A section of brick houses went up next to the main drag in town a couple of years ago. That’s where the military families started to move. At first the kids of the military families went to school on the base but slowly they were infiltrating my high school.
I was only aware of their presence because from time to time I would hear one of them talking about living overseas. On my way home from school I started examining the new houses where I knew they lived. I also noticed the boys that played together on the streets in front of them.
It was the first exciting thing that had happened since I began school. The military kids were bigger, more confident, and far more mature than the boys I grew up around. There was a far more sexual air that surrounded their play. I wasn’t invited to join but I did make it a point to observe.
Word had spread that the base school was closing down one grade at a time and as a grade closed in the base school, the militray kids transferred into my school. Even then we rarely crossed paths, except when I went to check them out.
One by one the housing developments sprung up. Farm fields became neighborhoods.
My friends and I were the first wave of invaders from the city. The military kids became the second wave a dozen years later, but they came together and they all knew each other, which meant including the locals in their groups wasn’t important to them.
Guys like Alfred were too young to have known farm life, but they still held a grudge because their fathers complained about being squeezed off their land. I’d never mingled with old townies or they never mingled with me. I sat beside them in classes and we went home to different neighborhoods.
Seeing Alfred with Greg indicated that the schism was either disappearing or there was something about Greg that had Alfred overlooking the fact Greg was one of “them”. Seeing them together had me regretting that I didn’t get closer to Alfred over the years we’d been acquainted and passing one another with little more than a nod.
It took me some time to forget the fateful meeting with the boy with the piercing eyes. Most of my waking hours went without considering Greg at all. Knowing the danger that lurked behind those intense blue eyes made it easier for me to push Greg out of my conscious thoughts.
It wasn’t so easy to rid my dreams of him. He came to taunt me late at night and I used the imagery to satisfy my desire for the boy I couldn’t know. While half asleep and ill-prepared to refuse his temptation, and even once fully awake to take advantage of him, he aided my passionate quest. He even left me some nights but woke me over and over again on others.
I didn’t see Alfred except in passing at school. I thought about asking him about Greg, and I thought of not asking him. I did what I’d always done with the boy that lived in the house on the hill at the back of our neighborhood — nodded and smiled as I went on my way.
I was happy leaving things alone. I didn’t like what I’d felt that day. I didn’t like the questions it put inside my head. I didn’t like Greg and I was happy to leave him alone. Not being sure what I’d do was why I was content leaving things alone. Doing something meant risking everything. I was young but I was no fool.
One day, as I stood at my locker ready to rid myself of my books, a hand slid up on the locker door beside my face. When I tried to open my locker, the hand prevented it. There was a short struggle for supremacy and I turned ready for a fight. I wasn’t in the mood for this. It was the heat that gave me the first clue. The front of him was now up close to the back of me.
“Hi! What’s your name again? I know I know you, don’t I?”
He leaned with his hand extended behind my head, using the locker door for support. The smile hadn’t changed and the eyes were still on me, in mine. The cocky way his lips turned up pissed me off. He was so sure of himself.
“Martin. My name is Martin,” I said indignant, all the time looking for his eyes.
When I found them I didn’t have far to look. Where did I find his eyes? In mine. They were right there all the time.
“Yeah, that’s right, Martin. Remember me? Alfred? On that dirt road over near where he lives? It was a Thursday. We were going to play pool. You were going…”
“No, Alfred is shorter. You’re no Alfred. I know Alfred.”
“I was with Alfred,” he clarified in carefully spoken words.
“Yeah! George something or other... wasn’t it? I thought it was in gym class. Aren’t you weird Willie’s friend? Would you mind getting your hand off my locker. I want to get out of here today.”
I wasn’t about to let him know I remembered every detail of that Thursday meeting, but the shape of his lips suddenly changed. I wanted to look down to check to see if he brought everything with him, but he was so close I wasn’t able to look away from him. His smile wasn’t so confident.
“Greg. My name is Greg,” he insisted, being caught off guard by my lapse.
“Are you sure? I thought it was George,” I said thoughtfully. “Whatever your name is, I want to go home today. That is your hand on my locker, isn’t it?”
