Chapter 4

Wes left with Mateo so it’s just the two of us as I drive Destiny home. I park in the street and walk her up to her front door.

“I can manage on my own,” she informs me.

I scoff, “No doubt.”

“You, Dylan Wells, are a sweetie.”

I blush. I reach up and grab the crossbar of her porch swing, stretching out my vertebrae. Destiny giggles and pokes me in the belly where my shift lifted up an inch. “Hey!” I let go of the bar.

“Sorry. I saw a strip of skin and I couldn’t resist.”

That’s the second time today that she poked me in the tummy. What’s that about?

I go in for our typical goodbye hug, the same best friend hug we’ve been giving each other for years now, except tonight it lingers a moment longer than usual. An extra minute to breathe in her coconut scented hair, to squeeze her warmth into me, to wonder if…

What is wrong with me? I break the embrace, afraid I did something wrong, but Destiny just smiles with her big round eyes gazing right into mine. Because I really don’t want to leave, I feel like I really should leave. Like right now. With absolutely zero cool, I abruptly turn and dash across her yard shouting, “Goodnight,” over my shoulder. I jump in my car and peel away.

At home and dog tired, I collapse on my bed and close my eyes. But then they pop open again. I grab my phone off my nightstand and fire off a text.

Wes: Dude. It’s only eight o’clock. What do you think? I changed into jammies and I’m lying in bed staring at my ceiling?

That’s what I did. Can he see me? What the hell? Is it really only eight o’clock? Why am I home already? Why am I so tired? My brain is FUBAR right now. I’m a moron.

Me: How was the Secret Sauce?

Wes: Umm… I’m not sure what you’re asking me.

I’m not sure what I’m asking him either. I guess I want my best friend to know that he can talk to me. He can tell me anything. I sigh to myself.

Me: Never mind. Now I’m the idiot.

Wes: You’re not an idiot. You’re still rude, but then I remind myself that you’re just an awkward teenage boy like the rest of us. I just mask it better.

Me: You really don’t.

Wes: I am the model of grace and maturity.

Me: Not even in a room full of kindergarteners.

Wes: Always the comedian. Did you text to insult me? Or do you actually want to know how my burger was? What do you really want to ask me?

Insulting Wes is never my goal, beyond just kidding around. He’s Wes. He knows I love him.

Me: We didn’t get to talk alone at all tonight. I’m sorry about Tessa. Are you okay?

Wes: Water off a duck’s back.

Wes: Did I ever thank you for bringing that ray of sunshine into our lives?

I assume that’s rhetorical. I type nothing.

Wes: Now I’m being rude. Sorry. She wasn’t horrible at the beginning, but you were the last to see it when she began her slow transformation into the Villainess of Doom. You apparently have no idea how long those six months were for the rest of us.

He’s right. I hadn’t considered her effect on them when suddenly our quartet became a quintet. Not that they would have minded if Tessa had actually been a kind person.

Me: You called it. I’m rude and I suck.

Wes: D… No! Naïve? Absolutely. Blind, clueless, dumb, ignorant…uh huh.”

Me: You’re a funny guy too, Wesley.

He hates being called Wesley.

Me: Is there anything you want or need to tell me?

Now it’s his turn for a long pause.

Me: I mean, you know I love Mateo. He’s fire. He’s dope.

Wes: LOL. You’re a dope. And I officially ban you from all future use of “fire” or any teenage slang for that matter. You can’t pull it off.

Me: I being serious though.

Wes: I know. And thanks. So… Umm… I really don’t know. It’s earlier than early, D. Like, he and I haven’t even talked about it. Yeah, when he told us about his dad, I unconsciously reached for his hand. He unconsciously didn’t pull away. I haven’t told you anything because there’s really nothing to tell yet. And if there ever is anything to tell… You know this D… You’ll be my first call, text, Zoom, Facetime, in person, whatever. I’ll just leave him standing there with his eyes closed and lips puckered while I rush off to find you.

I laugh out loud and send him an emoji of a round yellow guy shedding tears of joy.

Me: I might not need every detail though.

Me: In the meantime, I’m rooting for you guys. Mateo is no Villain of Doom.

Wes: What about you? Is anyone standing around waiting for you to kiss them back?

Me: Not that I know of.

He must have noticed Destiny cozying up to me earlier. I don’t want him worried that I’d risk our friendship dynamic. Wes and Mateo are factors too and if I ever screwed this up… I need my friends more than anything else. Yes, I’m encouraging Wes to investigate the Mateo situation, but that’s different. I’ve already screwed up once. I’ve already put them all through so much with Tessa. I close my eyes and I smell Destiny’s shampoo again. I exhale. Dammit. She has been my friend for almost half of my life. How could I… I can’t. I won’t. I really need to start sitting on the opposite side of the booth.

Me: You’re surprised?

Wes: I’ll just say that maybe your next kiss is coming sooner than you think.

Me: Let’s stop saying that. It’s freaking weird.

Wes: Did something happen between you and Destiny after Mateo and I left?

Me: I don’t think so. Why do you ask?

Wes: She sent me a cryptic text twenty minutes ago.

Oh no. Why am I such a dork? I probably don’t want to know, but I have to ask.

Me: What did she say?

Wes: It was three words. Boys are weird. I didn’t know if she was referring to all three of us or just one in particular.

Me: It was about me. We had an awkward moment and I literally turned and ran away. Like the idiot that I am. She probably thinks I had the trots or something.

Wes: LOL! And you ate so much fried cheese at dinner. I’d think if anything you’d be bound up.

Me: Funny. Did you reply?

