Rainbow Boys (14 page)

Blake squinted an odd look at him. Then, with the agility of a bartender, he poured the rum into a bottle of Coke. Covering the top with his thumb, he swirled the mixture, then took a swig and smacked his lips. “Perfect!” He passed the bottle to Nelson.

The mix tasted sweet to Nelson, though not at all like ice cream, and it burned as it slid down to his stomach.

Blake laughed. “Better take it easy.”

Nelson handed the bottle back to him, surprised to see how much he had drunk.

“What school do you go to?” Blake asked.

“Whitman.”

Blake put the bottle down. “You’re still in high school?”

His tone made Nelson feel like a kid. But it flattered him that Blake had taken him for college-aged. “I’m a senior. I haven’t decided where I’ll go next year. How do you like A U?”

“It’s all right,” Blake said, taking another swig from the bottle. He seemed wary to extend it to Nelson again. “You want any more?” The alcohol had soothed Nelson’s nerves. “Okay.” He drank some more and leaned back in his seat. He felt great, totally relaxed, and for a moment he forgot how lust-crazed he was.

Suddenly Blake leaned over him and pulled his face close, his lips engulfing Nelson with the warm, sweet taste of Coke. Was this for real? Only a minute ago Nelson had felt doomed to eternal virginity. Fast-forward. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt the tongue of another guy—and not just any guy, but Blake. He could hardly wait to tell Kyle.

Blake leaned away. “You smoke, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Nelson said, his brain hazy. What did smoking have to do with anything? Maybe Blake wanted a cigarette. But wasn’t that supposed to come afterward?

He was about to grab for his smokes, when Blake’s hand reached over. He unzipped Nelson’s jacket and slipped his fingers inside his shirt. “You’re trembling.”

Of course he was trembling. He could hardly control his excitement. He wondered if he should put up some resistance. He didn’t want to seem easy. But how could he feign reluctance? “I—I’m still a little cold.” Blake glanced at Nelson’s lap and grinned. “You’ll warm up.”

Nelson blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, Blake’s hands had somehow gotten into his pants. A n old worry popped into his mind: Would Blake think he was, uh, too small? If he did, it certainly didn’t stop him from what he was doing. Nelson breathed fast, his heart pounding. He felt ready to explode.

A s if reading his mind, Blake retracted his hand. He leaned back into his seat and grinned expectantly. Nelson wondered what exactly Blake expected him to do.

Fortunately, Blake helped by guiding his hand. Nelson couldn’t believe to where. Once he got over his astonishment, he tried to unbuckle Blake’s belt, but the rum seeping through his brain made it hard to keep his balance. His fingers slipped. His nose sank into Blake’s cheek. The steering wheel jabbed into his ribs.

“Watch the horn,” Blake whispered.

Nelson propped his elbow on the stick shift, and the belt buckle snapped open. He tugged open Blake’s zipper.

Blake laid a hand behind Nelson’s neck, gently directing his head down. A rich, musky smell wafted up.

Uh-oh. Through the murk of his brain Nelson remembered something. What about a condom? He knew from the Saturday lectures that oral sex was not the highest risk for HIV infection, but there was still risk.

Nelson hesitated, wondering what he could say: Excuse me, don’t we need a condom? What if Blake felt insulted? It was all too much to think about, especially with his brain in a fog and his face in the lap of the best-looking guy in the group.

“What’s wrong?” Blake asked.

Nelson’s mind was spinning. The damn gearshift jabbed into his ribs. He leaned up, his head bumped the steering wheel, and the horn blared. Outside, a dog started barking.

“Shit! I told you to watch the horn.”

Nelson leaned back in his seat, catching his breath. “I’m sorry.”

Blake studied Nelson. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Nelson’s heart sank. If he said yes, Blake might never want to have sex with him. “No,” he lied.

Blake raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Really,” Nelson insisted. Blake turned away. It wasn’t fair; Nelson hated feeling like a kid. “Okay, I am,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to be. I’m sorry.” He felt like crying.

Blake shrugged. “It’s not your fault. Look, we never should’ve done this. You’re not even eighteen, are you?”

“I will be soon.” He wanted Blake to give him a chance.

But Blake was already zipping his pants. Then he rested a brotherly hand on Nelson’s shoulder. “You don’t want your first time to be in some car with a stupid dog barking.”

Nelson nodded energetically. Yes, he did. “Why not?”

“‘Cause you want it to be with someone special.”

But Blake was special. He was the hunkiest guy in the group. Everyone wanted to do him.

A pparently Blake didn’t see it that way. “You want it to be with someone you really care about. That’s how it was for Dane and me. We were best friends.”

Nelson thought of his own best friend, who wouldn’t even kiss him. He felt like a failure—still a virgin at seventeen. It was ridiculous.

“Couldn’t—maybe—you and I go out sometime?” He knew it sounded desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Blake zipped up his jacket. “Like I said, Nelson. Find someone special.”

Nelson felt like a baby—shamefully immature, and the one thing he hated most in his crappy life was to think he was immature.

Blake patted his shoulder. “Let’s go back to the party.”

They walked silently down the street. What a totally major bummer to finally get the chance to have wild sex—with the hottest guy, no less—and be disqualified as inexperienced. Nelson ducked his face beneath his coat collar to shield himself from the wind. A s they crossed the front lawn, he tripped over a sprinkler head and fell onto the ground. “Fuck!” Blake extended his hand to help him up. “You okay?”

Nelson wanted to crawl into a hole. “Great,” he said.

Once inside, Blake disappeared into a group of guys by the fireplace. Shea came over to Nelson. She glanced at the dirt stains on his pants. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Shit happened,” Nelson said, wiping the dirt off.

