Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte and Ella picked Brandon up early Saturday morning. After watching the Blake segment, Alex and Brandon had hung out with Tony and the others for a bit. Then Gavin had come home early from the party. So Brandon hadn’t gotten to finish what he’d started with Alex. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not.
Brandon stared out the window as Charlotte drove. Listened to his sisters’ conversation without taking in any of it.
He began going through his memories. His good memories.
Having an eidetic memory didn’t work the way most people thought it did. He didn’t have photographic recall. And it wasn’t like he could remember everything that had ever happened to him. All it meant was that for a few minutes after he honed in on a certain sight or smell or sound—or touch—he could recall it much more vividly than most people would be able to. And when he accessed a sensory memory later on, it felt like a flashback. He was there again. But it didn’t work for long stretches of memory. Just little bursts here and there.
What he wanted to do was learn to control what he remembered. So he picked some memories of Alex. The first time they’d kissed—okay, not the first time when Brandon had puked, but the first time they’d both been into it. The way the Sinosauropteryx had dug into his palm while he’d tried to work up the nerve to give it to Alex. The way Alex had smelled and tasted like Count Chocula that one night. The way it felt to hold his hand, or hug him.
The taste of his dick, in that fleeting moment Brandon had had his tongue on it.
Fuck all the old memories of Mr. Fenimore and Scooby Doo underwear and his dad’s drunken sobs. He was clearing all that out and making room for the new stuff. The past only mattered if Brandon let it matter. And he was through doing that.
He smiled grimly out the window.
Brave words. He hoped he could hold on to them the next time his memories threatened to overwhelm him.
“Brandon?” Ella was frowning back at him. “Are you okay?”
He started. “Yeah.”
“You look kind of…” She made a gesture he didn’t understand. “Peaky.”
“I’m okay.”
For the rest of the ride he played games on his phone, and almost laughed when Alex sent him a selfie where he was making his Sinosauropteryx fight with the xylophone octopus. He wished he was at Prescott with Alex instead of doing this.
But he needed to do this.
When they got home, their mom was setting the table for lunch.
“How was the traffic?” she called, taking a basket of bread rolls from the kitchen into the dining room.
“It was fine, Mom,” Charlotte said, with an exasperated sigh. Their mom asked that every time. “Where’s Dad?”
“In the backyard. He’s trimming the hedge. Why don’t you go and say hello and tell him lunch is ready?”
“It’s not even eleven!”
“And I know you’re all hungry from the drive. Go on!”
Brandon followed Charlotte and Ella through the house and into the backyard. His palms were sweaty, and his stomach was in knots. If this went badly, what would he do? Call Mark, probably, and ask if Deacon could come and pick him up. Mark had a car, but nobody trusted him to remember to drive it on the right side of the road, so it mainly sat on campus and collected parking tickets.
Brandon hung back as his sisters got kisses and hugs.
“And how are you, Brandon?” His dad held his hand out.
Brandon shook it quickly. “I’m okay.” He waited until his sisters had gone inside again. “I, um, I need to talk to you about something though.”
“Okay.” His dad looked curious, then wary. “Can it wait until I wash up?”
Brandon nodded. He followed his dad around to the side of the house, to where the garden hose was hanging on a reel. His dad washed his hands then straightened.
“So…”
Brandon drew a deep breath and tried not to pass out. He was doing this for his future, and for Alex, and so he didn’t have to be afraid of being found out. “First of all, I’m really sorry.”
His dad frowned. “Sorry for what?”
“For messing everything up.” Brandon shoved his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out again. Tried not to shuffle his feet. “I know I didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”
His dad splayed his hand against the side of the house. He seemed paler all of a sudden. “What?”
“I’m gay.” There. He’d said it, and as far as he could tell the world was still spinning. “I, um, I have a boyfriend. His name is Alex. He’s really smart.”
“Brandon.” His dad threw him a helpless look. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry.” He stared at his feet.
