Invited

Good morning. Please add this chapter to the story INVITED in the gay/high school section. Thank you very much!

Donny Mumford

Chapter 22

(Billy's New Neighbor)

Monday morning, after putting the sheets, some towels, and my dirty clothes in the washing machine, Billy and I spent a long time in the shower together. Right away, though, I noticed we're not our usual exuberant selves, probably because we both know our long weekend together is over and not likely to be repeated until we rent our college apartment in five or six months.

Getting dressed, Billy smiles, asking, "What kind of fantastic breakfast are you cooking for us this morning?"

I go, "Good question."

He makes us K-cups of coffee, and I make fried egg sandwiches on toast with American cheese and ketchup. Finishing his sandwich, Billy goes, "Yum! May I have another?"

Giving him a look, "Seriously?"

He nods and smiles, so I make another sandwich and watch him eat it. Without looking at me, he snickers, mumbling, "I'm used to you staring at me. It doesn't bother me at all."

I'm like, "Oh yeah? So, why did you mention it?"

He smiles again, ignoring that, asking instead, "Are you excited that your birthday is tomorrow?"

Shrugging, "Nah, we don't make a big deal out of birthdays around here. Anyway, Mom and Dad are just returning from their free trip of a lifetime and probably won't even remember my birthday."

Billy mumbles, "We never made a big deal out of birthdays either. I mean, once my brother and I got into our teen years."

I'm like, "Well, I probably will get birthday cards in the mail from my uncle Tony and aunt Anna, plus cards from my grandparents. There usually is money with the birthday cards, but not much, like twenty bucks."

We finished breakfast at ten-thirty. With a shrug, I got into housekeeping by moving everything from the washing machine to the dryer, then began cleaning the kitchen. At the same time, Billy walks around the house picking up empty Coke cans and anything else we've left lying around, plus he's spraying room deodorizer everywhere.

I yell, "Hey, Billy, how come you're a neatnik everywhere except in your bedroom where your bed is never made, and stuff is all over the floor?"

Spraying the air freshener as he walks, he comes into the kitchen and says, "My bedroom is a private space that no one goes into unless I invite them, but, other than that, I don't like to leave a mess behind me any other place."

Putting the can of air spray on the counter behind me, he puts his arms around my waist, asking, "Why does that bother you?"

Turning to face him, I murmur, "It doesn't; I was just curious. Nothing you do bothers me, Billy."

He starts to say something, but my phone pings, so he takes his arms away as I reach into my pocket and look at my phone, "It's a text from Mom."

We read it together, "Good morning, dear. Dad and I just landed at Philly International and should be home in an hour or so. You and Billy need to try putting the house back together, so your dad doesn't have a heart attack when he sees it. Just a heads up. Love you, Mom.'

We look around, then I mumble, "Well, hell, it looks better in here now than it did when they left for their Florida trip."

Billy goes, "Let's get the stuff from the dryer, make your bed, then go to my house." And that's what we do.

Driving to Billy's, I mumble, "You didn't want to be there when my Mom and Dad got home, did you?"

Shrugging, he goes, "Not especially. It could be awkward, so why not avoid it, ya know?"

Parking at the curb, Billy carries his satchel as we walk down the driveway to go into the house from the back door. His mom is in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. She says, "Ah-ha, my youngest son returns."

Billy smiles, "Did you miss me?"

She says, "Look at you two, Pete and Repeat, smiling and happy. That's good to see, considering the grumpy teenagers, angry-looking about whatever, that I see around town. Um, and, yes, I did miss your smiling face, William," then she asks, "How are you, Gary? Did my boy behave himself?"

Not really, heh-heh.

I nod, "Yes, it was great having Billy's company while my folks were away."

Billy tells his mom, "We're going to hang out in my room." Then, as we're walking past his mom, Billy takes my hand.

She says, "When are you going to neaten up that messy room of yours?"

Billy goes, "Oh, mom, my room is okay." I'm looking back to see if his mom noticed Billy holding my hand. I think she was bending over to take more dishes out of the dishwasher, not looking at us.

In his bedroom, I'm like, "You held my hand right in front of your mom."

Letting go of my hand and dropping his satchel, he looks confused, "No, I didn't; did I? Did she see that?"