Greg moved his hand, being thrown by my wit for only a few seconds. He stood so close to me that the heat from his body mingled with the heat from mine. There was no way he didn’t feel it. I could feel the sweat on my forehead.
I didn’t even know him, and I was almost certain I wanted to keep it that way. I pulled my shirt out of my pants to cover my guilt, as I dumped in my text books and took out a copy of 1984.
As I fiddled and tried to remember what I was doing there I noticed his arms were bare, and there were some silken blond hairs on his forearms. They were far lighter hairs than the darker blond hairs on his head. His wrist was thick and his arm was well shaped, but not as muscular as I fantasized them to be when I was with him in my room late at night.
His chest had the same effect on his T-shirt that his ass had on his jeans, and on me as well. I looked at the impression his nipples made on it while checking to be sure I wasn’t closing him in my locker.
My face brushed against the cotton in his T-shirt when he refused to move, and I ducked under the arm letting my face brush against his chest. Moving under his arm his scent got into my nostrils and added even more fuel to my fire. My leg brushed across his leg, but not deep enough to touch what I couldn’t see up that close to him.
I inhaled a heavy dose of him and immediately went into a total and complete brain-fart-mode. There was no way to remember what I was doing. What was my name? I wanted so badly to drag my trailing arm across his crotch, but I wasn’t insane. Kids were passing down the hall behind us.
When I turned to face him, I wondered what he wanted from me. I stood there as he leaned his back against my locker.
I was still there because he was. He could read me like a Playboy magazine. I became sure I didn’t like this smirking boy as he laughed at my indecisive awkwardness. I wanted to escape him. I’d have followed him anywhere.
I waited. For what I didn’t know.
“You’re funny,” but he wasn’t laughing.
Man, I wanted to punch him out. I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to kiss him flat on the lips with half the school passing around us. His arms dropped to his side. His eyes wandered over my eyes. How did he know I wasn’t going to kiss him? How was he so sure of himself.
Mind you, I’d never kissed anyone before if you don’t count my grandmother and somehow I was sure it didn’t count. I didn’t think the kind of kiss I was thinking about sharing with Greg was in any way akin to that. Oh, I’d once suspected there was more to kissing than pecking old granny but no evidence surfaced and so it was one of those mysteries of life there was no way to answer until you meet someone like Greg. I was this close to planting one smack on his lips and he just stood there staring at me
I had grown to realize I was likely going to go through the rest of my life being asexual. Most of my former friends were locked into relationships and bragging about scoring every time I ended up in a conversation with one of them. Then they’d ask how I was doing in that department and there just weren’t a lot of options when your girlfriends are just friends and nothing more. The only one I figured I was destined to “know” was my right hand and on those perverted occasions when I wanted something more, my left, but I never dared tell anyone I was ambidextrous in that department. It gave new meaning to variety.
I’d never done anything with anyone up until then, nor did I want to, or so I’d led myself to believe. Then came Greg and I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but wanting anything with him or from him was too scary to consider. Living in a small town, everyone knows everyone else.
We met each Sunday in front of the churches and again on Wednesday evening. There was no way I could or would risk being discovered as someone people could hate. There was nowhere to run and no one to turn to once that kind of thing got around because even sympathetic people knew better than to become identified with anyone outside the norm established by our local preachers.
It was better to stick it out alone and hope for better days than to be labeled about the worst thing a kid my age could be labeled. To be labeled in a way that could get you killed by any one of the local rednecks isn’t something I aspired to. There wasn’t anyone I wanted to tell about what I felt for other boys.
Then came Greg and I hated him. I never hated anyone before. I found myself staring into those eyes as the fog lifted from my addled brain. The entire school moved around us, but I felt as though I was alone there with him. I became aware of my heart going crazy inside my chest. My stomach turned over about the same time my mouth went dry. I didn’t think it would make a good impression if I threw up on the guy.
He just stood there waiting — for what I don’t know. His eyes just stayed in mine as we contemplated our next words while the air became more scarce. He had come down to my locker to hassle me and here we were.
“What’s up, doc?” I said as cheerfully as I could while trying to cover my growing excitement with the too short tail of my shirt.