“Stop saying that!” his dad said sharply, and Brandon looked up. “Are you happy? Does he make you happy?”
Brandon thought of dinosaurs and Count Chocula and Alex’s smile. “Yes.”
“I only ever wanted you to be happy.”
Brandon felt a rush of anger. “No! You wanted me to be like you! You wanted me to be the big man on campus, and not be this, but I’m ruined, remember?”
His dad flinched. “What?”
Suddenly Brandon was there again. Hugging the wall at the top of the stairs, listening to his mother make those short, sharp sounds, while his dad moaned and wailed.
“Ruined!” Brandon said. His voice caught. “He ruined my son! Ruined my boy!”
“You remember that?” His dad’s chin trembled.
“I remember everything!”
“Oh, Jesus. Brandon.” His dad reached out as though to touch him and then pulled back. “I was drunk. I was having a fucking pity party. You weren’t supposed to hear that!”
“But it’s true.”
“No. It’s not.” His dad stepped toward him. “God, I…I didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? You were such a great kid, Bran.”
Were.
“Right.” His voice cracked.
“No, I’m saying it all wrong. You were outgoing, I mean, and confident, and popular, and so funny. You could make a room full of adults laugh; you remember that?” His dad shook his head. “And that, that bastard ripped it all away.”
And ruined me.
His dad ran a hand through his hair. “I thought that maybe you could be that kid again. Thought if you had some friends, joined a fraternity… I only wanted you to be happy.”
But I wasn’t.
Brandon stared at the toes of his shoes for a moment, then looked up again and met his dad’s gaze. “I changed.”
“I know.” His dad’s eyes shone with tears. “I didn’t know how to deal with what happened to you. I still don’t. You’re my son, Bran, and I didn’t protect you from him, and I am so, so sorry for that.” Brandon didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak anyway. “I want you to be happy. That’s all. Please believe me.”
Brandon nodded, shortly, sharply, because he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Can I hug you?” His dad stepped forward quickly. Didn’t wait for an answer, just wrapped his arms around Brandon.
He froze.
This is Dad. This is Dad. This is Dad.
A part of him was almost angry. What? He thought words could fix this? Fix me? But God, he wished they had. Wished that somewhere in his dad’s apology, somewhere in that messy confession of their shared pain, the switch had been flipped and the slate of his past wiped clean. That he could deal with his dad’s hug, with his touch, with the emotional fallout of this moment he’d wanted for years.
Except for the other part of him. The part that was twelve years old, and screaming at him in rising panic: there is a man touching you!
“Don’t.” He pulled free. “Sorry.”
He couldn’t look his dad in the eye. “It’s okay. I should have…shouldn’t have surprised you.”
“Sorry.” Here he was, still defective. Still ruined.
“Brandon?”
He looked up, his throat tight and his heart pounding.
“I love you.” The words sounded stiffly formal, rarely used. “I’m glad you came to talk to me today.”
There was a question behind his dad’s eyes though. One Brandon thought he recognized. He’d thought it himself often enough. How can you be gay—how can you be anything—if you can’t touch another person? But Brandon was working on that with everything he had in him.
“That’s okay.” He swallowed around the ache in his throat. “Um, Alex said I should tell you how much I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, Brandon.” His dad’s voice was hoarse.
Brandon didn’t know if this was a breakthrough or a disaster. He didn’t know if it was the start of something new or just a continuation of the distance that had been between them for years now.
What? You thought words could fix this?
His dad held out his hand.
They shook on it, like strangers.
* * * *
On Sunday afternoon, Alex went with Blake and Scoops for pizza.
“You guys,” Blake said in a conspiratorial tone over his Barbecue Meatlovers, “there’s something weird going on. On Friday, at practice, one of the guys tried to give me his brother’s phone number.”
Scoops almost choked on his soda.
Alex looked up guiltily from his phone. He’d been looking through the pictures Brandon had sent him from his parents’ renewal of vows. Brandon looked hot in a suit. Like really unbelievably hot.
