Here’s Looking at You, Kid

an accidental romance in fifteen parts

by Douglas

Chapter 15 – Adult Swim

“You should probably downshift now,” I said. I could see the street getting steeper, in front of us.

“Now? I’m already in fourth – ”

I could already feel us slowing down, the sound of the engine getting deeper, and deeper, right on the verge of lugging. “Cole – downshift! Now!”

“Okay, okay!” He downshifted to third, and let out the clutch with a jerk, and we picked up speed.

Going uphill. Towards Grizzly Peaks Road, again; to Jim-and-Greg’s house.

Yeah, another pool party.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, looking over at him. I squeezed his knee, with my left hand. “It’s a small car, and with three of us in it, you need to downshift a little earlier, that’s all. I didn’t mean to snap.” I kept my hand on his knee, massaging it gently.

“That’s all right, pumpkin,” went Cole. Flashing his eyes at me, ironically. “No offense taken, sweetpea. You’re the teacher, sugardoodle.”

I rolled my eyes, a little. I didn’t even have to look back; I knew Trevor would be grinning wide, behind us.

Cole likes it when I call him ‘baby’, in private; and he’s got his own pet names for me, some of which aren’t even obscene. But lately, he’s been on a kick to keep me from calling him ‘baby’ in public, anymore. Now that he’s all grown up.

Not that Trevor is ‘public’. It’s more like practice, in front of Trev.

*

It’s been a long time, since that awful night in Cole’s back yard.

More than a year; almost a year and a half.

It’s May, now, May of my Junior year, at Cal; May of Cole and Trevor’s Senior year, in high school, almost time for their graduation.

I’m twenty-one years old; it’s something I haven’t gotten used to.

But much, much, much more important – Cole’s eighteen.

Cole is a legal adult.

I still haven’t wrapped my mind around that, yet. The difference in our legal status; the difference in our lives.

*

We came to a four-way stop, still pointing up the hill. “Straight ahead?” asked Cole.

I had to look at the driving instructions I printed out; it’d been a long time. “Yeah. We turn after another mile or so, though. One more left turn, and then we wind up on Grizzly Peak.”

“Just let me know when.”

“Okay.” I hesitated, a beat. “So, maybe just give it a little more gas, this time, and let up a little more slowly, on the clutch - ?”

“Because of the hill?”

“Because of the hill, and the three of us.”

“Right,” he went, cheerfully; and the engine revved, and we started back up the hill without burning the clutch too bad, as I tried not to wince.

*

Yeah. Cole’s eighteen; I’m twenty-one. He’s just gotten his learner’s permit, at last, after all this time; and since I’m over twenty-one, I can be his instructor.

And his learning how to drive is the least of all the changes, in our lives, in our situation; but I’m still getting used to it.

It’s going to cost my poor Mini Cooper a clutch; I’ve already resigned myself to that. And it’s okay, it’s a small price to pay.

The cost to my nerves is another question. Getting used to riding in the right-hand passenger’s seat; getting used to not panicking. My legs still twitching whenever we go driving, my feet still wanting to step on a brake pedal and clutch pedal that aren’t there.

Okay. Mostly the brake.

I’m pretty sure Cole enjoys that part of our driving lessons. The little brat.

“Go up to fourth?” The sound of the engine got louder, as Cole accelerated, getting ready to shift.

“No. Stay in third; this is just a level patch. See how the hill gets steeper, up ahead?”

The engine revved higher. “Really? I think we could – ”

“Trust me,” I cut him off. “It’s steeper than it looks.”

“Okay,” he said; happily. Just a little too quickly; as I glanced sideways at him.

*

Cole is so different, now, too. Compared to that night.

He’s grown; he’s grown more than half an inch, in fact. When I lean my cheek on the top of his head, it’s at a different angle, now. And he doesn’t need to tilt his face up quite as much, to kiss me.

That’s cool.

But the other differences – the purely physical differences – are more subtle. More heart-gripping; more exciting.

I don’t know exactly how to explain it. Cole at sixteen was beautiful, young, soft and smooth, and in-the-process of becoming something else . . .

But Cole at eighteen is so much more, than Cole-at-sixteen. He’s GROWN; his cheekbones are sharper, his face is leaner, his body is filled out, a little – still lean, but more defined, more, more essentially COLE, somehow –

He’s stunning. He’s always been beautiful; but he is so much more beautiful now, to me, he’s so striking, almost feline in his sleek good looks.

His hair is as soft and thick as ever, though. And his skin is still creamy-smooth, and his eyelashes are the long, fluffy eyelashes of a boy. Still.

No tan lines on him, though. Anywhere. My influence.

And seeing him stretched out, relaxed, bare, on the beach, or on the bed under the skylight in our apartment, is still enough to make my heart pound. Is still enough to make me stop, sometimes, and just stare at him. In wonder.

*

Just thinking about Cole like that, I forgot for a second, and moved my seat back a little. Automatically; to give my legs a little more room.

“Ouch,” from Trevor, behind me.

“Oops! I’m sorry.” I moved the seat up again, fast.

