Homecoming

He’s biting his nails, breathing unevenly, sweating, and looking at everything but me- he’s nervous. Connor Oliver Taylor does not get nervous. This is serious. Well, it was already serious; you just don’t accidently sleep with your best friend of the same sex on a regular basis. We should be doing something right? Conclude that it was a mere accident- that we were wasted out our minds and horny. That it meant nothing that we should just forget about it. Or forget whatever we still remember for that matter.

But really, I’m only thinking this for my best friend’s sake. He seems as if any minute he’ll drop to the floor, clutching his heart in pain- only not totally because I know he’ll be just the slightest bit happy he doesn’t have to live with the fact he slept with another guy.

I look over to him from the driver’s seat of his car, Monday morning in the school parking lot. He looks like a scared mouse, jerky and frightened as if one look at him will tell you that he slept with his best friend and you screech and tell and crush him and his reputation. We pretty much switched places that Saturday morning- at least composition-wise. He’s now the shy, shaky, quiet one, while I’m being more talkative and confident- just to hide the way he’s acting strange from anyone that’s talked to us since two days ago. I really am nearly unfazed by the fact that Connor and I slept together though- I’m more worried about how pale the poor kid is and his trembling and too-wide baby blue eyes. I look at the crown perched on his head (turns out, he won homecoming king) and look back out the front widow, waiting for my best friend to chill the fuck out.

Connor quickly runs around to my side of the car and right after I close my door and turn, he grabs my hand. A jolt of electricity runs from my tingling fingertips, all the way up my arm and my breath catches and we both look down at our hands. Connor tenses and just a quickly as he grabbed my hand, he lets go, gasping and even slightly jumping a step back from me. My eyes narrow at the boy, “I’m not the fucking plague, Connor.”

“What?” He says and I’m surprised he doesn’t stutter when speaking to me when he supposedly can’t even touch the best friend he slept with in any way anymore. My eyes nearly start watering- but I’m a guy, and I remember that it’s seem a little odd if I wasn’t at least a little shaken up by the Homecoming incident. His ice blue eyes meet mines, but only for a moment, and then they’re back focused on the asphalt in the parking lot.

“You can still touch me and not catch anything.”

His eyes veer to the side, looking at nothing in particular. He’s gnawing his bottom lip with sad pretty eyes and worried, wrinkled eyebrows. I almost feel bad for him before getting just a little angry, I mean really, is sleeping with that bad? Well it sure wasn’t pleasant, he is my best friend, and a guy- but this is becoming an insult!

“Nate!” Connor calls and I must have gone off into my own thoughts to far, because now he’s looking right at me, so close that I can almost feel his breath. He clears his throat.
“I just wanted to say sorry. We’ve been avoiding each other and I know what happened wasn’t…uh- wasn’t-“ His forehead wrinkles and he puckers his lips and scratches his head cutely as he thinks of the right word, “expected? Eh…whatever. It was wrong, but we’re best friends so we can just forget about it, right? You know how I get when I’m happy and drunk- super ridiculously fucking horny.”

I nod shortly, expressionless, because I know that’s true. Connor get’s beyond horny and super affectionate when drunk, but he had just won homecoming king- there had to be dozens of female whores just throwing themselves at him as if he were a real king.

I can just imagine his drunken, slurring self, all giggly and hiccupping, balling his fist in my shirt and bringing me closer to him to meet his lips. Not even a real kiss, just a firm lip-to-lip press. I don’t know if I was sober enough to be shocked. “Come on Natey-bear,” His hot, alcohol-smelling breath probably whispered a little too close to my ear. I probably nodded a little too fast, a little too eagerly, a little too happy- a little too knowingly. I can imagine him smirking and dizzily guiding me back to my room- the only reason he’s able to find it is because he’s been to my house so many times, he could find any room in there blindfolded- and drunk off his ass too, I guess, now. He might’ve shoved me into the room; I probably fell on the floor and not too-gracefully on the bed like they do in movies. He probably pushed the bedroom door closed a little too forcefully, then turned to me on the floor, and helped me up and shoved me again, only on the bed this time. And then maybe he crawled on top of me a little too low, maybe our skinny-jean clad crotches rubbed together and maybe I moaned a little too loud. That probably got him going and he probably started to attempt to unbutton my pants then, straddling his best friend while smirking just a tad to evilly to be sexy. And I probably just lay there, unmoving, staring up at my best friend like a God with my mouth agape. And probably a while later, he finally got my jeans off, and I finally got his off, and he probably whispered, “Fuck me, Nate. Fuck me, Natey-bear.” And I probably shivered and my boner probably got painful and then- then I probably used the Vaseline on my night stand to half-stretch him and then sloppily coat myself, then I probably even missed his entrance a couple times, and maybe he whined, “Natttte, hurry up and do it, you sexy beast. You sexy fuck, you sexy ass beast fuck.” And giggling uncontrollable through the pain until I probably finally got it in and paused for a moment, going off to my own little world as my eyes rolled back into my head and my mouth opened and I probably drooled just a bit. Then he probably yelped and squirmed and maybe, quite possibly shed a couple tears as he complained how fucking had never hurt him this much and dug his nails in my hips that he hung onto for dear life. After a while of that, I probably came back from my own world and pushed into him too slowly, as he probably kept talking about nothing, a mile a minute- and maybe I even threatened that if he didn’t shut up, I’d put his mouth to better work. Then maybe he closed his mouth, bit his lip even to hold the squeals of pain in. And maybe it took me a long fucking time, going ridiculously slow to finally hit the spot that made his back arch and toes curl and eyes roll back. Maybe I kept hitting it, going as fast as a jack rabbit on speed and maybe Connor starting moaning made-up words as his toes curled. And in the end, maybe it only took half the time it took for me to find his damn entrance for us to both start seeing stars and floating off and moaning and screaming in pleasure. Maybe Connor moaned my name as he came and then maybe I pulled out and we fell asleep.

