What Happens In The Clubhouse, Stays In The Clubhouse

Mason’s POV:

Trace Cyrus is my best friend. We tell each other everything. And I mean, everything. That’s why I’m hoping tonight won’t be weird. I’m planning on telling him my deepest darkest secret. I can only imagine it going smoothly. I have everything set, too. In our clubhouse. I hope he doesn’t blow me off for his girlfriend, Kelsey…I really hate her. I just act like I like her for Trace’s sake. And I hate it.

“Mason! Oh Mason, where are you?!” I hear Trace yell from in front of my house. I’m in the back yard, sipping lemonade, looking at nothing. I smile at his gorgeous voice, and stand up. I walk into my house, through the sliding doors, and see my little brother, Mitchell talking to Trace on the couch. Oh God.

“Uh… Trace? You wanna come out here?” I ask, desperate to get him away from my idiot brother. Trace stands up, blank-faced, and walks past me out the sliding doors. I glare at Mitchell and he shrugs his shoulders and goes upstairs. Probably gonna call Miley. Yeah, my brother and Trace’s sister are, indeed, together. That’s another reason I’m hoping it’ll go smoothly tonight with Trace. I don’t wanna mess anything up for my brother. He’s so cute when he’s with her. And that’s saying something.

“So, are you gonna finish that? Thanks.” Trace says, snatching my lemonade up and gulping it all down without letting me answer. I chuckle and sit down in one of the plastic white chairs around the table in my back yard. I purposely sit in the one next to Trace. I’m so subtle, right? Ha, no.

“Um, what did Mitchell talk to you about?” I ask him. Mitchell knows about my crush on Trace, and, who knows, he could’ve told him anything. He would love to ruin it for me. He’s really creeped out by the fact that I like a guy. Especially if it is his girlfriend’s older brother.

“Oh, nothing.” he mumbles. I sit back and raise an eyebrow at Trace.

“Yeah. Mhm. Right, Trace. Mitchell told you absolutely nothing and you guys were just sitting on the couch, talking.” I say it like a 5 year-old could figure it out. Which is probably true. Trace laughs and smirks at me.

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” I say. Trace always teases me like this. He nods and I groan. I hear Trace’s phone beep, and tilt my head to the side, like a Chihuahua does when you say ‘Taco Bell’. I don’t know why they do that, but I laughed so hard the first time I saw one do it.

“It’s uh…Kelsey.” Trace mumbles, and shuts his phone, not replying to the text. I smile on the inside.

“Um, you wanna stay over for dinner and stuff?” I ask him, cautiously.

Trace smirks and says, “What, you mean like a sleepover?”

Oh God, don’t say that.

“I guess, if that’s what you want to call it.” I say. Trace nods and I smile. I look at my watch. 5:37. Hm, so if we cook dinner now, then by the time we’re done eating, it’ll be about 7:00, then that’ll leave time for…

“Let’s go cook.” I tell him, smiling. We get up and walk back into the house. I trip over my feet, and Trace catches me, awkwardly, before letting me fall. I scoff, laying on the floor, and Trace blushes.

“Oh. Sorry, Mason. Here.” he says, the blush getting deeper. He leans down and helps me up. I smile and then walk over to the fridge. I grab hot dogs, hot dog buns, ketchup, mustard, relish, and set them all on the sideboard.

“Okay. We’ve got hot dogs, and condiments, where are the hamburgers, my friend?”

Condom-ents?

“Oh right. Sorry.” I say, and grab the hamburgers and hamburger buns out of the fridge and set them on the sideboard with the rest of the dinner foods. I groan, not wanting to cook right now.

“MITCHELL!” I yell.

Mitchell comes running down the stairs with Miley behind him.

“What?!” he asks me, out of breath. Miley smiles at me and I wave.

“Cook food. We’re hungry.” I say, rubbing my stomach. Miley and Trace chuckle and Mitchell blushes.

“Fine.” Mitchell says, harshly. He walks over to the stove, and starts preparing boiling the water for the hot dogs. I walk back out the sliding doors, and sit back down in the chair I was in before. Evidently, Trace follows me out and sits in the chair next to me. He looks over me to Miley and Mitchell in the house.

