Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2011 17:12:45 -0500
From: Jonothan Wolf <jwolf24450@gmail.com>
Subject: The List Chapter 15: Bryan

**Standard disclaimer applies. This is purely fiction (if based only
slightly on actual events). Don't read if you shouldn't because you're
under 18 or live in a backwards area. I appreciate any and all feedback, so
please email me at jwolf24450@gmail.com. Enjoy the story!

       Chapter 15: Bryan

       Specimen's Name: Bryan

       Height: 6'3''

       Build: 180, muscular

       Age: 28

       Occupation: Electrical engineer

       Dimensions: 8.5 inches

       The fight with Kyle hit me hard. I woke up early the next morning,
uncharacteristic for me, and left before he even stirred. I left him a note
that said "Love, Me" and as cheesy as it was, I couldn't think of anything
more appropriate to say. It wasn't an answer to his question, but I figured
him knowing that I did love him in some way was better than nothing.

       The question nagged at me as I drove home with my brother's present
in the passenger's seat, a constant reminder of what I was driving away
from.

       And as I inched further and further south, I couldn't help but get
upset with Kyle. How dare he put me in this position over a hook-up while
we were broken up? How could he honestly, at 18 years old, expect me to
know the kind of person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with? I
wasn't going to be with Kyle out of fear of what dumping him would do, but
I wasn't going to break up with him now because of the possibility of rocky
roads ahead. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was completely
convinced that Kyle was being unfair and that I was in the right.

       I moped around for the rest of the week, not really participating in
the pre-Christmas festivities at my house. While my mom and sister baked
sugar cookies in the kitchen the next night, a tradition I usually helped
with, I sat in my bedroom aimlessly flipping through magazines.

       Just before dinner, Dylan peaked his head into my bedroom. "You
doing alright, Coop?" he asked me.

       "Yeah," I said, unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

       "Doesn't look that way," he said, stepping in and closing the
door. "Is something wrong?"

       "No, nothing's wrong," I replied. "I'm just thinking about things."

       "Wanna dish?" he asked. He sat down at my computer desk and looked
at me. "I don't know much about how your people do things, but I can listen
if you want to talk it out."
       "You don't have to," I said. "It's really stupid."

	 "If it's got you this upset, it isn't stupid," Dylan said. Good
point, I thought.

       "So I told you about Kyle at Thanksgiving," I said. "The guy I spent
the weekend with."

       "Yeah," Dylan nodded.

       "Well, we kind of broke up right after that," I said. "And it was a
huge thing, I was really pissed at him, whatever. And then while I was on
the mend, I started, I don't know, having feelings for this other
guy. Riley."

       "Ok, so Kyle and Riley," my brother said. "I'm keeping up."

       "And I don't want to have feelings for Riley because he's totally a
rebound catch, but he's such a nice guy. I mean, top of the line, really
nice, amazing in bed..."

       "I don't know if we need that sort of detail," Dylan interrupted. I
smiled.

       "Anyway, Riley helped me get over Kyle, sort of. Until I found out
that Kyle dropped the Sigmas because of me, which is a huge deal, mind
you. And it's taken a while, but I forgave Kyle. While I was developing
feelings for Riley," I said. It was the first time I'd confessed out loud
that I had developed feelings for Riley. They were nowhere near as strong
as my feelings for Kyle, but it kind of made me question whether or not I
was ready to give up all other guys in order to protect Kyle's heart. If
there were still guys out there I could develop feelings for, didn't I owe
it to myself to find them?

	After I explained this to Dylan, he said: "Are you fucking kidding
me?" I looked at him. "You're 18; you're a freshman; you barely have hair
on your chest. There are a ton of guys or girls or whatever the hell you're
into that you haven't even met yet that you will develop feelings for. Mom
and dad are gonna insist you go abroad before graduation, and you know what
that means? There will be a ton of foreign guys or girls that you'll
develop feelings for. Most of them won't shave like you're used to, but
whatever, you get passed that," he continued, alluding to his summer in
Italy.

	"Can we keep this focused?" I said.

	"What I'm saying, little brother, is this. Don't let this ultimatum
by this Kyle guy force you into a hole that you're not ready to get
into... so to speak," he said.

	"But I love Kyle," I said, realizing how weak the words sounded
even to me.

	"And for now, I'm sure you do," he said, his tone growing somewhat
patronizing. "I'm sure you do."

	I told Dylan that I'd be down to dinner in a minute, and I took a
little bit more time to think. I knew my mood was weighing everyone around
me down, so I decided to think about this objectively. Make a tentative
decision and stick with it so I could go back to enjoying my vacation.

	Riley was like a shiny new toy that had swooped in to replace
Kyle. But Kyle felt like the real deal to me. And even though Dylan might
have been right— what did I know about love at this age— I couldn't
deny how I felt right now and I was willing to take a chance on that.

	I knew what I had to do, so I headed down to dinner determined to
brighten my mood.

