It felt really weird walking around in a pair of Speedos but, laundry-wise, I really was down to them and nothing else. I’d sure be glad when I got some more of my clothes from the White House residence up above. As Dad suggested, Sis and I were both gonna go for a swim — I was already dressed for the part, after all — but when we got back to our residential quarters in the underground White House, Sis realized she didn’t have any swimwear at all. Whereas I might be able to get by wearing a pair of my briefs, she certainly couldn’t, so she decided to continue with a book she’d been reading and I headed off to the Recreation Center.
The hard linoleum floor felt cold under my feet and the air was a bit on the chilly side against my bare chest, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I’d spent a fair bit of the past few days in the Rec. Center playing a variety of sports with some of the other kids and I didn’t have any shirts left that didn’t smell like a locker room. Going shirtless was better than smelling rank.
It was pretty amazing that the Rec. Center had an Olympic-sized swimming pool but I guess, when they built the Underground White House, they planned for folks having to live down there for months or even years in the event of a nuclear attack. I certainly hoped we wouldn’t be down here more than another day or two. The facilities were nice, but I really wanted to get back to school. I liked school and I even missed my friends, such as they were.
There were a bunch of people hanging around the pool and a few were in the water but I paid them no heed. Hearing Dad talk about his and Pop’s time in Guatemala had taken a lot out of me and I just needed to unwind. Accelerating to a run, I leapt into the air and sailed over the water, diving headfirst into the shallow end. Yeah, I was breaking a lot of safety rules and Dad would have given me hell had he been there, but I sometimes just liked to live on the edge, you know? My body sliced right through the water and when I surfaced, I took off swimming at a brisk pace.
I wasn’t near the swimmer that Dad was, but I was good enough to be on the swim team at school and usually managed to place in the meets. I’d yet to make it to the District Championship the way Dad did all through high school and I had no illusions about getting an athletic scholarship or making it to the Olympics. Still, I really enjoyed swimming and the camaraderie that goes with being involved in team sports. I also liked the scenery too, although the locker room was sheer torture. Everyone knew I was gay, but I sure didn’t want to advertise that fact by boning up. I’ve pretty much memorized the periodic table of the elements as a way of keeping my mind off my surroundings.
Although I lacked Dad’s speed in the water, I shared his stamina and so I kinda lost track of time in the water as I swam lap after lap after lap. Finally, when I began to tire, I pulled myself out of the water and looked around to see if anyone else I knew was there with whom I might like to hang out. Actually, I recognized a lot of the older kids, but my eyes were drawn to a boy I’d never seen before, who looked to be about my age. He seemed to be staring at me.
I guess he suddenly realized I’d caught him staring, ’cause he blushed and looked away. I figured he might just be embarrassed, and was staring at me ’cause I was President Reynolds’ son, but I kinda hoped he might be gay. Man, was he cute! He had long, dark brown hair that was almost black and reached halfway down his shoulder blades at the back and a couple of inches above his nipples in front. He had a long, oval face with the sexiest green eyes I’d ever seen and he wore these large round glasses that accentuated his face perfectly. He was lightly muscled as I was — he obviously exercised at least some, but wasn’t a body builder by any means. He was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen — he was stunning.
There was a certain vulnerability in the look on his face that made my heart melt. It was more than shyness, however. He seemed uncertain and tentative, and was doing his best to avoid looking like he was looking at me when, in reality, he kept sneaking glances at me as I approached.
“Hey,” I said as I sat down on the lounger that was next to his.
“Hey,” he said in return. “You’re an incredible swimmer,” he added with a weak smile as he sat up to face me.
“I do OK,” I responded, “but I’m nothing like my dad. He was state champion, four years in a row, and he went on to the Olympics.”
“Man, that’s sooo cool,” the boy answered. “I like to swim, but don’t get much of a chance — I only get to swim at school, and I’m on the team, but we don’t have a pool and there isn’t one nearby. My dads aren’t at all interested in sports. They’re like, musicians, and they’re really good, but it’s just not my thing.”
“You have two dads?” I asked with a grin.