“You really want to know?” he said curtly, glancing down at the too short tail of my shirt.
Shit!
I remembered good old H. G. Wells, realizing it would make a good cover for my growing condition.
He chuckled and shook his head before finding my eyes again.
“I just wanted to say there’s a party Friday night, my house. My parents will be away this weekend. Some beer and whatever people bring. Interested? Mostly air force kids. Guys you don’t know.”
I knew the answer.
I wasn’t a fool!
I knew all the dangers he represented.
I’d carefully been able to keep control of my life and I sure as hell wasn’t giving that control up to some smirking, arrogant, cocky, gorgeous guy that made me dizzy every time I looked at him.
“I don’t even know where you live,” I said, fighting with the words.
It’s not what I meant to say. Oh well, what’s done is done.
“Come on. I’ll show you. We’ll shoot some pool. You do shoot pool, don’t you?”
I wasn’t going anywhere with him. The thing I needed to do was tell him “no”. The thing I needed to do was walk away from him. The thing I needed to do was stop looking in his eyes.
The thing I did was, follow him out of the school like a puppy on a chain with him gladly leading the way. Only after we were out of the parking lot did he slow down so we could walk side by side. I had no trouble bringing up the rear. It was a nice view. Well, I was following him anyway. I figured I might as well make the most of the scenery. I watched his jeans shifting from side to side as he walked.
“You lived here long?” he asked.
“All my life.”
“Not yet, I hope,” he said, looking at me and smiling without the smirk.
“Where’d you come from?” I asked.
“My mother’s belly,” he said.
“Give me a break. Where did you live before you live where it is you live at present?”
“You want to know where my father was stationed last? Rhine Main, that’s in Germany.”
“You speak German?”
“Not fluent, but I know a lot of the words. It’s not that hard — German, I mean.”
“What’s Germany like?” I asked.
“Nice. People are a lot nicer. They all like Americans so it isn’t hard to make friends. Not like over here; everyone’s stuck up over here.”
“You don’t seem to have any trouble making friends,” I said.
“Meaning we are becoming friends,” he said, not asking but telling me with certainty.
Once again I knew the answer. The last thing in the world I needed was a friend like Greg.
“Yeah!” I said, angry with myself for telling him the truth.
“I figured that. I don’t like just anyone, you know. I’ve got to be careful who I like. People tend to hang on me. I don’t like that. It’s easier to pick out the ones that you can do things with. If you take your time, you can have the ones you need and not the ones that are a pain in the ass. That’s not to say I can’t be a pain in the ass. Under the right circumstances… I can be quite a pain,” he said.
The smirk was back.
“Like me?” I asked.
“Yeah! Maybe like you. I don’t know yet. You seem okay from what I’ve seen. Alfred says you’re cool. Says you don’t make friends with people he runs with though. He thinks you’re stuck up, but he still thought you were cool enough to talk to. Alfred is the first local who spoke to me. He likes pool. He’s not too good at it, but that’s when I can become a pain in the ass. Alfred pays up and doesn’t complain.”
“Alfred and I don’t have anything in common. His old man’s a farmer and mine works for the phone company. He runs with guys that are farmer’s sons. I don’t think they like us much. Most of the newer housing developments were once farms. That’s who lives around me. Alfred’s fine. I like him okay. You said he was cool enough, cool enough for what?”
“Yeah! He’s okay, just not very good at pool. He likes to come over and play though. You any good?”
“We talking about pool now?” I asked. “I keep having the feeling we may not be having exactly the same conversation here. Cool enough to what? What does he lose?”
“I was talking about pool. You play or what?” he said, looking me over with that knowing smirk again. “If you don’t I bet you want to learn.”
“I know which end of the cue to use. Cool enough for what?”
“Great. I’d like to find someone that can play a good game. Cool enough to play with me. He introduced me to some of the farm boys thinking he could get over on me that way but he couldn’t. He still lost.”
“Maybe you need to train someone to compete with you, huh? To play with you I mean. That’s what you want?”
“No one can compete with me,” he said self-assured. “Lots play with me. Few are all that enthusiastic about paying off, but you take what you can get. No one has to play but we all have to pay sooner or later.”