	Kyle called me after dinner that night, and we talked for an hour,
not once discussing what he'd told me last night. I was hoping he realized
how ridiculous he'd sounded to ask me to make that kind of commitment and
had decided to let it go.

	After I got off of the phone with Kyle, I decided to call
Riley. I'd talked to him a couple of times over break, but this time I
decided to call him instead of vice versa.

	"Hey," he said when he answered his phone. "I wasn't expecting to
hear from you."

	"Why not?" I asked, not sure how to take that.

	"It's just that I always call you is all," he said. "Anyway, how's
home?"

	"Cold," I said. "How's your vacation going?"

	"Well there's a lot of yogurt here," he said. I smiled. "It would
be great to share it with someone."

	"Anyone in mind?" I asked. I was standing in my bedroom, walking
around, and trying to figure out how to tell him that it was over.

	"I can think of someone," he said. "Get on a plane to California."

	"Let me put you on hold while I call up my private jet." Riley
laughed. "Listen," I said. "I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and
I didn't want to bother you and your family tomorrow."

	"I appreciate that," he said. "I kinda miss you."

	I could do it here. I could let him down here, and ruin his
Christmas. Or I could I say the words back to him and give him a false
sense of hope.

	"I miss you too," I said. "Kinda." I decided to go with hope.

       The next day was Christmas Eve and as usual, it was a big ordeal in
my house. My oldest sister and her fiancé came over in the afternoon. By
then, my mom had cooked up an impressive holiday spread and everyone's
gifts were placed under the tree. Along with all of the Secret Santa
presents were a gift that my dad always bought for the house— a gaming
console or a new television or something big that we could all use. My
sister's fiancé had brought a gift for my mom and as we were all gathering
around to open presents I counted them; there were still two boxes that I
couldn't place.

       "Who are those for?" I asked, sitting down with a handful of kettle
corn.

       "They both came for you in the mail this morning," my mom said,
handing them to me. "I guess some friends from school sent you some gifts."

       I got a look from my brother and my sister, who both knew about
Kyle. He wouldn't send me a gift, would he? I felt instantly embarrassed
and nauseous. Why wouldn't my mom tell me I got two packages instead of
waiting for me to open them in front of everyone?

       "Are you going to open them?" my brother asked. I could have punched
him.

       "I will later," I replied, setting them down next to me.

       "Oh come on, honey," my mom said. Everyone had sat down and was
looking at me. "Just open those first and then we'll get to the family
stuff."

       There was no way out of this. These two packages had come right in
time to embarrass me. I looked at both of them and prayed they weren't from
Kyle. Maybe Spencer's family had seen the Christmas card my mom had sent
and decided to send something small back. Maybe David had sent me a copy of
`Angels in America', or something. I looked at the card on the first one
and saw that it only had a smiling face on it. At least I could lie and say
it was from my roommate or someone nondescript.

       I lifted the box and almost started bawling when I saw what was
inside. The exact same suit that I had tried on at Ralph Lauren was wrapped
in paper inside the box. There was a card that I knew I'd open in the
privacy of my bedroom later, but the beam on my face couldn't be
explained. I wiped away a stray tear and lifted the jacket, eliciting a
couple of "oo's" from my family.

       I tried not to make a big deal about it, but there was no denying
that someone special had gotten me a gift for Christmas.

       The second box was smaller. I lifted the card, thinking that nothing
could outshine Kyle right now. I read it slowly.

       "I just wanted to get you something to show you how much you mean to
me. Always, Riley."

        I read it to myself. I smiled involuntarily, opened the box, and
took in a deep breath. Inside was a copy of "Everything in This Country
Must" as well as two bottles of Irish Whiskey, a bottle of Bailey's and an
engraved flask. It said "Cooper. Because You're Kinda Special" on it and I
almost burst into tears again.

       These two guys were completely unfair in their own special
way. Kyle's gift was spectacular, expensive and amazing. It was something I
looked absolutely stunning in and would never have bought for myself; a 600
dollar suit was a big deal no matter how much money he and his family had.

       And then there was this thoughtful present from Riley, who despite
my best efforts, was digging a hole for himself into my heart. The cuteness
of the gift wasn't lost on me, and neither was the fact that his gift
wasn't cheap either.

       I watched as my family opened up the rest of our presents. My sister
got me a Northface jacket so that I'd be like all of the other preps on
campus. She must have done her research. My brother loved the shirts I got
him and said he might need to steal my new suit in order to wear them. If
he only knew.

       After a lecture from my mom about writing thank you notes to whoever
had sent me those gifts, I went up to my room and dialed Kyle's number for
the second time that day.

       "Hey babe," he said. "Did you get it?"

       "Kyle," I said, softly. "I can't keep it."

       "What do you mean you can't keep it?" he asked. "Of course you can
keep it."

       "No," I said. "I really can't. It's way too much."

