Here’s Looking at You, Kid

an accidental romance in fifteen parts

by Douglas

Chapter 2 – In The Morning Light

“But how do you know, if you didn’t watch - ?” I looked up at Derrick, my chin propped on my hands.

Saturday morning, and back in our dorm suite, in the little living room we shared; me on the plaid couch, Derrick in the fake-leather armchair, light streaming in through the window, both of us with cups of espresso. Both of us needing it.

“Of COURSE I didn’t watch. God . . . I would have had to wash my eyes out with soap.” He shuddered, a little theatrically. “But honest, Jeremy; not that many people could see. I mean, you were in that screened-off part of the patio, after all. And, I was there, and it really WAS dark.” His carefully-kept straight face began to quiver, just a little. “Except for all those candles.”

It’d been going like this all morning. Derrick torn, between honestly and sincerely trying to comfort me – and breaking up laughing. I moaned and covered my face again.

“I can’t believe I did all that. I can’t BELIEVE I did all that. In front of all those people.”

“Well, it isn’t like you’ve never done anything like it before. Remember back in senior year when you and Jesse and Peter and me went to Disneyland - ?”

“No,” I said, a little firmly. “I can’t remember that far back.” And then I winced; another ‘Casablanca’ reference. Just great. “And besides, nobody saw us, that time. I had to tell you about it later.”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

He sounded entirely too – pleased. Smug. I looked up at him, with my eyes, keeping my chin down.

He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the party, the night before. Which made sense; because he’d just gotten home, an hour or so ago. With little puffy bags under his eyes, and still-slightly-wet hair, and the kind of warm, satisfied glow he gets, all over him, after . . . well, a really good night.

It’d been awhile, since I’d seen that glow. I was really glad for him.

“So . . . you had a good time? With Drew?” I smiled up at him, just a little.

“Um-hm,” he said, his face glowing just a little more brightly.

“Does he have his own place?”

“No. He’s in Unit 2.” Unit 2 was another dorm complex at Cal; one of the larger ones. “But his roommate’s got a boyfriend, and doesn’t come home much, and never on a Friday night, so we had the place to ourselves . . . ”

“Cool.” I smiled up at him, more broadly; then I went on in a lower voice. “So how many times did you do it? Hmmm? Did he wake you up, or did you wake HIM up? Or both?”

“Jeremy! Hey; some things are . . . private.” And he looked at me, pretend-shocked; and he held that a second, long enough for the meaning to sink in, then he dissolved in giggles, and I kind of mock-moaned and buried my face in my hands again.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” he went, at last, and he leaned over and touched me on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, I couldn’t resist.” He DID look a little apologetic, when I glanced up. “And the truth is, if you want to know, I didn’t count, and we woke each other up. Well, actually, it’s more like we didn’t sleep, much.” He blinked at me, and that glow was back . . . “Did you know, he grew up in La Jolla? So close to us! He almost went to UCSD, just like we almost did. And he’s even been to Black’s Beach before, we could have met years ago! And he’s a business major . . . Wait, I told you that, at the party. But he’s a really SMART business major, he’s going for a double MBA after he graduates. But he’s also really nice.” And he looked at me, again, with that glow on his face, and anticipation in his eyes. “And we’re going to have dinner tonight. After we take naps.”

“Cool.” I looked out the window; it faced the main campus, a few blocks away, and then the steep, green East Bay hills, towering back up towards the scene of last night’s party. “You know you’re welcome to bring him back here, anytime. I don’t mind.”

“You’re a love.” He leaned way over and kissed my cheek, really fast, and settled back. “And what about you? Has he called, yet?”

My chin went back down on my hands. “No. Not yet. And I’m not sure I should answer, if he does.”

“Jeremy! Why not?” He looked at me, closely.

“It would be a little . . . complicated. You know?”

“It was complicated when you started dating Jesse, and you were the underage one. You’ll get by.”

“Yeah . . . maybe. IF it comes to that. I mean, if we started dating. That’s assuming a lot; I’ve only seen him once, after all. He might not even call.” I shook my head, and took another sip of espresso.

“He’ll call.” Derrick was back to that slightly-smug expression. “From what I saw – ”

“You said you didn’t watch!”

“I told you, I didn’t. But I did see when you said goodbye to each other, I couldn’t help it.” He smiled again. “Trust me: he’ll call you.”

“Great,” I said, looking down again.

