Chapter 2

We are now standing in front of the closed choir room door. Chris is not only in the choir, but he is a trusted section leader. The teacher gave him a copy of the key as he sometimes runs after school practices. He takes the key out of his pocket and turns to me before inserting it into the lock.

Paige disappeared a while ago. What has Chris cooked up here? Is she on the other side of this door expecting some romantic alone time, just the two of us? I say, “Umm, Chris…”

“Timmy, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember.” He looks me hard in the eyes, “I know you like no one else. I mean…I really know.”

I swallow. What does he think he knows? He sees that I’m starting to tremble and sweat.

His smile fades and he turns serious. “If I ever did or said anything that made you think you couldn’t tell me…” he trails off.

Suddenly I’m no longer afraid that Paige is on the other side of the door. Now I put my hand on his shoulder, but I have no words. I could have told Chris. I should have told Chris. I just didn’t want to weird him out. But neither of us have actually said the words yet and I am still only 90% certain that he means what I think he means. So, I remain quiet and nervous as he says, “Your prom is right this way.”

He sticks the key in the door and it swings open. With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me inside first and he closes the door behind us. The room appears to be empty, but then a shadow moves in the dark corner. A figure emerges from behind the risers and my heartrate kicks up as I recognize the walk, the posture, the wavy windblown hair… He’s finally out of the shadows and Ricky’s smiling face is revealed.

My cheeks are burning red. I turn to Chris with misty eyes but it’s him who says, “Dude, you’re gonna make me cry.”

I hug the shit out of him, “Not telling you was never… Look, you were always gonna be the first one…”

He gives me a strong squeeze then breaks us apart, “There’s plenty of time for us to talk later. Right now I figure you two have about a half an hour for your own private prom.”

“What about Paige and Sarah?” I ask.

“They’re fine. They’re together in the theatre. The last thing they’re worried about right now is the two of you.”

“They…?” I feel like I’m playing catch-up here, but puzzle pieces are beginning to fall into place. Paige has had a crush on someone for a while now, but we never knew who the object of her desires was. She didn’t turn down Billy and countless other guys because she wanted to experience prom with her friend Timmy. I, Timmy, was her cover story. Her beard. Just like she was for me – except I wasn’t in on this little secret plan. Chris, Keith, Tracy and Becky orchestrated all of this. I stammer, “So Paige and Sarah…”

“Yes, you clueless idiot.” Chris shakes his head. “Why do you think you two guys are wearing matching ties?”

“Because we matched our dates,” I say in realization.

Chris nods, “Your dates who both happen to be wearing teal dresses. Matching teal dresses. Coincidence? I think not.”

He slips a cassette into the boombox that’s sitting on the piano. He presses play and True Colors fills the room. My arms tingle with goosebumps. Chris gives me a one-handed shove and I stumble closer to Ricky.

Chris says, “I think I know what I know, but I’m gonna need some confirmation here. Kiss him and prove to me that this is real. That it wasn’t all for nothing.”

Who am I to deny my best friend his wish? I give Ricky a PG-13 kiss and Chris hoots. “Oh my god! You guys are too cute! I think I might barf!”

All three of us laugh.

Chris grabs the door handle, “You two are not locked in, but the rest of the world is locked out. Thirty minutes. You have until the end of the tape. When the songs run out, your time is up. Meet the rest of us back at our table in the gym.” He slips out and we can see the thumb-lock turn as he locks the door from the outside.

True Colors ends and Never Surrender begins. I look at my friend. My friend who I hardly know outside of the group. Or, the guy I used to hardly know. I reach out my hand and he takes it. The sensation is electric.

Three months earlier.

I was struggling in my Calculus class. Actually, we all were. The teacher, Mr. Byers (who happened to look like Santa Claus) was awful. It was his last year before retirement, but he should have already been gone. Everyone was failing his class, so he was forced to grade on a curve. Even still, I was only getting a “C”. And so was Ricky. He and I were the only two of our octet who were in that class. Neither of us could risk a failing grade so close to graduation.

So, Ricky invited me to come over to his house to study and work on our homework problems together. Despite being sort-of-friends for more than three years, I’d never been to his house. He’d only been to mine when our other friends were there too. I was a little nervous. For my part, the weird friendship vibe thing between us had nothing to do with me liking him any less than the others. It had everything to do with how seeing him and being near him made me feel. I would get unexplainable odd flutters. Ricky was freaking cute, that was an undeniable fact, but why did his cuteness make my stomach do somersaults? From the age I first started “noticing” people, those people were always boys. It was in my DNA. It was who I was, like it or not. And while I could find something cute in almost any and every boy, none of them ever made me feel the tingles that Ricky made me feel. I didn’t know why he made me tingle. He wasn’t the cutest at any one thing but when all of his cute parts were put together into one beautiful boy, it was magic.