       "Cooper, I know it was expensive. But listen. I love you more than
I've ever loved anyone or anything in the entire world. I would do anything
to make you happy, so please, pretty please, just let me."

       "Kyle," I said, realizing right then and there exactly what I had to
do. "I can't keep it because I can't be with you anymore."

       There was a silence in my room and on the other end of the line that
could have deafened an entire crowd. Hearing myself say the words was like
jumping off a cliff. I was doing it to myself and yet I knew it was my only
option.

       "No," Kyle said.

       "Listen to me," I interrupted. "I love you too. I really do, but
this is all just too much. You doing this gift for me is just way too much
and then, and then what you said the other night." I realized that I was
crying. It was the first time in my entire life that I'd ever cried over
someone.

       "I take it back," he said, and I instantly knew that he was crying
too. "I take it all back, I don't care what happened, Coop. I just want to
be with you."

       "I know and that's what makes this really, really hard. I'm not
ready to make the kind of commitment you're asking me to make," I said. I
had no clue where the words were coming from, but they were spilling out of
me like the tears were spilling down my face. "I just, I think that if we
were having this conversation five or ten years from now it would be a
completely different story, but look at us, Kyle. We're kids and we're
crying over each other like someone has died. It's not supposed to be this
complicated. Not yet."

       And I wondered how I even knew that. Maybe it was supposed to be
this complicated. Maybe when the right person came into your life, it
didn't matter where you were or what else was going on around you. Maybe
that person was meant to complicate you and that's just what you were
supposed to do. Still, I couldn't help but think that I'd jumped into this
thing way too fast and I had to put the brakes on.

       Kyle sniffled and I knew that he was pursing his lips into his
statue face. "Well, um," he said, sniffling again. "Keep the suit, it's
yours. And um, Merry Christmas."

       He hung up, the dial tone piercing my ear like a carving knife in a
holiday ham. I'd made a huge mistake, I thought as I sat there on my bed
with his gift next to me. I couldn't help but think that I had just made a
huge, huge mistake; however, something about this break up felt final. It
felt real. It felt done.

       I went to bed right after that and woke up with a fairly wet
pillow. Not even a rare Texas snowfall lifted my less than gay spirits the
next morning, but I was determined to fake it until I made it. Just because
I was miserable inside didn't mean I had to drag my entire family down with
me. I played in the snow with my cousins who'd driven in early from out of
town and I helped my mom set the adults table when dinner was ready in the
evening.

       "This came for you," she said, handing me an envelope as we were
about to pull the good China out of the cabinet. It was a ritual between my
mom and me to set the table together for Christmas that had started when I
could barely see over the table. I took the envelope wondering what else
could have come in the mail to kill my holiday cheer.

       I saw that it was from SMU and I looked up at my mom. I opened the
envelope, knowing what was inside, and looked at my first college
grades. I'd gotten three A's an A minus and a B plus. A pretty kickass
first term, I thought, and much better than any of my siblings had done.

       "We're very proud of you," my mom said after I announced the grades
and my well above freshman average GPA. "Your father and I, we're really
proud of you."

       "Thanks mom," I said, laying more China out on the table.

       "You have just grown into such a strong and responsible young man,
and I want you to know that I love you," she said. My mom did this kind of
thing all the time. She fussed over me because I was her youngest. I gave
her a hug that warmed me really deeply and told her that it was all because
of her and my dad. I wanted the whole scene to end quickly and was grateful
when we were done setting the table and I could go back to pretending like
everything was ok.

       The following morning, my sisters woke up at the crack of dawn to go
shopping. They'd invited me to come along, but I couldn't. I knew that
shopping would inadvertently remind me of Kyle and being reminded of Kyle
would set me off. I wasn't prepared to explain why I was crying in the
middle of a Macy's doorbuster sale.

       I slummed around in my Peruna pajama pants all day, eating leftovers
and drinking hot chocolate, not once daring to talk to anyone about my
feelings. Instead, whenever anyone asked me how I was doing, I said I was
fine.

       But I wasn't fine, and I was starting to get upset with myself. This
was misery of my own making. I didn't have to break up with Kyle. I could
have stayed with him until I was sure. I mean, I did love him. So what was
I afraid of? Being young and in love? My parents had been 19 and 20 when
they got married and they'd dated all through high school. My sister was 21
when she met her now fiancé.

       It wasn't impossible to think that Kyle was who I was supposed to be
with, so what was up with the self torture? Why put myself through another
breakup that I couldn't deal with just because I was scared?

       Thinking that there was still time to fix this, I dialed Kyle's
number. It rang six times and then went to voicemail. I called it
again. The third time I called it went straight to voicemail. He was
screening me and I didn't blame him. I was the douche that broke his heart.

       In all of this, I hadn't even thought about Riley. While I was still
holding my phone, I called Riley before I forgot.

       "Hey," I said trying to sound cheerful and happy.

       "What's up?" he replied. "Did you like the gift?"