“Here, wait a second . . . ”  We could hear him moving his legs around in the little back seat, the way he’s learned how to do, over time. “Okay. That’s better.”

“Sorry,” I said again. “I know the back seat isn’t really all that comfortable.”

Trevor’s grown, too. More than Cole, actually; much to Cole’s annoyance. He might actually still be growing, getting taller; he still has a little bit of a gangling look about him.

Which doesn’t make him fit into the back seat of my Mini Cooper any easier.

“That’s okay, I’m comfortable enough,” he said, for maybe the hundredth time since we all started going places together. He paused, for just a second; then – “You’re really sure I’m included in this invitation of yours?”

“Absolutely,” from Cole; the instrument panel lights shining on the planes of his face. “They told us to bring friends; and when we told them you’d been to that last party, they were really happy about it. Your name’s on the list.”

“I still can’t believe I’m actually going to another one of these things,” he went, from in back of us; and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You guys get me into some of the weirdest situations.”

I carefully didn’t look over at Cole, not even sideways, with just my eyes. And I could just FEEL Cole, carefully not looking over at me. And carefully not snorting.

We both knew Trevor really, really did want to come, tonight. And we knew why.

And we also knew we owed him. For almost everything; for us.

And besides, in the final analysis, I couldn’t help thinking, we DID get Trevor into the filmmaking-at-the-beach situation, all those months ago. And the aftermath; the quick aftermath at the beach, that day, and the longer aftermath, with the video, and Cole’s mom.

That time – especially that night at Cole’s – well. It’s still not something I like to think about. It’s not a fun memory.

*

Things have changed, so much, for us since then. For all three of us; Cole, me and Jeannine.

She and I bonded so fast, it’s almost funny.

And of course, it was because of Cole; Cole is more than enough for any two people to have in common, more than enough to bond over.

But about a month after the dinner, that awful night, when I was still fairly terrified of her, something more specific brought us together.

Cole, as it turned out, was all set to participate in a computer-based act of civil disobedience – a coordinated denial-of-service attack on some Department of Homeland Security web servers, to be exact. To protest against ‘illegal surveillance of US citizens’; meaning, what everybody knows the government has been doing for the last few years . . .

Not important servers, or classified servers, or anything; just the ones used to post self-congratulatory press releases, really.

Like that makes a difference, to the government.

Jeannine found out about it first. And she had a nice little talk with Cole, about the whole idea.

And Cole, being an obedient and dutiful son, of course accepted his mother’s wisdom, and dropped his plans right away.

Yeah. Right.

So she called me. And getting THAT call made me jump about a foot in the air; believe it.

And so, I had a talk with him about it, too.

Oh, it was a nice concept; Cole felt – still feels – very strongly, about the whole privacy issue, especially when it comes to the government. And he was willing to get in trouble for participating; he wasn’t going to cover his IP address tracks, or anything. That’s the networking equivalent of signing your name, with a flourish.

I admired him for it, actually. I still do.

But I still had the talk with him. I didn’t really go into graphic descriptions of jail, or prison, or the possibility of him being charged as an adult (pretty high), or anything like that; no. Instead, I basically floated the idea that it might be nice if the two of us could spend something like, oh, six consecutive months, together, without one of us being faced with a multi-year jail term . . . Just for a change.

Maybe it was the way I said it. Or maybe it was his memory of my face, on the darkened campus, back when I was facing potential sex-offender charges. A potential prison sentence.

He settled for organizing the protest-by-petition part of the action, instead.

And that did it, for me and Jeannine; from that day on, we were allies. Trying to keep Cole from self-immolation, as she’d put it. A little dramatically, maybe.

Maybe. Although sometimes I wonder . . .

Anyway.

It was a week or so after that, she’d let Cole delete her copy of our video from her desktop system; and then she’d let Cole delete the caches, and run his overwrite-the-unused-sectors program on her system, and that was that.

And Cole’d spent the next six months secretly accessing, invading, and hacking into every last byte of storage she had; online, offline, CD, DVD, USB, SD cards . . . just to make sure.

Trust, but verify.

I love Cole. So much.

*

“Okay, left here,” I said, as we came up to another stop.

“Left,” he repeated, and we eased around the corner, the clutch hardly slipping at all, this time.

“And then right at the next intersection; that’s Grizzly Peak. And then it’s just a little ways to the driveway, I’ll show you.”

“I think I can remember, from here.”

I massaged his knee some more, as we went on. “You did really well, with all these hill starts. They’re the toughest thing to learn, driving a stick.”

“Thanks.” He flashed his eyes over at me, smiling quickly and warmly; then looked back at the road. “Just the same, next time we take the car to San Francisco, and all those hills, you can drive. I don’t want you getting out of practice, or anything.”

“Always thinking of me.” Ironically. I went on gently rubbing his knee.

*  *  *

Being at Jim-and-Greg’s house again was like a flashback.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised; it’s been a year and half, for Cole and Trevor and me, and some vivid, vivid experiences in between; but a year and a half isn’t really that long, is it?

