Date: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 17:11:32 +0700
From: Robert Glass <robxglass@gmail.com>
Subject: The Virgin Joseph part 5

All right reserved. Any unauthorized use is prohibited. This is a fiction.
Any resemblance to people and/or events is coincidental. If reading this
deemed illegal to you, I implore you to stop. If it offends you, please do
not read on.

As I say in every chapter before: donate. Donate! DONATE!

PART 5


Not long after they all started to work, Jake called Tom, Nick and Joe for
a short briefing. They were going to work on a new project. It was called
Madsen Academy; a private school, definitely a fancy one. They were
commissioned to design a facility that consisted of a couple of auditorium,
a concert hall, art classes, several laboratories, and a separate library
aside from, of course, a monumental number of elaborate classrooms. They
wanted it to be edgy. It was quite scary for Joe. He'd never had any
experience in designing buildings, let alone one that was so massive. He
was excited. It was his first time working in the field of
architecture. After Lincoln's Lounge, which was somewhat still in his
comfort zone, this project was incredibly refreshing.

By the end of the day his head was full of information. He would need a
little archival rearrangement up there in his brain. He played the role as
an observer more than conductor. After all Joe knew practically nothing
about architecture. He was still learning. On the other hand he didn't want
to make the same mistake he had in his previous office. Throwing out
innocently curious questions was of course compulsory. Constantly and
aggressively sprouting opinions out would be out of line.  Especially just
for the sake of being noticed. He'd done that before and it didn't end
well. Joe had an attitude problem; it was apparent and obvious and even he
himself knew it. Thank God he was so much more laid back this time around.

"Do you guys have to go to the gym?" Joe said. "Come on, let's hang out. I
don't feel like going home." They were walking to a gym near the office
which Tom, Alice and Nick were members of. He shoved his hands into his
jeans pockets as he walked along with the others down the sideways. It was
cold for September and Joe made the mistake of wearing his thin black
long-sleeves.  .  "Hey, you're the one who wants this soccer thing so
much. We're not going to be the panting fools.  We need our cardio," Nick
said.

"Not me," Alice jumped in. "I run every morning."

"You just want to brag, don't you?" Tom said to Alice. She was fit, really
fit. She could outrun any of the boys there. All this time Joe thought that
Alice got her body from dancing, since she - aside from being a painter,
photographer, videographer, singer, musician, and an artist in every sense
- was a dancer.

"May be you can come along with me to a PFLAG meeting next week. You may
find some of my friends interesting."

"I think I'll stick with Jake and Amy for this matchmaking thing. Two is
enough."

"Alright, alright." Nick threw his hand up. Tom and Alice chuckled.

"Is Anna coming too? I haven't seen her in a while," Tom said. Anna is her
sister and she's gay. I guess that's why he was so accepting of Joe. Or
maybe he was just a normal guy with a normal brain.

"I think she is. I'll have to ask her."

Nick was a counselor at a gay youth center. He started to become active in
the organization shortly after he moved to Chicago. Like Joe, he hailed
from the Bible-belt. He once mentioned to Joe that he was a bully in high
school and came to his senses when he went to college where he was
surrounded by gay men and women; it was a design school after all. There he
found out that gay men and women are just... people. Most of them have
various degrees of damage from bullying. He felt guilty.  Volunteering for
an LGBT support organization was his way to make peace with it.

"Maybe you should join us. You're a little out of shape. You're breaths are
short," Tom said.

"Maybe it's because I smoked a pack last night," Joe replied

"Hey, you don't smoke."

"I don't, Tom. It's called sarcasm."

Nick and Alice laughed, Tom just punched Joe's arm. "Whatever, you're still
out of shape."

"Thanks, I'll take that as an insult."

"Hey, you said it yourself." Tom replied as he bumped his elbow with Joe's.

"No thanks. I'm immune to peer pressure."

"Suit yourself," Tom sniggered. "Why don't you go to Amy's?"

"That's my only choice, I guess. Well, that and barging into Jake's and
interrupt his baby-making efforts."


***


"You're good. Why haven't you sung with us yet?" Amy stopped her guitar
once she heard the faint sound of Joe's voice singing the high notes of an
Adele's tune.

"I don't like my voice. It's nasally and thin, like I have no power."

"It works for Justin Timberlake."

"It works for him because he has that face and body."

"Yeah, you're too ugly for the stage," Amy jabbed. "But seriously. Let's
sing together, with Alice and Nick."

"On stage?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Come on. It will be great. Nick will play the drums, Alice will be on the
piano, me on the guitar and you sing."

"As the lead singer? Even worse!" It was basically Amy's previous
arrangement plus Joseph. But Joseph wouldn't do that. He has the confidence
of a dead leaf. Never was a guy that felt comfortable being the center of
attention.