I mumble, "Yes, you did, and no, I don't think she saw it."

He flops on his back onto his unmade bed, saying, "Jesus, I didn't even realize I did that. What the hell, though! How about if we get it over with and tell everyone we're gay boyfriends? I've been giving that some thought during the weekend."

I'm like, "I can't believe you, of all people, said that! Have you lost your 'effing mind? No, we shouldn't do that!"

He holds out his arms, "Calm down, and lie with me."

How can I turn down that invitation?

Lying next to him on the bed, I get against him, and, as always, he puts an arm under my neck, saying, "Yeah, Gary, we need to think about coming out. As you said a couple of days ago, they're all going to know we're gay sooner or later, anyway. It'd be ballsy as hell of us just to come out and announce it."

I feel my dick and balls shriveling at the thought of telling Mom I'm gay. "Billy, this is too soon! No way do I want to do that."

He gives me a big smile, "I said we should give it some thought, not do it right now. You'll need to be brave when it happens, though. Anyway, I'll likely be the one who gets blamed for seducing you because I'm two years older. You'll be the young victim everyone sympathizes with, which is so wrong because you're the one who seduced me!"

Lying half on top of him, I murmur, "It's because I fell in love with you and couldn't help myself. That, plus those 'effing Butterscotch Krimpets!"

Chuckling, he goes, "Hey, we left two packages of that delicious treat in the pantry uneaten! How'd you forget about them?"

Grinning, I press my face against his, "I don't know. I guess all I was thinking about was you."

Snickering, he goes, "It's all your idolization of me that did it. That was my downfall. I couldn't resist being idolized; who the hell can resist that? So I let you squirm into my 'effing heart of hearts, and now I can't get you out. I'm royally fucked is what I am."

Rubbing his head vigorously with both hands, totally mussing up his hair, I go, "Stop saying that! You're not totally fucked; you're just a little fucked."

Laughing, he squeezes his arms around me, and we wrestle on the bed giggling for two minutes, goosing each other, our faces sliding together. Then stop and freeze for a second when his mom knocks on his bedroom door.

Quickly coming to my senses, I scramble off the bed as she loudly says, "I'm going to the supermarket, William." He yells, "Okay, Mom!"

We look at each other, Billy still on the bed and me standing near the bureau with a hard dick in my pants. Grinning, I ask, "Do you think I got off the bed fast enough?"

Shaking his head, he smiles, "You're way too skitterish. Anyway, I told you no one comes in here unless I ask them to."

Relaxing, I say, "Hmm, with your mom at the store, we'll be here alone, except I didn't bring an 'effing condom."

Billy casually says, "That's okay. You can mess around sucking me off, and maybe I'll let you do a little ass-rimming messing around too."

Smiling, walking to the bed, I mutter, "Oh, my goodness, you're too kind to me. You'll let me suck you off and rim your ass? What a fantastic boyfriend you are."

Smirking, he goes, "You used to jump at the chance to do either, and now I'm saying you can do both. Yet, I couldn't help noticing a touch of sarcasm in your response."

Climbing onto the bed, I go, "I'm pretty sure it's okay for the girl/guy to be a tiny bit sarcastic to his guy/guy on rare occasions when done with a big smile on his face," as I smile brightly.

Billy laughs, "You are one cute motherfucker, ain'tcha?"

Crawling on top of him, I murmur, "I'm crazy in love with you," and we kiss a few times, then lie together with me on top, both our dicks hard. It's as if this is our big reunion after being apart for weeks instead of us being inseparable for three days straight.

With a grin, I slide off him, undo his jeans, pull down the zipper, and free his boner. After stroking it up and down a few times, I let go of it and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. His boner lists to the side a little because it's not hard enough to stand straight up, but it will be in a minute or so.

I get off the bed as he lies there smiling, his head on the pillow, his hands behind his head. I mutter, "You are so special," and then pull his jeans and boxer shorts off.

After rubbing my hands up and down his mostly hairless calves, I take my time sitting on the bed, taking my sneakers off, and then my shirt, jeans, and underwear. Smirking at him, I fold our clothes and put them neatly on a chair, then mumble, "There we go, just the way you like it."

