Max and Andrew 3
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any people, real or fictional, is entirely a coincidence. In addition this story involves homosexual thoughts, feelings and actions. If this is not what you want to read, please visit another website. In addition if reading this story is illegal in your area you need to go to another webpage now. If you want to contact me my e-mail address is below.
Andrew Travers stormed up to his bedroom, slumped down on his bed and shrugged out of his backpack, letting it fall to the floor beside him.
He thought, how could he have let himself get carried away with Max?
Andy cursed the day he’d forgotten he now lived in a smaller town, not the big city. Sure, they had the Internet here, but at Summerland, they hadn’t even heard of the latest fad of saying you were bisexual.
The shitty part about it all was that he didn’t think of his old buddy Jordan when he jacked off, he still thought about Max. It hadn’t taken a degree in rocket science to figure out why his behavior had changed the day after their “session”. Andy had hoped against hope that Max would be okay with it after a day or so, but no such luck.
That day seemed to have been the perfect storm.
Start with waking up confused because of a weird dream involving Andy, Max, and outer space. Add getting bad quiz marks in English and Spanish, and top it off with happening to be not a minute behind Max going home that day.
At least it had felt good venting some spleen at that asshole. Who did he think he was, just blowing Andrew off and not even having the guts to talk about it? Shit, anything would have been better than not saying anything. Even if Max proffered a lamebrain excuse about it being all a big mistake.
Well, he wouldn’t hold his breath waiting for Max to get the balls to come say hello.
As luck would have it for Max (or perhaps fate, in retrospect), the decision to “straighten his shit out” on his own terms was taken out of his hands that weekend.
For lack of better to do he hoofed it to the local video arcade, armed with some money to feed the endless appetites of the machines which seemed to mock him with the dreaded “GAME OVER” before even a minute had gone by.
His quarters were tapped out after several rounds with Hydro Thunder, Crazy Taxi, Daytona USA and a few other games. Max looked in his wallet and saw another tenner. He took it up to the guy at the desk, and stuffed the quarters into his coat pockets.
As he snaked his way through the crowd surrounding the DDR machine, he nearly tripped, bumping into someone. Automatically, he blurted, “Sorry!”
The sudden prickling sensation going up and down his neck as he righted himself was resolved when he looked up, only to find out he’d bumped into Andrew Travers. Max closed his eyes, almost unconsciously breathing, give me the strength I need for this.
Before Andrew could throw him another disgusted look as he had the other day, Max said, “Can we talk? Outside? Please?”
Andy seemed to grudgingly acknowledge Max’s words, and the pair of young men stepped out of the arcade into the chilly winter air. They went around the side of the building, and Max looked Andrew in the eye.
Lamely, Max said, “Look, I’m... I dunno what to say. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Andrew bundled his coat a little more tightly around himself. “You had to know I was cool with it. Why would it bother you so much?”
Needled, Max yelled, “I’m sorry, okay?!”
Andy looked satisfied. “That’s a start.”
Max blinked. “Huh?”
“You apologized. Maybe not exactly the way I’d have wanted, but you apologized.”
A grin threatened to reach Max’s mouth. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Andy smirked. “And thus spake the other asshole.”
Max said, “Look, I know I was being a dick about... well, what we did. You don’t have to rub it in, okay?” He averted his gaze, looking across the slushy street to the pawnshop, watching the elderly man enter it with an old lamp.
“Since I seem to be done busting your balls for the time being, let’s shelve the heavy shit for now and go play some video games, huh? I’m fucking freezing out here.”
Andy stamped his feet to punctuate that last sentence, and Max suddenly realized his face felt really cold. He said, “Yeah, okay. You up for some DDR? I’ve only played a couple times.”
“Wicked! Oh, and prepare to get your ass kicked in Battle Mode.”
Max thought, as fresh starts went, what had just happened was pretty mundane, but he felt better than he had in a while. With that in mind, he re-entered the arcade, following Andrew to the Dance Dance Revolution machine.
Max thought it was almost like old times all the way back.
Andy was grinning widely. “—that wicked combo you did right at the end? Damn! You learn the moves fast, man.”
Andy held out his fist, and Max bumped fists. They hadn’t done that too often before, but it seemed Andy was trying to get things back on track. Max had purposely kept away from any heavy topics, sticking to light banter as they played in the arcade and then walked home after exhausting their money.
As they stopped near Andy’s house, the mood suddenly shifted. Andy sombrely said, “Now’s probably the best to get the heavy shit over with. C’mon inside.”
Wordlessly, the boys did so, and after leaving their coats and shoes by the front door, they went into Andrew’s bedroom. Andy checked his watch and muttered something about his dad and an extra shift, then flopped onto the bed.
“Grab that chair and siddown, okay?”
Max did so, and said, “Okay, look... I get that we should talk about things, but you gotta understand. How do you talk about—” He felt all the heat in the room rush into his face as he mumbled, “jacking off together?”
“You didn’t have a problem the other day when you said those words in the street where anyone could hear you,” Andy replied sardonically.
“I was pissed off, okay? You grabbed me and called me an asshole, for chrissake.”
“Well, you were. What kind of dickhead ignores his friend just because of something they did together that didn’t hurt anyone?”
Max rubbed his forehead and groaned. “I know. Is there any way we can just, you know, figure this out? You seem to know what you want. Well, I don’t; I mean, I haven’t even kissed a girl and how’m I supposed to figure things out when I’ve barely done anything normal?”
Andrew sighed. “Okay, you’re right. About knowing what I want, I mean. I’m pretty sure I like guys more than girls. You gotta understand, okay? We’ve moved a long way from where I was before. Back there, it was, like, a fad to be bisexual, you know?”
Max choked out a laugh, “You’re kidding, right?”
“Am not. Jordan, that’s my old jack-off buddy’s name, we even acted all gay at school just for kicks. The teachers weren’t too impressed since half the girls were cooing over us by that point and other half were scheming to get hold of me and show me the wonders of T and A.”
Max dimly remembered hearing someone on the football team use the term, so he nodded in understanding. He said awkwardly, “Say, you still working out on the machines at school? I, uh, switched to going in the morning. Got permission from Mr. Rankin.”
Andy shrugged. “I’m still going in the afternoons, every second day. I had to quit using the bench press, though, because nobody was around to spot me. You get anyone to spot you?”
Max shook his head. “Guess we could spot each other again if you want.”
“Okay. But we gotta be clear on what happened between us. It can’t screw things up for us being friends, okay? And yeah, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I thought about it, as much as I didn’t want to for a while there. But it has to be your call.”
Max blushed again. “Okay, I’m sorry again. You know, for being an ass about it.” He hesitated. Deciding to take the subject up another time, he said, “Anyway, I should probably get home. Are we cool?”
Andrew smiled. He stood up and extended his hand. “Yeah. We’re cool. Call me sometime soon, huh?”
Max shook hands, only just daring to let himself feel the warmth of the other boy’s hand before he had to release it.
I can be contacted at [this](mailto:quantumchaos77@gmail.com?subject=Story: Max and Andrew) e-mail address.