Still. Everything about their house was the same, exactly the same, as far as I could tell, down to the carpets and the cushions and even most of the people I could see, and it sent me flashing back, hard, to the night I met Cole.

And to everything we’d done, the sex we’d had, in front of everybody. I’d been trying to convince myself, it was ancient history; now I was uncomfortably aware, maybe it wasn’t so ancient, really . . .

“Jeremy!” Jim, the official greeter, came up fast, as soon as we were out of the changing room; his arms open. “Thank you so much for coming!” And instead of the social peck-on-the-lips thing, this time it was a strong, bare-chest to bare-chest hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “And,  Cole - ?”

“Here,” said my boyfriend, with his ironic half-smile, head slightly tilted to the side; and he got the same treatment.

“And Trevor.” Another hug, another kiss. “Welcome back! Although it DID take you awhile.”

Ever since that last pool party, Derrick and I had gotten invitation after invitation to please come back, anytime, you’d be so entirely welcome, won’t you please come?, and if they’d been written down and snail-mailed instead of emailed, I had the feeling they all would have been lettered in gold leaf.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to look sheepish. “School. You know.”

After the last time, there’d been no way we were going within a mile of one of their parties. Not before Cole turned eighteen, anyway.

Jim, still as fit, still as walnut-brown all over as ever, gave me a very piercing look. “Of course.” His glance slid over to Cole. “I completely understand. Still, I’m very happy you could join us now.” Back to me, and his eyes crinkled up with his smile.

I wondered how much Derrick had told him. About Cole and me, and our whole situation. Back a year and a half ago, back when things were looking bad, Greg had been on the list of lawyers whose numbers I’d carried on a card in my wallet. Just in case.

“I really have to thank you both again for the references, for the apartment,” I started to say.

“No, no, no, it was our pleasure, believe me.” He squeezed my shoulders, briefly. “And well deserved. Now, tonight we have some very special sauteed scallops with asparagus in a burre blanc sauce, you MUST try them, they are just SO beyond wonderful . . . ”

*

We found Derrick and Drew by the drinks table, just outside the french doors.

More hugs, all the way around; but Derrick hugged me especially hard, and held me for a couple of extra beats.

“Thank you guys for coming!” he said, looking at all of us. Then, he turned back to me, and I could see his face in the dusk, it was almost a shadow of his old, panicked-Derrick expression. “Did you see Jim - ?”

“He’s still greeting people as they come in,” I told him. “Relax. It’s early. I guess you haven’t talked, yet?”

“We will,” from Drew. He slipped an arm around Derrick’s waist, and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, okay? I told you, it’s just an internship.”

Yeah. Drew was a big part of why we were back at the pool party, tonight. And why Derrick wanted us to come, so badly.

Drew was a business major, remember; with a specialization in not-for-profits. And Jim, of Jim-and-Greg, spent his days nurturing nonprofits; it was what he did, after retiring as a dot-com maybe-millionaire.

Drew was up here to talk to Jim about an internship, in one of the highest-profile charitable foundations in the state, a foundation with offices across the bay in the old Presidio of San Francisco. And, Derrick being Derrick, he was way, way more nervous about the whole thing than Drew.

And so we would have come anyway, me and Cole. Because Derrick thought it was important; because, what with the gold-plated invitations we’d been getting, Derrick thought our being here would help Drew’s chances.

I really do love Derrick. Even when I think he’s being paranoid; because, when he’s not being paranoid about someone he’s dating, he’s usually being paranoid on somebody else’s behalf.

*

The scallops really WERE that good – if you don’t mind things cooked in sauce, which I usually do mind. But these scallops were delicious; we all stood around, eating from our little plates, near the food table and the glowing outdoor heaters.

“Ooofta,” went Cole, with a dreamy look on his face.

He picked that up from me. It’s Norwegian for, . . . well. It’s not really all that translatable; but it fit the scallops.

“You know,” he went on, with that tilt to his head that I know so well, now – “this would be really, really good with a little wine. Wouldn’t it?”

“Probably,” I said. I could see Drew trying not to grin; Derrick and Trevor were both looking around, not paying attention. For different reasons.

“A nice Sauvignon Blanc; don’t you think? Something kind of dry, and crisp.” He was batting his eyes at me now, the way he’s always done. “Just a little bit of Sauvignon Blanc; like, half a glass?”

“Yeah.” I nodded at him. “Yeah, that would go really well, with this dish. A good flavor combination. What with the asparagus, and all.”

It’s the kind of script we’ve gone through so many times before. We both enjoy it.

“You know, you’re twenty-one now; you COULD go get a glass, and we could split it. I still get half a glass of wine, when I eat with my mom.”

It was all a bluff, and we both knew it. Cole loves to drive, and he needs every chance he can get to drive, to practice for his driving test. He wouldn’t miss the chance to drive home, and he wouldn’t be able to risk driving, if he had any wine.

“That’s true,” I said, pretending to think about it. “That is true. But . . . no. No, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why?”

I looked at him. “Providing alcohol to somebody under drinking age? It’s illegal. What, do you want to get me in TROUBLE, or something?”