       "Yeah," I said. "I mean, I haven't used it yet. Any of it. And I'm
not sure when I'll be able to look at that story again without dying, but I
like it. Thank you."

       "You're welcome," he said. "Look, I know we talked about the whole
not being a thing, thing, so I'm not even gonna bring it up."

       "Riley, you just brought it up."

       "You're right," he said. I could tell he was shifting
awkwardly. "It's just that, okay. And hear me out. Give me a shot to be
your guy, okay. I make a really good guy's guy and I know that over the
phone isn't the best way to do this, but you make me really happy, Cooper,
and I could make you happy too if you gave me a shot. So go out with
me. Let me be your guy."

       What was up with these boys, I thought. They'd completely lost it,
caught up in the holiday spirit and now here I was having to dump another
one right after Christmas.

       "You think I'm crazy," Riley said before I got the chance.

       "No," I said quickly. "Riley, come on. You don't want to be with me,
I promise you that."

       "You're wrong," he said.

       "No, I'm right," I said. "I appreciate the gift, and I love it by
the way, but I can't take it from you because you're not my guy." I felt
super lame doing this over the phone, but he'd left me no choice. "You're a
great guy, but you're not my guy. I'm really sorry."

       There was a long pause. I was determined to ride out the pause until
Riley said something. Nothing that I could say could make this situation
better and so I opted to remain quiet.

       "You're making a mistake, Cooper," Riley said after what felt like
years of silence.

       "Maybe I am," I replied. "I'll talk to you later." I had no
intention of ever talking to Riley again. He wished me a happy new year and
I hung up the phone.

       Breaking up with Riley wasn't as hard as breaking up with Kyle, but
I still felt like a huge bag of douche water afterwards. I mean, he was a
really sweet and nice guy and he deserved so much better than someone like
me. He didn't see it now, but I was fairly confident that he would at some
point.

       And so I fell back into my post-holiday depression. Both gifts
loomed at me in the corners of my bedroom, Kyle's hanging in my closet and
Riley's sitting under my television. Each gift was a staunch reminder of
what a terrible person I was.

       "Hey, bum," my brother said, barging into my room. "Get up, get
dressed, we're going out."

       "I'm not going anywhere," I said.

       "Bah humbug you're not going anywhere," he said. "I know these boys
of yours have you crying in the corner, but you know that I never leave
baby brother in the corner, so get up. We're hitting the town."

       "Where?" I asked.

       "Don't ask where," he said. "Just look nice and meet me downstairs
in thirty."

       I couldn't deny that I needed a rather strong pick me up, and if
Dylan wanted to be all the king's men, I'd let him try to put me back
together again. As I was about to hop into the shower, I heard my phone
vibrate. It was Spencer and I answered it immediately.

       "What the fuck did you do?" he asked me.

       "Merry Christmas to you too," I said, sitting back down. This was
the conversation I'd been dreading for four days now and I knew that
Spencer had found out that Kyle and I were done for good.

       "He's a wreck, Cooper," he said. I knew exactly who he was talking
about.

       "I tried to call him," I replied, knowing exactly how lame that
sounded.

       "And what exactly did you plan on saying?"

       "I don't know," I confessed after a second.

       "Not good enough," Spencer said. "This is major."

       "People break up, Spence," I tried to defend myself. "You think I'm
making a mistake."

       "I think you're making a huge mistake," Spencer said. "And I think
you're too stubborn to see it. Kyle is crazy about you, Cooper, and from
what it's looking like to me, I don't understand why." Harsh, I thought. "I
hope you're sure about this because I'm looking at Kyle right now and I
know for a fact there's no coming back from this."

       He said it like it was final. I was pissed off again. I know that
Spencer was Kyle's good friend, but how the fuck dare he call me just to
chew me out. Did Kyle not tell him that he had practically told me to break
up with him if I wasn't sure about us? Wasn't he the one that said if it
was going to end sooner or later, he'd rather have me end it sooner rather
than later? I'm sure he skipped over that part when he told Spencer we were
through and jumped straight to the part where I broke up with him on
Christmas Eve.

       I took an angry shower, one of those that leaves your skin irritated
from pressing down too roughly with your washcloth. I had prepared myself
to endure the wrath of Kyle, but I didn't think that it came with a side
dish of Spencer. He was supposed to be neutral.

       In my frustration, I pulled open the bottle of whiskey that Riley
had sent me and took a swig straight from the top. It was strong and it hit
me hard. I poured a shot into a cup I was pretty sure once had ginger ale
in it and then poured a few drops of water from my bathroom to dilute it
just a little.

       Three whiskey and waters later, Dylan announced that he was ready to
go and I pulled on my jacket and followed him out. I didn't realize how
much I'd had to drink until I started walking down the stairs and almost
ate it halfway down.

       "Watch out, clumsy," Dylan said. He turned around to see if I was
okay. I'd caught myself on the banister and as I was pulling myself up,
Dylan exclaimed, "Jesus, man. Did you swallow a distillery?"