Wes: I said, But we’re cute too!

Me: Did she say anything back?

Wes: She said, LOL. Unfortunately, I agree.

Wes: Umm… Don’t think I didn’t notice that you ignored my comment. About your next whatever…

Me: I ignore your comments every day of my life.

I’ve had my way with his tummy for several more hours. The best hours of my life. They must have been the best hours of nameless, faceless boy’s life too because he never stopped laughing the whole time. But now the exposed strip of underwear four delicious inches south of his oval navel is beckoning for my attention. Who am I to ignore a request?

I begin to work the button and zipper of his jeans. His hips oscillate, but he does not attempt to twist away. I pull those jeans down to his knees and his underwear is tented by a massive erection. So massive that there is now a gap between the waistband and his body. My own erection is trapped and straining. I think my penis wants to be introduced to his.

The elastic barely stretches enough to clear the top of his steel rod. Finally free, I take a minute and just stare at it. It seems to be its own living entity. It proudly twitches and bobs and pulsates. Unlike his feet, I see veins and bumps and ridges and I want to touch it more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life. He laughs and tells me that I’m doing it again. I’m tickling him with my eyes. I’m not sure I believe him, but his twitching increases in intensity and so does his laughter. He yells at me that if I don’t cut it out, he’ll cum any second now.

I grab him in my hands and oddly, that seems to bring him relief. I begin to stroke him and he’s not laughing anymore. He’s moaning in ecstasy. My nameless, faceless friend is impressive in both length and girth. I keep up the stroking and he begins to leak precum. I am mesmerized by the monster in my hand. I rake my fingertips along the underside of his length and his toes curl.

My own erection is so raging hard that it hurts in my jeans. I let go of him long enough to shed my own clothes. I am as big as him. I can’t discern his eyes, but he sees me. He tells me he really wishes his arms worked. He says he’s dying to stroke me too. I point my member towards his and bump our tips together. He laughs again. I lie on top of him and we grind our steel rods together. It feels so right. So good. So good that I think I’m close to cumming. I sit up and my friend protests. I grab hold of him again and he falls silent.

I want to watch him orgasm and I know just how to do it. I let go of him again and stare at his throbbing cock. He asks me what I’m doing. I don’t answer, I just stare. He starts to laugh again. He begs me to stop. I say nothing. I keep staring. He throbs and bobs more and more. His laughter turns to screams. His back arches, his gasps for air and suddenly–

I am woken by a new text from Dylan. It is five words: Pool party at my house.

None of us are in the pool because the heater is broken. The water is cold and big strong football players are apparently wimps. Well, Dylan and I anyway. Mateo isn’t here yet. He’s hoping to join us. He has a job interview to go to first. All four of us have decisions to make about college and jobs. We’re grown-ups now. But Mateo’s living situation has changed a little sooner than it will for the rest of us.

I find myself in conversation with Dylan’s cousin Hayden. He says, “Hey, Wes. You’re the OG now!”

I smile, “Destiny says only OGs say OG these days. Since you were so cool with me the other night when I…umm…you know, made my bad decision, I won’t rat you out with Dylan for using slang.”

“Don’t tell Destiny either. I’m more afraid of her.”

“Oh, totally,” I agree.

He asks me, “How’s it going with your family?”

He says, “Wes, to the people who truly love you, it’s like ice cream.”

That confuses me, “Huh?”

“Or a movie, a song or a color. Is your favorite ice cream flavor the same one it was when you were ten? Has a new song or movie ever replaced an old favorite? What I mean is that it just doesn’t matter. The Wes who used to love vanilla but now prefers cookies ‘n cream is still the same Wes. Nothing really changes. Maybe vanilla never was your flavor but people just assumed it was. It’s all perspective. No matter what your favorite ice cream is, you’re Wes. And I don’t think I’ve met anyone who doesn’t love Wes.”

I scoff, “Well, you don’t get out that much. But I know what you’re saying, and thank you for saying it.” I put a hand on his shoulder, “For the record, mint chocolate chip rules. Always has and always will.”

“My parents are awesome though.”

“That’s what Dylan told me. They certainly raised a fine young man.”

I run a hand through my wild brown hair, “If anything, they try too hard. It’s like, not everything is about that, you know? Football is still football and pizza is still pizza and Wes is still Wes. It doesn’t have to always be a thing.”

“You mean they’re cheugys?”

I laugh, “You’re lucky Dylan can’t hear us. And you’re using it wrong. It’s an adjective, not a noun.”

“That’s a hard one.”

“For someone studying a list of teenage slang off a Google search it is.”

He grins at that, “Busted.”

“You’re still totally fire.”

“Wait. That’s good, right?”

I like Hayden. I laugh, “Anyway, my cousins are still choosing sides. It’s like I’ve instigated a real-life family feud, only Steve Harvey is not about to round the corner in a bright purple suit.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

“No. Steve Harvey’s dope. I wouldn’t hate meeting him.”

“You’re funny,” he says elbowing me. “I mean it sucks, but at least you’ll know who to not waste your time with. Anyone who doesn’t realize that your sexuality does not define you or what an amazing human you are, those people just don’t matter anyway.”

That’s what Destiny said to me the other night. I say, “It’s kind of not really real for this town. Gay, queer, LGBTQIA+, pick a label. In this town that’s something that only exists on TV and in the movies. People here don’t actually know any questioning people in their daily lives. And then I come along…” I look down at my own muscled arms, big hands and bigger feet. “I don’t exactly fit the onscreen stereotype. I couldn’t be dropped into the cast of Glee.”

“You’ve never seen a single episode of Glee, have you?”