“Did he say why?” Scoops asked.
“I think…” Blake looked around the pizza parlor carefully as though he was checking for spies. “Little dudes, I think he thinks I’m gay.” He nodded at Scoops. “Or bi.”
“You’re cute when you’re being inclusive.” Scoops offered Blake the end of his garlic bread.
“And there’s been rainbow flags like everywhere,” Blake said. “First I thought I was just noticing them because I was becoming more aware of gay issues, like in myself, you know, but I’m pretty sure nobody in the crowd at football games used to wave them.”
Alex and Scoops exchanged a glance. Scoops nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Um, Blake?” Alex asked. Blake looked at him, pizza grease shining at the corner of his mouth. “Have you been reading The Prescottonian at all?”
“Or watching the news?” Scoops added.
“No, dude. News is not my jam.”
“People think you’re gay,” Alex said, trying not to wince as he said it.
A clump of sausage fell off Blake’s pizza. “Who?”
“Everyone,” Scoops said helpfully.
“I think Gretel kind of misinterpreted why you joined the GSA.” Alex’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it. “And then some of the stuff you said didn’t exactly contradict what she thought.”
Blake’s brow furrowed. “What’d I say?”
“I wish we could do a flashback montage,” Scoops whispered.
Alex elbowed him. “Basically, it’s just a campus-wide—and okay, now pretty much nationwide—misunderstanding. Where everyone thinks you’re one of the very few openly gay athletes in football.”
“People think I’m gay?” Blake laughed and looked down at himself. “But look at me. I’m—”
“Ooh, think before you say whatever you’re going to say,” Scoops warned.
“You know how Gay Sean’s bigger than Straight Sean?” Alex spoke gently. “And has a deeper voice?”
“I get it. You’re saying gay guys are all different sizes and looks.”
“Exactly.”
“But I just figured people would… I mean, Chelsea comes to all my games. They put the camera on her sometimes because she’s hot. She came to see me in the drag show.”
“Yeah, but…she came to see you in the drag show,” Scoops said.
Silence while Blake mulled this over.
“Sorry we didn’t tell you.” Alex watched Blake pick stray pieces of barbecue chicken off his plate and put them back on his slice.
“You knew?”
“Uh, we kinda figured it out a while back.”
Blake took a bite of pizza. Chewed contemplatively. Swallowed. “So when that one guy asked if I like it in the end zone at the game the other day…?”
Alex and Scoops exchanged glances again.
“If it makes you feel better,” Scoops said, “a lot of people think you’re a hero.”
Blake didn’t say anything for a while. Alex didn’t know why he felt nervous. Blake would react however he reacted. If he got squicked by the idea that people thought he was gay, then Alex would be disappointed, but it wasn’t really any of his business.
But he’d spent so much of his life cringing at “gay stuff.” Feeling like every stereotype he saw on TV, every gay joke someone made was an indicator of how the world perceived him. He’d never been ashamed, exactly. Just that stuff got into your subconscious, no matter how hard you tried to keep it out. Gave you a complex no rainbow flag or pride parade could fix.
He didn’t want to see Blake, someone he’d come to genuinely like, act as if it was the kiss of death to have people think he was gay.
Blake put down his pizza and took a swig of soda. Smacked his lips, then smiled. “A hero. I like that.”
“So you’re okay with it?” Scoops asked.
Blake leaned back. “Little dudes, I don’t care if people think I’m gay. A lot of people think I’m stupid too, and it’s kind of true, but I know a lot about geography. And me and my man Scoops here might make it to regionals.” He high-fived Scoops. “But, like, maybe I shouldn’t tell people I’m straight now. You think they’ll be pissed?”
“I think as long as you’re honest, people will be okay,” Alex said. “I mean, even if you’re not gay, you’ve got to be, like, the first college football player to dance to Blondie in a drag show. The world doesn’t just need more openly gay athletes. It needs more people who don’t give a shit if other people are gay, straight, bi, trans—”
“Intersex,” Blake put in.
