Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Parker

Two very slow minutes ticked by, and I worried I might’ve spooked the poor guy when he hadn’t replied. He had zero experience with dudes, and here I was already talking about blowjobs.

@TheL0stB0y: Did I freak you out?

@MeAndMyShadow33: Not really. Just took me by surprise, and now I’m trying to think of something more “personal” to share.

@TheL0stB0y: Only share what you’re comfortable with. Full disclosure… I was kind of messing with you. Testing your boundaries.

@MeAndMyShadow33: So you don’t prefer giving head, then?

@TheL0stB0y: No, that was true. I love sucking dick.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Interesting…

@TheL0stB0y: Yeah?

@MeAndMyShadow33: I’m curious if I will too.

This guy. His inexperience shouldn’t have turned me on, but apparently my body did not agree. I shifted, sitting up against the headboard, and adjusted myself. I liked the idea of being his first. Obviously, he’d been with a woman before, but I liked the idea of being the one to show him what he’d been missing out on, to be the first man he ever tasted, touched—fucked. Hell. I didn’t even know what the guy looked like. He could be some greasy, sixty-year-old pervert who liked to get his rocks off by fucking with guys on the Internet. But that image didn’t ring true either. I had no way of actually knowing, but James seemed genuine to me.

@TheL0stB0y: You might not like it at first. Or ever. And that’s okay, there’s always someone like me who would rather do it anyway.

@MeAndMyShadow33: What if I’m not any good at it?

@TheL0stB0y: Meh. Even bad head is good head.

@TheL0stB0y: The more you practice, the better you’ll get.

@MeAndMyShadow33: That sounds like a line to me.

@TheL0stB0y: I mean… I’m only trying to speak the truth.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I’m standing in the middle of my kitchen cracking up.

@TheL0stB0y: Is that a bad or a good thing?

@MeAndMyShadow33: Good. You make me laugh.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.

@TheL0stB0y: Humor is one of my many talents.

@MeAndMyShadow33: He’s funny… definitely patient… not opposed to blow jobs, I mean, what else is there, really?

@TheL0stB0y: Ass play.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Jesus.

@TheL0stB0y: Too soon?

@MeAndMyShadow33: A little.

@TheL0stB0y: I’ll save it for lesson number 3.

@MeAndMyShadow33: What the hell is lesson 2 about?

The doorbell rang and I jumped up when I checked the time. “Shit.”

@TheL0stB0y: Don’t worry. We’re not there yet. I should probably know your favorite color and how you take your coffee before we start talking about frotting.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Purple… With cream and two sugars. Now what the hell is frotting?

@TheL0stB0y: Eager to learn. I like it. But I’m afraid, young Grasshopper, you’ll have to wait. I’m about to head out with some friends.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Way to leave a guy hanging…

I grinned as I typed out my next message.

@TheL0stB0y: Look it up online, it can be your homework assignment.

@MeAndMyShadow33: That sounds like a bad idea.

@TheL0stB0y: Or a great one. I’ll be around later if you have any questions.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Have fun tonight.

@TheL0stB0y: Probably not as much as you’re about to have. You’re welcome.

Reluctantly, I slid my phone into the pocket of my gym shorts and grabbed my wallet and keys. I didn’t know what it said about me that I wanted to sit in my room on a Saturday night, chatting with a total stranger about sex rather than go to the bar with my buddies where I might meet someone to have actual sex with.

“Let’s go, mijo.” Marcos hollered and knocked on my door. “Put your dick away. Alex and Davis are here.”

Davis and Alex were a couple we’d met during Pride Week our first year at WSC. They’d been together forever, and I envied what they had. The stability. The love they had for each other. I wanted that. I was tired of the scene. I wanted something comfortable, someone I could sit with in bed, both of us reading, the silence a companion, not a third party, and without saying a word I’d know how much he cared about me. It was probably corny or sentimental, but that sounded a whole hell of a lot better than waking up to randoms for the rest of my life.

