New Kid
Chapter Four
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Sonnyboy?”
“I’m going to a movie.”
“Yeah? I don’t remember you asking me.”
“…You weren’t home.” He paused. Shit. “It’s just some of the guys from the soccer team. It’s no big deal.” He started out the door but Jack caught his arm, spinning him around.
“I didn’t say you could go anywhere. Now you get your bony ass back downstairs and clean the basement like I told you to.”
“I said I’d do it tomorrow.”
“You’ll do it when I fucking tell you.”
Brian had tried to face down his father before, but he’d never really been able to. Jack was bigger and taller and stronger—and scarier. Looking at the man, smelling the whiskey on his breath, he knew that this was some kind of a breaking point.
He’d had enough and he wanted to go out.
“I’ll clean the basement tomorrow.”
More quickly than Brian could react, Jack’s fist caught him just off side of his mouth. He could feel his lips mash against his teeth and tasted the blood but didn’t fight back. He just stood there, waiting to see what his father would do next.
He, too, seemed to be waiting for Brian to go to his room or to the cellar or to maybe simply cry, but they just stood looking and sizing each other up.
After several long moments Brian simply turned and walked out the front door to the car waiting for him at the curb. With nay luck, Jack would be passed out when he got back and with even more luck, he’d forget by morning.
He opened the passenger door, sliding into the leather seat. He was facing the house while he tried to wipe the blood he could feel on his mouth, hoping that Keith wouldn’t notice—he did.
His hand gently on Brian’s chin, he pulled him around so he could see. “Christ…Bri.” It was softly spoken; almost a sigh and it broke Brian’s heart.
“I’m sorry. You don’t need this shit, Keith. I’ll see you at practice on Monday…it’s OK.” He started to get out but the other boy stopped him.
“Why did he do it this time?”
A shrug.
Keith took charge. “OK, we’re going to my house and get you cleaned up, then we’re going out to get some dinner and then we’re going to the fucking movie like we planned.” He started the car. Keith just sat. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t badly hurt, and he’d been hurt enough to know and this was nothing. He wasn’t really hungry, though.
“Is this because you’re going out with me?”
“…No. He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m just going out with some teammates.”
They drove the two miles in silence, the houses becoming larger, the lawn bigger and better tended than the neighborhood where Brian lived. The stopped in front of a modern wood and glass home, professionally lit and obviously expensive. Brian tried not to stare.
They walked in the front door, a woman, presumably Keith’s mother calling, “Honey, is that you? I thought you were seeing a movie.”
“I forgot something.” He led Brian to the stairs. “C’mon, we’ll see how bad it is.”
Keith’s room was about the size of a three car garage and was loaded with the newest and best of everything that Brian couldn’t afford—clothes, a stereo, TV, Video equipment and cases lined with books. The ceiling had to be twelve feet high.
Keith ignored it, Brian tried for nonchalance.
“The bathroom’s over here.” It was twice the size of the one at home. “Why don’t you sit here.” He pointed to the sink counter while he opened a drawer for first aid supplies. He took some cotton, some alcohol and started to carefully wipe at Brian’s split lip, pausing when he heard the hiss of pain.
“Sorry.”
“…It’s OK. I’m sorry that …”
“Sorry’s bullshit. You didn’t do this. Your asshole father did. Hold still—this might sting.” He smoothed some antibiotic cream on the still oozing cut. “It looks like your teeth split your lip. He must have hit you pretty hard.”
“It’s fine. It’ll be alright.”
Keith was finished. He put the medicine and all the rest away but stopped Brian when he was about to slide off the counter, his hands resting lightly on the younger boy’s knees.
Brian watched Keith slide one hand up to his cheek and thought that with his split lip and his still somewhat blacked eye, he must really look like shit. To his surprise, Keith leaned in and gently kissed the uninjured side of his mouth.
“I told you, I’m going to take care of you.”
Suddenly Brian became truly angry. “What the fuck is this about? You looking for some dumbass freshman you can fool around with? You need to be a big brother? What is it? You want to show your friends that you get anybody you want?”
Keith recoiled. “Jesus, Bri—you don’t really think that shit, do you?”
Brian stood up, they were he same height. “…Well the fuck else would you…?”
“I like you, that’s all. I want to be friends.” He saw the disbelief in the youngsters face. “Honest to shit, that’s all.” He took a step back so he wouldn’t threaten the other, his voice lowered. “Look, I know you’re gay—so am I. I know how tough it can be.” He stopped for a second. “And besides—I like you.”