       I slurred "shut up" as I continued to the car. On the drive over,
Dylan explained that his alumni association was putting on the cocktail
party and that a lot of his old college friends would be there and I
shouldn't embarrass him. I was quite underjoyed to learn that I'd be
mingling with a bunch of TCC graduates until my brother announced that it
was an open bar.

       "Try not to drink the place dry, okay?" he said as we pulled up. The
event was at a hotel about half an hour north of our town, right at the
seat of Tarrant County. As soon as Dylan and I had checked our coats, I
went straight to the bar and ordered a long island iced tea— I figured
my recent heartbreaks had given me license to get a little bit drunk.

       "Starting strong," a tall guy asked me as I was turning around and
sipping the liquor out of the cocktail straw. He was about 6'3, with a
nicely muscled but not overly muscular build. He had hazel eyes and dark
brown hair, swept to the side. He was dressed like an assistant coach:
jeans, a plain white button-front and a dark blazer.

       "Well," I said to him, in no way trying to sound cute. "I have a lot
of holiday cheer to drown."

       I started to walk away from him when he said, "I hate the holidays
too. Family?"

       I wondered what he was talking about for a second. "No," I
replied. "I meant that I just broke up with my boyfriend and this other guy
and they both got me these amazing presents and I'm feeling like an asshole
but I'd rather feel like an asshole than string them along any further, you
know?"

       I hadn't even realized I was rambling. The Dean Cain look-a-like
took the drink the bartender had handed him and instead of running for the
furthest corner like any sane person would have done, he just nodded at me.

       "I can actually say that I do know," he said. "We've all been there,
kiddo."

       Hearing him call me kid made me realize that there must have been a
pretty intense age divide there. He looked like he was in his late twenties
or early thirties.

       "Since you've been there," I began. I knew this was going to come
out rudely, but I didn't mind.  I wasn't here to make friends. "You'll
understand why I'm really not interested in small talk, then. I have
drinking to do."

       "Oh, I can understand," he replied. "But let me tell you a really
big secret." He paused for a second and lowered his head so that it was
close to mine. "See all these people? They don't care about you breaking up
with your boyfriend at Christmas. It's a cocktail party. There will be
small talk." He stood back up straight and smiled at me. I felt extremely
embarrassed for being so rude to this guy. I'd file that little exchange
under whiskey-induced mistakes and move on. "So you can either endure small
talk with me, a cute and charming stranger who will do his best to distract
you from the heartbreak and hold your hair when you've had one too many
drinks, or you can venture into the world of small talk. It's up to you."

       The guy's voice and tone were extremely polite, especially
considering how I'd just reamed him a second ago. I smiled back at him and
acknowledged that he was right. It didn't hurt to walk around and flirt
with him, especially since the thought of having to chit-chat with other
people all night didn't sound fun either.

       He led me around the party, keeping my attention with stories about
the different people dotting the hideous floors of the hotel conference
room. We didn't stay in any one spot long enough for anyone to strike up a
convo with us and within a few minutes, I'd learned a lot about the guy.

       "My name is Bryan," he told me when we first started meandering. He
had graduated from TCC four years ago and so there was a strong possibility
he'd at least run into my brother at some point. He said he currently
worked for an electrical engineering firm and was planning to go back to
school to get more electrical engineering education, whatever that
consisted of.

       "Sounds riveting," I said, my sourness turning into a sort of
flirtation. I was still short with him, but for some reason, it came across
as charming and not mean.

       "It's a lot more interesting than you'd expect," he said, and then
proceeded to go into a long soliloquy about electro-engineering. Before
long, the questions turned to me.

       "Well," I said, slanting my head. I wasn't sure if I should tell him
the truth— that I was 18 and had barely started college— or if I
should lie and at least pretend to sound older than I was. If my
calculations were correct, he had to be about 28 years old.

        "I, um, am actually here with my older brother. I'm a senior at
SMU. Politics major." I decided a slight lie wouldn't be totally bad. This
guy didn't know me and chances were I'd never see him again.

       "Nice," he said, probably proud of himself for lightening me up. I
could feel myself softening as the conversation progressed. I was glad he
was a nice guy— I wouldn't have had the patience to talk to myself if
I'd met me at the bar, so I had to give him credit. "Law school after?"

       "Um, yes," I replied.

       "You must be hearing back from all of those places here pretty
soon," he said. I had no clue when I should be hearing back from any places
because I hadn't actually applied anywhere.

       "Yeah," I said, stupidly. "I actually just got in early decision to
SMU." I decided the law school calendar was probably pretty similar to the
undergrad calendar, so I made an educated guess.

       And that's when the lie spiraled out of control. Not only was I
going to SMU law in the fall, I was also interning at Wriggs and Wriggs LLP
for the summer— what could I say? I wasn't the most creative cookie in
the cookie jar. What really made me chuckle is when Bryan nodded along like
what I was saying made sense and wasn't complete and utter bullshit.