“Oops, I usually don’t let that slip until I get to know someone, but yeah. That a problem for you?” he replied a bit defensively.
“Hardly,” I said with a laugh. “I have two dads too,” but then it all came crashing down on me and I felt my mood darken as I added, “or I did. I just lost my pop.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” the boy replied with a genuine look of concern on his face. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. I love both my dads. They’re my rock.”
“Man, I know what you mean,” I said as tears started to come to my eyes.
Before I knew what was happening, I had arms around me, rubbing my back as he pulled me into a tight embrace. It felt nice. Not that it took away the pain, but it felt good to have someone care, even if I didn’t exactly know them. Fuck, I still didn’t even know his name!
As we pulled apart, I said, “Thanks, man. Sometimes I just lose it, you know? I can’t seem to help myself.”
“It’s OK,” he replied. “I understand — uh, I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name. My name’s Kevin Alan, but everyone calls me ‘Alan’ so as not to confuse me with my dad, Kevin.” Then laughing, he added, “We don’t look at all alike, however. It’s pretty obvious that my other dad, Zach, was my biological father. I look just like him.”
In that instant I knew who he was. He was the son of Kevin Williams, the Director of the NIH — no, wait — he was just appointed Surgeon General, and of Zach Taylor, Pop’s Science and Technology advisor. He did look a lot like Zach Taylor. The resemblance was striking. It was no wonder he was so handsome.
“My name’s Josh,” I added as I extended my hand. The feeling as we made skin-on-skin contact was incredible. From the look in his eyes, I think he could feel it, too.
“So are you, like, the son of a cabinet member?” Alan asked. It was obvious he didn’t know who I was and, for the time being, I wanted to keep it that way.
“Something like that,” I replied, “Actually, my dad is a congressman, but pop worked in the West Wing.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Alan responded. “So have you been down here since the assassination?”
“From the very beginning,” I replied. “The Secret Service came and got my sister and me out of school and brought us to my dad, and then to here right after it happened.”
“Where do you go to school?” he asked.
“Sidwell Friends,” I told him.
“Just like the President’s kids — or, I should say, President Reynolds’ kids,” Alan noted. “Do you know them?” he asked. What a question!
“Yeah, I know them,” I answered.
“So what are they really like?” he asked. “Are they real stuck up?” Whoa, this was embarrassing!
“Nah,” I answered. “They’re really just ordinary kids. If you met them, you wouldn’t even know who they are.”
“It’s nice to know politics doesn’t make everyone’s kids into brats,” he replied. “There are sure enough snobs up at Whitman.”
“Walt Whitman High, in Bethesda?” I asked.
“One and the same,” Alan answered. “A lot of Washington insiders live up there, just so they can send their kids to an elite public high school. Well, I guess my dads do, too, but I swear some of those kids think their shit doesn’t stink.”
I laughed at Alan when he said that. It was so funny, but prolly quite true.
“What’s really funny is that some of the kids are only foster kids,” Alan continued, “and yet they act like they’re God’s gift to the world, just because of who took them in. Do you know Altaf El Tahari, the new Secretary of State, and Randy Bernstein, the new Secretary of Health?”
Did I know them? Uncle Altaf and Uncle Randy? “Yeah, I know them,” I answered.
“Well you know they’ve taken in a bunch of gay kids whose own parents threw them out for being gay. You’d think they’d all be pretty humble after going through that, and some of them really are, but a few of those kids act like they’re something special. They give a new meaning to the word, ‘queen’. It’s too bad my brother’s dating one of ’em.”
“Your brother’s gay?” I asked in surprise.
“Both of them are,” Alan replied, surprising me even more.
Then I asked, “Do you know Will Kramer and Brian Philips?”
“Can’t say that I do,” he answered, “but the names sound familiar.”
“Kramer’s like one of the top law professors in the country. He’s at Georgetown. His family is incredibly wealthy. You’ve prolly heard of Nature’s Way.”
“Are you kidding?” Alan responded. “We’re talking major money.”
“Philips is pretty high up in his field, too,” I added. “He’s the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution.”
“Pretty impressive,” Alan agreed. “So what’s this have to do with anything? Are they related?”
