Written by: Jason Rimbaud
Edited by vwl
The sound of the whistle echoed across the pool, signaling the last heat of an already long practice session. Steven Carter dived in, sinking almost to the bottom before kicking out with his legs. Cutting through the water, he focused on the opposite end of the pool. Emptying his mind, he willed all his energy into keeping his tired muscles from cramping up. Coach Damien was pushing all of them hard for the upcoming State Finals, but he pushed Steven the hardest. What Coach didn’t understand was that a swimmer is all alone when he’s in the pool.
No amount of yelling or encouragement can help. It was just the swimmer and the water. Everything else seemed like a dream, muted and slowed.
Touching the wall with his hands, Steven curled under, kicking out at the wall with all his strength the shock vibrated through his legs, causing him to wince. He still had not fully recovered from his broken ankle that happened a few months earlier. Digging down for his final reserve of strength, he hoped he was out front. Already holding several state records, he dreamed of achieving a coveted spot on the Harvard swim team as a freshman there next year. And Harvard wasn’t known for handing out many invitations. With only two spots left for the upcoming year, he had his work cut out for him. A full scholarship was the only chance he had at attending such a prestigious college.
Just when he thought he could kick no more, he was there, clutching the end of the pool, his chest heaving. For the first time since the race began, he looked around and couldn’t help but grin. There was a full two seconds before anyone else touched the wall.
Coach Damien yelled out, smacking the blonde boy on the head, “That’s what I’m talking about, Steven. You keep that up, and we’ll add another banner on that wall yet.” He pointed at the dozen banners lining the walls.
Steven grinned and hauled himself from the pool. The moment his left foot hit the tile floor, he winced.
“What’s wrong?” Coach Damien asked as he gripped the boy’s arm to keep him balanced.
“Cramp,” Steven said, wincing as he hopped on one foot.
Coach Damien helped the boy to the bench before kneeling down. Grabbing the leg in his powerful hands, he began massaging the tired muscles.
“That last time kicking off the wall, I felt it,” Steven continued in a quiet voice, his face contorted in pain. He took off his goggles and threw them on the bench as he grumbled, “Damnit.”
“Hold on, son,” Coach Damien ordered, his hands already working out the knot. Grabbing the boy’s foot, he rotated it back and forth, being careful to go slowly as he asked, “How’s that feel?”
“Better,” Steven lied, biting back the scream that threatened to escape his throat. His ankle felt as if it was on fire; a sharp pain shot up his leg.
The other boys gathered around them, concern showing on all their faces. Feeling them closing in, Coach Damien stood up saying, “Alright, boys. Great job today. You all gave it your best, and sometimes that’s all it takes to win. Now hit the showers.”
Between giving Steven encouragement and the usual pushing and shoving, it took a few moments for the fifteen boys to make it into the locker room. Once they left, Coach Damien rubbed his eyes with a tired sigh and sat beside Steven.
“I’m serious Coach. It’s nothing,” Steven said, wiping the water from his body. Making sure to force a smile, he added. “I’m just tired.”
“I know how much you want this. But you might have come back too soon. That was one helluva fall you took.”
“Tell me about it,” Steven said, adding a laugh. “I’m just glad we caught it on tape.”
“This is serious,” Coach Damien said, trying hard not to laugh. “I let you back only because I know how much this means for you and what it means for your future. But if it comes down to you hurting yourself, maybe for life…”
Standing up, Steven placed both feet on the floor, making sure to keep his face neutral. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cramp.” Hoping the lie didn’t reach his eyes, he waited.
Gripping his shoulders, Coach Damien seemed to whisper, “I know you have your eye set on going to Harvard, but please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Hey, Coach, no worries,” Steven said, grabbing his goggles and his towel from the bench. Heading towards the locker area, he began drying off. Once he reached the doorway, he paused and then looked over his shoulder. “So how’d I do?”
“You shaved off another eighth of a second.”
“Told ya,” Steven called out over his shoulder. The moment he turned the corner, he leaned against the wall and took his weight off his left leg. Taking a deep breath, he hobbled into the locker room. Stopping in front of his locker, he sat down. Pulling out his duffel bag, he reached inside for his pain medication. After washing the pill down with a sip of water, he leaned back against the cold metal. The doctor had prescribed him Vicodin when he broke his ankle, telling him if the ten pills weren’t enough to come back and see him for another prescription. He still had eight left.