He mumbles, "That's my boy."

As I get on the bed, he pulls his feet back, his knees up. I spread them, then push on them, which lifts his ass, exposing his anus. It's as clean as the rest of him after our too-long showering together earlier. Pressing my tongue on his anus, I feel the lips quiver as Billy goes, "Ahh, umm."

Licking over his asshole ten or so times, I lick up under his scrotum, then over to the inside of his leg, then through some of his soft pubic hair to the root of his penis. Billy closes his knees until the inside of his thighs press against the sides of my head, but not too tightly. Pushing my tongue against his boner, I lick up the shaft to the head and then push the head into my mouth.

Billy shudders and runs his fingers through my hair, again moaning, "Umm." Sucking on the head with my lips, my tongue swishing over it until precum drools out. Billy's body stiffens, and my dick gets harder.

It's the entirety of this messing around that arouses me greatly. It's Billy's scent, his quiet moans of pleasure, the intimacy of him allowing and me wanting to taste his private parts, sharing our bodies, the familiarity and desire to please, all of it creating almost overwhelming, out-of-control sexy sensations... but never quite reaching those out-of-control parameters.

My feelings for him are not merely carnal desire, although there is some of that. It's more a hyper-focused extravagant, and fantastic love and infatuation for everything about him. It's intoxicating and wonderfully arousing and ultimately indescribable and mysterious simultaneously.

Bobbing up and down on his boner, Billy groans, his hands tightly on my head, his body stiffening more and more until his ass lifts, and with a breathy, "Oh, God," he blows his load into my mouth.

Then, with a sigh, he lies back on the bed, pulling his dick out. Then, before I even swallow it all, I have a supernova climax, shuddering and gasping, shooting cum from my petrified boner onto the rumpled sheets right next to Billy and, at the same time, blowing out a spray of the cum I didn't swallow.

My heart's pounding against my sternum as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and sit back on my ankles, feeling dizzy from the sexual pleasure swarming all over me. What a great climax!

Holding his dick, Billy chuckles, "Jesus H Christ, Gary, the force of my climax, you'd think we were having a boyfriend reunion after being apart for months."

Coming down from my orgasm high, I mumble, "I was thinking the same thing a couple of minutes ago. That was awesome, though, wasn't it?"

We goofed around naked on the bed a bit; then Billy stopped to wipe Kleenex at the wet cum splatter. He finally mutters, "The hell with it. I'll need to change these sheets; it was worth it, though."

We get dressed, wearing our winter coats, and sit on the loveseat swing on the back porch, sharing Billy's Marlboros, him holding the wet filter to my lips, then dragging off it himself, talking about the coming week.

Billy says, "My college class schedules changed slightly because of Professor Delvecchio's untimely death. I've got classes for the rest of the semester, Tuesday through Friday."

Exhaling disgusting-tasting cigarette smoke, I mumble, "I don't have work this week. My boss sort of forced me out using the snowstorm as the reason, but I was glad he did. A week from today, I begin my full-time job, so I'll enjoy this week with no work. I'm kind of nervous about the new job, though."

We watch his mom drive up the driveway. She says, "Help me with the groceries, boys."

Billy and I grab two plastic bags each, and she gets the last one, saying, "Did you notice the moving van has arrived with our new neighbor's furniture."

Going inside, Billy says, "Someone brought the Miller's house wicked fast. It's been for sale only a week or two."

His Mom says, "It's a seller's market. With the supply chain problems, new house construction is down, and interest rates are low, so people are snatching up the available houses for sale. Maybe we should take advantage and put our house on the market."

My heart sinks at the thought of Billy moving away and going to a community college in some other community. Billy puts his two plastic bags of groceries on the kitchen table, saying, "Dad won't move. In any case, Gary and I will be in our rental near the college."

His mom takes my two bags and says, "That reminds me, we need to adjust your college loan upward for next semester. Your dad was talking about that a couple of days ago."

Billy mutters, "We've got plenty of time."

Outside, we walk to the front of the house and watch the movers.

After a minute, Billy mumbles, "That right there is a ballbuster of a job; moving furniture is hard, boring work. Those movers are the motivation for why we need a college degree. Jesus, look at the size of that 'effing China cabinet those two dudes are struggling with!"