“Bullshit. You could have anyone you want. You don’t need to go after me.”
“Yeah, but I want to.” He moved closer to Brian again. “Don’t you get it? I like you, Bri. I like you. I want to—you know.”
“Fuck me?”
“Eventually, sure. When you’re ready and you want to.”
Brian shook his head. He’d known it. It wasn’t different, it was the same it had always been, Keith was like the others, like the priest at St. Catherine’s and the gym teacher and all the rest. He just wanted a piece of boy ass.
Fuck.
“My mouth hurts. Would you mind taking me home?”
His walls, the ones he had learned would protect him years ago were back in place and this time they wouldn’t come down. It was his own fault. If he’d used half his brain he’d have known that someone like Keith wouldn’t want him for more than entertainment.
He could even have been part of a bet or something. It was probably why he’d been accepted on to the fucking team in the first place. Shit, everyone knew freshman didn’t make Varsity.
Keith must have said something to Wilkins, asked him to give Brian a break or something because he wanted a ready source for blowjobs.
Of course.
He should have known that.
He did know that, he just forgot when Keith started talking to him and helping him and singling him out.
Shit. He should have known.
“Bri? It’s not like that, honest to shit. Look—“ He took Brian’s hand and moved him over to sit in an overstuffed chair with an ottoman that was set up for comfortable reading. “I’m not going to lie to you, OK? No matter what else you think, don’t think that I’ll ever lie to you because I won’t.” He smiled a little bit. “I may piss the Hell out of you, but I won’t lie to you. Ask anyone. I always tell the truth.”
He knelt in front of the younger boy, Brian’s eyes on the rug. “I’m no virgin and I like sex as much as anyone—Hell, maybe more—but I want to try to get to know you. I think we have a lot in common and I think we could be good together.”
The voice in answer was low. “You want us to be boyfriends or some shit like that?”
“…Well, I’d like to try. Honest to crap, Bri—that’s what tonight was about. I thought we could get something to eat and see a movie and all that shit. You know, we could talk, get to know each other a little without being surrounded by fifty sweaty jocks.”
He could see the thoughts turning through Brian’s head as he came to a decision.
“I can give you some Tylenol for your mouth if it hurts.” He put his hand on Brian’s knee, barely touching him. “Will you have dinner with me?”
Brian nodded then leaned forward and kissed Keith on the cheek. “I’d like that.”
They went down to the car and drove to a diner out of town so no one would know them. They talked about themselves, Keith appalled at the reality of Brian’s family and Brian amazed that he had talked about things he swore he’d never tell anyone. When Keith spoke about his own family he didn’t try to hide the fact that they were close, that they openly adored one another—he insisted that they weren’t the fucking Walton’s or anything, they simply liked one another and enjoyed each other’s company.
He also added that he didn’t tell them everything and they didn’t know that he was gay.
At least he had never told them and they had never brought the subject up if they suspected.
Their burgers finished, they decided to go to the movie as originally planned. Alien was playing and Brian didn’t want to tell Keith he’d already seen the thing twice over the summer. They went to a big old movie house, one of those old converted legitimate theatres that were huge and dark and great.
Keith led the way up to the balcony, which was almost empty and they found front row seats. The lights went down and Brian was conscious of their shoulders pressed against each other. He could feel the body heat and the play of muscles and he was afraid that he’d cum right in his pants.
Jesus.
He’d never been on a date before but he was pretty sure that would be gross.
Just as the previews were ending and the opening shots were coming on, he felt Keith’s hand reach over to hold his and he was suddenly terrified that his palm might be sweaty or something but he mentally took a deep breath and rubbed his fingers against the other boy’s and breathed a mental sigh of relief when Keith squeezed back.
After twenty minutes of handholding, Keith just whispered, “Bri?”
He turned his head to see what he wanted. “Yeah?”
And they kissed, gently and long, over and over again. They kissed through most of the movie and Brian’s mouth hardly hurt at all. He was hoping that Keith would reach over and touch him, but when he started to move their hands to his crotch, Keith broke his mouth away and said, “Not tonight. Maybe next week.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you to know that I’m not just trying to get in your pants. I said when you’re ready.”
“Jesus, I’m so fucking hard that…”
“Yeah, I am, too. Next week.”
“What about tomorrow?”
Keith started laughing. “You sure you’re just a freshman? Kids these days.”
“Fuck you.”
“I said next week, twat.”
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