“You alright, Steven?” Tyler Cummings asked while drying off, his concern showing on his young face.
“I’m fine,” Steven replied, trying hard not to notice the naked boy standing just a few feet from him. Tyler was his toughest competition. Though he held many records, Tyler was always just a few eighths of a second behind. Harvard was interested in him as well. The last thing Steven wanted was to show weakness in front of the brown-haired boy no matter how good he looked with or without his Speedos. “Good heat today.”
Tyler stopped drying his hair and grinned, “One day, Carter.”
“Not on your best day,” Steven taunted as he stood up. Stripping off his Speedos, he started drying himself. After a few moments, he noticed Tyler staring at him. “May I help you?” He asked, slinging his towel over his shoulder, crossing his arms. Though uncomfortable under Tyler’s scrutiny, he forced himself to stand exposed, relaxed.
“Why do you do that?” Tyler asked while grabbing his boxers from his locker.
“Why do I do what?”
“You dry yourself before getting into the shower.”
Shrugging, Steven grabbed his shower kit, saying, “I don’t like getting into the shower wet.”
“You’re a strange duck,” Tyler said, shaking his head. Rubbing his lower stomach, he noticed his body hair had begun growing back. Like everyone on the swim team, he shaved his body every week.
“Takes one to know one,” Steven fired back.
“I need to shave again,” Tyler said as he reached for his plaid boxers.
Noticing that most of the boys had left the shower room, Steven called out over his shoulder, “Don’t bother. It won’t help you go any faster.”
“Bite me, Carter.”
Laughing, Steven entered the shower room, making sure to stay on the wooden planks that were laid out on the floor in between the showerheads like some kind of giant checkerboard. Chlorine, various hygiene products and a slight smell of mold caused him to breathe through his mouth. If it weren’t for the fact that he had to wash the chlorine from his body, he would never have set foot into what he believed was a cesspool of disease. He had an uncomfortable feeling standing there in a communal shower, as if he was in some kind of prison or something.
His last two teammates had just disappeared around the corner when he stopped in front of the last showerhead. Hanging his shower kit from the hook above his head, he turned the water on and adjusted it till he found the perfect temperature. Sighing, he let the hot water flow over his head and down his tired muscles. For well over ten minutes he stood there, leaning against the wall for support, waiting for the painkillers to finally work their magic.
“There’s a sight you don’t see every day.”
A smile broke out on Steven’s face at the sound of the voice. Not moving, he replied, “Yes, you do.”
“But not like that.”
“What, naked and wet?” He replied, wiping the water from his eyes.
“No. Naked and wet I’ve seen. Naked and wet and leaning against the wall looking…well…looking so damn inviting—not so much."
“Are you perving on me?” He asked, amusement in his voice as he turned around. His blue eyes widened when he saw the boy standing before him. “I guess you are,” He stated in a low voice, surprised as the growl escaped his mouth.
His boyfriend, Aaron Tate, stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. His brown hair hung in his eyes, damp with sweat. He was still wearing his blue and white uniform; he must have rushed straight over from soccer practice. He looked amazing, sweat and all.
Glancing down, Steven teased, “I guess you won’t be needing any Viagra anytime soon.”
Stretching as provocatively as he could manage, Aaron turned, thrusting out his hips in the process, “Probably not.”
Recognizing the lust in his boyfriend’s eyes, Steven’s body began to respond in kind. “Is anyone left out there?”
“Nope. Already checked,” Aaron replied taking a step closer. “And the door somehow managed to lock itself.”
“So we’re locked in.” Steven smiled as he breathed deeply. “That’s too bad.”
“A tragedy. Looks like we might have to come up with something to relieve some of the boredom,” Aaron stated as he began pulling off his sweat-soaked shirt.
“I trust that between the two of us we can think of something constructive to do,” Steven said, a challenging look on his face. His breath quickened, though, when he caught a glimpse of Aaron’s tanned stomach beneath his soccer jersey.
“I’m betting on it,” Aaron growled.
“Hello? Is anyone in here?” Both boys recognized Coach Damien’s voice.
As quick as Aaron was in pulling down his shirt to hide his excitement, Steven was quicker. Turning off the hot water, he faced the wall and let the cold water run over his body.