“Oh yeah, I should have mentioned that they’re married to each other. They’re good friends of my parents from way back. Anyway, they did the same thing that Uncle Randy and Uncle Altaf did, only they’ve adopted all their kids ’cause they can afford to. So there’s a bunch of gay boys they’ve adopted, and they all go to my school. Some of them are really nice — not boyfriend material in my book, but we get along OK. Some I might even call my friends. But then there are a couple of them that are first class assholes. Not only do they act like their shit doesn’t stink, but they act like it’s an insult to walk on ground that isn’t paved with gold.
“So yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I concluded.
“Uncles Randy and Altaf?” Alan asked.
Blushing, I replied, “Yeah, well, Randy and Altaf and my parents go way back. They were friends back in high school and they attended each other’s weddings. They’re best of friends.”
“Gee, I wonder if your dads knew my dads back then too,” Alan asked rhetorically, “’cause my dads knew Bernstein and El Tahari back when they were in school. They didn’t go to the same high school, but they lived near each other.”
Then Alan got an intensely serious look on his face and I could see he was thinking things through. I swallowed hard as I guessed at the conclusion his brain was finally forcing to his consciousness.
“Why — didn’t — you — tell me? When you said you’d just lost your pop — your pop was — President Reynolds — wasn’t he?”
“Well, yeah,” I confirmed.
“Jeez, what an asshole. You really played me for a fool…”
“No Alan!” I implored. “It’s not like that at all. It’s just that most of the other cabinet members’ kids already know me, and sometimes I think they treat me different just ’cause I’m the President’s son — or was. When you obviously didn’t know who I was, I thought that maybe I had a chance to get to know you as a friend first, before you found out who I was. I don’t have that many friends — really any friends when you get down to it. I get along with other kids, but they just won’t get close to me, you know? Just because of who I am.
“I kinda thought you might be different. You aren’t stuck up at all, and you don’t like kids who are stuck up. For once I hoped I could make a friend based on who I am and not who my parents are.”
“Sorry I flipped out on you like that,” Alan replied. “I just get so put off by kids who put on airs and all, and I thought that that’s what you were doing. I thought you were making fun of me, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Damn straight, you were wrong,” I replied. “With me, what you see is what you get. If you met my dad or my pop, you’d know that they’re not like that, either.”
“Actually I did meet your parents many years ago, when I was a little kid, and then again a few years back, when I was thirteen. The thing that really impressed me is that they didn’t treat me like a little kid. They treated me with respect, like an adult. Even the first time — I think I was eight or nine — they didn’t talk down to me the way most adults do, you know?”
“I do know,” I related. “That’s just the way they are — or were.”
“I’m really sorry about your pop,” Alan added. “He was a great man. I know you lost a wonderful father, and the world lost an outstanding President. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I still feel devastated in my own way. President Reynolds did so much. I shudder at the kind of world we’ll have under Schroeder.”
“Thanks,” was all I could think of to say.
“Sooo, you said you’re looking for a boyfriend?” Alan asked with a grin.
“I guess I did admit that, didn’t I?” I replied. “I hope my being gay doesn’t scare you off. I mean, I know your dads and your brothers are gay, but sometimes it’s a little different when it comes to your friends, especially if you’re trying to distance yourself from your fathers in that regard.”
Laughing, he said, “No, silly. I’ve been out and proud since I was thirteen.”
“I beat you there,” I related. “I came out when I was eleven, but all three of you are gay?” I asked. “What are the odds of that?”
“Apparently the ‘gay gene’ runs strong in my family,” Alan stated with a laugh, and then he added, “My brother Aaron came out when he was eleven, too.”
“I’ve heard some kids say they always knew they were gay or that they started feeling attracted to boys when they were, like, eight,” I said, “but I think most of us become aware of our attractions when we’re around ten. Admitting it to ourselves, let alone anyone else, is a big step, though,” I continued. “I was precocious — and I had a major crush on our rabbi, who was Uncle Randy and Uncle Altaf’s first son. He was gay, too, and he was good about taking my hitting on him in his stride. He helped me accept myself for who I am.”