And the little brat grinned at me, and we shoulder-bumped, and went back to our drenched scallops.

*

After the food, we left Derrick and Drew on watch for Jim, and Drew’s somewhat-bizarre job interview, and the three of us went off to mingle. Doing our duty; putting in our time. Being Visible.

Walking around, hand in hand. Cole and me, I mean; Trevor walked alongside us.

It’s still a new luxury, holding hands in public; it’s still something we savor. I hope we never get tired of it.

The back yard at Jim-and-Greg’s WAS different; it slowly penetrated, as we strolled along.

All the green things, all the little, low garden lights, along the walkways . . . and the redwood benches, and the steam rising from the hot tub – all of it was like I remembered, from the old parties.

The view was the same, too; looking way down on the lights of Berkeley, and the black of the Bay, and the glittering towers of San Francisco in the distance – that was all like I remembered.

The Sex Nook was still there, too.

Still plush; still comfortable-looking, and deserted. I looked away from it, fast, before a certain part of my body embarrassed me.

Anyway.

Other things in Jim-and-Greg’s back yard were different. Tonight, there were candles, everywhere; the big kind of candles, like a foot wide, with multiple wicks; they were all lit, and they were everywhere, lining the deck, surrounding most of the benches, scattered through the garden – they were everywhere, and they were beautiful.

Actually, the sea of candles made the whole scene kind of enchanting; beautiful, and romantic, and I felt myself sink deeper into contentment, as we padded along.

Well, the really good food helped with the contentment, too. Of course. I wondered if I was ever going to have a normal appetite, someday?

“Oh, look,” went Trevor, in a tone that was a little off. A little practiced. “I think I see Jason over there, by the hot tub.”

We stopped, and looked.

I could see heads, and pink-and-brown bodies in the hot tub, and a couple of towel-clad people standing, in the steam; it was hard to see the details.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” from Cole.

“I should really go over and say ‘hi’,” went Trevor. Brightly. And as we watched, he picked his way along the mossy path to the hot tub – I swear, with a kind of spring to his bare footsteps – and when he got close to the tub, he just casually slipped the towel from around his waist, and carried it along in his hand.

“Hi, Jason!” we heard, a little faintly. “Hi, Erik!”

“Our work here,” Cole went, softly, ironically, “is done.”

“I HOPE this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I agreed. And then, after a couple of beats, I pulled him along; it’s not polite to stare, after all.

Erik was Jason’s older brother; a year older than me, actually. And yeah; he was the main reason, the most important reason, why we were here tonight.

“Trev,” Cole had told me earlier this week, “has had a crush on Erik since we were fourteen. It’s the real reason why we both went to that first pool party; Erik was the one who organized our whole group, so Trev talked me into it. And of course Trev was trying to get Erik to notice him, the whole time. Well,” he went on, with a shrug, “that, and he really wanted to get a picture of Erik, naked. But Erik’s been totally oblivious about Trev, until lately.”

“So, what’s changed?” I’d asked. And Cole’d just given me a pitying look.

“Haven’t you noticed? Trev’s grown up. Well, mostly all grown up. So now Erik’s flirting back at him. Finally.”

“I didn’t wait ‘til you were eighteen before I flirted with YOU.”

“Is that what you’d call it?” And he gave me a Cole half-smile, with a gleam in his eyes that somehow managed to melt my heart. “Anyway. You always had better taste than Erik.” He’d looked at me, then, seriously. “So we’ll go to the pool party? It would mean a lot to Trev.”

“Of course we’ll go,” I’d said.

*

We went on wandering; just the two of us, now. Stopping every once in awhile, to say hi to someone we sort-of recognized, just on principle.

Cole is so good at being outgoing; I admire that in him, so much. I’ll always be more reserved, a little more shy, it’s just who I am, and I’ve accepted it. But Cole’s happy talking to anyone.

Well – I do have to admit, tutoring has helped get me out of my shell. A little, anyway.

It turns out – I really LIKE tutoring. Tutoring Cole, mostly, of course; although he’s pretty much beyond my ability to help him, by now. But I’ve tutored some other kids through the Student Learning Center at Cal, too.

And the experience changed me. I found out, teaching – or tutoring, anyway – is sort of addictive; there’s such an intense satisfaction, there’s such a RUSH, in making somebody finally understand a point they’d been missing. In seeing somebody’s face, when they get back a paper with a good grade; maybe the first good grade on a paper they’d ever had.

And there’s the thing about teaching; how you never really KNOW a subject, until you’ve had to teach it, or tutor it.

Over the summer, I’m taking some extra classes from the Education Department at Cal; and I’ll be deciding whether to go for a dual degree, in Political Science and Education.

It keeps me in Berkeley, with Cole, for the summer. And it might keep me at Cal for an extra semester, or more, in the long run.

Cole’s already been accepted, at Cal; starting in the Fall semester. We’ll both be going to Cal at the same time; for at least a year.

What a rush. What a primal rush.