       "Well, Cooper," he said. "We need to celebrate your future. No more
moping around." He walked towards the bar and I had no idea what he had in
mind.

       "We'll take two tequila shots please," he told the bartender.

       "No, no," I said. I was pretty tipsy, but I had enough sense to know
that this wasn't a tequila shot kind of party. "Tequila and I are a recipe
for disaster."

       "Elaborate, counselor," he said handing me a small plastic shot
glass with brown liquid I could smell from a mile away.

       "I just make really bad decisions when I drink tequila," I replied.

       "Here's to hoping," he said, smiling at me. His flirtation hadn't
gone unnoticed, but this was the least subtle thing he'd said yet. "Now,
because I'm tired of the cutest guy at this entire party moping around like
a bitch boy, I'm going to count to three and you're going to take this shot
with me."

       "I really shouldn't," I started to protest. "Cutest guy?" I asked
instead.

       "Look around, counselor," he said. "I didn't come talk to you
because of your glowing personality. Now, one, two..."

       "I don't have a chaser," I interrupted. I figured one more protest
would be appropriate. It wasn't that I didn't want to take the shot. I just
knew that taking the shot would signify requiting his flirtation and I
wasn't sure I wanted to do that just yet. I felt like I had just broken up
with Kyle, and this time around, it was me who had pulled the trigger. It
felt disrespectful to hop into the sack with someone so soon after I'd
broken up with him.

       "I'll be your chaser," he replied, smiling at me again. He looked at
me from behind those hazel eyes and gave me a smile that said "why the fuck
not?" The thing that struck me right then and there was that I really had
no reason not to. I could live my life wondering when it would be
appropriate to have sex again, or I could get over it and have sex
again. Kyle and I were done— I wasn't obligated to protect his
heart. And even though I was the one who'd pulled the plug, it was his
actions that had forced me to. Holding that liquid death in a shot glass, I
decided that I had made my bed and right now, it had a hot older guy named
Bryan lying in it.

       "I'm not making out with you in a room full of people," I said. It
was my final protest and my final attempt at appearing more than easy and
less than slutty.

       "It's a good thing we're in a hotel then," he said. He slugged back
the shot and I immediately followed suit, taking in a deep breath threw my
nose right after. It was a trick I'd learned from Spencer to hold down your
liquor. I was supposedly 22, right? I couldn't be caught wincing like a
freshman. Right after that, Bryan sent me to get us two more cocktails and
two more shots while he excused himself.

       Three minutes later, he was back and I was holding another round of
long islands and tequila shots.

       "Follow me," he said, leading to the front door. I gave him a
quizzical look and then he flashed me a room key and a smile. Was I really
about to do this? Go to a hotel suite with some sketchy guy I'd just
met. This is how people end up in tubs of ice with no kidneys, I thought. I
was just drunk enough and just depressed enough to think this was the
perfect way to get over my holiday loss (plus, Bryan's hands weren't cold,
so he probably hadn't unloaded gallons of ice into a bathtub recently). So
far over the break, I was down two. Why not make that down two, plus one.

       I scanned the room, located Dylan and started walking towards him
when I noticed that he was talking to a couple of girls. One of the girls
was laughing really hard at something Dylan had just said and I knew my
fortune was looking up. No way he'd be ready to leave any time soon, giving
me enough time to sketch off with Bryan and return before Dylan was
any-the-wiser.

       "Having fun, little bro?" Dylan said, and I could tell immediately
his BAC had caught up to where mine was earlier.

       "A blast," I replied. He introduced me to the two girls and I forgot
their names instantly. He excused himself and pulled me aside for a second.

       "So, I'm setting up some serious threesome action right now," he
whispered matter-of-factly. It was like he'd gone from drunk to sober in
mere seconds and I realized it was all a part of his charm. "I'm thinking
that we charge a two bedroom suite on mom and dad, tell them we got too
hammered to drive home and you and I crash here tonight."

       I started to agree with him, until I remembered that my catch had
already booked us a room. I could save my brother the extra cost of a suite
by telling him I was about to whore it up with a guy that he may or may not
have gone to school with.

       "I'm actually a step ahead of you," I said to him, opting to go with
the truth. It wasn't like he was trying to hide his pending one-night
stand. I cocked my head toward the door where Bryan was standing and then
turned back to look at Dylan.

       "I knew you were my brother, did I ever tell you that?" he said,
offering me a hand. I shook it, smiled at him and said I'd call him in the
morning when I woke up. "Wait, I don't really know what to do here. Do you
need a condom? Am I allowed to ask you that? Do you have enough lube?"

       "I'm good, thanks Dylan," I said. I turned to walk away.

       "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked me. I turned back around
to face him with a blank look on my face. "Um, thank you, big brother, for
dragging me out of my pathetic misery. Now go upstairs and forget about
whatever boys had you crying all week and make me proud."