Aaron shouted out, disappointment on his face, “In here, Coach.”
“The door was locked,” Coach Damien said in a loud voice, his footsteps coming closer.
“Sorry about that, Coach,” Aaron responded as he adjusted his shirt. “I must’ve bumped it by accident.”
Rounding the corner, Coach Damien paused when he saw the two boys alone in the shower, a look of surprise on his face. He shook his head and said, “Oh, hello, Aaron. What are you doing here?”
“What’s up?” Aaron greeted him with a grin, somehow managing to look innocent. “I’m waiting for this little guppy to finish up so I can give him a ride home.”
Still facing the wall and trying to will his body under control, Steven felt as if his face was on fire. Thankfully, the cold water did the trick for him.
For a moment they stood there in silence; the only sound was the water pouring down onto the concrete floor. Steven shut the water off and grabbed his towel, feeling quite exposed. Wrapping it around his waist, he gathered his shower kit and asked with a straight face, “Something wrong, Coach?”
Shaking his head, the slender man replied, “No. When I found the door locked, I thought a few of the freshmen might be in here goofing around.”
“Nope. No goofy freshmen here,” Aaron said with a grin. Then adding, “Just us horny seniors.”
Steven’s mouth dropped, and Coach Damien, not sure of what he heard, asked in disbelief, “What?”
Aaron did not miss a beat as he replied with a grin, “No one’s here; just us hungry seniors.”
Looking lost, Coach Damien shook his head and ordered, “Well, hurry up, Steven. I’ve got to lock up for the day, and you need to hurry home and get off that ankle.” He suspected Steven’s problem was more than just a cramp.
“I will,” Steven said, walking towards the locker room.
“Promise me,” Coach urged as he watched the boy walk over towards him. He was looking for any sign of pain on Steven’s face.
“Coach’s honor,” Steven said with a grin, holding up two fingers on his right hand.
“Okay…have a good weekend.”
Following the man out into the locker room, the two boys stopped in front of Steven’s locker. Neither said a word until the coach disappeared out the double doors.
“Jesus,” Steven muttered, “that was close.” He dropped his shower kit on the bench beside him as he sat down.
“Exciting, though,” Aaron declared, running his fingers through Steven’s blonde hair. “Kind of gets the blood pumping.”
“Pumping blood was the last thing I needed in there,” Steven said, laughing as he pulled his towel from beneath him and began drying his hair.
Changing the subject, Aaron asked, “What did he mean by ‘take care of that ankle’? What happened?”
Standing up, Steven began explaining while he dressed, “I hurt my ankle during practice today.”
Aaron’s smile faded and was replaced by a look of concern; he asked, “Is it bad?”
Without thinking, Steven muttered, “Bad enough for me to take a V,” calling the powerful narcotic by its popular high-school name.
“Sorry,” Aaron uttered as he leaned over and kissed Steven’s forehead, the kiss tender and filled with caring.
Smiling, Steven ran his fingers through his short blond hair. “Damn, you stink,” he complained.
Smelling under one arm, Aaron made a face, “I concur. Why don’t we go back to my place so we can finish our shower?”
Standing up, Steven grabbed Aaron’s head and kissed him, before offering, “My place. We have it all to ourselves till five o’clock.”
Glancing at his watch, Aaron smiled, “Well you do have the bigger shower. Let’s go.” Making a small growling noise in the back of his throat, he grabbed Steven’s wet Speedo and shoved it inside the duffel bag. After shoving the rest of his things inside the bag, Steven slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the door. Stopping to pick up his own discarded bag by the door, Aaron paused as he reached for the doorknob.
He leaned over for a kiss, but Steven pushed him away, saying, “Not until you shower, stinky boy.”
Throwing open the door, Aaron declared, “I’m driving.”
“Nope. Wrong again, cowboy,” Steven stated as he limped down the corridor. “I’m driving.”
“Fine. I’m sure I can think of something to keep me otherwise occupied,” Aaron said with a grin, bobbing his eyebrows up and down.
Thinking back to the first time Aaron had "thought of something,” on a particularly long drive brought a grin to Steven’s face. “Can’t wait.”
As they cleared the doors and stepped into the sunlight, Aaron noticed how bad Steven was limping. He asked, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Well, instead of a throbbing pain it’s now more of a dull ache,” Steven admitted. Looking around the parking lot, he asked, “Where the hell did you park?”