And the thing is – having a dual degree would be a big help to me, getting into one of the good local law schools; Boalt Hall, here at Berkeley, or Hastings or USF in San Francisco . . .

Our wanderings brought us back closer to the house, and the food and drinks table; on our way to the pool, though neither of us said anything about it.

“Pssst,” from Cole; and he brushed my bare butt, very lightly, with his fingertips.

“Cole – ” I started. He sets me off so easily, and I so did not want to go there . . .

“Look,” he said, kind of motioning with his eyes. Simultaneously managing to look exasperated with me.

I looked.

It took me a second; but there, in front of the food table, was the Music Major boy, from our last party. Only, he was – changed. Sleek, somehow, I thought; until I noticed his waist, above the towel, and it was clear that he’d added a few inches to his middle. Maybe, a little more flesh, all over.

“No, look!” Cole hissed.

And then I noticed; the Music Major was flanked on either side by another man, two middle-aged guys, one salt-and-pepper black hair, one a kind of thinning blond; both of them . . . looking like they were used to being adequately fed. Not heavy; just a little fleshy.

And as I watched them carefully load their plates with the scallops and grilled veggies, it was obvious that the two older men were deliberately positioning themselves between the Music Major and the other men hanging around the tables; they were like human sheepdogs, herding and guarding their sleek little boy.

Not that the Music Major looked like he minded. He actually seemed pretty happy about the whole arrangement.

I looked over at Cole, blinking; and his ironic half-smile said it all, he didn’t need words.

That’s been happening to us more and more, lately; that non-verbal-communication thing.

I just shrugged back at him. “Pool?” I asked.

“Pool.”

*  *  *

 The steam was rising more thickly above the pool this time, white-blue in the glow from the underwater lights.

It was a warm night, for May; a heatwave-night, actually. But it was still cooler than that night, all those months ago, in September.

The night Cole and I had met. Right here; in this pool.

And of course, it was deserted. Again.

Except for the two of us.

“Oh, Jesus,” I breathed, sputtering a little, after I came up for air. I looked around, and spotted Cole’s head, above water, in the mist. I shook the wet forehead-flop hair out of my eyes. “Oh, Jesus. I forgot how beautiful this is.”

Cole breast-stroked his way closer, and began treading water next to me. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” He smiled his Cole-smile at me; and there was a light in his eyes, a glint I could see in the dimness.

“Uh-huh.” I could feel my face shining back at him.

Quiet, for a moment, as we looked at each other, lazily keeping place with our kicks and our slow arm strokes. Then –

“I think we were over here when we met, weren’t we?” I motioned over to the edge of the pool, with my chin.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

We settled against the side of the pool, our feet kicking out in front of us, in pretty much the same positions we’d been in, that night.

That Golden Haze buzz building up, in me. Building up, between us, like the mist on the water.

Okay. Digression.

That Golden Haze feeling? The ecstasy you feel, when you’re falling in love; the ecstasy I felt so vividly, the feelings that colored everything and everybody, when I was falling in love with Cole?

It doesn’t last forever.

And that’s a good thing! Because what Cole and I have now, is so much more . . . real. So dense. I mean, I KNOW Cole now, I know his moods, his thoughts, his blind spots and weaknesses and strengths, his annoying habits and the things he does that make my heart pound with love for him . . .

And astonishingly enough, he loves me back. He shows me, all the time; but even more than that, I can SEE it in him, as he sees the love in me. He’s so transparent.

Yeah; he’s not easy to get along with, or easy to live with –

Okay. He still spends some nights, usually Tuesdays and Thursdays, at his mom’s house. Just to keep her company, he says, to keep her from being alone too much. But for the most part, now, we live together, in our apartment.

And I can testify, he’s stubborn, and challenging, and difficult, and of course I’m the favorite target for his ironic wit, and the object of so many of his suggested self-improvement campaigns . . . a lot of them involving my wardrobe.

Still. After all this time.

And it doesn’t matter, because the love is there, so strongly, for both of us, it’s like a steady warm that fills up both of us, and keeps us so connected, and we both know it’s rock-solid. And I’ve learned so much from him, I’ve become so much more, because of him, and he’s learned so much, and grown so much, because of me. And the sound of his key scraping in the lock of the apartment door, when I’m inside, studying, waiting to hear it, is one of the most profoundly beautiful sounds I know.

 But. Back to the Golden Haze thing.

It doesn’t last forever. But, if you’ve been in a long-term relationship, you’ll know that certain memories, certain places, certain shared feelings CAN bring it back. WILL bring it back; for awhile. And it’s wonderful, when it happens.

The pool at Jim-and-Greg’s is our shared place; the setting for our shared memories. As we were just finding out.

Backs to the pool wall; legs kicking out in front of us, slowly. The water glowing sapphire-blue in the underwater pool lights; the mist rising up from the surface, like the mist on the runway in the last scenes of ‘Casablanca’.

“You know,” I said, into the comfortable silence. “I didn’t set out to seduce you, that night.”

“No shit.” A puff of laughter, from my left. “You made that clear enough, from the start. And I didn’t set out to seduce you, either. Although – ”

I glanced over, to see his familiar half-smile, as he looked down the pool.