“Two-Spirit,” Scoops said.
“Queer,” Alex said.
Blake grinned. “Questioning.”
“Asexual.”
“Pansexual.”
“Demisexual.”
“Ally.”
“I think I’m gonna have to change my speech a little.” Blake wiped his hands on a wadded napkin. “For Breaking Out. But don’t you guys worry. It’s gonna be good.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Alex really didn’t.
Scoops sang a few lines of the song “Brave.”
Alex’s phone buzzed. Incoming call from Brandon. He had already made the suit picture Brandon’s new photo ID. “Sorry,” he said, standing. “I have to take this.”
He went outside.
* * * *
Talking to Alex over the phone had been weird and awkward. Brandon had been worried that awkwardness would still be hanging over him when they saw each other in person again, and was kind of amazed that, of everything he was feeling—this maelstrom of competing emotions—it was happiness that was the strongest.
“Sorry,” he said as soon as Alex entered the microfiche room of the library. He was seated in a blue plastic chair in front of one of the readers, attempting to act relaxed. “I couldn’t think of anyplace private to meet. Gavin’s in, and there’s a group chalking by the Wolford Prescott statue. Then I remembered hearing nobody ever comes in here.”
Well, at least two people had come in here. He glanced around, trying not to wonder where exactly Mark and Deacon had fucked.
“It’s cool,” Alex said. “We had a microfilm reader at my high school. I used to stay after school and help Mrs. Seymour archive her family history.” He stepped forward, like he was maybe going to hug Brandon. Stopped. Brandon stood, cupped Alex’s face, and kissed him.
“I missed you.” Alex’s voice was soft.
“You too.”
“I’m glad things went okay with your dad.”
Brandon had told him earlier how it had gone. And told him he wanted to talk to him privately, face-to-face, once he was back on campus. He knew Alex had been worried then, and he could tell Alex was worried now. Brandon’s heart was wild, but his mind felt oddly calm. He could do this.
“Um…” he started, at the same time Alex said, “So what did you want to talk to me about?” They laughed awkwardly. Brandon sat again, and Alex took a seat across from him.
“I wanted to tell you something,” Brandon said. “Something about me. And I didn’t want it to be like a Lifetime movie thing where my secret eats me up inside, and then you finally shake me and demand to know what’s wrong, and then I break down and sob out the whole story.”
Alex looked horrified. Shit. Brandon had been trying to keep things light.
“Are you dying?” Alex clapped a hand over his mouth. “Omigod. Sorry. I’m gonna let you talk.” He sat on his hands.
“It’s nothing like that,” Brandon said quickly. “It’s not even that big a deal anymore.” Except it is. “It just kind of helps explain why I act so weird sometimes.” He froze. Too late to turn back now. But he couldn’t get the words out.
Slowly, Alex held out his hand, palm up. Brandon stared at it for a moment, then put his hand in Alex’s. Felt the warmth of it. The slight dampness.
“When I was twelve, I had a teacher, Mr. Fenimore.” He kept his gaze on their locked hands. “He used to make me—”How can you say “make?” Was there a knife to your throat? Were you fighting back? The thought was a savage flash. There and then gone. “He used to have me do stuff with him. Um…” Brandon’s throat clamped tight. He forced himself to take a breath. “He used to touch me, and—and say stuff to me. He’d have me stay after class, and he’d lock the door, and…”
Scooby Doo underwear. A hand sliding up a hairless thigh.
That was then. And now was Alex’s hand laced with his. Alex listening.
“I told my dad finally.” Finally. After you let it go on for weeks, you little pervert. “He didn’t—didn’t say anything much at first. Then I heard him one night, and he said it had ruined me. We used to do lots of guy stuff together, and then we stopped. That was hard.” He heard his voice break and reminded himself he wasn’t going to cry. No Lifetime movie. Just being honest with Alex. “My family sent me to counseling, but, um—and I go to Prescott Cares now—but sometimes I can’t…with my memory…”
Alex was squeezing his hand so hard now it hurt. Brandon finally chanced a glance at him. His jaw was trembling.