But I guess we’ll never know.

I feel his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder before I even notice him coming closer to me. “Best friends still, right?” I smile and wrap my arms around the boy, “Of course.”

We eventually let go and Connor regains his posture and usual-confidence before taking the walk of fame into school. It’s almost like a slow motion movie: Connor and I walk up and everyone stops to get a look at us, how we did our hair, what we’re wearing, if we’re still hung over. Then everyone cheers- as if Connor was the one who made the Hollywood finish at the homecoming game: our team one, five seconds before game over. He gets congratulations and I get high fives, one guy calls, “Nate! Party of the fucking year!” and does an air-punch, causing everyone to cheer in agreement. “Thanks, ‘cause I don’t remember a thing.” I shrug and everyone laughs. We walk into the school after that good ego-booster and get more calls from kids at lockers. We walk together until we get to his girlfriends locker. Yes, Connor has a girlfriend. Another reason the boy was probably shaken up about the incident. Kailie is her name, they’ve been dating for a month and she’s blonde- enough said. She immediately smiles as we get to her locker and he wraps his arms around her tiny waist and bends down to kiss her head. She turns and immediately gets on her tip-toes to wrap her arms around his neck, as he holds onto her hips and presses his lips to hers. I lean my back against the blue metal two lockers down and slump to the ground, watching the legs of kids who pass me and waiting for Ginger, my second best friend- best girl-friend.
“Hey, cutie.”

But nothing more.

Flare-jean clad-legs halt in front of me and I look up to see Ginger’s tanned, auburn-hair-framed face. Her pearly white teeth practically shining as she grins so big her eyes close and it makes me laugh. I slowly stand and she quickly hugs me, then pinches my cheek and I roll my eyes, fake glare, and then smile as she proceeds to tell me about her weekend.
I take a quickly look back at my number one. His tongue is visibly intertwined with hers and I almost want to do that cough-WHORE-cough thing.

So…bottom line: Connor’s been the shit since birth. He was more popular than little Jimmy who sits in the back of the classroom eating paste, when he was in the womb. This is because of Connor’s brother, Evan. Evan hasn’t been around much since he graduated from our high school four years ago, but back when he was in school- he was pretty much how Connor is now: Most popular, homecoming king, prom king, class president, amazing grades, a million friends. So, Connor of course had to live up to the legacy, starting kindergarten. He was that kid with the 64- pack crayons with built-in sharpener who almost never broke them. He was that kid who didn’t have a bowl-cut a one point or another, that kid who could burp the alphabet and the best birthday parties. Or at least this is what I heard- I didn’t meet him until grade three. And by then, he was a legend. It seemed every year Connor’s status went a little bit higher and then when we came to high school, it kind of skyrocketed- so much that I guess Connor thought it was time to drop his brother because I don’t think I saw them speak once in school. Then Evan left for college the next year and I don’t even think he’s been back- not even to visit.

“So I’ve been doing a lot of swim stuff with…” I’m more watching Ginger’s thin lips move than I am listening to her talk.

“Oh, Nate, darling!” I look behind me to see Connor with his arm slung over his petite girlfriends shoulders and he nods his head silently telling me to come on. He doesn’t like Ginger very much, hasn’t since grade ten, when she asked him out. He doesn’t usually befriend girls who like him or girls he dates for long or girls he sleeps with.

Ginger rolls her eyes as his call, because she doesn’t like him very much anymore either, “That fucking jerk. Who the fuck does he think he-“

“Natey-bear!” He cuts off Ginger once again and she looks around me just for a moment to shoot him a glare, then starts talking again. “So, I got a new ph…” This time, I cut her off with a tight hug and tell her I have to go. I can just picture Connor’s angered expression and hurt eyes behind me if I didn’t walk with him. After a moment, I let her go. I turn away quick, to miss her expression and follow Connor and the cough-whore-cough to our first class.