Just a Question of Love - part 18

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
Owen makes a grand gesture...and is rewarded

Submitted: November 27, 2008

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Submitted: November 27, 2008

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A A A


“He told me it was just a fuck,” I say ruefully. It’s been two days and I haven’t been able to muster the energy to get out of bed. Brad finally came over to rehabilitate me.

He hands me a mug of coffee before saying, “Bullshit. He’s been moping around - even more mopey than usual. He wants you, dude.”

I don’t understand Brad sometimes. He always has my back, no matter what. When I told him I slept with Matt, he wasn’t angry, wasn’t disgusted. He was just Brad, there for me.

“He does not.” I won’t allow my hopes to be raised.

He lets out an angry sigh. “You know what you need?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, knowing I’d have some snide remark. “A plan. A how-to-get-Matt-to-be-your-boyfriend plan.”

“Okay, genius. What do you suppose I do?”

His eyes sparkle; I’m not sure I like where this is going.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

 

It’s noon, the bell that signifies the end of first period just sounded. My palms are sweaty, but I’m determined. I have my plan. I’m at his locker. Step 1.

I see him walking down the hall, head down. He does look sad. He swerves through the current of students, heading off to their next class. The noise in the hall is deafening. He sees me. Don’t walk away, I silently pray.

He doesn’t. He walks right up to me. “You’re in my way,” he says, nodding his head towards his locker.

I move to the side. “I know it wasn’t just a fuck.”

No sign of recognition that he heard me. “You can pretend not to hear me all you want, but I’m not leaving.”

He looks at me with sad blue eyes. We’re getting somewhere. “Look, I like you, okay? And I think you like me too -”

I’m cut off by a curt, brief “You don’t know anything about me.”

“But I’d like to.” Something about him changes just then, but I can’t quite place it. “I want to know everything. What makes you sad, happy, angry. What you eat for breakfast, what you take in your tea. I want to know about your family, your friends. How long you’ve been playing music. Everything.”

He looks at me. A second passes - two, three. “You’re not ready.”

“What? Why?” No, no, this is not what’s supposed to be happening.

A scoff. “You’re not ready to be with a guy, Owen. Go off and fuck your little girlfriend.” He starts to turn away.

“We broke up.” He pauses, back still to me. “I never slept with her. With anyone. Before you.”

He turns, a look of pity thrown my way. “Don’t look at me like that, I knew what I was doing. I wanted you then and I still do. What do I have to do to make you believe that?”

Our eyes lock and a thousand words are spoken in a matter of seconds. A soft smile graces his lips. We’re still too far apart, or else I would reach out to touch him. But then he’s turning away, walking away from me again. No.

One step, two and the distance between us is nonexistent. I turn him around, face to face. One hand on his back, the other touching the milky white of his neck. I lean in and our lips lightly touch. Electric. Everything in the world fades away except me and him, him and me - together, locked in this moment. There’s no sound but the faint beating of our hearts.

Our lips finally part, but I keep holding him. I touch my forehead to his, my eyes still closed. The world slowly returns but there’s still no sound. His lashes leave butterfly kisses on my cheeks as they open. I open my eyes too; all eyes are on us, but I don’t care. I back up, only slightly, still not letting go for fear he’ll leave me again.

“Well, did I pass the test? Do I get to be your boyfriend?” My tone is teasing and I’m rewarded with a smile. A shy look down, then up through his thick lashes.

“Mmm, half way there.”

“What do I have to do?” I quickly add, “I’ll do anything.” I mean it.

He smiles again, backs away from my touch. Then stops, holds out his hand, still smiling. I reach out, intertwine our fingers, pull him a bit closer.

“Walk me to class.”


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