So I didn’t understand it for a long time. And then one day my genius brain figured it out: I’m gay and I like Ricky. I felt guilty. Like I was bad, or at least wrong. Maybe if I lived in New York or San Francisco or something, then who knows? But here in Nowhere Town West Virginia? Gay people aren’t real here. I must not be real. But the electricity in the air when he entered a room sure felt real. And right.

I walked to his house with him after school and neither of us said a word the whole way. Once there, he offered me a soda, but I declined. We headed up to his bedroom and he closed and locked his door. His modest room was clean enough, but it smelled like boy. Not in a bad way; I loved it. It was a potpourri of a leather baseball mitt, books, cheap cologne and sneakers. It was wonderfully intoxicating.

His desk was small. He offered it to me and he sat on his bed after spilling out the contents of his backpack. We set about the business of figuring out how to do our homework problems. Despite the incompetence of the teacher, Ricky and I are both reasonably intelligent students and eventually, it started to make sense. He tried to get comfortable doing his work on the bed. I watched in mesmerized silence as he languidly rolled into numerous positions, none of which completely satisfied him. He’d lie on his back with socked feet against the wall above his headboard. He’d roll on his side and prop his head up with his wrist. He’d flop on his stomach and lean on his elbows with the smooth skin of his side above his hip bone exposed as his shirt rode up higher each time he twisted positions. I offered to sit on the floor so he could have his desk back. He scoffed and assured me that he was raised to have manners. His guest would have the chair.

We were down to our last problem when Ricky ran out of room in his notebook. He had a blank one on the shelf above his desk. The whole time we worked, my back had been to the desk with my own notebook in my lap so we could talk and work through this shit together. Ricky rose from the bed and stood right in front of me. He had to stretch and reach in order to snag the notebook. When he did so, I couldn’t help but notice that the bottom button of his shirt had come undone, probably during all of his fidgeting on the bed. I was getting teased by the beautiful sight of stretched out taught skin, smooth, vulnerable and only inches from my face. I never knew a lower abdomen could be so…tempting, arousing…sexy. I desperately wanted to touch it. I wanted to make it quiver. I wanted to give it goosebumps. I wanted to lick it. Suddenly my crotch was threatening the seams of my jeans.

And then he lost his balance. I had to catch him to stop him from falling on me. My hands flew up to his waist and I steadied him as I grabbed the bare skin beneath his billowing shirt. I had just been fantasizing about stroking the teasing strip of sensitive skin above his waistband, but now I was gripping his soft warmth in wonderment as I realized my wish had come true.

He giggled, “Sorry, Timmy. I’m not usually so clumsy. Or so ticklish.” He giggled again and I realized that despite the fact that he wasn’t falling anymore, I hadn’t let go of him. And I was kind of squeezing. Oops. I reluctantly let my hands drop limply, but my dick was the farthest thing from limp.

He tossed the notebook on his bed but remained just inches in front of me. He dropped to his knees and we were eye-level with each other. He moved in close so our noses were three inches apart. Our eyes were locked. He said, “Your eyes. They’re two different colors. I noticed years ago, the first time we met, but this is my first look up close. They’re fascinating.”

I gulped stupidly and wordlessly. I have a blue eye and a green eye. It’s by far the most interesting thing about me. Otherwise, I find the man in the mirror to be boring. Whenever someone notices, it becomes a whole conversation. Soon, everyone around is staring at my eyes. It usually ends up with me turning crimson red in embarrassment from the intense scrutiny and unwanted attention. But right at that particular moment, most of the blood in my body was concentrated on my raging hardon. Blushing was not an option.

Ricky took my chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted my head, “They’re amazing.” I fought to not look away.

I swallowed, “I’ve never seen eyes like yours before either. They’re grey. Most people have brown or blue or hazel eyes. Yours are totally awesome. I’d trade with you any day.”

He laughed and let go of my chin, but remained kneeling in front of me. He picked my right foot up off the floor and set it in his lap as he sat back on his heels. “I forgot to mention that this is a no-shoes house. My mistake.” He tugged at my shoelace and untied my white Nike high-top sneaker. He did so slowly, like this was a moment to cherish. He wrapped one hand around my calf and the other around the heel of my shoe. He pulled in opposing directions and my foot slid out free. I can obviously take my own shoes off, but somehow, in that moment, I was frozen still.