“I…” Alex said, and for a second Brandon was terrified he was going to say he couldn’t deal with what Brandon had said, that he was bailing. “I can’t understand why anyone would do that. To you or anyone.” His voice was low, harsh, shaking. “That’s so—wrong, it’s so fucked up, and it’s all him, not you. Don’t you ever feel ashamed about it, Brandon. I hope you don’t. God, I hope you don’t. It’s not your fault, and I’m so fucking glad you told me, and the world is so—bad sometimes. I don’t know what to do.” He swiped at his eyes with his other hand. “Sorry. I don’t—maybe I’m not saying this right. But you mean so much to me, and I want you to be okay. That’s all. I want you to be okay.”
“I am.” Brandon’s vision blurred. So much for not crying. But he had it under control a moment later, and he squeezed Alex as hard as Alex was squeezing him. “You make it…a lot easier to be okay.”
Alex released his hand only to throw his arms around him.
“You are the best thing in my life right now.” Alex’s breath was warm against Brandon’s neck. “I’m so sorry that someone hurt you.”
Brandon blinked away those tears that just wouldn’t die. He could feel Alex shaking. “Hey.” He tilted Alex’s head back. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry!” Alex scrubbed at his face. “Omigod. I can’t stop!”
Brandon gave a shaky laugh, pretty sure he was going to start bawling too, and swiped his thumb under Alex’s eye. Caught a tear and brushed it away. “You’re the best thing in my life too. And, if I never said it before, you’re really hot.”
Alex made a squeaking sound.
He was also unbearably cute.
Brandon leaned in and kissed him. Their faces were wet with tears, but he didn’t care.
“If I…” he murmured against Alex’s lips. “If I like start repeating your name or something, it’s to remind myself I’m here with you, not in a flashback.”
Alex curled his fingers around the back of Brandon’s neck. “If I start repeating yours, it’s to remind myself I’m not dreaming. That you’re real.” He pulled back slightly, looking panicked. “Was that too weird? I haven’t had much practice with saying romantic stuff.”
“I liked it.” Brandon kissed him again. “I like you.”
“Good. I like you too.”
Brandon’s phone began to buzz. “Sorry.” He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “It’s from Mark.”
They both squinted at the screen.
I am drukn. hurt myanke. EMERGENT!!! Bring beer. FML.
“What does that mean?” Alex asked.
“I have no idea.” Brandon sighed. “But I’d better go check.”
* * * *
“Are we supposed to be in here?” Alex asked as he followed Brandon inside the Alpha Delta house. It was late. The TV was blaring from the common room, and, outside, someone was splashing around in the pool and yelling. It didn’t seem like the sort of place where anyone would get any studying done at all.
He stared at the bras tacked to the wall in the foyer.
For the first time in a long time he was actually glad to be a nerd.
“It’s okay,” Brandon said. “Mark invited us.”
Alex followed him nervously up the stairs. On the second-floor landing, a massive shape loomed out at them. “Little dude! And little dude! What are you little dudes doing here?”
“Hi, Blake. We’re visiting Mark,” Brandon said.
Blake gave Brandon a long, meaningful, and totally unsubtle gaze. “Okay. And then we should talk, you know, about that thing.”
“What thing?”
Blake made a whistling noise. “The thing, little dude. The thing. In the bathroom that time. That thing we talked about. That thing.”
Alex felt a jolt of panicked confusion. Had something happened between Brandon and Blake in a bathroom? And then it clicked.
“So who is the little dude you told Gretel you have to talk to?” Alex had asked weeks ago.
“A friend,” Blake had said. “I can’t say who.”
“Oh!” Brandon glanced at Alex. “I, um, I kind of figured the thing out for myself, Blake.” He took Alex’s hand.
