You mainly into guys?” Keith asked.
I said, “I think so,”
I swallowed hard. “I’m pretty sure,” my voice higher.
“Listen,” Keith said. “Coming out is hard.”
He paused, nodding his head, face forward, but eyes looking sharply to the floor.
“I grew up next to Stanley. You think Stanley wasn’t as scared as you are now?”
Our eyes met.
“Where do I even start? I’ve experienced nothing before today. What does he want? What do I want? I… I–”
I let my head fall, dangling from my shoulders
“Bret. You don’t need all the answers, figure things out as you go.”
I shook my head.
“Hey, if you’d like Stanley to give you some space, I’ll talk to him.”
My head raised, I tried to articulate a thing that made sense.
“Well, I don’t want to hurt him, hurt his feelings,” I said. “I–I think I like him. I… just don’t know how to act or ask him, uh, I, uh, don’t.”
Keith pressed his lips together. He looked upward, twisting his head left, then right. A straight blue vein in his neck connected to his sharp, angular jawline and baby fuzz on his chin.
“Well, shit… Stanley is my best friend, and you seem like a cool dude,” he said. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, but let me give you my cell and I’ll try to help, you know, between you and Stan.”
My face brightened. I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to or what exactly he had in mind, but I liked the idea of having his number. I tried to beat down my excitement.
Keith typed his number into my phone and called it. His cell rang.
“Now, I have your number too,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling like I should say more, but couldn’t think of anything.
“Sure, man. I hope I’m actually of help. No promises though,” he sighed. “I’m no expert.”
I smiled and gave him a nod.
“You’ll be alright kid, either way,” he said, leaving the bathroom.
I looked at my watch. Practice was nearly over. Suit to my feet, a quick once over with my towel, I dressed and packed up my shit. I speed walked across the deck and to the bus stop. Eyes tight, I prayed a bus would come before anyone from the team saw me.
I muttered, “There is no God,” as Keith pulls over in front of me.
“Come on, Bret, I’ll give you a ride.”
“Oh, that’s fine, the bus will be here any minute.”
“Let me give you a ride, huh?” Keith asked.
I studied him, considering.
“Can we stop at the Circle K on Main and 16th? I need to pick up a few things,” I lied.
“Sure, whatever,” Keith said.
With a nod, I walk around to the passenger side of his F-150 and climb in.
“Thanks, I need to pick up a few things before I go home,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Cool.”
“Um, actually, can drop me off at Main and 16th?” Which was my plan the entire time. “I’ll walk the rest of the way, don’t want to keep you waiting,” I said.
“It’s no problem.”
“No, really,” I said.
“No, really,” Keith said.
“No,” my voice raised.
A quiet settled. I kicked myself. I’m such an asshole.
“It’s fine, man. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“I’m sorry, I–”
“It’s fine.”
“My house, it’s, it’s, not nice,” I said.
“I get it, plus today’s been a lot.”
At a stoplight, Keith turned to me. “Do you think your mom’d let you stay with friends tonight?”
“Friends?” I ask.
“Well, me and my family will be there,” he paused. “And Stanley, if you’d like.”
I looked him over. “I don’t know,” I said.
The light turned green, and we drove ahead.
He made a turn out of our way.
“What clothes would I wear tomorrow?” I asked.
“You could wear some of mine.”
I laughed, “You are way too tall, they’d never fit me.”
“What? Nah. How tall are you?”
Fist to lips, I cleared my through and look over at him, “Five-nine.”
“No,” he said. “You’re taller than that.”
“No, I’m definitely five-nine.”
“Well, I mean, what’s five inches?”
“Bigger than yours,” I said, recoiling immediately.
I didn’t know why I said that or where it came from, but it was out there now.
“Ooooooh, that’s not what your mom said last night!” Keith said.
We both laughed.
“Nice one. See, you’re one of the guys already.”
I beamed.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Home,” he said. I gave him a face.
“My home, so call your mom.”
“I’ll text my dad,” I said.
Keith’s home was enormous, two stories, with a wrap-around porch, manicured landscape, tall trees dotting sod, and lush raised flower beds flanking the path and steps up to the front door. We drove past and turned up a cement driveway. At the end of the driveway stood a four-car garage. One door opened. We pulled in and stopped inside.
“Stanley lives next door?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
How did we go to the same school? A jab of jealousy stung me. I couldn’t let them see where I lived.