“If I’d been your rabbi, I don’t know if I coulda kept my hands off someone as cute as you.” Alan added, again with a grin.
“You think I’m cute?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” he replied. “You look just like the pictures I’ve seen of your pop when he was a kid, and he was one incredibly handsome dude — a perfect ten if ever there was one.”
I knew I was blushing furiously, but I couldn’t help it. I knew pop had been handsome and everyone said I took after him but, to me, I was just me. Finally regaining my ability to talk, I said, “I don’t know about that, but you look just like your father — your biological father, that is. I assume your mother was a surrogate?” I asked.
“Yeah, she was an egg donor and a vessel, but I never met her.”
“My sister and I were among the first kids born from the Watanabe procedure,” I explained, “so genetically, both my dad and my pop are my biological parents. Technically I also have a mother who supplied the egg and my cell structure is from her. I’m not supposed to tell people who it was, but it’s someone my dads knew very well, and I know her too.”
“That’s cool,” Alan related. “Aaron was a Watanabe baby as well. So you’re what, sixteen?”
“I’ll be sixteen in three months,” I replied.
“Cool,” Alan stated. “I turned sixteen in December, so we’re about the same age. You a sophomore?”
“Yeah, and you?”
“The same,” he replied. “So you’re looking for a boyfriend, and I’m looking for a boyfriend, and I think you’re majorly cute, and I’ve really liked talking to you…”
“I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Alan,” I added, “and when it comes to the looks department, I’m pretty average compared to you. Your dad — Zach, that is — was called the sexiest man in America, and you look just like a younger version of him…”
Sighing, he said, “You wouldn’t believe how many girls hit on me, all the time, even knowing I’m gay. I guess some people find me attractive, but I think I’m pretty plain. My hair’s too straight, and it’s nearly black, and my face is ordinary…”
“Are you kidding?” I practically shouted. “Your hair is the most luxurious mixture of brown tones and ebony I’ve ever seen, and it’s thick and beautiful. I’ve been wanting to run my fingers through your hair all afternoon. And your face is anything but ordinary. There’s something about the shape that’s just amazing. And your eyes are so beautiful. I’ve never seen a color of green like yours.”
“Stop!” he implored. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Well then get used to it, ’cause all of it’s true,” I countered.
“Josh,” Alan said with a suddenly nervous look on his face, “we don’t exactly have any privacy here. My brothers are right over there, swimming around in the pool,” he added with a nod of his head in the pool’s direction. “What would you say to going to my room, or at least somewhere a little more private? I’m not propositioning you or anything, although keeping my hands to myself could be a challenge, but I’d just like to go someplace where we can maybe kiss without the whole world taking notice.”
“Do you share your room with anyone?” I asked.
“Said brothers, but it’ll prolly be a while before they leave the pool area. I just have to let them know I’m leaving.”
“Why don’t we go back to my room, then?” I suggested. “It’s prolly a lot nicer, and we don’t have to worry about bein’ disturbed. Hey, what good is being President Reynolds’ son if you can’t take advantage of it now and then?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Alan agreed. “Let me just tell my brothers I’m leaving, and then we’ll blow this place.”
We both stood up and, walking to the side of the pool, Alan called out, “Adam! Aaron!” A moment later, a blond boy of about our age who looked kind of familiar and a brown-haired boy of thirteen or fourteen swam up to us. “I’m going to head out, bros,” Alan told his brothers. “I’ll catch you at dinner, OK?”
“You’re bizz, bro,” Adam answered. “So are you and Josh Kimball-Reynolds now boyfriends or somethin’?” he asked.
Alan’s jaw dropped open, and replied, “You knew who this was?”
“Everyone knows who he is,” Aaron answered as he rolled his eyes. “He’s like been on TV a billion gazillion times, and he’s been in the papers, too. How could anyone not know who he is?”
“I’m not going to answer that,” Alan responded.
“Sometimes you are so dense Alan,” Adam added, “but then I’ve come to expect it of you. Anyway, have fun, bro, and I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you,” Alan replied.
