Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2014 03:32:58 -0800
From: Sean R <seanr_13@yahoo.ca>
Subject: A Drink with a Stranger - 8

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-----
A Drink with a Stranger
By: Sean Roberts
-----

--
Chapter 8
--

Lane walked onto the deserted, darkened pitch.  He saw a
figure kicking a ball around lightly.

"Ellis," Lane said softly.  His voice echoed in the empty
space.  Ellis kicked the ball up into his hand and turned
around.

"Lane?"

"Finn told me you were here."  Ellis nodded.

"Isn't it beautiful when there's nobody around?" Lane
looked around the empty pitch, at all the empty seats.  He could
almost hear the cheering crowd and the soccer players grunting
as they ran into each other with their powerful thighs.  But
those sounds were at a distance.  Right now he was there alone,
in silence, catching Ellis' scotch coloured eyes and the scent
of a freshly showered teenage boy.

"I came to yell at you about that article," Lane said.

"Lane, as much as I deserve that, I'm not sure I can take
it right now."

"Ellis, how am I supposed to go out with you after you went
behind my back like that?"

"I'm sorry about the article Lane.  I promise I will never
do that again.  I just didn't think that you would allow it, and
it's very important to me."

"Why?"

"Long story."

"You know Finn isn't coming, right?  I've got time.  And
since we're together, umm, again, how about that drink?"  They
fetched the bottle and the glasses and sat in the bleachers,
staring out over the empty field.

"I got kicked out of St. Thomas'," Ellis said.  "Some other
kid—who I thought was a friend, actually—was cheating off me.
He got caught, but the teacher didn't see what was happening
properly.  He said I was the one cheating; they believed him.
Even my parents aren't entirely convinced that it was him and
not me.

"So what do I do?  I transfer to a school where everybody
hates my guts because I've kicked their arses so many times.
The icing on the cake is that all the friends I had before don't
talk to me anymore because now I'm playing for the enemy.

"But when I saw this happening here—with students buying
assignments—I had to do something about it.  And I promise, I
found this out later.  It isn't why I wanted to join the paper,
and it isn't why I wanted to ask you out."

"Wow," Lane said.  "I had no idea that's why you
transferred."

"You never asked.  Nobody did.  Ha, not seriously anyway.
I did get a lot of `why the fuck did your dumb arse transfer
here Walsh'?  But it's okay.  I don't know if I would have told
you anyway.  I always get upset when I think about it."

"I don't blame you."


"How's your face?"

"What?"

"The bruise."

"It only hurts if I touch it," Lane said, thinking about
Finn kissing it.  "Not that I'm complaining.  You seem to be in
pretty bad shape after that match yesterday."

"Yeah.  I can usually deal with it, but when your own team
is pounding on you as well, it's a different story.  Still, I
showed them all by kicking in that last goal.  The scotch is
helping though, so thanks for that.  So what's the deal with you
and Finn?  He didn't do that to you by accident."

"I said some stuff to him that I shouldn't have.  I had it
coming."

"No you didn't.  Nobody has it coming, no matter what they
did."

"Ellis, we went on a date and I pissed you off and made you
leave before we even ordered drinks."

"I just said you didn't deserve it, Lane.  I have no
trouble believing that you set him off.  So really, what's the
deal with you two?"

"There's no deal.  He's a prick.  I'm a prick.  We don't
really get along."

"Yet he somehow shared my text with you, and had you come
here instead?"

"He was at home.  Our parents are friends and I guess they
all came over.  He mentioned to me that you sent him a text.
Anyway, nobody on the soccer team really gets along with me.
That isn't a complaint; the feeling is mutual.  I lumped you
into the same category as the rest of them.  That's what I meant
earlier, about why we aren't friends.  I didn't mean that I
don't want to be.  Fuck, I'm such an idiot.  We're writers.
We're supposed to be able to explain stuff like this!  I figured
because you were a jock you'd be an idiot.  But, umm, you're
not."

"But I'm not?  Okay.  Thanks, I guess."

"Can I just shut up now?"

"Please do," Ellis said.  "Can I take a crack at explaining
what you're trying to say?"  Lane nodded his head.  Ellis put
his hand on Lane's cheek and leaned in to kiss him.  Lane closed
his eyes and their lips met, their tongues nervously tasting
each other.

--

Breakfast on Sundays always took longer when they were all
there.  Taylor handed his parents the latest edition of the Deer
Creek Hunter, and cutlery clanged against the table.  They
bombarded Taylor with questions about it.

"Ask him!" Taylor said.  "He writes the paper!"

"I didn't write this one," Lane said.  "He published it
without telling me.  It's just as much news to me as to everyone
else."

"Well if you boys hear anything about who has been doing
this, make sure you tell us right away, so we can take this to
the principal.  This is completely despicable."  Lane dropped
his fork; the attention was back on him.

"Yeah, imagine such a thing happening at Deer Creek.
Speaking of which, I have a lot of homework to do."  He excused
himself and ran up to his bedroom.  It was anti-climactic.  He
needed to do something about this situation with Ellis, but
instead he sat down to catch up on his homework.  When he had
finished, he opened one of his hidden bottles of scotch.