“What?”

“Well, I DID get kind of pissed at you, after awhile. I mean, I didn’t really want to seduce you, I thought you were way too young for me, even if you were cute. But you weren’t paying nearly enough attention to me!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at me, amused. “Here I was, naked in a pool with a naked college boy, and I was getting no vibes at all from you. You should have been hard, just being near me! You should have been hard, just being in the same pool as me! I was so insulted.”

“Oh. Okay.” I nodded, solemnly. “Sorry about that.”

“Speaking of near – do we have to be so far apart, right now?”

“No. Absolutely not.” I gladly slid closer to him, put my left arm around his shoulder, in the water; and our bare hips were bumping each other, warm and soft, as we kicked out in front of us.

Then he reached his arm under my back, holding me, and we were even closer. I turned my head, and kissed his smooth cheek.

“So you were insulted,” I went on, after a contented second or two.

“Uh-huh.” Another Cole-smile. “You remember when I got out of the water, to have a smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t really want to smoke. I just wanted to get a rise out of you. By showing off.”

I remembered his smooth, sleek boy’s body, as he hoisted himself out of the water, twisting around to sit naked on the pool deck. “You did get a rise out of me.” I smiled, at the memory. “You so totally did.”

“I thought I did,” he went on, happily. “I figured that’s why you got out, to go get water for us. You were doing the same thing, to me.”

“I was not!” I looked over at him, surprised. “I was just thirsty!”

“Really?” The amusement, in his sideways look.

“Honest! The hummus that night was really salty . . . ”

“Pfffft!” He turned his head, and kissed me on the cheek. “Typical Norwegian farm boy. You remember the food, that night, better than you remember me.”

“I remember you,” I said, softly; and I squeezed his shoulder, gently, and tilted my head against his, as we kicked out in front of us, gently, almost in unison.

“So,” I went on, after a while. My head still touching his; our bodies bumping warm against each other, in the water. “So, that’s when you decided to seduce me? When I came back with the water?”

“I decided to seduce YOU?” I could hear the laughter in his voice.

I just looked at him, with my eyebrow raised.

“Well, okay,” he went on. I could see him grinning, in profile. “I wasn’t really going to start anything with you, even though it was getting kind of interesting. I mean, you were so cool to talk to, and I liked you. But I still wasn’t going to start anything, until that One Special Moment.” He said it with a faint, ironic emphasis.

“A moment.”

“Uh-huh.” A full, bratty, Cole-grin, now. “When we did that race, and I won, and you came up  and crashed into me with that big inflatable pool toy you carry around in front of you.”

“Oh. That moment.”

“Yeah. That’s when I decided I was going to get you inside me.” He beamed, smugly, at me. “I did get you inside me, too.”

“You did.” I kissed him, softly, on the lips, twisting around in the water a little, to do it. “Eventually.” The softness of his lips, under mine. Between mine. “Brat.” And I kissed him, again.

The moment stretched on, for a few more quiet heartbeats; and the air got a little more charged.

“So,” went Cole, eventually. Softly. Settling his head against mine, again. “When did you decide, you were going to seduce me?”

Like you gave me any choice, I was going to say; then I stopped. And paused.

And remembered . . .

“The first time you touched me,” I breathed, at last. Softly.

And then my lips were on his again, gently, and I felt and tasted the slickness of his tongue, and a shiver ran through me, in the warm water.

“MMmmm,” Cole went; eventually. Another brush of his lips; another feel of the slickness of his tongue; and then he pulled back and looked at me, from so close by, his head slightly tilted. “Hmmm. Let’s try something.” He pushed away, and took my hand, pulling both of us down the pool wall towards the shallow end. And as soon as we could touch the bottom, just barely, he turned and was shockingly in my arms, and we were body to body, full front to full front. Kissing.

Making out, actually. Just like that first time.

“Cole – ” I went; just a little sharply. As soon as I got my mouth back.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. That smile on his lips. “We’re adults, now; and we’re a couple. And we’re alone. And we’re just kissing. Right?”

“Ummmm,” I started, a little uncertainly. And then he kissed me, again, softly, and I lost my train of thought.

Okay.

So Cole and I, we’re really, really sexual, and sensual, with each other. It’s the way we relate.

Oh, I don’t mean, like, the number of times we do it with each other, the number of orgasms we have with each other . . . although that’s a little embarrassing to think about, actually.

No, I mean it’s the way we LOOK at each other; it’s the way we look at each other, and touch each other, it’s the way we hold each other while we’re on the couch, reading, it’s . . . everything. We’re just very sexual, it’s how we fit together.

So it’s way too easy for us to set each other off. I can get Cole out of his clothes and hard just by thinking about it, with just the expression on my face; I swear. And I’m even worse, the other way around, with him.

And so, since I didn’t want to get into more trouble tonight, at the pool party, I’d told Cole that we had to be on our best behavior. That I wouldn’t try to get him worked up, and he shouldn’t try to do it to me. And he’d agreed, easily enough.