As we walked away from the pool, Alan stopped back by the lounge chair he had been sitting on and grabbed a shirt he’d apparently left there and slipped on his flip-flops. As we walked out, Alan asked me, “Is that all you’re wearing?”
Laughing, I replied, “I’m lucky I even have this pair of Speedos. I didn’t bring much down with me from the residence ’cause I didn’t expect to be here this long. Everything else I have is dirty and smells pretty rank.”
Rolling his eyes, Alan said, “There’s a community laundry facility right next to the Rec. Center, but I bet there’s something right in the residential area where you’re staying, just for you guys.”
“Dad’s checking into it,” I replied, “and he’s having some more of my clothes brought down too.”
“Why didn’t you at least wear your sneakers?” Alan asked.
“Sneakers with Speedos?” I practically spat out in horror. “Talk about dorky! I’d rather go barefoot.”
“I see your point,” Alan acknowledged.
As we continued our walk to my quarters, passing an occasional security checkpoint that required a retina scan from both of us, I asked, “So how come I’ve never seen you before, Alan?”
“I guess that’s largely my fault,” he admitted. “Some kids take every opportunity to see and be seen, if you know what I mean. Adam’s like that. He goes to all the big parties, and gets our dads to get him invited to all the major social events. I’m just not like that, you know?”
“Actually, I do know,” I agreed. “I don’t really like the social scene all that much. People talk about how I’m a real charmer, just like my pop, and how ‘mature’ I am, but that’s all just an act. I get along with adults much better than I do with kids our age, and I go to events with my parents more because I have to than ’cause I want to.
“Most of the kids parties are nothing but drunken, pot-infested orgies. I don’t like getting drunk, I don’t like any kind of drugs and I don’t just want sex. Well, actually, I do — what normal teenager doesn’t want sex — but what I really want is what my parents had. They were steady boyfriends from when they were fourteen.”
“Same with my dads,” Alan added. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, Josh. It might feel good, but sex just for the sake of sex is nothing more than masturbating with someone else’s skin on your dick. Maybe it’s not the same, but for all intents and purposes, I can do that on my own. It may sound corny, but I want someone to love me — someone I can love.”
“You hit the nail right on the head, Alan,” I responded. “That’s just the way I feel. Frankly, given the chance to attend a drunken orgy or to read a good book, I’ll take the book any day.”
“Same here!” Alan replied. “So what kinds of books and other things do you like?” he asked.
As we walked along through the extensive maze of tunnels that made up the Underground White House complex, we continued talking about our likes, dislikes and dreams. Of course there were some differences — like his dads, he was really into classical music, which I found boring — but we both loved classic rock and particularly music of the seventies, like Simon and Garfunkel, Carole King, The Carpenters and anything written by Bacharach and David. We adored science fiction and particularly the classic writers like Jules Verne, Isaac Asimov and Corey Doctorow. There were differences to be sure, but we shared so many more common interests — it was amazing.
I knew I was rapidly developing a crush — who was I kidding? — I was head over heels for this guy. I could only hope and pray he felt the same way. That he did was confirmed mere moments later when he stopped talking and walking. He just stared intently into my eyes as I continued what I’d been saying. When he stopped responding to my words and I noticed the serious look on his face, I finally shut up as the faintest smile took over his face. I wasn’t sure when my eyes closed, but seconds later I felt his lips on mine.
It wasn’t my very first kiss with a boy, but it might as well have been. There was no comparison to what I’d done before and what I felt now. Alan tasted sweet, and his kiss was so gentle, yet firm. I slowly brought my hands up and ran my fingers through his hair and I instantly knew what Pop meant when he talked about how he used to love Dad’s hair when he wore it long. Alan’s hair was so soft — it almost felt like mink, and there was so much of it. I loved the way his strands enveloped my bare shoulders and the way they formed a curtain that surrounded both our faces.
I just about lost it when I felt his lips part and the tip of his tongue worked its way between my own lips. When our tongues met, I did lose control. My dick had never been so hard in my life as it nearly expanded its way out the top of my Speedos. I could feel my pre-cum soaking through, but then his tongue met mine and I couldn’t hold it anymore. I don’t think I’d ever unloaded like that in my life as my whole body shook with its release. I guess my dick really did pop out the top of the waistband, ’cause I could feel the wetness all over my abdomen and even onto my chest.