“Come on, gimp,” Aaron said grabbing Steven’s bag. “This way.”
Seeing Aaron’s bright-red Mustang tucked in Principal Williams’ private parking space made him laugh. “One of these days old Williams is going to have your car towed.”
“He wouldn’t dare. He loves this baby as much as I do,” Aaron said as he pretended to hug his classic automobile.
“You’re not right.” And when Aaron stared at him with one eyebrow raised, he added, “Well, you’re not.” And walked to the driver’s side.
Reaching in his bag, Aaron threw Steven his keys saying, “Just because my outside is a bit off center does not give you the right to accuse me of not being…right.”
Rolling his eyes, Steven unlocked the door and climbed inside. Grunting, he reached over and opened the passenger door. After Aaron climbed inside, he said, “That made no sense whatsoever.”
Starting the car, Steven’s hand went for the controls that put the top down. Aaron smacked his hand, saying, “No. Not a good idea, hotshot. If I go down, the top stays up.”
“Kinky,” Steven said, backing out. Putting the car into first gear, he only made it a few feet before slamming on the brakes. “What…” Aaron started to say before he saw their friend Mike Reynolds standing beside the car.
“I missed the bus. Can you give me a ride home?” Mike asked, an expectant look on his chubby face.
Looking over at his boyfriend with disappointment in his eyes, Aaron opened the door and said, “Sure. Hop in the back.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Mike declared as he climbed in the back, pushing the passenger seat forward to make room for his bulk, and squishing Aaron in the process.
“Watch out, fat ass,” Aaron grumbled.
Sitting in the middle of the back seat, Mike put his hands on the back of the seats in front of him, saying, “Aren’t you going to put the top down?”
“We weren’t—“ Steven began saying, but Aaron interrupted him. “But now there’s no reason why we shouldn’t. Steven?”
Hitting the switch, Steven mumbled, “I can think of at least one.”
“What’s that?” Mike asked, putting on a pair of sunglasses he pulled from his book bag.
“Nothing,” Steven said with a grin.
“So are you guys going to Mindy’s party tonight?” Mike asked as he was flung against the back of the seat when Steven floored the powerful engine.
“What?” Aaron yelled.
“Are you guys going to the party tonight?” Mike repeated the question, fumbling for his seatbelt as Steven shot out of the parking lot, the tires squealing as he made a tight left turn.
“What party?” Steven shouted as he slammed on the brakes at the stop sign, the car coming to a halt more than a bit crookedly.
“At Mindy’s house.”
Flooring the car again, Steven took off down the road saying, “Probably. We always do.”
“I asked Sara if she was going to go, and she said yes. So I said ‘see you there’ and she said ‘yeah,’” Mike rambled on, oblivious to the looks Steven flashed him in the rearview mirror. “Do you think that means anything?”
Exchanging looks with his boyfriend, Aaron said, “Yeah. I think it does.”
“Really. What?” Mike asked, pushing his long brown hair from his eyes.
“I think it means she’ll see you at the party,” Aaron said with a laugh, fumbling for his CD case under the seat. Opening the book, he nudged Steven’s leg and pointed at one of the CDs. Nodding, Steven laughed.
“No, I mean does she like me?” Mike asked, his face much like an expectant child looking for assurance that life really ended happily ever after.
“I don’t know,” Aaron said as he put the CD in the player. Seconds later, the sounds of Stabbing Westward blared from the speakers.
“God, I hate this shit,” Mike complained. “Can’t you listen to something else?”
“My car, my music,” Steven said before singing along with the music at the top of his lungs.
“But it’s not your car,” Mike whined. “It’s Aaron’s car.”
“I’m driving,” Steven said, turning up the volume.
Holding on to the side of the car, Mike asked, “Do you have to drive so fast?”
“I’m in a hurry,” Steven said aloud then mumbling, “to get rid of you.”
“What?”
“He said he has to poo,” Aaron said, unable to hold in his laughter.
“That’s a bit too much information,” Mike said with a frown on his face. Sometimes he could be a tad prudish. Well, okay, not just sometimes.
Five minutes later, Steven once again slammed on the brakes, but this time it was in front of Mike’s house. Turning down the stereo, he waited for the boy to exit the car.