A car drives up and parks in the driveway across the street. Billy goes, "Oh, they must be the new neighbors."

A man and woman get out. They appear to be in their forties, both more or less average-looking. Nothing unusual but, of course, the man has a short beard that looks like shit. No matter how bad it looks, he's not going to buck the trend of facial hair. I can't stand all the beards, especially the ones worn by young guys. This isn't 1822!

Then, a girl about ten or eleven gets out and stands next to the woman as they watch the movers. Billy says, "There's someone else in the back seat."

Looking at me, he smiles, "Maybe it's a hot gay guy around our age, pissed off he had to move and leave his lover behind, so he refuses to get out of the car."

I mutter, "Sure, that's probably it." Billy chuckles and puts his arm across my shoulders.

We watch for another minute, then I say, "This is boring, and it's cold; let's have lunch at the Subway shop."

He nods, mumbling, "Yeah, okay," and we're about to walk to my car when Billy says, "Wait a second. The mystery person is getting out of the back seat."

I see a young guy's head appear above the car's roof and go, "Omigod, it is a guy who looks about our age."

Chuckling, I add, "Maybe you were right."

He mutters, "That guy is a tall motherfucker, huh?"

Snickering, I nod, "I wonder how tall his gay lover was that he had to leave behind."

Billy laughs, and we turn to head for the car when we hear, "Hey, would you please hold up a second, guys."

We turn and see the guy, who appears to be about nineteen or twenty, jogging across the street. He must have been still standing in the car when we thought he was tall. He's my height, about five foot ten, and almost as skinny as me. He doesn't have short blond hair like mine, though. His hair is dark brown, pulled back into a shortish ponytail.

Hmm, he's very nice-looking with a great smile. He says, "Oh man, I hope you guys are from this neighborhood."

Still smiling, he holds out his hand, "Sorry, I never know whether to shake hands or bump fists or what, so I, um, I'm always awkward about that, ah, so ..."

I reach over and shake his hand, saying, "Hi, I'm Gary Wallingford, and we are neighborhood guys."

He goes, "Nice to meet you, Gary; I'm Pat Summers, and, as you've probably guessed already, I'm moving in with my family," and he unnecessarily points over his shoulder at the house with the huge moving van in front, adding, "We're from New Castle, Delaware. My Dad got transferred to Philadelphia. Are you brothers?"

Billy says, "Why in the hell would you ask that? We don't look anything alike."

Pat says, "Sorry, it's, um, I guess because you have, you know, the same haircuts. I'm Pat," and he again holds out his hand.

They shake hands with Billy muttering, "William Underwood. Welcome to the neighborhood," and, mimicking Pat, jerks his thumb over his shoulder, adding, "I live there, and Gary lives six blocks from here. Are you in high school?"

Shaking his head, Pat says, "No, I'm a college freshman, although I had to drop out of Wilmington University. I was commuting, and now I can't, um, commute there, obviously. How about you guys; are you still in high school?" Then he grins, looking at me, adding, "Well, Gary is for sure, right?"

I look at Billy, then at Pat, "No! I graduated last year, and so did Billy. He's going to community college in Philly, and I'll be going there in the fall. We're renting an apartment near the campus together."

Billy mutters, "He doesn't need to hear our entire life history, Gary." Then to Pat, "We're on our way to the Subway shop for lunch. Do you want to come?"

Pat excitedly says, "Oh, jeez, thanks a million! Yes, I'd like that, but can you wait a second while I tell my folks?"

Billy shrugs, and Pat mutters, "I'll make it quick," and scampers across the street.

The whole time we talked with Pat, Billy's had his arm across my shoulders. Like holding my hand in the kitchen with his mom right there, I don't think Billy realizes he's doing the intimate touching.

He says, "Well, I'll be dammed. He's got good messing around potential, doncha think?"

Giving him a shocked look, I go, "No! How can you even think that when you and I, um, we're lovers."

Billy mutters, "We're not married yet, lighten up."

Then, squeezing my shoulders, he says, "Hey, sorry I was flip with that married remark. I'll probably never replace you, babe. I was half kidding around, but that guy does have some of the same, um, innocence or something that you have, ya know?"