When I finally came down from my moment of bliss, I became horrified by what had just happened. We were in public. There was no one in the hallway at the time, but anyone could wander by at any moment and, my God, there were security cameras. FUCK!
“I can’t believe I did that,” I said as I looked down, ashamed of myself. “I didn’t even touch myself — it just happened.”
Placing his fingers on my chin and lifting it up so I was looking back into his face, if not his eyes, he said, “That made two of us. I didn’t realize you’d cum just now too until you told me. That was the most intense orgasm of my life,” he said in a whisper, “but I should have realized even that couldn’t account for all the jizz all over us.”
Alan reached down for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head and off. The entire front of his shirt was literally soaked with our combined cum. He then folded his shirt with the backside out, and used it to wipe up the remaining traces of cum from our bodies. It was then that I noticed that my glans was still sticking up through the waistband, as was Alan’s. We both giggled when we noticed, and I embarrassingly tucked mine back in, although my dick was still rock hard in spite of my just having cum.
“Hydrogen is the lightest element,” I began quickly, “with an atomic number of one and an atomic mass of one. It consists of one proton and one electron. There are no neutrons, however, two additional isotopes of hydrogen exist that do contain neutrons. They are present in trace amounts in hydrogen-containing compounds such as water. Deuterium is an isotope of hydrogen that contains one neutron and tritium is an isotope containing two neutrons. Hydrogen has a valence of one and is seldom found in nature in elemental form. Hydrogen compound, or H-two, exists at room temperature as a gas. Its freezing point is fourteen Kelvin and its boiling point is twenty at atmospheric pressure.
“Helium is the second lightest element, with an atomic number of two and an atomic mass of four. It consists of two protons, two electrons and two neutrons. There are seven additional known isotopes, but only helium-3, which has only one neutron, is stable. Helium is a noble gas and it appears only in elemental form. It is the byproduct of hydrogen fusion. Helium does not freeze at atmospheric pressure, but under a pressure of 25 atmospheres, it will freeze at one degree Kelvin. The boiling point is only four degrees Kelvin, the lowest of any element.
“Lithium is the third lightest element, with an atomic number of three and an atomic mass of…”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Alan interrupted.
“I’m reciting the periodic table of the elements,” I replied. “I’ve practically got the entire thing memorized.”
“But why would you want to recite it aloud like that?” he asked.
“Usually I don’t recite it aloud, but it comes in very handy to recite it in my head when I’m in the locker room and the showers after gym class and after swim meets. I just figured that since you seemed to have the same problem that I did, reciting it aloud might help you too.” Looking down at our swim trunks, I looked back into Alan’s eyes and added, “Apparently, I was right.”
Blushing, he replied, “You’re weird, Joshua Kimball-Reynolds, but weird in a good way.”
“Let’s go to my room and maybe we can rinse out your shirt — and other things,” I suggested.
“I especially like the sound of the ‘other things’,” he said with a smirk, and then we resumed walking.
As we got closer and closer to the ‘family’ areas of the Underground White House, I repeatedly had to authorize Alan as my guest; otherwise he wouldn’t have had access. When we got to the residential quarters I shared with Dad and Sandy, however, I found Dad waiting for me.
“Hi Josh,” Dad said. “I was about ready to send a search party out to find you,” he added with a laugh, “but then security located you in a deserted hallway, making out with Alan.”
“Oh my God!” I practically screamed in embarrassment as I plopped down onto the sofa.
“And Alan,” Dad continued, “you can wash out your shirt in the bathroom and hang it over the shower bar. I’ll see to it you get it back. I had my assistant grab some of Josh’s clothes from up top, so you can borrow one of his shirts to wear for now.” Then he added, “You might want to wash it out sooner rather than later, before it stinks up the place.”
“Dad, I swear it was an accident,” I pleaded.