And just to make sure, I’d made us get into a nice sixty-nine, as soon as we were out of the shower this afternoon. It was fun. Even if we’d had to take another shower after, and we were almost late because of it.

So tonight was going to be about Trev and his long-term crush, and Drew and his naked (okay, towel-clad) quasi-job-interview, and Cole and me enjoying ourselves in the pool. I thought.

Well. I was enjoying the pool right then; that was for sure.

“Ummmm,” went Cole, softly, into my mouth. His body warm against mine, in the water; our arms around each other.

“Cole,” I whispered. Pulling away, a little; leaning my forehead against his, to keep my mouth free. “We should – ”

“We’re just kissing,” he whispered back. With laughter underneath. “Besides. It’s like our anniversary . . . sort of.” And his mouth was on mine, again, briefly, and then back off. “Remember what it was like, that night - ?”

I did remember; vividly. As we started really making out, seriously, body to body, the feeling of his warm skin bumping weightlessly against mine in the water, the smell of the chlorine, the cold wetness of my hair . . .

I’d forgotten how incredible it was. I’d forgotten how wildly sensual it felt, floating together and making out in the water, all bare, like this. Rubbing together, grazing each other, feeling each other, almost weightless, in the water, the sound of water lapping everywhere, and the sound of our breathing. The feel of his mouth on mine, in all the wet.

And I was lost. With Cole’s body against mine, and especially after his legs came up and wrapped around my waist, like he did that first time . . . I was lost. Over the edge. Past the point where I could do anything to stop it. Speech centers, higher logic functions, progressively shutting down. Once again.

Endocrine system really active, though. Humming along REALLY happily. All those glands gleefully firing up, enthusiastically pouring hormones into my bloodstream.

“Uhhhhhh . . . ” I made a ragged sound, as Cole ducked down, and nuzzled my neck, my throat, his tongue wet and warm on my skin –

And I dimly registered some sounds.

Voices, actually; breathlessly laughing, and getting closer, fast. The sound of running bare feet, thumping on concrete.

“Errrr . . . ” I tried to straighten up, a little, in the water, and Cole squeezed my middle harder with his legs, pushing his erection against my stomach.

‘Sssluuppp’, came the sound of someone diving cleanly into the deep end of the pool. Then another laugh, and a loud SPLASH of somebody cannonballing after him, with the rain of drops falling down around us after.

Cole didn’t miss a beat. His tongue slimed its way to the other side of my neck, as I gasped.

The sound of breathing and sputtering, from beside us, as they came up for air; and I dimly recognized Trevor’s voice, all excited, unintelligible, and then a deeper voice answering, laughing.

And then they started a water fight. Splashing each other, happily; then pushing waves at each other, it felt like. Big waves.

Then one of them began chasing the other around the pool. Swimming, pushing through the water, wading, in the shallow end; then back to swimming. Thrashing around, quite a bit. With even more calling out, more laughter. More splashing.

“Nooooo,” I moaned; pulling away from Cole, just a little, my hand still on the back of his head. Looking at those full, swollen lips.

Another howl of laughter, another splash; more falling droplets around us.

And I saw a tremor, at the corner of Cole’s mouth. Just the merest hint . . . of an upturn. Just a hint.

And all at once, I knew.

I’d been had. I’d been so TOTALLY had.

And of course, he saw at once that I’d busted him.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, and pulled my head back to him. His mouth on mine again, and me still lost in the moment, lost to the sensations, even as I felt him trying not to smile as we made out.

He’d probably set it all up the day we got the invitations. Set it up with Trevor, in detail; and if Trevor got Erik to go along with it, and if it led to . . . other developments . . . between him and Erik, then so much the better.

And from the sounds, the splashing, the laughter, the quick yelps – it sounded like they were getting more physical with each other. Wrestling; playing, in the water.

It sounded like those other developments, were developing nicely.

I tried not to smile, too, as I moved my mouth against Cole’s.

And at last, Cole pulled away from me, just a little; his legs still around my waist.

“You think we should give them some space?” he whispered; our faces still touching, wet skin to wet skin.

“Uh huh,” I whispered back. Which was about the most coherent thing I could say, this far along; this far gone.

His legs came away from my waist, and he floated free; still holding me with his hands. “Come on,” he whispered, smiling his Cole-smile back at me, and he pulled me to the edge of the pool.

I’d known all along where we were going; where we would end up. From the minute I realized what was happening.

Carrying our towels in front of us, hiding our erections as best we could; Cole pulling me by the hand, this time, instead of the other way around. We went straight to the iron-trellised little sex nook, trotting awkwardly past the food table with the sauteed scallops and the charcuterie and the grilled vegetables, and the drinks table with all the wine, and right by all the contented, middle-aged folks clustered here and there, eating and drinking and gossiping.

Cole dived in first, sprawling full length on the terrycloth futon cover; and when I dived in on top of him, his legs were around my waist again in a second, and his arms were around my neck, and a smug, self-satisfied look was on his face. Right before I covered his mouth with mine.