I checked myself over in the mirror, deciding I looked good enough for a shitty pool hall where I would most definitely not be finding my perfect man. Slipping my hat on backward, I was ready to go.

Marcos almost had a panic attack when I opened the door. “No… Not happening. Go change.” He grabbed my shoulders and tried to spin me around. I overpowered him and he gave up with a groan.

“You’re wearing jeans and a tank top, how is what I’m wearing any worse?”

“This tank top,” he said, using finger quotes. “Was designed by Patrice Nichols.”

“An overpriced tank top is still just a tank top.” I smirked when he threw up his hands. “Someone’s feeling extra tonight.”

“You look like a frat boy.”

“Then I’ll blend in well.” I teased and pushed past him. “Hey, Alex, Davis. Sorry if I held up the party.”

“No worries, man. And for what it’s worth...” Davis grinned. “You look good to me.”

“Whatever…This look is giving me stank ass sweaty sac vibes. If that’s the look you’re going for, have at it.” Marcos shook his head, and I coughed to cover my laugh. “When you go home alone tonight, I’ll be sure to tell you I told you so.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Can we go?” Alex asked. “I want to get a table before the place gets packed.”

Davis took Alex’s hand and headed for the front door, leaving Marcos to glare at me one last time. He mumbled something in Spanish under his breath, and fuck, it took everything I had not to snap back with some smart-ass comment about the manufactured, well-placed holes in his jeans. But I liked my balls too much to risk them.

The bar was filled to capacity in less than an hour. I didn’t understand the appeal. The cheap beer they offered was pretty decent, and there were enough pool tables, most people were able to get in a few games, but it smelled like stale cigarettes and bad cologne. The floor was always sticky, and the vinyl booths had duct tape holding them together. The best thing about the place was the old jukebox in the backroom where people could dance. We’d gotten here early enough, we’d been able to grab one of the rare tall tables in the corner near the bar. Bored, I’d had more beer than I should have. My stomach was warm, and my head was heavy on my shoulders. Some 80’s song I recognized played loudly through the overhead speakers, and I chuckled to myself when the lead sang about liking older girls. Evidently, I did, too, but not girls. Guys. Older guys. But not like grandpa old or anything.

“You’ve reached the talk-to-yourself-out-loud level of drunk, and it’s not even midnight, Park. How is that even possible?” Marcos asked, gulping down his own beer as beads of sweat gathered along his hair line from dancing.

“What did I say?”

“Something about liking older men,” he said and set his empty glass on the table. “Come dance with me. Alex and Davis are being all coupley, and I swear this is the straightest bar ever created. Why the hell do we come here again?”

“Easy buzz?”

He hummed, his gaze snagging on a good-looking blond guy as he walked by. The dude was ripped, wearing jeans that left little to the imagination.

“Goddamn.” Marcos started to follow him, and I grabbed his arm.

“Nope, that man is straight as hell.”

“Maybe not,” he said and frowned as we both watched the guy stick his tongue down some woman’s throat. “That’s depressing.” He pulled out a stool and sat down, stealing my glass of beer.

“By all means, what’s mine is yours.”

“Thanks,” he said, breathless, as he lowered the glass from his lips. “Who’s the older guy you like?”

“It’s nothing.” I usually told Marcos everything, even though he was the biggest pain in my ass. For the most part, his heart was always in the right place. But I wasn’t ready for him to deconstruct every detail of what I had going with James. “Haven’t heard from Tam since the other night,” I said in an attempt to divert his attention.

“I thought you didn’t want to hear from him?” He pulled Chapstick from his pocket and swiped it over his lips, leaving behind a glossy pink hue. “He did mention the other day that he had a good time. But got the impression it was a one-night thing.”

“It was.”

“And just so you know, I’m not stupid or drunk enough to not notice you changed the subject. You’re not very subtle.” He poked me in the chest. “Spill it, Mills.”

“Promise you won’t judge me?”

“I’ll do no such thing.” He shoved my knee with his hand, his smile as saccharine as ever. “Did you go and find yourself a daddy?”

“He’s only thirty-three.”