“What? You ARE worried about the legal stuff, aren’t you?”

“Well, yea-aah! Think about it; this time I’d be the one of the adult side. I looked up the law, back when Jesse and were still together; I mean, it was harsh then, it was really pretty harsh, and it’s lots worse now.”

The laws about sex with a minor really are harsh. Lifetime requirement to register as a sex offender, on top of the sentence; maybe having to wear a tracking device, for LIFE – we were voting on that, in California, that fall – and not living anywhere near a school or park, and for me – well, I’m a Poli Sci major, as a pre-law track; I want to go to law school. If I were convicted . . . I could kiss that goodbye. And almost any other decent career.

“Someone would have to testify,” Derrick pointed out. “Nobody at the party would; think of all the trouble it would cause, for so many people . . . Jim & Greg included. Or maybe especially, they’ve got a lot more to lose. And, somebody would have to ID you, and it was dark.” He tried to smile at me, and it came out a little lopsided. “And besides, it’s not exactly like your boy had his ID. On him, anyway.”

“Thanks. A lot.” I looked back at the window, at the steep hills, covered with trees and streets and houses. The white spike of the Campanile towering over the campus, to the right.

Silence, for a few seconds.

“But, you know,” I went on, slowly, “ – it’s more than that. Just, so much more.”

“Hmm?” prompted Derrick. I felt his eyes on me.

“It’s not just the legal problem. It’s the whole, crossing-the-age-of-consent thing. I mean,” and I looked up at him, trying to get him to understand, “I lived this whole thing once, already. It’s like a dance; it means hiding everything. Hiding from my parents, hiding from HIS parents, making up lies, lying to our friends here . . . ” I grimaced.

“But you aren’t even officially out to your parents!”

“I would be, except for Jesse. They already know; I just can’t talk about it.” I put my chin back down in my hands. “I really, REALLY wanted a boyfriend . . . I could take home to my parents. Go on vacation with.” I looked down. “Hold hands in public, with.”

“It’s a big thing for you, isn’t it?”, from Derrick, softly.

“Yeah.”

Silence, in the room, for a couple of seconds.

“But . . . do you like him?” Derrick asked. His voice still gentle, and remorseless. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

I looked down, again.

“Yeah,” I went, softly. “Yeah; I really do. I talked to him a long time . . . and that’s part of it. I mean – I really liked him, I REALLY liked him, he’s really funny, and mature for his age, and kind of sweet, inside . . . but.” I felt myself making a face. “You know. Apart from all that, all the hiding and lying and everything – I’m almost three years older than him, and I don’t want to, like, I don’t know, be WRONG for him, or do anything to, to hurt him, or. . . ”

“ . . . or anything to fuck him over like Jesse fucked you over?”

I blinked up at him.

Just talking to Derrick, sometimes, helps me figure out what I’m thinking. Or feeling.

“And that’s the real issue,” he said. Sympathetically.

“Not all of it.”

“You wouldn’t hurt him. Not like that; trust me. I know you.” He leaned back in the armchair and crossed him arms. “And you’re not going to Take Advantage of him, or Lead Him Astray, or ruin his adolescence, or violate his innocence – ”

“No.” I remembered back to Cole and me exchanging stories about our exes. To Cole, beginning to touch me, in the water, to the way, the experienced way, he wrapped himself around me, and started making out with me . . . “Not likely.”

“I didn’t see or hear a lot of innocence of display, right then.”

“Hey!” I gave him a mock frown, and he grinned back at me. Then something in what he said, struck me. “You didn’t LISTEN to us, did you - ?”

“Pleeease, Jer! I tried not to.”

I digested that, for a second.

 “Anyway,” he went on, changing the subject, “here’s an idea. How about this?”

“What?”

“If it works out, for both of us – if both of us start, like, dating – how about we go out on a double date? Soon, I mean. Me and Drew, you and . . . Cole?”

“Cole.”

“You and Cole. You’ll get a chance to check out Drew, I’ll get a chance to check out Cole. And I promise to be honest about your date, if you promise to be honest about mine. Deal?”

He made it sound light and funny, like one of those ancient Rock Hudson-Doris Day movies that he likes so much; but he was serious, I knew. We depend on each other, for the important things.

“Like they wouldn’t know what was going on . . . okay, okay. It IS a good idea. Deal.” And we both reached out and bumped our knuckles together, like we’ve been doing since we were fourteen.