“Come here.” he whispers. He runs out of my back yard and into the woods. I follow him and when he stops, we’re at the clubhouse. Oh no.

“Um, Trace, uh…don’t go in there.” I say, regretting everything. Maybe he won’t respond how I think he will. But, being Trace, he ignores me and walks in the falling apart red brick clubhouse. I walk slowly into it, as well. Everything I had put in there earlier, is still there. Candles, the wine and wine glasses, everything is still there.

“What the hell happened to our clubhouse?!” Trace yells.

“Um…I did this.” I mumble, looking down at the ground. Trace sits down on the bed we’ve always had in here, and looks at me.

“You did this? Why, Mason?” he asks me. I bite my lip, not sure if I want to go through with my plan or not.

“Because I l-like you.” I whisper. Trace quickly stands up and does that whole ‘back away slowly’ thing. I sigh and start walking back out of the clubhouse, when Trace catches my hand. He pulls me back in the clubhouse and sits me down on the bed. He sits next to me and strokes my cheek with his thumb. I move his hand away, and he smiles. He grabs my chin and makes me face him. He crushes his lips against mine, and pushes me down on the bed. Trace is on top of me now, and still fiercely kissing me. I tangle my hands up in his hair, and his hand is resting on the front of my pants. I thrust my hips up towards him, lightly, so he’ll get the message not to tease me. He smirks into the kiss, and slips his hand into my jeans, then my boxers. I’m surprised how cold his hand is, and I shiver. The bulge in my pants is begging to be relieved, and Trace notices. He starts pumping his hand up and down. It’s not giving much satisfaction… Trace is still kissing me, and I turn my head, so he can‘t. He gets the point of it, and moves his head down towards the front of my jeans. He pulls the red skinny jeans off of me, and pulls my boxers down a little bit. He looks up at me for permission, and I nod. He hesitates for a minute, not having ever done something like this. After a minute, though, his lips make a perfect ‘o’ shape, and he puts my length in his mouth. I moan, loudly, and he continues bobbing his head up and down, obviously enjoying it.

“Trace.” I say his name in a moan.

He smiles while still bobbing his head, and I finally reach my climax, coming in his mouth. He sits up, and wipes his mouth off. I’m breathing heavily and sweating, and Trace pulls my boxers back up for me. I smile and sit up.

“Guess what?” I tell him. He doesn’t answer, but leans forward again, and crushes his lips to mine. I smirk into the kiss.

When we pull away, he says, “What?”

“Oh nothing. Uh, I think your phone beeped again.” I mumble, still smirking for some reason. He chuckles and doesn’t move.

“Aren’t you gonna see if it was Kelsey?” I ask him, confused.

“Nope. You can if you’re that concerned about it right now.” he says, sarcastically. I laugh, and stand up. I grab my jeans and put them on. I pick up Trace’s shirt and toss it to him. I grab mine and throw it on. When I turn back around, Trace is looking at his phone. Ha, I knew it.

“It was Kelsey. She uh, she said, um…” he stutters.

“What’d she say, Trace?” I ask him. He simply hands me the cell phone, and makes me read the text.

we r thru. try not 2 cry.

“Holy shit.” I mumble. Trace groans and lays back on the bed. He shakes his head.

Is it my fault? I really hope not. Is he not gonna want to have anything to do with me anymore? God, I really, really hope not.

“Trace. I’m s-sorry.” I tell him, sitting at the foot of the bed. I think it is best to apologize, just in case.

“No, it’s alright, you know? I guess it’s better than her bursting in here, finding us kissing…” he says with a chuckle. I smile and look down.

Trace grabs my chin and presses his lips to mine again.

“Holy Fuck!”

Obviously, Miley and Mitchell had busted in on us, kissing.

“Mitchell! Language!” I yell at him, laughing. Miley runs over to me and Trace and gives us a hug, together. I look at Mitchell, smiling, and he flips us off and walks out of the clubhouse.

“Just don’t hurt him, okay?” Miley tells me, once the hug collapses. Trace and I smirk at each other.

“I can’t make any promises, buddy.”

The Clubhouse.