Trailer Trash (16 page)

His heart pounded as she introduced him to people and told him jokes. Nate did his best to laugh at the right times, but his mind was racing the entire time. She smiled at him, moving closer, an obvious invitation in her eyes, and Nate had to fight the urge to run.

I don’t want this. I don’t want her!

But that was wrong. He was supposed to want girls. He probably did want girls. He just hadn’t been able to prove it yet.

Once I’m alone with her, everything will be fine.

He drank another cup of beer, then remembered he’d have to drive and found a can of soda instead. Christine hadn’t let go of his hand since he’d come in, and he studied her in a way he never had before. She was wearing tight jeans and a low-cut sweater. She kept pressing her breasts against him as she talked. It was distracting. Almost arousing. And when she finally stood on her toes and kissed him, he sighed with relief.

Yes, this was why he’d come here tonight. He needed to know.

Somebody catcalled, and Christine laughed against his lips and pulled away to smile up at him. “You want to go to my room?”

He couldn’t quite speak, torn between curiosity and arousal and gut-wrenching fear. He nodded, and she took his hand again and led him down the hall.

Her bedroom was done all in pink, with stuffed animals on the bed and a collection of porcelain dolls on the shelf, but the walls were covered with Van Halen and Ratt and Mötley Crüe. Christine casually closed the door, stepped close, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.

Her lips were warm, and Nate moaned, falling into it, wanting desperately to feel something. He pulled her close and concentrated hard on kissing her, and feeling the way she fit into his arms. The way her lips felt under his tongue, and her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart was pounding, but that was probably normal. It was normal to be nervous, right? Normal to be so afraid of whatever came next that it was easier to simply wait and let her lead the way.

It’s okay
, he told himself.
This is good. This is what you need. Now you’ll find out you like girls just fine.

She pushed him backward until the backs of his knees came up against her bed, and he sat down. She straddled his lap, still kissing him. She was breathing hard, and there was a bit too much saliva, but Nate embraced it, trying to let himself become aroused as they kissed and her soft little moans filled his ears. It was awkward, like every other kiss he’d ever shared with a girl, but he figured he’d get the hang of it eventually.

He sensed she was impatient—that he was doing something wrong—and he realized that although he was kissing her, he wasn’t doing anything else. His hands were near her waist, not moving, just sitting like fat lumps on her hips.

He slid one up to cup her breast. She let him, sighing against his lips, leaning closer, and he grew bolder. He slid his hand inside her sweater to caress her, feeling the hard bud of her nipple through her bra.

Nothing about it felt right, and when she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, he balked, wanting nothing more than to pull away and put a stop to it.

No! You want this! You’re supposed to want this!

He let his hand slip under the loose bit of elastic, cupping her bare breast in his hand. It made his heart pound, but not in the way he’d hoped.

She took his other hand and guided it to her thigh, grinding against him a bit as they kissed, and Nate tried to ride the thrill to its obvious conclusion. He tried to tell himself this was good and right and wonderful, even though his stomach was in knots and his penis definitely wasn’t doing what he knew she’d expect it to do.

Christine moved off him quickly, and he felt an instant of relief, thinking maybe he’d screwed up enough that she’d given up, but no such luck. She pulled off her sweater and let her bra drop to the floor, leaving her naked from the waist up. Her breasts were smaller than he imagined, her pink nipples hard and pointing his way. She undid her jeans and peeled them off before kicking them away. She was wearing only a lacy pair of black panties.

She put her hands on her waist, throwing one hip out, striking a pose, giving him a teasing pout. “Is that all the reaction I get?”

He cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say. Seeing her almost naked was exciting, in its own way. He’d never seen naked breasts outside of magazines or movies. But he was still pretty sure he wasn’t reacting the way he should. His stomach felt like it was full of lead. His palms were beginning to sweat.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her. It was true, even if he wasn’t able to put as much desire behind it as he would have liked.

She smiled and moved back onto his lap, kissing him again.