“Cool. And now,” he said, standing up, and yawning, “I REALLY need a nap. Before dinner.” And that glow, that fresh-fucked glow was back for a second, before we went to his room.

And I went back to my room for a nap, too. Because – last night while Derrick was awake having a good time with Drew – I’d been tossing and turning and not sleeping, myself.

Okay. Maybe I’d even had to toss myself off – you know, masturbate – just to get to sleep, in the end, closer towards dawn. Thinking of Cole, and the pool, and the patio.

Okay. Maybe I’d had to do it twice.

I wondered if Cole had done the same . . .

*

I spent a lot of Saturday afternoon alone, kind of wandering around campus. Stopping to try to read, here and there; soaking in the sun. Thinking.

The Cal campus – the UC Berkeley campus – is so beautiful; it cuts up into the lower slopes of the East Bay hills at a sort of an angle, with the steep walls of the hills looming over one side, and the flatlands and the Bay off to the other.

It’s a campus on a slope, actually; it slopes up, and it’s wooded, and shady, and it even has a little creek – two branches of Strawberry Creek – meandering through it, all overhung with live oak trees, crossed here and there with little wooden bridges . . .

And the sky right then was really, really blue; and the whole campus was really peaceful – most of it is closed to cars – and the green lawns and the trees and the old and new buildings were drenched in the sunshine, this kind of odd-to-me, mellow Northern California sunshine, and the other students walking along were talking, and laughing, and TALKING –

I really love the campus.

So I was still outside when Cole did call me. Later that afternoon, towards sunset; as I was walking uphill along Strawberry Creek, headed towards Moffitt Library in the afternoon heat, finally getting ready to do some real work – that’s when my cell went off.

I think I jumped about a foot when it did. I’d been telling myself, all day, I wasn’t waiting . . . but as soon as I heard the ringtone, my pulse rate went up like crazy, and, just like I used to do back when I used to wait for Jesse’s calls, a hundred different thoughts started jangling in my head at once –

No. Cancel that, again. Seriously cancel that; I did NOT want to go there; comparing this to Jesse.

I didn’t want this to be like that.

I looked at the calling number, and my heart thudded a downbeat, once; it wasn’t Cole’s.

But it wasn’t anybody else’s I knew, either; and it was local. So I flipped my phone open.

“H’lo?”

“Hey,” came Cole’s voice. It sounded different, on a cell; but I could tell it was him. That same teenage-boy resonance, and that same little cockiness came across, from the first word. “Jeremy?”

“Yeah; yeah. How’s it going?”

“Okay. But my jaw is sore. I think you owe me.” I could almost see the tilt of his head, that crooked smile.

“Jesus. Anybody ever mention to you, that cell phones aren’t particularly private, these days?”

“Duh. No calls are private, these days. So why not give the NSA something interesting to listen to, as they’re wading through all the bullshit? And anyway, my jaw is still sore.”

I looked down at the creekbed, the water low in the September heat, and the oak trees, and the brush, and then looked around, my phone to my ear, grinning. “Poor baby. Well, it just so happens, my TONGUE is sore. Very sore.”

“Really?” He sounded interested. “That actually happens?”

“It does. Well – more like the tongue muscles get sore; you know, in the floor of your mouth. I feel it, when I swallow. But . . . it’s a good kind of sore. I’m kind of out of practice, I guess.”

“I’d be feeling a good kind of sore in my butt today, if you’d fucked me last night, like I wanted.”

I looked around, absurdly, as if any of the people walking by could hear him. “Shhhhh - !” I took the phone away from my ear and looked at the number, again. “Jesus . . . where are you calling from? Are you in public?”

“Nah. I’m using my friend Trevor’s phone . . . it’s kind of complicated, my mom pays our cell phone bill; I try not to leave too many numbers on it for her to notice, especially if . . . well, I try not to leave too many numbers on it. You should add this number to your phonebook, by the way, I’ll be using it sometimes.”

I felt myself grinning, wide, again; at the implication. The implied, we’ll-be-talking-to-each-other-more.

Actually, I’d been kind-of-smiling since I took the call; I tried not to think too much, about what that meant.

 “So, which one is Trevor? And is he standing there, listening in?”

“Trevor? Oh, he’s off a little ways. Hi, Trev!”, he went in a louder, carrying voice, then went back to a normal tone. “Trev’s the one who was in back of me, and wrote down our numbers, last night. And no, he’s not listening, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll still tell him everything.”