Mike climbed out and asked Aaron, “Do you think you could pick me up tonight?”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Aaron said with a shrug. “I’ve got to do—“
“Vacuum the couch,” Steven finished for him.
“What?”
“See ya tonight,” Aaron called out as Steven took off again.
“Bye,” Mike said, waving as the car disappeared around the corner.
“Rude,” Aaron stated, turning off the stereo.
Steven made a face before saying, “That’s the third time this week he missed the bus.”
“So,” Aaron said with a shrug.
“He just wants to ride in your car,” Steven complained. “I don’t know why you put up with it.”
“I thought you liked Mike.”
Sighing, Steven answered, “I do. I’m just a bit stressed.”
“More like depressed,” Aaron offered, placing his hand on Steven’s thigh.
“How about repressed?” Steven countered.
“Actually irritable is more like it.”
“Blow me.”
“That was the plan,” Aaron said with a laugh.
“Until you invited what’s-his-name along for the ride,” Steven said, muttering under his breath.
“Don’t be mad,” Aaron said in his best little-boy voice, mimicking his younger brother Adam. “We still have plenty of time.”
“That’s true.”
Four streets later, Steven pulled up in front of his house. He lived in a modest four-bedroom home with a manicured lawn and fenced-in front porch that wrapped around the side of the house. A two-car garage that nestled on the side of the house was painted yellow with white trim like the rest of the house. His mother and her morbid fascination with the color yellow, he thought. He really didn’t care for the color, but it was home, the only home he had ever known.
Grabbing his bag from the back seat, he limped up the driveway with Aaron close behind. Walking along the side of the house, he fished for his keys. Once in the back, he unlocked the door and entered the kitchen.
The kitchen was large and painted in soft yellows and blues, with pictures and small figures of cows covering most of the walls and counter space. A large wooden island where the family normally ate breakfast sat in the center. To Steven, this might just be his favorite room in the house. He had more than a few memories of sitting on a stool there as his mother cooked dinner and his father sat next to him reading the paper. For some reason, the kitchen felt like home more than any other room in the house.
Aaron had spent so much time over at the Carter’s house that, he was considered one of the family. So when he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, Steven called out over his shoulder as he headed into the living room, “Get me a Dr. Pepper, too.”
From the kitchen, he heard Aaron say, “Oh hi, Mamma Carter.”
Hanging his head in frustration, Steven dropped his bag and headed back into the kitchen.
“Hi, Aaron. How are you?” His mother, Lynn Carter, asked as she struggled with several bags of groceries in her arms.
Grabbing the bags from her, Aaron replied with a genuine smile, “Great.”
“What are you doing home?” Steven asked, trying hard not to let his disappointment show.
Placing one hand on her slender hip, his mother shook her head saying, “I swear Steven. You’re becoming more like your father every day. How can someone so smart be so forgetful?”
Smacking his head, Steven uttered, “That’s right. Dad’s boss is coming tonight for dinner.” Giving his boyfriend a look, he said, “Sorry, Aaron, I totally forgot about that.”
Shrugging, Aaron grinned and asked, “More bags in the car?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” Aaron said, opening the door that led to the garage. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Come on, grumpy.”
It took a few minutes to unload the car, and when they were done, his mother asked, “Why are you limping?”
“It’s nothing,” Steven assured her. “My ankle’s just a bit sore today.”
As she began emptying the closest bag, she asked, “Aaron, are you staying for dinner?”
Looking over at Steven, Aaron shook his head, “I better not. My mom already complains that I spend too much time here already. She says she’s forgotten what I look like half of the time.”
Laughing, Lynn stated, “I’ve thought the very same thing about Steven at times.”
“I’m going upstairs,” Steven declared, motioning Aaron to follow. “What time is dinner, Mom?”
“Six o-clock sharp. Dress nice.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Mamma Carter,” Aaron said before kissing her on the cheek.
Smiling, she asked her son, “Why can’t you be more like him?”
“Okay.” Steven walked back over and leaned in and kissed Aaron on the cheek, saying, “Whatever you say, Mom.”
“I meant me,” She said while trying to frown, though her laughter ruined the look she gave her only child. “Kiss me, not him.”
“Sorry,” Steven laughed. “You have to be more specific.”
“Get out of here, you goof ball,” She said while grinning. Then adding before he could say it, “I know it takes one to know one.”