He needed a friend, and Finn was the only person to come to
mind.  He needed someone to help him figure out what to do.  But
he could not go back to being Finn's friend.  The kiss was a
one-time thing; something that was not to repeat.  What about
kissing Ellis?  How would he explain that to Finn?  This was
worse than Finn's betrayal in the locker room all those years
ago.  Of course, Finn had a girlfriend—so was he not doing the
same thing?  Lane was confused, and the alcohol was not helping
him clear anything up.  At some point he got up to pee and
everything started to spin.  When he came back from the
bathroom, he was hoping someone would have magically appeared in
his bedroom.  No such luck.

He was drunk enough that the last three years of not being
friends with Finn did not change anything; it would make perfect
sense to behave in the fourteen year old pre breakup days.
Finn's parents did not seem to see the difference.  They could
not tell he was drunk—he kept his head high, smiled, and chewed
gum.  He forgot how he drove over there though.  Lane climbed
the spiral staircase slowly, holding onto the railing, making
sure not to stumble.

He smiled as he turned the doorknob, looking forward to the
inevitable smile on Finn's face when he saw Lane.  Instead, he
saw Finn's naked back, laying over his girlfriend on his bed.
She saw Lane and her eyes widened.  She motioned for Lane to
shut the door, and then she hit Finn's arm (rather harder than
she needed to) to get him to stop kissing her.  She pointed;
Finn turned around.  His face turned red.

"Oh shit," Lane said.  "I'm sorry.  I should have called or
something."  Lane shut the door and left.  Finn's parents asked
why he was leaving so soon.

"Oh, umm, I have to run some errands for my parents," Lane
said.  "I just came to drop something off for him."  The lies
were flowing easily, which was a good thing, since Lane figured
he would have to do a lot of lying from here on out.  He was
still drunk when he got back into his car.  He could not
remember how many drinks he actually had.  So Finn, after
kissing him, had gone right back to Victoria.  Why had Lane let
Finn back into his life?  He felt sick that he allowed this to
happen after successfully avoiding kept Finn for three years.

Of course, this was all Ellis' fault; that nosy bastard.
He rang Ellis' doorbell and took a deep breath.  He put on a
smile, ready to be charming to his parents.  He told Mrs. Walsh
that he was a friend and wanted to surprise Ellis, if that was
okay.  She said it was fine, and told Lane where to find Ellis'
bedroom.  He walked in again.  Lane had no idea what to expect,
but whatever it was, he was disappointed.  Ellis was sitting at
his desk studying.

"Lane?" he said, turning towards the door.  Lane shut the
bedroom door behind him.

"You really are a bastard," Lane said.  "You manipulated me
to get on the paper's staff so you could publish your article
behind my back.  You kissed me so that I would be okay with it.
You probably aren't even..." Lane could not finish his sentence.
The alcohol had made him more emotional than usual.  He was not
even sure exactly what he was angry about.

Ellis led him over to the bed and sat down next to him.  He
put his arms around Lane and asked if he was drunk.  Lane
nodded.  "Come on," Ellis said.  He kept his arms around Lane
and pulled him gently into the bed.  Lane turned to face the
wall and Ellis stayed with him, his arms around Lane.  He could
hear Ellis breathing behind him.  He shut his eyes, and he found
he could not open them again.  When he woke up, Ellis offered to
take him out for dinner.  They opted for a dark, quiet corner.
Lane ordered a lot of food.

"How did you find out about this whole assignment thing
anyway?" Lane said.

"I heard someone talking about buying assignments.  I
didn't make it up.  I wrote what I heard.  I know there's a
chance it isn't true, but I got the email address."  Lane almost
choked on the pasta he was chewing.

"What email?" Lane said.

"You're supposed to email this person, whoever he is.  Or
she.  And that's how you get the assignments done.  I don't
really know anything more than that."

"Gotcha," Lane said.  "How's your food?"

"It's good," Ellis said.

They had ordered wine, and now they both tasted like
liquor.  Lane climbed on top of Ellis in the car.  The steering
wheel was pressing into his back; there was not enough space for
them.  They were kissing, their hands in one others' hair and
also anywhere else they could reach.  They felt the hardness of
their torsos; the softness of their lips.  Their hands
intertwined and their erections rubbed against their jeans.
Buttons flew as Ellis ripped open Lane's shirt.

"Fuck," Lane said, laughing in between kisses.  "How the
hell am I going to go—" He could not finish the sentence.
Ellis' tongue found his nipple; Ellis' teeth were biting his
nipple which made him moan.  Ellis' hand was trying to undo the
buttons of his jeans.

They moved to the back so they could take off their clothes
properly.  They were rock hard; they were seventeen year old
boys and spasms of pleasure shook through their bodies as they
touched each other.  They felt each other come; they felt warm
fluid hit their bodies and splatter on Ellis' leather seats.
They were warm in the back of the car, and there was an
overwhelming sense of satisfying tiredness.  They pulled up
their jeans and sat back, breathing heavily.

"Fuck," Ellis said.

"Fuck," Lane agreed.