“Well, that’s boring. Where did you meet him?”

“Pegasus.”

“No, you did not.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Park. That place is a breeding ground for catfish.”

“He seems nice.”

Marcos raised his hand, holding up two fingers, he’d grabbed the waitress’s attention. “I need more beer for this conversation.”

“His name is James—well, that’s his middle name. We decided to keep it anonymous.”

“Red flag number one, continue.”

Exhaling an exasperated laugh, I searched the room for our friends, who maybe could offer me some kind of buffer, but came up empty. “You’re going to ruin it.”

He sat up and took a deep breath as he rolled his shoulders.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will. I promise. Continue.” He brought his fingers to his lips and pretended to zip them shut.

“I’m anonymous on Pegasus, too, by the way. It’s better that way. Makes for a less awkward exit when things don’t pan out.” Marcos, as promised, didn’t comment. “The story is he’s divorced. Was married to the same woman his whole life. And he’s ready to explore his attraction to men.”

“Wait, he—”

“You promised to keep your mouth shut,” I said and smiled when he rolled his eyes.

“May I ask a question?” He spoke slowly, his aggravation apparent in the tight set of his jaw.

This was awesome.

“You may.”

“And you’re going to be, what, his guinea pig?” All traces of humor evaporated from his face. Shit, I was in for it now. “I know I’m a nag, and half the time I do it to get a rise out of you, but Park… this could end like Florida and—”

“Stop,” I said and stood abruptly. “I’m not fucking naïve. I know how to protect myself.”

“Okay,” he breathed, looking around the room. A few people had started to stare at us, and I couldn’t give a shit less. “Sit down, alright. I’m sorry.”

My jaw pulsed as I sat down, my heart banging around in its cage like it wanted to escape this conversation as much as I did.

“I’m not a victim.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Then, stop treating me like one.”

His dark eyes searched my face, and once my breathing evened out, he spoke again. “I love you like a brother,” he said and leaned toward me, his hand covering mine. “I know you’re not a victim. But I also know how fucked up you were... after what happened to you. We kept our heads down, mijo, for far too long. I don’t ever want that for you again.”

“I can’t let that one moment define me. I got my ass kicked. I was a dumb kid who trusted the wrong person.” Marcos gave my hand a squeeze before he lowered his own to his lap.  “I won’t ever let that happen again.”

“And if you meet this James guy, you’ll do it in public?”

“Of course. Again, I’m not an idiot.”

Marcos had been there for me when I’d been left for dead, when I’d healed, when I’d thought fear was all I’d ever know. It’s what he did. He showed up when I needed him to, and I had no doubt he’d do it again. But more than anything, I needed him to trust me.

The waitress, already knowing our order from earlier, dropped off two more beers. Grateful for the interruption, I gave her a smile and she blushed. “If y’all need anything else let me know,” she said. “I’ll be around.”

She walked off and I watched as she swayed her hips, her ass practically hanging out of her short shorts. “Nope… still does nothing for me.”

Marcos laughed a little and it broke the tension. I stared at my best friend, my chest about five times lighter than it was two minutes ago. “James is into The Lost Boys.”

“Yeah?” He let out a resigned breath, a silent white flag of surrender. “That’s like your soulmate shit, right?”

“Pretty fucking close.”

Marcos glanced toward the back room. “You want to dance?”

“Sure,” I said, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. “Let’s finish these beers and find Alex and Davis. They’re probably the only gays on the dance floor.”

“I’m never coming here again.” He cringed and the look on his face made me smile.

He was so over the top. But it was exactly how I liked him.

“You said that when we came here last Saturday.”

“I mean it this time,” he said. “This place is a dump.”

“I told you it wasn’t worth dressing up for… It never is.”

“Whatever… hurry up. The quicker you finish your beer, the faster we’ll get on the dance floor, and hopefully get the hell out of here before I start finding frat boys attractive.”

“Aren’t they, though?”

He tilted his head, checking out a decent-looking jock over by the pool table. Who like me, was dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt.

“Only when they’re naked.”