Retrieving his bag from the living room, Steven walked up the stairs and down the hall. After rolling his eyes at the hundreds of pictures that adorned the hallway, he stopped at the laundry room and walked inside, opening his bag.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Aaron said in disbelief, his hand touching the cheek Steven had just kissed moments earlier.
“Did what?” Steven asked, peering inside his gym bag.
“Kiss me in front of her.”
Taking out his wet towels, he dropped them in the basket. “So?” It was only on the cheek.”
“You have to be more careful,” Aaron declared, crossing his arms. His handsome face twisted into a frown.
“Are you for real?” Steven asked, grabbing his Speedos from the bag.
Leaning against the doorframe, Aaron sighed, “Yes. I don’t want anyone knowing.”
Turning around, Steven leaned against the washer, asking, “How long have we been friends?”
“I don’t know. Three years or so.”
“How long have we been…” Lowering his voice, he said, “you know?”
“One year, two months, fifteen days and six hours,” Aaron replied after looking at his watch.
“What? You don’t have it down to the exact second?” Steven asked with frown. “I’m a bit hurt.” Which was a lie. Because Aaron’s timetable was probably close to being accurate. For being such a stereotypical male, Aaron was beyond romantic at times.
Aaron said shrugging, “This is a different watch, and it’s a bit slower than my other one.”
Smiling, Steven said, “Right.”
“Right what?”
“What was I saying?” Steven asked, still holding his damp Speedos, forgotten in his hand.
“You were asking, you know,” Aaron prompted.
Snapping his fingers, he said, “Right. We’ve been friends longer. She only thinks we’re goofing.”
“I don’t know,” Aaron said while frowning. “You didn’t see her face when you kissed me.”
“You’re imagining things.”
He did not want to continue with that line of thought for very long. So he glanced at his watch and changed the subject, “Since your mom’s home. I should get going. I’d like to finish my homework before the party.”
“Yeah, me, too. That way we can have the entire weekend for…you know,” Steven said in a conspiratorial tone.
“All right. I’ll call you before I head over,” Aaron said as he walked out of the room.
“Hey,” Steven called out. When Aaron turned around, he added in a soft tone, “How ‘bout a kiss goodbye?”
“Not until I shower, remember,” Aaron said through a chuckle. “Gotta go. And no cheating.”
“What?”
Holding his hand in front of his crotch, Aaron pumped it back and forth, saying, “Not until tonight.” And with a wink, he disappeared.
Grinning, Steven turned back and emptied the rest of his dirty clothes into the basket. Suddenly, Aaron’s arms surrounded him. Squeezing tight, Aaron kissed his cheek, softly and tenderly. Turning around inside his embrace, Steven took a deep breath, saying, “I thought you wanted to be careful.”
Kissing him hard, Aaron smiled, “Tonight. I promise.” And then he disappeared again.
Smiling, Steven looked down at the Speedos in his hands. Bringing them closer, he realized they weren’t his size. Dropping them on the floor he made a face. Touching someone else’s swimsuit just seemed dirty. Thinking someone must have grabbed his by mistake, he picked them up using one of the wet towels and dropped them in the basket, the least he could do was to wash them.
He headed into his room and undressed, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper in his private bathroom. He relieved himself before walking back into his room wearing only his boxers.
Sitting down at the desk, he pulled out his schoolbooks. Holding up his math book in one hand and his English book in the other, he debated which he would do first. The math book won out and for the next hour he wrestled with trigonometry. After he finished the required homework, he shut the book and stretched.
His stomach rumbled as he looked at the clock. Wondering what his mom was cooking for dinner, he stood up and walked over to the closet. He grabbed a pair of shorts from the shelf and slipped them on. Forgoing a shirt, he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen.
Seeing his mother standing over the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious, he smiled. She was petite with long flowing blonde hair and mischievous green eyes. He still remembered with pride as his growing spurts pushed him past her. At thirteen he was a good two inches taller than she was. Now he towered over her, though her personality made her seem much taller when she locked her eyes on him.
He made a small noise so she’d know he was entering the kitchen, he waited until she looked over her shoulder before asking, “What’s for dinner?”
“Duck.”
Pretending to do just that, he looked over his shoulder and asked, “Why?”
“No. I’m cooking duck for dinner,” His mother said, turning back towards the stove.
“My favorite,” He said grinning as he rubbed his stomach. “What else?”