"It'll be fun," she urged.

"No. I'll just sing with you here and that's it."

They sang, this time with Joe singing louder. He felt comfortable singing
in public for once. He'd had this fear of singing in public most of his
life. It was the gay stereotyping, bursting into song. He never wanted
anyone to know. He only felt comfortable singing in front of Justin, his
brother, and Norah, Justin's girlfriend. Oh God, Norah!

"My brother's girlfriend is a talent scout. I should introduce you to her!"
he said excitedly.

Amy's response was lukewarm. "I've met some scouts, they'd promised me a,
then never come through. Anyway, it's not like you can contact her, you're
not even talking with your brother."

"Well, yeah. There's that."

"Tell me the truth, why are you here?" That was a sudden shift.

"Well..." Joe paused. There was no point in lying. It's Amy. She knows
everything about Joe. Most of it, actually.

"It's Sam, isn't it? Every time you and I meet you always talk about
him. You're keeping mum lately.  What happened?"

"Whoa. Too many questions," Joe said shortly after. Amy just knew.

"Joe, it's been almost a week. You've got to cut it out," Amy said to Joe.

"What?"

"This. Hovering and wallowing." She put her guitar down and removed her
laptop from before her.  "You hang out with us longer and more often, you
avoid talking about him and you text less than usual," she continued before
concluding, "You've been avoiding that Sam guy."

There was no point in denying it. Amy could see right through him. Without
hesitation he told her everything. Chronologically, like he always
does. From the point he arrived home from his birthday bash to the point
where he presented himself for the taking but then how he kicked the poor
man off the bed. Talking about his own non-existent sex life was awkward
for Joe. When he first had an incident with Sam, he spoke about it to both
Amy and Tom. But it wasn't about his sex life; it was about him meeting a
creep. This time it was all about his sex life.

"How is it possible that you have not apologized to him yet?" she asked
with a hint of rage.

"I can't. I don't know. I just can't."

"Have you met him since that night?"

"Yes," he answered. "Every morning. He says hello, because he doesn't let
things get weird. But to me THAT's weird."

"Just do it. Just say hello," she said. "I bet he will be okay about it."

Joe didn't find it logical. "How do you know? I mean what I did was really,
really awful."

"Look, if he didn't forgive you, would he come to talk to you every
morning?"

"Uh... I guess he wouldn't," Joe shrugged.

"Exactly. Now all you need is to strike up a conversation and
apologize. Simple, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Joe said, mocking Amy's accent.

"Shut up, virgin!" she shot back. Joe chuckled. "Let me put you in
perspective for you since YOU'RE SO BLIND. He likes you. A lot. Not just
your ass, but you, as a person."

"You don't know that."

"Oh I know. He spends time with you every other night when he could just
cruise every gay bar on town. You said it, he's a whore. He could have his
choice of men, but he only wants you. So if you don't like him back, don't
lead him on. Let him know." She looked at her friend to see if he took the
information in.

"Are you sure?"

"OH MY GOD, Joe." She leapt off her seat to her kitchen. She needed
something to nibble on for this, stress-eater that she was. Amy likes Joe,
but but he's just too stupid when it comes to this. She mumbled as she put
her pre-cooked lasagna into the microwave.

"Man. That explains everything."

"YES IT DOES!" She lost her patience. "Joe, honey, you have to let him down
gently. I know you and I know how harsh you can get. But this Sam guy is
fragile. Every man-whore is. He will be devastated if you just push him
away. Please, don't break his heart." The microwave chimed, she took her
mittens and pulled the dish out. It smelled amazing.

"Why do you care about him so much?" Joe asked.

"Why don't you? He's your friend." She took a fork and a spoon with her and
walked to the couch again. The spoon was for Joe. He almost always uses the
spoon for everything that isn't noodle.

He sat silently, eating enthusiastically while trying to process everything
in his mind. He hated awkward situations. Like introductions, apologies or
awkward silences. Now he screwed up big time, thus he had to apologize. He
must do it, but how? That was the question. Gently. That won't answer
anything. Especially since he knew more stuff now. Knowing that the guy
likes him just made things worse. Sam was most likely not mad; he's
Sam. But Joe had ignored him for several days now, he must be mad. And Joe
had to tell the guy that he wasn't interested for the same thing. No! Amy
was right, she was always right. He repeated that mantra in his mind.

Joe chowed on his food fast but he chewed carefully. Joe had a habit that
annoyed Amy. He would scrape his fork or spoon with his teeth. Amy didn't
like it.  It used to be a topic of debate between them. Joe lost that
one. He had to learn to stop it. During that time of concentrating on not
to hit the metal with his choppers he got distracted by his own thoughts.