“Fuck me!” Blake gaped. “Whoa, that’s just an expression, little dudes. So you guys are, like, together?”
“Um.” Alex held Brandon’s hand tighter. “Yeah.”
“That is awesome!” Blake crushed them in a hug. “Bran, little dude, you can borrow my GSA notes if you want. Some of the stuff is spelled wrong, but I made sure I wrote everything down for you.”
“That’s why you joined the GSA?” Brandon asked from somewhere under his armpit. “That’s um, wow!”
“Dude, I am the best fucking ally in the world!”
“That’s why I’m here. I’ll have to talk to my man. Sorry, that’s just what I call him; I can’t give you his name or anything. He’s still working some stuff out, but I think he’ll be cool with this.”
Gratitude welled up in Alex. He squeezed Blake back as hard as he could, although he was pretty sure Blake could have flicked him off like an insect if he’d wanted.
“Aw, you guys.” Blake released them. “Much as I love a little quality bro time, I gotta go meet Chelsea. She wants me to take my Blondie dress. Is that weird?”
“Um…” said Alex.
“I mean, I don’t mind.” Blake shrugged. “Whatever gets my girl’s engine running, you know?”
Alex had no idea about girls or engines, but he smiled and nodded anyway.
“Have a good night, little dudes!” Blake headed down the stairs, whistling.
“Omigod,” Alex whispered. “I think I love him.”
Brandon squeezed his hand, drawing him farther up the stairs. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“No!” Alex protested, and then reconsidered. “Why? Would it work?”
“Probably.”
Interesting.
Mark’s room was on the third floor. Brandon knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer. Mark was lying on his unmade bed, like a rat in a nest of blankets and pillows. He was wearing boxer shorts with kangaroos on them, and mismatched socks. And, for some reason, a fuzzy hat with pointed ears.
“Brandon!” He struggled to sit up. “Did you bring more beer?”
“Nope.” Brandon sat on the end of his bed while Alex lingered by the door. “You’re already drunk enough.”
“I am fairly shiny,” Mark said. “Fuck my life.”
“Why?”
“I fell off Wolford Prescott’s horse and hurt my ankle.”
“Okay.” Brandon drew Mark’s foot into his lap. “Yeah. That’s swollen, all right. Did you sprain it again, or just roll it?”
“I have no idea. It stopped hurting after beer.”
Alex sneaked a look around Mark’s room. The rooms at Alpha Delt were much nicer than the ones at Phi Sig. They were a little smaller, but Mark didn’t have to share with anyone. Which probably explained why the place was such a mess.
“Why were you on Wolford Prescott’s horse?”
“Deke’s at his stupid infra-intra-in-what-the-hell-ever-fraternity stupid council stupid thing, and you were meeting up with your hipstalker, so I figured I’d get a few beers and spend some time with the one guy at Prescott who can’t fuck off and leave me.” He collapsed back onto his mattress. “And his horse.”
Hipstalker?
“Oh, I get it.” Brandon jabbed Mark in the chest. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself because you’re not the center of attention every minute of every day, despite whatever insane shit you do.”
Mark actually looked miserable. “This is Deke’s last year here. What am I gonna do when he’s gone?”
“You idiot.” Brandon’s voice was warm with affection. “You’ll figure something out. Deacon is crazy about you.”
“I’m crazy about him too.”
“No.” Brandon patted his knee. “You’re just crazy.”
Mark was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. “It’s not just that though. I mean, I feel like I was just figuring shit out here, and then this happens.” He thrust his phone at Brandon.
Brandon frowned at the screen. “Um…what is it I’m looking at?”
“That,” Mark said, rolling his eyes, “is a picture of the inside of my mum. And that little bean-shaped thing in the middle is a fucking trespasser.”
“Whoa. Okay.” Brandon turned the phone sideways and studied it again. “To be fair, I think you vacated those premises a long time ago.”