“Asparagus and some rice and spinach salad.”
Opening one of the cabinets, he opened a box of cookies, as his mother warned, “Don’t spoil your dinner.”
Taking a bite, he said, flashing her a grin, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
“So what’s this party you’re going to tonight?” She asked, abandoning the pot on the stove. She walked over to the island and began chopping walnuts for the salad.
“Mindy’s throwing a pool party,” Steven answered, walking over to the refrigerator. Getting a Dr. Pepper, he took a long drink. Burping, he paused for his mother to say, “Hog.”
“I thank you.”
“So who’s all going to be there?” She asked, dumping the walnuts into a bowl.
“Everyone.”
“Are her parents going to be there?” She stopped, staring at him.
“Nope,” Steven said, sitting down on one of the stools surrounding the island. “It’s just gonna be us kids.”
“Will there be alcohol?”
Shrugging, he said, “Probably. You remember how kids like to drink when the parents are away.”
“Steven Carter,” his mother said, waving a spoon at him. Giving him a glare, she added, “You’d better not be drinking.”
“If I do, I promise I won’t drive,” Steven said, holding up his hand.
“You don’t have a car,” Came the reply, though she did return to making the salad.
“Aaron can drive.”
“He’d better not be drinking and driving, either,” She declared.
“Then we’ll stay over. Don’t worry about it,” Steven said with a straight face. One of his favorite pastimes was teasing his mother. Sometimes he took great pleasure in the simple things.
Turning around, her face red, she shut her mouth when she saw the grin break out on her son’s face. “I can’t believe you treat me this way.”
“What way?” David Carter walked in from the garage carrying his briefcase. His tie was undone, and he looked exhausted. As usual, his chocolate-colored hair was standing out in all directions.
“Your son is trying to give me a heart attack,” she complained before greeting him with a kiss.
Returning the kiss, his father said, “Steven, stop giving your mother heart attacks.”
“I’d never do that,” Steven said with mock sincerity.
“Not you. What’s for dinner?” David called out as he walked into the living room.
“Duck,” Steven called out.
When his father crouched down, Steven started laughing, while his mother looked up at the ceiling and asked, “Why do you do this to me?”
“Don’t waste your breath. I don’t think he’s listening,” Steven said, kissing her cheek before following his father into the living room.
The living room was painted white with blue carpet. More than a few pictures adorned the walls, but they were nothing like those in the upstairs hallway. A couch and two loveseats made a small square so all those sitting could see the TV nestled in the corner. A rather large oak coffee table was centered between the couches, and Lynn had about a dozen magazines fanned out in what she thought was fashionable presentation. A large comfortable-looking leather recliner was pushed off to the side, and at the moment, David was sitting in it looking tired.
“Hey, Dad. Can I have fifty bucks?” Steven asked, flopping down on the couch closest to his father, who was busy taking off his shoes.
“Why?” His father grunted, sending one of the shoes flying across the room.
“Because I want to buy stuff,” Steven said as he stood up and waited for the other shoe to go flying.
“What kind of stuff?” His father asked, kicking the other one in the opposite direction.
“Aaron has a lead on some good weed,” Steven joked as he retrieved the two shoes. Putting them by the stairs, he returned to the couch.
His father was sitting in his chair, a frown on his face, poking his stomach with one long finger. Steven asked, “What are you doing?”
“Do you think I’m getting fat?” His father asked, raising his head to meet his son’s eyes.
“It’s hard to tell with your belly in the way,” Steven managed to say with a straight face.
“Katie, my secretary said my backside was getting flabby today,” His father continued. “I haven’t worked out this week.”
“And you’re definitely not getting younger,” Steven offered. “They say the older you get—“
“Lynn,” His father called out as he stood up.
“Yes, dear.”
“How much time before dinner?” He asked, stripping off his suit jacket.
“An hour and forty minutes.”
“Okay. I’m going for a run.”
Walking into the living room, she asked, “Why? Your boss will be here in a half-hour.”
Smacking his head, David uttered, “So that’s what he meant by ‘I’ll see you later.’”
“Dad’s losing it.” Steven leaned over and whispered to his mom.
“He never had it,” she retorted with a laugh.
“Well, I’d better go and open some wine, then,” David muttered as he headed up the stairs.
“Ah, Dad.”