       As I walked towards Bryan, unable to stop myself from smiling, I
heard Dylan say something to one of the girls about me being his little
bro. It struck me right then that I had gotten along with Spencer so well
because he was just like Dylan—carefree, charming and loyal. I hoped I
hadn't ruined that by breaking his good friend's heart.

       I manually pushed the thought of Kyle out of my mind as Bryan and I
rode up the elevator to the tenth floor. It was awkward being in there with
him, not sure what to say. I didn't want to come off eager, but in the five
minutes since I'd decided that I was actually doing this, I'd gotten pretty
excited about it. The elevator stopped on the sixth floor to let someone in
and I looked at Bryan and smiled at him. He winked at me and a second after
the guy had turned around to face the front, I felt Bryan slip his hand to
the front flap of my slacks.

       I looked at him with a panic stricken face and he just smiled at me
and raised a finger to his lips. The elevator stopped at the eighth floor
and our companion got out. I started giggling immediately. I slapped
Bryan's arm, taken slightly aback by how firm it was. He was laughing too.

       "I've never done anything like this," he said, suddenly looking at
me seriously. I wondered if he thought that I had.

       "Me either," I said. I'd had my fair share of hook-ups, but I'd
never sketched off in the middle of a party with someone I didn't know at
all. I knew so little about him that I couldn't even verify his name was
actually Bryan.

       "To firsts," he said, lifting his glass towards me. I clanked it and
took a big sip. I suddenly felt like I needed to be just a little bit
drunker before I could do this. I was sure the mechanics would work just
fine— the guy was gorgeous (another guy I assumed was out of my league
added to the list)— but I wasn't sure that I'd have the courage once I
got up there. I was asking myself to completely forget about Kyle for the
next twelve hours and enjoy myself in the moment with this guy. I was
asking myself for a lot.

       Things didn't get any smoother when we'd found our room in the
corner of the east wing of the hotel. Bryan put the Do Not Disturb sign on
the front of the door and then closed it behind us. I looked at him and
smiled as I clumsily took off my jacket and hung it on one of the hangers
that was attached to the closet.

       "So where do we start?" he asked, taking off his own coat. I thought
about just skipping the awkward tentativeness and going for the kiss. One
of us had to be the aggressor and I didn't see why it couldn't be me.

       I leaned in and kissed him and a second later, he had his hand on
the side of my face. It was a nice kiss, not too wet and not too sloppy
despite how drunk both of us were. I leaned into the kiss, letting my chest
hit just below his and my hand slide to the front of his pants. I felt his
whole body tense, but more specifically, I felt his cock lurch to my touch.

       The second I touched his Woody Woodpecker, I pulled away. Something
didn't feel right and I couldn't place it. Bryan was really cute and his
body was extremely hard. Maybe making out in a standing position wasn't
good for us; he was super tall. I smiled at him, trying to pretend like
nothing was wrong. I took another sip of my drink and then walked slowly to
the bed. Bryan watched the whole time as I sat down and took my shoes
off. When I was done, he kicked his to the side and sat down next to me.

       "So, um," he said awkwardly. "I'm just gonna do this." And then he
reached over and put his palm against my growing bulge. He leaned in and
started kissing me, pulling both of us back onto the bed so that we were
lying down with our lips connected.

       His hand worked my bulge for a few minutes and just as I was ready
to whip it out, I suddenly felt really hot. Not the good hot that takes
over you from the inside. It was the bad hot that came with sweats and
shakes. I sat up.

       "Something wrong?" he asked. "Was I doing something wrong?" Did he
not know what he was doing? Why the fuck was he asking me that?

       "No," I said. "Everything is fine. You're doing great. I just need
to pee." I got up and crossed over the bathroom and locked the door behind
me. I sat down on the toilet and put my hands to my head. This wasn't
happening. There was a rather cute guy one wall away from me jumping at the
chance to jump my bones and I was flaking. I wondered what Kyle was doing
right then and then got really angry with myself.

       "You don't owe Kyle anything," I almost said out loud. I took in a
deep breath, told myself to relax and then stood up. I could do this. I was
a big boy; a big single boy who wasn't ready to make a commitment to
anyone. Big single boys have sex with whomever they please, and right then,
whom I pleased was in the next room. I decided to commit and go for it and
show both Bryan and myself a really good time.

       I decided that once things really got going, I wouldn't want to back
out, so I took my shirt off, undid the hook on my pants and lowered my
zipper. I sauntered out of the room, trying my hardest to be sexy and then
flashed Bryan a big smile as soon as he saw me.

       "Wow," he said. "You um... You're really, really... wow."

       "Well, thank you," I said back in the sexiest voice I could
muster. I felt like I was filming a porno, but I had to do whatever it took
to get me in the proper mood. "Now let's do this, shall we?"