"I'm a horrible person," he groaned. "I led him on. I almost slept with him
because I wanted to lose my virginity."

"Don't beat yourself up too hard. We all do that."

"You did it too?"

"No, I just want to see you suffer more." She laughed.

"You English cunt!"

"There's no need to be racist." She laughed harder. Who would've thought
that a guy as innocent looking as Joe could have such a dirty mouth?

The fun had to die at some point, and the meal had to end. Joe's stomach
was sated but his mind was reeling. Food does not calm your heart. Amy had
started her practice again while Joe stayed quiet. For a boring guy, Joe's
life had been a whirlwind, from leaving his homeland, to taking a risk on a
new job, to having a suitor that he wasn't interested in. Oh, and liking
straight guys his whole life.

"Amy." There was a change in his voice.

Amy the ever so perceptive caught it. "What?"

"Remember when I told you I had a crush on Jake?" He said out of
nowhere. Both of them had a crush on Jake but both of them knew there was
no use in pursuing a married man.

"Yes."

"I also had a crush on Tom. Just wanted to put it out there." Joe said
plainly.

"You pathetic little thing." Amy said rather seriously.

"I know." He replied without any inclination in emotion.

"'Had.' That's the keyword."

"Yeah."

"Stop wallowing. Pick me an Adele song," she said.

"For your show?" Amy nodded her head, not removing her gaze from the guitar
strings under her fingers. "I don't recommend an Adele song. It's
overdone. But if you must, just pick a more obscure one. I like 'Melt My
Heart to Stone.'"

"I like that too." Joe was an Anglophile and Amy is English. It so happens
that both of them liked the same musicians. "But if not Adele, what then?"

"I like Duffy, Amy Winehouse, and Joss Stone. If you're looking for the
female soul singers, that is."

"Which Duffy song?"

"Fool for You. It's about unrequited love. My anthem," he chuckled. "Or
Just Friends by Amy Winehouse. The title says it all," he laughed. By
himself.


***


Sam was at his own window. He took a glance across the street to see Joe
sitting on the window sill.  Joe looked back. "Hey."

"You're talking to me now?" Sam teased. Joe rolled his eyes. "How's it
going?"

"Great," Joe answered. "Want to come over?" he then offered.

Sam just nodded. He walked slowly away from his window, but in his heart he
wanted to run, or even fly. He kept his composure, not wanting to be deemed
much too excited. How could he not be excited? It was Joe, finally talking
to him. There was no chance in hell that he would let this opportunity go.

He then thought about it., about Joe and himself. He wouldn't be so patient
or desperate if it was anyone else. He wouldn't be trying too hard to make
the guy talk to him again. He would just leave him. He wouldn't be
interested in playing this game, whatever it was. This time he let it
slide.  Something was definitely wrong with him. Either that or something
was definitely right about Joe.

When he snapped out of it he was already inside Joe's apartment. "Hey,
what's up?"

"Sam." Joe was visibly nervous. He was fidgeting, frantically scratching
his head, and slightly stuttering. It was too cute to handle. "I need to
apologize to you." He raised his eyes, looking straight to Sam's eyes,
conveying that he really meant every word. "I was horrible. It was so
fucking awful. I don't know why I did that. I may have humiliated you. I
definitely humiliated myself. I am sorry."  Only then Joe blinked.

Sam was taken aback. He didn't really expect that. He himself had been
trying to apologize. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm the one who's supposed to apologize," Sam said.

"No you're not." Joe was taken aback as well.

"Well this is awkward." Sam laughed nervously. "Anyway, I just have to say
this. I'm a man-whore.  You're a decent guy. I shouldn't have pushed you
into doing what we... almost did that night."

"You didn't do anything wrong there," Joe admitted.

They were quiet for a few seconds. After that they burst out laughing. They
couldn't believe that they fell into that dreadful tension. They were close
friends; this shouldn't have stopped them. Joe realized it. He felt that he
shouldn't have been too closed down when Sam made all the effort to make
things right. He hadn't been fully honest with Sam either.

"Sam, there's another thing." Joe said as he sat down on the suddenly stiff
and rigid couch. Sam sipped his beer. That was quick; door, talk,
beer. Joe's mind was set to tell Sam about his thing. He just wasn't sure
how to say it without sounding stupid. Sam didn't say a word, sensing the
seriousness in the air. "I'm a virgin."

Eyebrows rose, tongue tied, Sam's slightly opened mouth didn't articulate
any words. His eyes searching Joe's, trying to find the lie. It probably
wasn't there. Sam wasn't sure. If anyone else said this he would laugh,
hard, so hard it could cause an ugly mental scar. But this? This was Joe.

"Say something." Joe demanded.

"What?" Sam's face turned more acute. "You just dropped a bomb. What the
hell am I supposed to say?"