Turning around, he said, “What?”
“Fifty bucks.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet saying, “For the weed, right?”
“David!” His mother exclaimed.
“What?” Came the reply. “At least he’s honest about it.” Peering into his wallet, he said, “I don’t have fifty; take this instead.”
Steven took the bills and passed his father on the stairs. “Thanks, Dad. I guess I should get ready for dinner.”
“I don’t know why you encourage him.” He heard his mother’s admonishment as he headed to his room. Looking at the bills in his hand, he grinned. His father had given him four crisp twenties.
“You know the boy doesn’t do drugs. I don’t know why you let him get to you.”
Shutting the door, he walked into his room. He had long ago decided that yellow or anything resembling yellow was never allowed to enter his room. So his carpet was blue, as well as was his comforter. His walls were white, though you’d never know it by the posters and pictures covering every square inch. On the other side of his bed stood a tall bookshelf overflowing with the numerous trophies he had won over the years. It took him about two years to convince his parents that he deserved to have them in his room rather than in the living room. Up to that point, getting them into his room was his greatest achievement. In the corner opposite his bed was a cheap desk that housed his computer and all the junk that came with being a teenager. A nice stereo was atop his dresser, along with the three hundred or so CDs he owned. The only difference from any other teenager’s room was that it was almost spotless.
Heading over to his closet, he took off his shorts. Folding them, he replaced them on the shelf and started looking through his clothes. Rubbing his stomach, he wondered what he should wear to the party tonight. Looking down, he blushed. Between the shower room, the implied activities of the ride home and the expectation of coming home to an empty house, he had gotten quite worked up. His hand dropped to his middle before he remembered his promised to wait. Growling, he turned and went into the bathroom. Stripping off his boxers, he put them in the hamper before stepping into the shower. Not bothering to turn the hot water on, he let the cold water wash over him for the second time that day. After washing his hair, he hurried to finish soaping the rest of his body. While cold water did wonders for the male libido, it wasn’t the most pleasant way to clean oneself.
Once finished, he dried off and stared into the mirror. After checking his face for any blemishes, he grabbed his hair gel and meticulously spiked his blond hair. Satisfied by his appearance, he walked back into the bedroom.
Peering into the closet, he once again pondered what to wear. He decided on a pair of faded jeans, black to match his black-and-white striped shirt. As he debated on whether or not to wear boxer briefs or his white thong, he slipped into a pair of black socks. Deciding on the thong, he smiled at the thought of Aaron’s face later on that night. He had not quite finished with his belt when his cell phone rang.
Grabbing it, he looked at the caller ID and smiled. “Hello.”
“What are you wearing?” Aaron’s asked, his voice low and husky.
“A pair of jeans at the moment,” Steven said with a laugh.
“Oh.” Aaron sounded disappointed.
“Too bad you didn’t call like two minutes earlier,” Steven teased. “I just took a shower.”
“Did you wait?”
“As hard as it was. Yes.”
“Good boy,” Aaron murmured.
“Was there something you wanted or did you just call to see if I was naked?” Steven asked, slipping into a pair of black shoes.
“Actually, I was wondering what you were wearing.”
“Oh, how sweet.”
“Not really,” Aaron said with a giggle. “I want to make sure we don’t dress alike again.”
“That was kind of funny.”
“Whatever. So what are you wearing?” Aaron asked again.
“A pair of jeans. Some socks. Some shoes.” Steven ticked off the items on his hand.
“And…”
“What and?”
“Your shirt.”
“Not wearing one.”
“Okay. Which shirt are you going to wear?” Aaron asked, his patience wearing thin.
“Don’t know. What are you going to wear?”
“I give up,” Aaron declared, then added, “I’m wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt.”
Walking over to the closet, Steven hung the striped shirt up and grabbed a white T-shirt. “I can promise you we won’t match.”
“I gotta go. Dinner’s ready,” Aaron said. “I’ll call you before I leave.”
Smiling, Steven said, “Right. See ya soon.”
Throwing his phone on the bed, he slipped the shirt over his head. Looking in the mirror mounted on his closet door, he checked himself before switching off the light. Once in the hall, he could hear voices downstairs. Figuring his dad’s boss had arrived, he went downstairs to get dinner over with. The sooner he ate the sooner Aaron would call, and the sooner they’d be able to spend some time alone.