Alex shuffled around the wall, and perched on the edge of Mark’s desk. It seemed mostly free of any actual schoolwork, but there were a lot of drawings of sharks with legs, and bald eagles being skewered by spear-wielding koalas, and lots of dinosaurs with rampant erections. Alex’s childhood died in that moment, just a little bit.
“Bran, I can’t have a little brother or sister with an American accent. That would be ridiculous.”
“Well, you’d better spend a lot of time with it,” Brandon said. “Make sure it says arse instead of ass. Show it what a footpath is. Teach it to look the wrong way before crossing the street.”
“Mmm.” Mark rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m being a dick about this. About everything. I mean, I’ve pretty much been an arsehole to your hipstalker since day one.”
“My name is Alex,” Alex said. “Hi.”
“See? He’s so fucking adorable! What’s wrong with me?”
Brandon smiled at Alex. “He is adorable.”
“Shut up,” Alex muttered, his face burning.
“Next year when Deke’s gone, will you guys hang out with me?”
“Of course,” Brandon said. “Idiot.”
“Love you, Bran.” They fist-bumped. Mark sat up again, looking more alert this time. “So, now that I’m finished being a dick—”
“For five minutes.”
“Maybe even as many as six. Anyway, how was your weekend?”
Brandon shrugged. “Came out to my dad. Told Alex about what happened when I was a kid. Found out Blake joined the GSA because of me. You know, the usual stuff.” Brandon held his hand out to Alex.
Alex moved and sat on the end of Mark’s bed. Curled his fingers through Brandon’s. “You looked hot in a suit.”
“How’d your dad take it?” Mark asked. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “The coming out thing, not the suit thing. Although I would like to return to that.”
“It was good, actually. Weirdly good.”
“I’m weirdly glad. So now you guys can get back to fucking like bunnies, and not worry about anyone finding out.”
Alex’s face got even hotter.
Brandon turned red.
“Ah,” Mark said. “I see. Awkward silence.”
“You don’t say ‘awkward silence,’” Alex said. “You just let it happen.”
“I said ‘awkward silence’ to fill the awkward silence. It’s meta.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“Brandon, tell your hipstalker not to argue with me.”
“It’s really not worth it,” Brandon said.
“It’s not,” Mark agreed. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Do you guys need like…advice or something?”
“Oh, God, no!” Brandon said, at exactly the same time Alex said, “Okay.”
“Awkward silence.” Mark wrinkled his nose and scratched his belly. “But seriously, I care about you. Well, I care about one of you. I don’t really know the other one of you, but you do seem like somebody I could potentially give a rat’s arse about.”
“Oh,” said Alex. “Thanks. I think.”
“No problem. So have you guys figured out who’s gonna bottom?”
“We haven’t actually discussed—”
“Me.” Alex squeezed Brandon’s hand. “I’m going to bottom.”
Brandon gaped at him.
“If you want,” Alex said, his heart in his throat.
“Y-yeah,” Brandon croaked.
“Good for you, Alex,” Mark said. “Bottoming is made of win. I’ve only got one word for you. Lube. As much lube as you think you could possibly need, and then more. Oh, and put a towel down. That shit gets messy.”
“Um, does it hurt?” Alex asked.
“Nah. Not if you take it slow, and use lots of…lots of…?” Mark prompted.
“Lube?”
“Bran said you were smart.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Brandon muttered.
“You okay, Bran?” Mark grinned.
Alex grinned too. ”Yeah. Bran, you okay?”
“I’m ignoring both of you.”
“Okay.” Mark leaned back and lifted his foot. “Now, I need you guys to help me strap my ankle, and then you can go off and have wild, crazy, first-time monkey sex. Or, you know, snuggle like fuzzy kittens. No pressure.”
Brandon slid off the bed and knelt on the floor to inspect Mark’s ankle.
“Crazy first-time monkey sex,” Mark whispered loudly at Alex, and gave him two thumbs up.
Alex bit his lip, snorted, and couldn’t bring himself to look at Brandon.
Yeah, he definitely wanted to try that.