Touching her breasts felt awkward, so he put his hands on her thighs. Her skin there was warm and silky smooth. He wasn’t sure he wanted things to go any further, but he had to know. He had to find out if he could make himself enjoy this as much as other boys seemed to.

He slid one hand upward until he found the place between her legs. She gasped, rising a bit to give him room, and he wiggled his fingers under the elastic, exploring more than stroking, although she didn’t seem to mind. He found hair, and hot flesh, and there, in the center, a slippery entrance. He tested it, circling, pushing just a bit, surprised at how wet it was, and how warm, but he felt nothing beyond a bit of curiosity. He wasn’t even remotely aroused. It was nothing like when Cody had touched him.

Jesus, maybe he really was gay.

And Christine had spent too many birthdays watching out the window for her father.

And none of this should be happening.

“Stop,” he said, pulling his hand from under her. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“It’s okay. My mom won’t be home until tomorrow, and my brother doesn’t care.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

She leaned back a bit to look at his face. “Really?”

He remembered again Cody’s comment about girls who couldn’t say no. He hated what he’d let himself do. A moment ago, he’d been curious, but now, he felt nothing but shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let things go this far—”

“What are you talking about? I wanted you to.” She smiled flirtatiously and slid her hand down his chest toward his groin. “We could do more, if you want.” She unzipped his pants, and Nate jumped in alarm.

“No!” He stopped her hands, hoping she didn’t hear how close he was to panic.

Or to tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling like an idiot for repeating himself over and over, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I’m so, so sorry. I just . . .” He sighed in frustration, putting his face in his hands. Unfortunately, one of them now smelled wrong, and he jerked it away, his stomach turning. He wished he’d never come to Christine’s stupid party.

“Is this a religious thing?” she asked. “Are you freaking out because it’s a sin?”

“Yes!” It was a lie, but he grasped at it readily enough. “I’m still a virgin.” And maybe he should have been embarrassed saying it, but he wasn’t. He moved her carefully off his lap and stood, zipping his pants as he did. He picked her sweater up off the floor and handed it to her, trying not to see her naked breasts as he did, just wanting her to cover herself so he’d be able to look at her again. “I’m sorry. I know it was terrible of me to take advantage of you like that. I know I shouldn’t have. I know it was wrong. I just got carried away, and—”

“Stop!” she said, smacking his shoulder playfully. To his surprise, she was laughing. Her breasts swung as she leaned over to pick up her bra. “You didn’t take advantage of me, you big prude. I’m the one who dragged you into my bedroom. I’m pretty sure I jumped you, not the other way around.”

“I . . . uh . . .” His heart was still pounding, his hands shaking, his stomach twisted with shame. He just wanted to get out of her bedroom and out of her trailer and away from Warren, Wyoming. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? Because you’re not falling all over yourself trying to get in my pants?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Because I
did
get in your pants, but I didn’t want to. I mean, I didn’t mean to. I just—”

She pulled her shirt on and bent to pick up her jeans. “You’re forgiven.”

He blinked at her, stunned. “Just like that?”

She grinned at him as she wiggled into her tight jeans and buttoned them. “You’re not the only fish in the sea, Nate. I mean, you’re cute and all, but it ain’t like I can’t find another guy.”

“Right. Of course.” And probably any other guy at the party would be happy to be pulled into her bedroom. They wouldn’t be afraid and embarrassed about touching her breasts or that warm place between her legs. They wouldn’t have a hard time getting critical parts of their anatomy to cooperate.

What was wrong with him?

“No hard feelings, right?” she asked.

It seemed like he should be the one saying that to her. “Of course not.”

“Cool.”

She opened her bedroom door and went back to the party, leaving Nate standing like an idiot in the middle of her room.

He’d had his chance, and he’d felt nothing. He was pretty sure his erection had never made it past half-mast, at best. He was glad she hadn’t tried to touch him there. He would have been beyond embarrassed to have her discover his lack of arousal.

And what about that? What exactly did that mean?

Maybe if you’d let her touch it, you’d have gotten hard.