I laughed, quietly. “Best friend?”

“Well, yeah. Like you didn’t tell your roommate, what’s-his-name, everything too?”

“Derrick. And, I guess I did; but I didn’t really have to, he was there. He saw way too much, I think.”

“Oh . . . But does that matter? Aren’t you guys, like, old exes, or jerkoff buddies, or anything?”

“No! I mean, no, we’re not old exes, and we’re not jerkoff buddies. . . ” I wondered about Trevor, for a second, then decided I didn’t really want to go there, either.

Yet.

I paused, a decent second or two.

“So. You didn’t get in trouble? You’re not grounded for life?”

“Nah. I was almost on time; so she just fussed at me, a little, and then it blew over.” The amusement was back in his voice, again. “Mom’s okay; she’s just trying to do what’s best for me. We get along.”

“Cool.”

“I did have to clean up some, though. I was sticky.” Again, that mental image of his cocky smile.

“Well, it was your cum,” I went, then I frantically swiveled around, hoping nobody was close enough to hear.

“True. I got all of yours in my mouth. Yum . . . you taste good, too.”

“Jesus!” I was hard as a rock, now; and I was afraid it showed. “We have stop talking like this.”

“What’s the matter? Am I getting you all boned up, in public?” There was laughter in his voice.

“Yes. Again. Little brat.” I turned away from a mixed group of joggers, puffing by in spandex and sweat. “So . . . you’re not grounded.”

“Nope.”

“Well . . . are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

He wasn’t exactly helping me out, here. I tensed up, some.

“So . . . would you like to get together tomorrow? Maybe do something fun?”

“Sure. Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . Have you been across the Bay, recently? To San Francisco, I mean?”

“No! No, I haven’t, not in a long time.” And there was genuine pleasure in his voice; and I grinned, again, and relaxed, a little.

Okay. Here’s the thing.

Cole and I didn’t exactly meet in . . . a conventional way. Pretty far from it.

And even though we’d kind-of-agreed to hook up again . . . I hadn’t been exactly sure what that really meant. As in; the possibility of a real date? Or . . .

Well. He could have said something like, ‘I thought we could just go back to your dorm room and watch a DVD or something, instead?’, and that would have meant something really different to . . . us. To the possibility of us dating, anyway.

Oh, I would have done it. And it probably would have been wild.

But I wanted more than just that; at least, right now. In spite of my doubts; in spite of my reluctance. I wanted us to go on a real date.

And, it seemed like maybe he did too. And that was making me smile again.

It was another one of those moments. A subtle moment.

“I thought, maybe, we could do a day thing, and then wind up with dinner, over there? I could come pick you up. . . ”

“Whoa. You have a car?!” He sounded excited; I’d forgotten what it was like, to be excited when a friend has a car, because you don’t.

“Oh . . . Yeah; yeah. I know, we should take BART, but I figured we’d be able to go more places, with a car. . . ”

“No shit! That’s cool. That’s perfect! Hey, TREV!”, he went, in a louder voice; then nothing, as he put his hand over the mouthpiece. Then, he was back again. “So . . . what time?”

“Uhhh . . . I could come get you at ten?”

“Fine. And I shall be ready at noon.” In a Claude Rains voice; another reference to ‘Casablanca’. “I don’t do mornings that well.”

“That’s cool. I don’t either, really . . . So. Noon, then?”

“Okay. Noon. But, maybe I should meet you outside your building, instead of you picking me up?”

“Yeah. That would be good.”

It was The Dance starting up, again. The Dance of dating across the age of consent; I knew all the moves . . . but, I was happy, I didn’t want to think about it, right then. I’d spent way too much time brooding about it, lying awake, the night before.

“You know my hall?”

“You kidding? I grew up in Berkeley. Meet you at the main door, in the courtyard?” Like all Cal dorms, it’s card-key access only.

“At noon. And, tell you what. Because I made your jaw sore . . . I’ll buy you dinner. Okay?”

“Deal. Hey, Trev! C’mon!!” he shouted, louder this time, and I winced. “And, between my jaw and your tongue, maybe it’ll be something soft?”

“Deal.”

A low chuckle, from Cole. “I wish I could see the front of your pants, right now . . . okay, bye!”

And I closed my phone, and started back up the hill towards the library, a big grin just all over my face . . . and then, just because I felt like, because of all the energy pulsing through me right then, I started running.

It felt good.

*  *  *  *  *

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