       I flicked the light off, leaving only a dim glow from the moon
outside, and I slid over to where Bryan was still sitting on the bed. I
dropped to my knees between his legs, bringing us to eye level. This time,
I used my hands to pull him into my face and I sucked his tongue into my
mouth deeply.

       He let out a moan I could tell he was surprised by the aggressive
move. I continued sucking at his tongue as I worked the zipper of his
khakis. I could tell that this guy was extremely hard from the feeling of
his pecker on the back of my hand and I envied him. I was still sporting a
semi even though I was getting more turned on by the second.

       Thinking I needed to ramp up my attraction to Bryan, I decided to
undress him while we made out. I undid his pants, and then started to
unbutton his shirt. I immediately felt that he was ripped underneath his
clothes and I began to move with more urgency. My cock twitched as I rubbed
a hand over his rock solid abs. A good sign, I thought.

       When I reached his nipples, he let out another crazy moan. This
time, he let go of my mouth and threw his head back. I took this as my
chance. I slid my hands back down to his crotch and squeezed his boxer-clad
dick. He moaned again and leaned back onto his hands.
       "Oh fuck yeah," he said when I pulled his dick out of his underwear
and felt it in my hands. The first thing I noticed was that it was long. It
was really long, almost 8 or 9 inches long, I estimated. My whiskey vision
might have been exaggerating, but it definitely felt long in my hands. The
second thing I noticed was that it was skinny. There was no girth to it
whatsoever. Still, this was the deck I was dealt, and I was about to play
my hand.

       I gave him a couple of good squeezes.

       "Oh fuck," he said, leaning back all the way. He lifted his hips up
for me to pull his pants all the way down around his ankles. That's when I
dove in. I took as much of his dick into my mouth as I could, tasting a
fairly sweet precum and using my tongue to lick the head.

       "Oh fuck yeah," he repeated as I bobbed up and down on him. "That
feels fucking great, oh fuck yeah."

       The guy was definitely digging what I was giving and it made me a
feel proud that I had that effect on him. Usually, when I'm blowing a guy,
I like for him to be vocal, but not too vocal. I like for him to put his
hands on me to show me that he's enjoying my method.

       This guy was definitely towing the vocal v. too vocal line and his
hands were planted firmly at his side. You don't always get winners, I
thought. My moment of hesitation was cured as soon as I ran my hands up his
washboard one more time and felt just how hard his body was. He could have
laid there chanting for all I cared; hard abs trump annoying sexual
tendencies.

       I let my hands wander all over his midsection as I bobbed up and
down on his dick. The moans, groans, and phrases continued and I knew I was
doing an above average job. I felt him start to tense up and sucked in his
dick even harder.

       "Shit, man," he shouted. He pushed me off his crotch, but he was a
split second too late. The second my lips were off his dick, I got splashed
in the face by a spurt of warm cum. The second spurt hit me on the forehead
and then on the neck after that.

       Bryan lifted his head up and smiled at me. "That was phenomenal," he
said.

       "I aim to please," I said standing up and joining him on the bed. He
stood up and walked to the bathroom. I followed his body around the corner
with my eyes and then noticed something weird. There was a suitcase in the
closet just around the corner. I looked over and noticed that there was a
jacket that Bryan hadn't been wearing draped across the chair next to the
TV. He hadn't just bought the room, I thought. He was staying here.

       He came back and tossed me a towel for my face. I wiped it off and
asked, "Are you staying in this room?"

       "Yeah," he replied nonchalant.

       "Quite a commitment for a TCC reunion," I said, thinking out loud.

       "Let's not worry about it," he said, putting his hand on my cock as
I finished wiping myself off. "Let's get you taken care of."

       A minute later, he had my pants down and was slipping his tongue all
over my dick. It certainly wasn't the best blow job I'd ever gotten, but it
wasn't one I would have sent back to the chef. And it was enough to make me
forget that something felt creepy about this guy having a weekend's worth
of luggage here for a one night reunion that wasn't even that big of a
deal. I just laid back, cleared my mind, and enjoyed it, jacking myself off
a little to speed things up.

       After I came on my torso and wiped it up, I felt extremely tired. I
realized it was one a.m. and that we'd been partying since almost nine. I
followed Bryan under the covers and laid on my back as I waited to fall
asleep, trying my hardest not to think about how much I wanted my fingers
to be intertwined with someone else's right then.

       "You're not really a TCC grad," I said softly, looking up at the
ceiling.

       "You're not an SMU senior," he replied, flatly. I guess he had me
there. We'd both lied to get laid. "Tell me something," he continued. "Are
you at least 18?"

       I thought about getting up right then and walking right out. I felt
dirty and sort of cheap sleeping next to this creeper and I would have
left, but I had nowhere to go.

       "Yeah," I replied, rolling over away from him. "I am exactly 18."

       "Good," he said, rolling over in the opposite
direction. "Goodnight."

**Feeling titillated? I'd like to hear about it! Like I said, I appreciate
all feedback, so please drop me a line at jwolf24450@gmail.com.