Maybe. But shouldn’t just the thought of her touching him have been enough? His mind drifted back to that one amazing day at the wagon, when Cody had unzipped Nate’s pants and slipped his hand inside. His penis stirred at the memory, far more than it had at the actual possibility of being touched by Christine.

He’d had his chance, and all he’d proven was that he was a coward at best.

A fag, at worst.

Nate fought back the lump threatening to fill his throat. He made it to his car and halfway home before he started to cry. It wasn’t sobbing or wrenching or painful. Just hot tears running down his cheeks, and he had no way to stop them.

He’d never been so confused.

The difference between his experience with Christine and the one with Cody baffled him. Touching Christine had been uncomfortable and awkward. But Cody . . .

He’d never felt anything so piercing and perfect as when Cody’s lips had touched his. And the rest of it—letting Cody tease him into an orgasm—had been the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. It couldn’t be right, but nothing about it felt wrong.

Nate thought of all the words he’d heard people use. All the cruel slurs tossed around.

Homo.

Queer.

Faggot.

Pansy.

I can’t be one of those things!

But on the tail end of that thought came the memory of Cody’s acceptance of being called those names. Cody hadn’t bothered to deny what he felt.

What they both felt.

“I’m not like him,” Nate said out loud. The croon of the Bee Gees from his eight-track player did nothing to ease his mind.

The TV was on in the living room when he got home, and he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, not wanting his dad to see him with his eyes red and swollen and his cheeks wet. He washed his hands until he could no longer smell Christine’s very feminine musk on them, then sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, trying to tell himself he wasn’t going to keep crying like a five-year-old, but he couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

Who could he talk to?

Cody.

No. Not Cody. Anybody but Cody.

Who else?

Maybe somebody from Texas? One of his friends?

Yeah, right. He hadn’t even heard from any of them since moving to Wyoming. Even if he was allowed to make long-distance calls, he couldn’t imagine calling one of them up now.
Hey, Mike. How’s tennis going? Sure is windy here in Warren. By the way, you ever look at another guy and have the irresistible urge to see him naked, or maybe to jack him off? No? Okay. Just checking.

He hadn’t ever felt this way back in Texas. Maybe this was all simply a symptom of having moved to Warren, Wyoming, where there wasn’t a damn thing to do except get high or get laid. Maybe if he found a way to go back home, all of these horrifying feelings he had for Cody would go away. Surely there was a girl back in Texas with big hair and a familiar southern drawl who could make his heart race and his loins tingle.

His dad’s heavy treads thumped up the stairs, stopping outside Nate’s room. He knocked lightly on the door. “Nate? You in there?”

“Yeah.” Nate wiped his face as his dad cracked the door and poked his face through the gap.

“I didn’t expect you home so soon.” His brow wrinkled. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired.”

“Okay.” He didn’t look convinced, but it seemed he wasn’t inclined to press the issue. “I’m headed to bed myself.”

“Good night, Dad.”

Nate waited, listening to his dad bustle around in the room next door. He watched the clock on his nightstand, counting the minutes until at last the house lay silent. He gave it an extra thirty minutes after that, just to be sure his dad was asleep.

Finally, he crept out of his bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. He might get in trouble when the phone bill came and his dad saw the long-distance call, but there was only one person left on his list of people he might talk to.

The dial tone seemed ridiculously loud in his ear. Luckily, the cord was long enough to reach all the way to their pantry. He closed the door behind him, sinking down to sit on the floor, surrounded by shelves of cereal and Hamburger Helper. It was pitch-dark, but the keys on the handset were lit, and he dialed the number that he’d thought of as his own for nearly eighteen years.

It began to ring as the call went through. It was an hour later in Texas, which meant nearly midnight. He figured his mom might still be awake. Even if he woke her up, she’d probably be happy to hear from him. He wasn’t quite sure yet what he was going to say, but he knew the gist of it: he wanted to go home. He hated Wyoming, and he intended to beg his mother to let him move back to Texas, where it was warm and the wind rarely blew semis over on the interstate and where he didn’t have embarrassingly erotic dreams about other boys.