On the ride home, he smoked and stared out the window, thinking about Kyle losing his virginity with Jason—instead of him.

A fter school on Monday, Jason discovered a note shoved between the slats of his locker.

Dear Jason—

I had a really nice time with you at the movie. I’d like to go to a movie with you again sometime if you would like to. I’ve looked for you, but I seem to keep missing you. Do you need help with your math? You can call me if you want.

Your friend,

Kyle

A t the bottom of the page was Kyle’s phone number.

Jason quickly folded up the note and glanced around, hoping no one had seen Kyle stuffing it into his locker.

Since the evening they’d gone to the movies, Jason had done everything possible to avoid Kyle. He arrived at school late, skipped lunch, changed his route between classes, and dodged him whenever he spotted his black baseball cap bobbing through the crowds in the hall. A ll the while, he felt guilty. A fter all, it wasn’t like Kyle had forced him to hold hands. But to face him would be too embarrassing. He punched his locker.

When he got home, his mom told him Debra had called. “That’s the first time she’s called in weeks. Is everything all right with you two?” She peered into his eyes, making him look away. “Jason? Do you want to talk about it?” He wished he could talk to her about the fight with Debra and everything else. But how? Besides, his mom liked Debra. He still liked her too and hadn’t stopped thinking about her every day. That only confused him further. He wanted to talk to her. Some mornings as he dressed for school he thought he should just be honest with her—tell her about his feelings, about going to the Rainbow meeting, about Kyle at the movie theater. But when he caught a glimpse of her at school, he remembered the times he’d started to tell her and quickly chickened out.

A t least he had basketball to take his mind off all this stuff. The season started and Whitman won the first game. The following afternoon, Debra stopped by his locker. She carried a stack of books that pulled her shoulders down, making her look older, different.

“Congratulations on the game,” she said.

He started to smile, stopped, started again. “Thanks.”

She shifted the stack of books in her arms. “Jason? It’s been almost two months since homecoming. You haven’t called me. Not once.” He closed his locker. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy, you know, with the season starting. I’ve been meaning to call.” She gave him a long, stubborn stare. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No.” He glanced at the floor. “Really.”

She propped her books onto a hip. With her free hand she began fidgeting with her gold necklace. On the chain hung the ring Jason had given her. “Jason, I want to know where we stand.”

His brow began to sweat. “I can’t talk now. I have practice.”

“Jason.” Her voice was insistent. “I want to talk now.”

He looked around. A group of guys walked toward them from the end of the hall. He bit into a fingernail. “Can we at least walk toward the gym?”

She sighed and nodded. They walked past the cafeteria and out the back door. “Jason?” she repeated. “What is going on?” The sun felt warm against his jacket. He laid his fingertips over his eyes, closing them, and rubbed circles while he tried to think. If he told her, she might get angry and tell people. But she was angry already. If he didn’t tell her, she’d just get angrier. What the hell, he thought. Putting it off was only making things worse. He was tired of it.

“Okay,” he said, opening his eyes. “We said we could tell each other anything, right?” Debra nodded.

Jason glanced away. “There’s something … it’s really hard to say.”

“Jason, you’re scaring me. Please! What is it?”

He drew a deep breath and looked up. “I think maybe I’m bisexual.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

Her mouth fell open. “You think …” She stared into his eyes like he was a stranger. “You think you’re gay?” He winced. “No!” He wasn’t gay. He liked guys but—but he also liked her. “Well, I mean, I don’t want to be.” Debra shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Jason wanted to explain but felt tongue-tied. “I don’t understand either.” Debra glanced around and whispered in a concerned tone, “Did someone do something to you?”

“No! It’s not like that.”

Debra brushed the hair from her face. “Then what is it?” she said angrily. “What about us? What about all the times we made love?” Her face began to tremble with emotion. “You never said anything.” She threw her books onto the ground. “How dare you tell me you suddenly think you like guys!”

She was screaming. He’d been stupid to tell her anything. But there was no going back now. He picked up her books and tried to calm her in a steady voice: “I don’t suddenly think I like guys. I always have.” Her eyes widened even farther. “Then—all those times—,” she snapped at him, “you lied to me?” Her shouting was confusing him. “I didn’t lie,” he said furiously.

Then her hands struck out at him. “I hate you!” she yelled.

He jumped back, raising the books to ward off her blows.

“I hate you,” she repeated, pummeling his chest.

“Stop it!” He dropped her books and grabbed her wrists. She kicked at him. He leapt back. “A re you crazy?” he shouted.

Her eyes glowed. “You deserve it, you … faggot!” She pulled her arms free and buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

He wanted to put his arm around her, like all the other times she cried, but he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t blame her for hating him, but he never expected this. He should never have told her anything.

She stopped crying and dug into her pocket, pulling out a tissue to wipe her face. “I can’t believe it. You put on a great act.” Jason felt his stomach tighten, as though she had hit him again. “It wasn’t an act.” She grabbed the gold chain around her neck and unclasped it, her fingers shaking. The ring slid off and into her hand. “Here.” He didn’t want the ring; he’d given it to her, as a gift. “You can keep it.” She gave him a scornful look. He decided to take the stupid ring before she went crazy again. When he handed her the books, she nearly yanked them out of his hands. Without another word, she was gone.

He studied the ring in his palm, rolling it back and forth. He had loved her so much. She was right to hate him. He balled the ring into his fist and hurled it into the dumpster. The metal rang as the ring slammed against it.

He took a few deep breaths of the fresh, cold air. He was late for basketball practice. He’d get in trouble, but he didn’t care.

A s punishment, the coach ordered him to do push-ups and laps around the court. Once Jason started playing, he kept fouling. He was being a dick, but he couldn’t help it. The coach called him aside and set a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s with you today, Carrillo, but cut it out.”