I sputter, "No, I don't know. Why did you ask him to have lunch with us?"

Then, we stop talking, watching as Pat jogs back, smiling and holding a twenty-dollar bill in his hand, looking as excited as a puppy.

Billy quietly mumbles to me, "He's my 'effing new neighbor; that's why I'm being nice to him."

Pat, still smiling, stops in front of us, and puts the money in his pocket, saying, "My folks wanted me to bring Jena, my sister. Can believe that absurd idea?"

Billy says, "Parents are fairly clueless," and we walk to my car with Pat saying, "I told them I'd bring back a Subway wrap for her."

We get in the car, Pat in the back seat, saying, "I'll be transferring my freshman credits to the Philadelphia community college. What's the commute like getting there and back?"

With his arm on the back of his seat, Billy looks back at Pat, telling him about the driving problems, plus other pros and cons of going to Philadelphia community college. I drive, fuming and feeling definite pangs of jealousy. Why, when things were going so perfectly, did this 'effing kid need to show up?

At the Subway shop, Billy and I order our usual Italian subs. Pat orders Subway's version of a cheesesteak and a take-out wrap for his sister. As we eat, Billy continues describing what Pat can expect at the community college. I don't say two words.

Instead, I'm looking at Pat, who is being way more attentive to what Billy's saying than necessary, staring into his eyes, holding half of his cheesesteak as if he doesn't dare take a bite of it until Billy finishes his sentence.

To continue the puppy dog metaphor, Pat's like a puppy focusing all his attention on his master, who's maybe holding a doggie treat.

Pat is an attractive guy; I need to agree with Billy about that. There's his aforementioned dark brown hair, a perfect hairline straight across his forehead, and the sort of sexy thick hair pulled back into that silly ponytail. Well, actually, I think it's kind of cool looking.

Contrasting the dark hair is his pale, creamy, smooth complexion. It's like George's creamy complexion, except Pat's is almost white. He has big green eyes, narrow eyebrows, and longish curvy eyelashes. Of course, his teeth are perfect and should be in an 'effing toothpaste commercial, plus his pouty, bow-shaped lips should be in a lipstick commercial.

Yeah, this kid should forget about Billy's college talk and be an 'effing male model. Hmm, he would be serious competition if he were gay. I could introduce him to George. If Pat's gay, I mean, which is an enormous long shot, so what am I worried about?

Paying attention to what Billy's saying now, I hear, "Well, why the hell wouldn't your parents let you live in a college apartment with Gary and me?"

WHAT?

Pat's finally eating his cheesesteak with his mouth closed, which is good to see. He swallows and says, "My Dad lived on campus when he went to college for his undergraduate astrophysics degree, so he knows all the wild stuff that goes on and doesn't want me experiencing that. Going to commuting college, living at home, I can concentrate on my studies."

Billy goes, "Oh, your old man doesn't trust you, huh? Did you get in trouble in high school?"

Pat goes, "No, I've never been in trouble. It's just that my Dad is, um, a bit of a control freak. Frankly, I don't think he or my Mom wants me to grow up, ya know?"

Finished his sub, Billy wipes his fingers and mouth with three napkins, then says, "Well, I have the opposite situation in my house. I don't think my brother and me can grow up and get out of the house fast enough to suit our parents."

Pat laughs, "I doubt that's true. If it is, though, you're lucky.' Then, looking at me, "How about your parents, Gary?"

I'm like, "Huh? Um, oh, they're sort of like your parents. Mom still thinks I'm twelve."

Pat goes, "You do look awfully young, ha-ha."

I give him a look, and he goes, "Um, you two are close friends, aren't you?"

Before I can answer, he adds, "I can see Billy's sort of protective of you."

Billy goes, "Somebody needs to be," and they chuckle; Billy mutters, "No, just kidding. Gary doesn't need anyone to protect him, although he can use some guidance now and then."

I give him a dirty look, and, smirking at me, Billy adds, "Don't be fooled by his adorable face; he can take care of himself, um, usually. Can't you, babe?"

I hit his shoulder; then, trying to cover up Billy calling me adorable and babe, I tell Pat, "He's just breaking my balls with that adorable babe thing and everything else."