What the hell was he supposed to say? That he almost slept with a virgin
for the first time in ten years? That he almost marred Joe's innocence?
That it would be an honor to be Joe's first? What was there to say, that
wouldn't change the landscape of their interaction. Sam sunk into his seat,
drowned in his thought. He went in too deep.

"Man..." Sam was still at a loss for words. "Why didn't you tell me this
before?"

"Well, you're a man-whore," Joe joked. Sam hurt internally. "You would've
thought I'm a prude or something."

Sam joined Joe's chuckle with a weak smile. "If you would've told me
earlier I wouldn't have messed with you."

"I actually thought that I would just do it with you. You have lots of
experience, you're hot enough that I could've bragged about doing it with
you." Joe joked again, which translated into a stab into Sam's
heart. "Plus, you're my friend. I trust you." There you go! Friend-zone. It
was raining knives on Sam.

"Well, thanks, I guess." Sam faked a laughter.

"Then I just chickened out. I don't know why. I always thought I was
realistic, you know? I mean it's just sex." Stab! "I should've just done
it, with anyone really." Stab! "You were there, I was there, and we were in
the mood. But something just felt wrong." Stab! "You're my friend." Stab!
"I guess that's what's wrong about it." Stab! "I've never considered myself
as the romantic kind, waiting for my knight in shining armor to kick in."
Stab! "But maybe I am."

All the while Sam was in autopilot. He listened to every word that came out
of Joe's pretty little mouth, but his mind was also reeling in thoughts of
harshly oblivious, but kind rejection he had just received. He always
thought that Joseph just didn't feel the same way yet. Now the word 'yet'
was no longer in that sentence. That one word signified hope. That one word
wasn't necessary anymore.

"I hope you're not mad," Joe said; he sounded defeated.

"I'm not. Like I said, I wished you told me that earlier. I would've
respected your boundaries."

"I wish I had too. I didn't want to be the jerk that left a guy with blue
balls."

Joe laughed. Man that laughter. Sam will never get to hear it every day.

"I think the longer you stay a virgin the higher your expectation gets."
Sam offered, mostly trying not to look as if he wasn't paying attention, or
not to look like he was hurt.

"I think we virgins must be more desperate." Joe countered.

"Yeah. In some cases you would have get higher hopes. You want it to be
right, with the right person at the right time. I think, because you don't
want to get hurt." It pained him not to be that 'right person' for
Joe. God, how Sam had turned into a miserable whimp.

Mildly stunned, Joe only mumbled a slight "Huh." He saw the truth in Sam's
words. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"Don't beat yourself up too hard. Even Tina Fey lost her virginity at 24."

"Seriously? Look at her! She kept her virginity because she chose to. Me? I
have no choice."

Sam laughed. All he wanted to do was to tell Joe that he was gorgeous. He
was. He couldn't tell Joe that now. He wanted to clasp his hand on Joe's
shoulder too, but he stopped himself. No touching. It should be his new
policy. Well, fuck that, he thought. A friendly gesture wouldn't hurt.

"I never thought I'd say this but how are you? I haven't talked to you for
so long that I have no clue what you're doing lately," Joe asked.

"The usual thing. Work. Eat. Going home. Trying to talk to you," he
smirked.

"Well, we're talking now."

They talked and laughed like they used to do. It felt great for Joe but Sam
didn't like it as much. He had to suppress all his feelings now that Joe
made it clear. But how could he? Every slight movements made by Joe
mobilizes a gush of warm goo into his heart. His lungs hurt every time he
saw Joe smile. All his snide remark pulled a fit of laughter out of Sam's
throat. Whatever topic they were in at that time was irrelevant; Joe's
voice was what mattered. Sam was sick and he just couldn't handle it
anymore.

By midnight Sam excused himself. It was atypical of him. Most of the times
he just stayed there until he fell asleep on the couch. Joe would cover him
with a blanket and he would go to his room. Other times Joe would go to bed
first and gave Sam a blanket in case he wanted to sleep in, which he always
did. That night he made a resolution. A simple one, really. He had to stop
sleeping on Joe's couch. Once he succeeded then he would gradually stop
hanging out in Joe's place. Sam had to get away from Joe for his own
good. He had to do it with discretion; he didn't want Joe to sense that
anything was wrong. However, everything was wrong.

___

Hey guys, thanks for the messages. Y'all are too sweet. I'm sorry I haven't
written anything saucy yet.  But it'll come. Perhaps next decade, but it'll
come. Special shout out to my amazing editor, the amazing Arleen, whom
without, this story will only be a messy jumble of misspelled words.

As usual, email me at robxglass@gmail.com and Tumbl me (Tumbl? Tumble?
Message me on Tumblr?) at manlyneeds.tumblr.com.

Cheers!