“We’re speaking of pool?”
“Pool.”
He looked me over once he’d said it. It occurred to him that I had some idea about what the conversation was really about. I hadn’t seen the real deal but the impression it made said that it was nothing to fool around with.
“The farm boys?”
“Sometimes. Mostly Alfred.”
“For some reason I don’t find that hard to believe, and I don’t think it has a thing to do with pool. They may be cool enough but you look like you could give someone a run for his money?”
“What do you mean?” He said with honest innocence in his voice as he gave me the once over. “With pool?”
“You’re different,” I said, thinking out loud. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You say what’s on your mind.”
“Different! What do you mean by that crack? I’m no different than you are. I just don’t waste a lot of time playing around.”
“You’re cocky — self-confident. Most guys around here aren’t so sure as you. My friends aren’t; I’m not, and the farm boys sure aren’t. Does that make us bumpkins or something? You taking us for a ride? Me?”
“I can’t help it if you guys were brought up in the sticks. I know which end is up. I’ve been around the barn a few times. It’s part of the military experience. You learn about new places and new people.”
“And how to get what you want from them?”
“What are you saying? I don’t get anything they aren’t willing to give. I have no trouble attracting people. I don’t want anyone around me that’s a drag. Most guys come around for a game or two. Some come back. Some don’t.”
“It’s okay Greg, I’m not cutting you down. You stand out and it’s obvious you’ve been around. You’re different in a good way is all I’m saying. You are different than most of us because you’ve had more experience with other people. That makes you interesting. Playing with you is a little risky, a little dangerous, but no doubt it’s fun.”
“Yeah, that’s true. You nailed it just when I thought you were going to be a drag.”
“I guess we are from the sticks, and that means having someone like you teach us a thing or two isn’t a bad thing. I suppose that’s why guys come back to learn a little more. It’s how we learn about… stuff, like pool. Cool enough for what?”
“Cool enough to know what they like. Cool enough to say they can’t, but then they do and they come back.”
“You? I mean, do you?”
“I suppose I would if I had to, but I always win. You find me interesting? How interesting am I?”
“You know I do. You turned around to make sure I did that day. You knew I was curious about you. What you do. Who you play with.”
“What day was that?”
“Right! What party? You’re inviting me to your party because you know I find you interesting. You know stuff I don’t know. There’s only one way to find stuff out. If we play with each other you might get a chance to show me.”
“I take on all comers. We can play with each other if you want, but you need to know you’ll lose. I play for keeps. I’ll show you whatever stuff you want, but we’re only playing. Don’t take it seriously. It doesn’t pay to get serious. I have a feeling you take things too seriously.”
“I like to know what I’m getting into but I like a good game. I know when I’m playing and I don’t take it seriously.”
“Good. You’ll like the guys I party with. We go back a ways but anyone I say is cool, is cool to them.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve an invitation to the party. Alfred going to be there?”
“No, Alfred is for pool. Like you said, he hangs with his home boys and I hang with mine.”
“And the new kid,” I said.
“I’m the new kid,” he said. “You’re just new to my crowd. These are all guys who were in Germany with me.”
I became lost in my fog again. To me Greg was an enigma magnified times ten and this is coming from someone who understood little about anyone, including myself.
I watched him walking beside me and caught a glimpse of the package in the front of his jeans. I could see the outline running down the inside of his right leg. The tight jeans left little to my imagination but it only took a little to get my mind working over the possibilities.
As we came to the end of the path Greg turned around to face me. Being faced with the bulging jeans. he adroitly used his palm to push the extended member down to the inside of his pant leg before he turned to step onto the shoulder of the road.
I thought it odd he was self-conscious about walking on the side of the road with his endowment apparent. It was another aspect of Greg that surprised me. Up until that move, I didn’t think he cared who knew what he had.
He didn’t say anything about his last-second maneuver before entering inhabited ground and there was no way I knew to bring it up that might get it out into the open. He either didn’t mind that I saw that he was excited about something, or just excited in general. He didn’t care if I saw it but he stopped when it came to sharing it with neighbors.
How many people could he invite over for pool anyway?
When faced with a gift horse, never turn your back on him.