Pat goes, "Uh-huh, yeah, sure. Have you guys ever read any of the stories on Nifty?"

"What's that?" asks Billy, "I never heard of Nifty."

Pat shrugs, "It's a site online with a million erotic stories. I'm reading one called Band Boy by Gerry; um, I forget his last name. You should try it; it's a really good story."

I mutter, "What do you mean by erotic?"

Pat says, "Oh, you know, sexy stories mostly. The one I'm reading has a gay theme. Not that I'm necessarily gay, although it's interesting reading about gay guys our age."

Billy looks at me, then at Pat, and says, "If you're not gay, why the hell are you reading erotic gay stories?"

Pat shrugs, "Why not read them? And I never said I wasn't gay."

Thinking back to Billy's discussion about us coming out as gay, afraid he might say something along those lines, I immediately change the topic, asking, "What are you majoring in at college, Pat?"

He says, "Electrical engineering. I chose that because after I've completed basic college courses at community college, I'll need to go away to a university specializing in my major. Dad realized my thinking in that regard but feels that at twenty, I'll be mature enough to handle campus life."

We talk about the general business administration major Billy and I are taking, or I will be taking, and blah, blah, blah. No more talking about Gerry-somebody's Band Boy story from some mysterious Nifty erotic gay site or any other gay-themed discussion.

Pat brings the wrap for his sister with him back to the car, and we drive to Billy's and, now, Pat's houses. He thanked us, then said, "My parents want me to be at the house to set up my bedroom. Maybe we can hang out tonight."

Billy asks, "Do you smoke weed?"

Looking around as if someone will overhear him, Pat almost whispers, "Hell, yeah, but I don't have any."

Billy says, "I've got a few joints, so maybe we'll smoke one or two tonight."

Pat looks around again, then says quietly, "I'd love that; thank you so much." Then he asks for our cell phone numbers and gives us his; after thanking us again, he jogs across the street and goes inside his new home.

Putting his arm across my shoulders, Billy says, "You've been your usual quiet self, Gary."

We walk down his driveway, "You two hit it off so well I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

He chuckles, "You're pouting."

Shaking my head, "No, I'm not pouting; I'm a little jealous, though."

Billy says, "Don't be. It's you and me, babe, but there's no reason not to be friendly with the new kid, right? I'm sociable, and, as I said, we're not going to be hermits when we get the apartment."

When we sit in the swing/love seat, Billy lighting another cigarette, I mutter, "You think he's cuter than me, don't you?"

He exhales smoke and says, "He is wicked good-looking, but I prefer your looks. You're my adorable cutie boyfriend, and that's not changing for some random electrical engineer major or whatever he said."

"Do you think he's gay?" Holding the cigarette filter to my lips, wet with his saliva, I inhale as Billy mumbles, "Most likely, but perhaps he doesn't know it yet."

Immediately exhaling the Marlboro smoke, I ask, "You wouldn't mess around with him even if he is gay, would you?"

Sounding exasperated, he mumbles, "No, I wouldn't. Not unless you wanted to do it too. I'm serious about being loyal to my cutie-pie boyfriend, not that it would mean anything if I wasn't."

Huh?

Nodding but not quite getting what he meant, I snuggle against him and leave it at that.

Later, Billy gets a Whiffle Ball and bat from the garage; we screw around with that in the driveway. I whack one of Billy's pitches into the street, and he says, "Good one," and trots after it, but Pat is on his way across the street and gets to the ball first. He throws it to Billy and says, "Gary's a regular Bryce Harper. The Phillies could use him."

Billy asks, "Are you all settled in now?"

Pat nods, "Yeah, I wanted to get away from the chaos in there and noticed you and Gary out here, so do you mind if I watch?"

"To hell with watching. Let's see if you can hit my gyro pitch," and the three of us take turns pitching, hitting, and fielding in the driveway. Only for a half hour, though.

Billy says, "It's too cold for baseball. I should have brought out my 'effing football."

We go up on the back porch, Billy sitting in the swing/love seat, saying, "Get one of those beat-up beach chairs, Pat."

He looks at me and nods his head for me to share the swing seat with him. Trying not to grin, I shrug and sit next to Billy, who squeezes my shoulders, smirking at me.