“Oh my god,” came a voice about two feet away. “Randall! Come over here! I told you about these kids – ”

“Shhhhhh!”, from a second voice.

The sex nook looked the same, to me; same tasteful arrangements of flowers, bowls of condoms, bowls of little lube packets –

And way too many candles. I could see Cole really clearly; wet, panting, gleeful.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he whispered, between pants. Grinning up at me.

“I am SO going to get you for this,” I whispered back, and then I kissed him again, hard, and deep, and I felt him moan into my mouth. His legs squeezed me tighter.

“You don’t think Jim and Greg HIRE them, do you - ?”, in an undertone, from down around our feet.

“Don’t be silly,” in a louder tone. “Hey, where’s Ted - ?”

“Shhhhhh! Show a little respect, okay?” hissed the first voice.

“I promise I’ll respect them in the morning! TED - ?”

“SHHHHHH!” from another voice, at our elbow-level.

I came up for air, looking down at him. This boy – this young man – I loved, so much. Brat or not.

Or maybe, partly, because he was a brat. Because he was Cole.

One of his hands came down, underneath us both, and grabbed my cock, gently. Squeezing it; holding it, making me gasp. I was so close to coming.

His face was still gleeful.

“This time,” he went, cheerfully, “you’re really going to fuck me, here. Right? I’ve waited long enough for this! I love you, Jerem-MMMPPHHH!”, as I covered his mouth with mine again, forcefully, probing into him with my tongue.

Then, a longer, more sensual “mmmmmmmph”, as I started massaging him down there, feeling him relaxing under my fingertips, getting ready for me.

*  *  *

I think this is going to be an interesting summer.

And after that, I think it’s going to an interesting freshman-and-senior year. A really, really interesting freshman-and-senior year, for the two of us. Definitely not dull; nope. No way.

I think it’s going to be an interesting life.

//end//

*  *  *  *  *

Warning:  Author’s Self-Indulgent Note Follows.

My deepest thanks to everyone who has read this story.

The age of consent in California is eighteen.  The relevant criminal law is California Penal Code section 261.5, and it is scary reading, indeed.  Oddly enough, it penalizes any person having sex with a minor; and that includes another minor.  Technically, two sixteen-year-olds, of any or both genders, who get horizontal under a blanket together are breaking the law.

Obviously, it’s not a law which is universally enforced.

I’m told that in practice, prosecutors and judges dislike, and try to avoid, cases like Jeremy’s and Cole’s, where both parties are in their late teens, and no abuse or coercion occurs; the shorthand term for them is ‘Romeo and Juliet’ cases.  But I’m also told that with an angry parent determined to prosecute, and the tutoring arrangement between the boys, and above all the video, Jeremy really would be in very deep trouble.

And of course, what Jeremy should have done, and didn’t, is clear.  The minute he knew Cole’s mom found out about them, he should have, Called. A. Lawyer. Immediately.

Cole is very much right about information on the Internet being public and searchable, eventually and inevitably.  And any of you who are underage – please, please be very careful about any erotic photos or videos you take of yourselves, or your friends.  Digital files persist, they don’t break down, over time; and even if you think they’re private, and protected, if they’re found they can get you into enormous legal trouble.  It’s best not to have any such files at all; sadly. 

All of the places in this story are real, and described as accurately as I could manage – except for Jeremy’s particular dorm hall, which is just a little too luxurious to exist (separate bedrooms for lower-division undergraduates!)  But the cafes that I name exist – much of this story was written in the Cafe Flore, in San Francisco – and so do the UC Berkeley dining halls, and so do the beaches that the boys go to.  I love San Francisco and the Bay Area, and I’ve tried to give readers a little bit of a glimpse of what it’s like to live here.

The pool parties are pretty closely based on a series of real parties that I, (blushingly), attended some years back; minus the high-school boys (which would have scared me off), and the catered food (which I would have appreciated).  And yeah, they were basically rather dull, for most of us who were there.

And for the record – Jeremy and the other eye-candy boys were indeed being exploited, to an extent, by Greg and Jim.  Nice people can use you; even if they’re nice about it, and don’t mean harm, and are even friends.

Again, thanks to all who have read this story.  Deepest thanks to those of you who’ve written me about it; I appreciate your comments, so much.

Special, beyond-my-ability-to-express thanks to Josh and Michael, who read the whole thing in advance, and offered support and extremely valuable suggestions.  Any faults are mine, of course.

And heartfelt thanks to the Dude, for posting the story, on this incredible site. 

Jeremy and Cole will be back, in a couple of short stories, just for fun; and, they’ll have smaller roles in my next serial novel, which will be a kind of spinoff, ‘not-a-sequel-dammit’, coming sometime in 2009, I think.  But for the most part, their troubles are over; their fate now is to finish growing up together, and growing together.  I think they’ll have fun doing it.

San Francisco – Venice, Italy – London, 2006 – 2008 (Yeah; utterly pretentious, and barely true, but I couldn’t resist).

*  *  *  *  *

Thank you for reading! Comments are always deeply appreciated, at dlgrantsf@yahoo.com.