“I know, son,” he replied. “I saw the whole thing. I didn’t mean to spy on the two of you, but I needed to find you and security managed to locate you and pulled up the images for me moments before things got — messy. There’s no need to be embarrassed. I think you already guessed that something happened between your pop and me the day we met and, well, let’s just say it was very similar to what happened between you and Alan.
“I wasn’t aware the two of you even knew each other, though,” Dad added.
“Actually we didn’t — not before today,” I explained. “We met in the Rec. Center. Alan was sitting by the pool and I noticed him watching me swimming laps. We really hit it off and I guess we spent a lot more time getting to know each other than I realized. By the time we decided we should go some place more private — well, we were head over heels for each other — at least I was.”
“I’m sorry about what happened, Congressman Kimball…” Alan started to say.
“Please, call me Jeremy, or Jer, or even Dad, but don’t you dare call me Congressman Kimball,” Dad interrupted.
“I’m sorry, Jeremy,” Alan resumed, “but it’s just like Josh said. You know, it kinda feels like I’ve been waiting my entire life for him. I know we’re prolly too young to know what love is, and it’s prolly too soon to know for sure what the future’s gonna bring, but right now I feel like I could fly to the moon.”
“Trust me, you’re definitely not too young to know what love is,” Dad responded. “David Reynolds and I fell in love when we were barely fourteen years old, and it happened in just one day. We were a couple from then until the day an assassin took his life.
“Yes, it’s too soon to know if this will last, but I do know firsthand about love at first sight, and of the potential for high school romances to last.”
“I hope you like Alan,” I replied to Dad, “’cause he’s the man I’m gonna marry.”
“I’d suggest waiting a couple or three years at least before you get married,” Dad said with a chuckle, “and I definitely want to get to know your boyfriend a lot better in the interim.”
“My boyfriend — I really like the sound of that,” I said. Then turning to Alan, I asked, “Alan, would you be…”
“After what happened, need you even ask?” he replied. “It really sucks that we don’t live closer and we go to different schools, but there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the one I’m gonna marry. I can’t believe how happy I am.”
“I can’t believe how happy I am, either,” I added, “even with what happened — to Pop.”
“Alan,” Dad began, “Do your dads know about you being gay?”
“Oh sure they do,” Alan answered. “I came out to them almost three years ago, when I was thirteen and first realized it myself.”
“So you’re sixteen now?” Dad asked.
“I turned sixteen back in December,” Alan replied.
“That’s certainly close enough,” Dad responded. “Our good friends Trevor Austin and Kurt DeWitt were a year-and-a-half apart in age and two grade levels apart when they met, and they got married the same time we did. You’re almost as tall as Zach!” Dad added.
“Six-foot, five compared to his six-six,” Alan confirmed.
“Josh takes so much after his pop,” Dad related. “He’s six-foot, three inches and growing. I have to admit that the two of you really look good together. It’ll take a little time for me to get used to Josh having a boyfriend, but I really hope it works out.”
“We do too,” I added.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut your evening short, however,” Dad stated. “I got a call from Sammy Austin a little while ago, and he’s invited us for dinner. We need to get ready.”
“Can Alan come?” I asked excitedly.
“Not tonight,” Dad replied. “It’s a personal invitation to the family and it wouldn’t really be appropriate, but maybe another time.”
“Alan, how will I reach you?” I asked.
“We’re staying in residence block H, apartment 1302,” he replied, but let’s make arrangements to get together tomorrow.”
I knew my whole face lit up when he said that.
“Let’s say we meet in front of the cafeteria at nine?” he suggested.
“That’ll be perfect,” I replied. “Then we’ll have the whole day together,” I added.
“That’s the idea,” Alan agreed with a grin.
“Go ahead and wash out your shirt,” I reminded Alan, “and I’ll get you one of mine.”
“I really like the idea of wearing something of yours,” Alan responded.
“Yup, I do believe in love at first sight,” Dad threw in with a smile. I smiled too.
The author gratefully acknowledges the invaluable assistance of David of Hope in editing, Low Flyer in proofreading and Ed in beta reading my stories, as well as Gay Authors, Awesome Dude and Nifty for hosting them. © Altimexis 2012