I love him so much I could pee my pants.

Setting up the beach chair so we can all see each other, Pat sits down, and Billy holds out his Marlboro box, offering him a cigarette. Pat takes one, muttering, "Thanks; I sneak a smoke whenever I can."

Billy goes, "Are you like Gary? You'll smoke as long as they're someone else's cigarettes?" I go, "Hey!"

Pat chuckles, "I buy them sometimes; I owe you one."

Billy mutters, "I'm kidding," and Pat goes, "My parents are ex-smokers and, therefore, fanatical anti-smoking advocates now." He chuckles again, adding, "It's not easy being me, heh-heh. No, I'm pretty lucky, actually."

Nodding, Billy lights a cigarette and passes it to me, saying, "Smoking is a disgusting, filthy habit that can cause lung cancer," then lights a cigarette for himself, adding, "But fuck it, I think smoking is cool."

I was worried he'd share the cigarette with me holding it to my mouth the way he often does and did earlier. He doesn't do that, but he does have his arm across my shoulders now that his cigarette is lit. He's either unconsciously doing that, or he's brazen as hell and doesn't give a shit what Pat thinks.

Blowing a series of four smoke rings, Pat says, "Hey, if you want, I can score a six-pack for tonight. That's if you want to drink as we smoke your joints, but where do you go to do that?"

Holy crap, I've been assuming Pat was like a goody-two-shoes type of guy, but instead, he smokes pot and cigarettes and drinks booze. Well, he doesn't curse, ha-ha. He's alright; nice to look at too.

Billy says, "If I can get my Mom's SUV tonight, Gary and I will show you where we go to smoke a little dope and sometimes drink a little beer or vodka." Squeezing my shoulder, he asks, "Can you get the vodka bottle out of your house, Gary? It's still half full."

I mutter, "I don't know. Let's save it for another time and just drink Pat's beer. What kind is it, Pat?"

Blowing another smoke ring, Pat goes, "What kind do you like? I'll need to buy it, but I've got some good fake ID. It's got my picture and everything; a Delaware driver's license."

It's getting late, and I've got to get home to say hi to my parents after their trip, plus have dinner. Pat and Billy are making plans for Pat to commute to college with Billy tomorrow so Pat can check in with an advisor he has an appointment with.

When I can get a word in, I say, "Pat, you're in good hands with Billy, but I've got to get home now." Getting up, I add, "Billy, text me if you can get the van, and I hope to see you guys tonight."

Billy ruffles my hair, mumbling, "First, I want you to drive Pat to the store for the six-pack of beer. While you're doing that, I'll check with Mom about the 'effing SUV. I'm sure I'll be able to use it tonight."

The store isn't far, so I mumble, "Yeah, okay," and Pat says, "After I buy it, I'll hide the six-pack outside to keep it cold."

In the car, he says, "Thank you so much for being so nice about me intruding into your friendship with Billy and, um, everything. I feel so lucky to meet you and William."

Chuckling, I go, "Everyone except his mom calls him Billy. He was messing around with you by introducing himself as William."

Pat says, "He's so cool and confident, very friendly too. He made me feel like we'd known each other for months. I'll bet he's the most popular guy in town."

Shrugging, I mumble, "He's, um, very sociable."

Chuckling, he says, "You're not fooling me, Gary; I see how you look at him. You think Billy's a lot more special than just being very sociable."

Blushing a little, I say, "What the fuck; we're best friends, so, of course, I think he's special."

Nodding, he says, "That's what's hurting me the most; leaving my Delaware friends. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I shed some tears over that, especially over leaving one, um, special best friend. Not that crying helped a helluva lot."

I nod, "Yeah, that sounds like a tough thing to deal with, especially leaving your special friend?"

He sounds choked up, mumbling, "Yes, it was, but forgive me, I'd rather not talk about that. Sorry." I mutter, "That's okay."

We don't talk for a minute, so I turn on the radio. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him wipe his eyes, then say, "Ya know, I can tell right away when someone has great leadership skills like Billy's. He's casual about it but very cool and confident too. And he's got a great talking voice, doncha think? He sort of mesmerizes me."

Parking at the convenience store, I say, "Yeah, you're right about that. I like listening to him, and he can sing too."

Hmm, I sounded too enthusiastic when I said that, but I remembered Billy dancing and singing to me the other night. That was awesomely romantic.

Opening the door, Pat asks, "What beer should I buy?"

I go, "Aren't you nervous using that fake ID?"

He snickers, "Yes, very, but I'm hiding it. I feel like I'm going to crap my pants, but I'm going to do it. So, what brand of beer does Will, I mean, Billy like?"

I tell him, "You should probably buy the cheapest beer you can find. Billy doesn't like the taste of any beer. Um, but I like Bud." Pat nods, "That's what I normally buy. I'll get a Budweiser six-pack."

Sitting in the idling car, I slowly shake my head at how much Pat admires Billy. Yeah, and after spending only like maybe two hours with him. And, no, I don't think Billy will mess around with Pat even if he is gay, but they'll be carpooling to and from college and spending a lot of time together. No, wait! Maybe they'll have completely different class schedules, and therefore, carpooling won't work. That's much more likely than the reverse.

Christ, I'm such a prick hoping for that. It'd be a big help to Billy if he had Pat sharing the driving. Omigod, he has to drive through Philly eight times a week, going there and coming home. Hmm, maybe they'll study together too. Yeah, well, it ain't pretty that green devil called jealously.

Pat got in the car with a six-pack in a bag five minutes after he left. "Whew! That went about as well as it could. An old lady at the register looked at my fake license, rolled her eyes, then ran up the sale on the register."

Driving out of the parking lot, I mumble, "Nice going, Pat."

Nodding, he mutters, "Two more years of this scary stuff before I'm legal age. I wish I looked older."

For something to say, I ask, "So, you're nineteen, huh?"

"Yeah, as of last December. How old are you?"

"Seventeen for one more day. Tomorrow's my birthday."

He pats my shoulder, "Seriously? Happy birthday!"

He frowns then, "Hey, how'd you graduate at seventeen?"

I gave him the condensed version. He just nods his head, then asks, "How old is Billy?"

I tell him, "Nineteen for two more weeks. He got held back one year because of an illness. I forget what illness it was."

I'm kind of glad to finally drop Pat off at his house. The twenty questions routine was getting annoying.

Parking in front of my house, I feel childishly excited to say hi to Mom and Dad. I kind of missed them.

Walking in the front door, I see my Dad, tanned and looking healthy and relaxed, sipping a cocktail in the living room and watching the news on TV. He gets up off the sofa and gives me a hug, saying, "How you doing, son?" I'm like, "Hi, Dad! I'm awesome; how was the trip?"

Mom comes in from the kitchen, "Gary, sweetheart!" Another hug, with a kiss on my cheek. "Hi, Mom," and Dad says, "That was the best three days your mom, and I ever had in our lives. The weather was beautiful."

Mom says, "Gary, the house looks immaculate. I can not believe two boys can be this neat." I shrug, "Billy's a neatnik."

We talked for five minutes, or I should say, they talked for five minutes, telling me about their long weekend. Obviously, I didn't talk a lot about mine, saying only that we watched TV mostly. Mom finally said, "Dinner in ten minutes, guys," and I went upstairs to wash up.

After taking a pee, I wash my face and hands, then spend some time brushing and combing my shorts hair. I spend more time on this short hairstyle than I ever did on my mop of non-stylish super-curly hair. While changing my shirt, I get a text from Billy saying he'll pick me up at seven-thirty. Right after that, I get a text from Pat saying, in case I haven't heard, Billy can use his mom's SUV.

Well, what the hell? Didn't Pat think Billy would text me about that? Hmm, did Billy text Pat before me?

During dinner, there was more conversation about their Florida trip at that ritzy resort, with me nodding and murmuring appropriate comments. No mention of my birthday tomorrow, so I didn't mention it either.

Mostly, I'm thinking about tonight, drinking beer and smoking grass with Billy and Pat, realizing there likely won't be any sexy messing around, and, considering that Pat will be with us, unsure if I'm glad about that or not.

To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com

Please, guys, consider making a tax-deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help cover the expenses of maintaining and growing this huge free story site. Thank you so much. (Easy directions for donating are at Nifty.org)