just for good measure. I’m sure and certain in my weird theories on stuff I know nothing about. Until he throws me again.
‘I think Tyler would fuck a hole in the wall if there was nothing else available. That’s what I think about Tyler.’
I can’t help it – I blurt out a laugh. But in my defence, he started it.
‘But don’t you … I don’t know. Don’t you ever feel like he took advantage of you?’
What can I say? It looks that way to me. Brandon had a little crush and Tyler had a lot of charm at his disposal, and he just talked his friend right into being a horny fucker. Sounds like a good all-round plan, if you ask me.
Even if Brandon doesn’t think so. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not like he ever makes me do stuff.’
I note that he said ‘makes’, present tense, but let it slide. ‘It’s kind of exactly like that.’
‘No. No, it’s not. It’s the illusion of being made to do something. He talks like that and I feel all worked up and like I have no choice but to act, but it’s not that. I have a choice. I can just … pretend that I don’t. I sit there and listen to him going on about you and how you’d look and feel and taste, and then when you come back from the kitchen I’m so horny that it’s easy.’
And now I note that he said ‘kitchen’ in a very specific sort of way.
‘Is that what actually happened?’
He takes a breath and half rolls his eyes, but I can see how nervous the question has made him. His shoulders have tightened again, just a little. And it’s obvious he’s resisting that hand twisting.
‘Of course that’s what actually happened. What? You haven’t really thought all this time that I just spontaneously decided to lift your top up, have you? Come on.’
He’s got a point. At the time I hadn’t really thought about it – I hadn’t really thought about anything, in truth. But now that I step back and consider it, I can see what he means. Brandon was always the one to hang back, to ask nervous questions, to say
don’t, don’t
. He would never have done that sort of stuff without a little cajoling.
And now I can see just who the cajoler was in that scenario.
It’s the guy who walks through the front door a second later, grocery bags in the loop of his big arm. A look on his face like the one he always has – Y
eah, I know what you’ve been talking about. I know what you want, and what you need, and what’s going to happen now. The only question is, what do you want to do about it?
Chapter Five
The coffee he brings back is just what I need: strong, thick and barely tasting like coffee at all. I’ve no clue where he got it from but that sucker has so much sugar in it – so much syrup and foam and extra other stuff – that after I’ve finished it I feel like I’ve just been attached to the nearest electrical outlet.
Things get brighter. Clearer. Safer. We even watch a little morning television together, as though we’ve suddenly become the strangest married unit in all of existence. There’s even some breakfast to go with it – from yet another heavenly place that can’t possibly be real – and then a nice hot shower.
Everything is almost totally normal. Apart from the face palming I keep doing each time I go over sections of the conversation I just had. And how naked I feel when I walk out of the bathroom, in just some too big boxer shorts and a humongous T-shirt of Tyler’s. Seriously, this thing hits my knees, and I still find myself squirming around inside of it.
They’re going to see my bare legs. And my bare feet. And probably a bunch of other stuff that I don’t want to think about too hard, as I retake my seat at the makeshift dining room table, in a dining room that doesn’t actually exist. It’s all just one big L-shaped room, really, with a kitchen and a bathroom tucked into the side of it – though I can see how it could be nice. It’s really quite a big place, all open-plan. Sunlight coming in from those
‘I think Tyler would fuck a hole in the wall if there was nothing else available. That’s what I think about Tyler.’
I can’t help it – I blurt out a laugh. But in my defence, he started it.
‘But don’t you … I don’t know. Don’t you ever feel like he took advantage of you?’
What can I say? It looks that way to me. Brandon had a little crush and Tyler had a lot of charm at his disposal, and he just talked his friend right into being a horny fucker. Sounds like a good all-round plan, if you ask me.
Even if Brandon doesn’t think so. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not like he ever makes me do stuff.’
I note that he said ‘makes’, present tense, but let it slide. ‘It’s kind of exactly like that.’
‘No. No, it’s not. It’s the illusion of being made to do something. He talks like that and I feel all worked up and like I have no choice but to act, but it’s not that. I have a choice. I can just … pretend that I don’t. I sit there and listen to him going on about you and how you’d look and feel and taste, and then when you come back from the kitchen I’m so horny that it’s easy.’
And now I note that he said ‘kitchen’ in a very specific sort of way.
‘Is that what actually happened?’
He takes a breath and half rolls his eyes, but I can see how nervous the question has made him. His shoulders have tightened again, just a little. And it’s obvious he’s resisting that hand twisting.
‘Of course that’s what actually happened. What? You haven’t really thought all this time that I just spontaneously decided to lift your top up, have you? Come on.’
He’s got a point. At the time I hadn’t really thought about it – I hadn’t really thought about anything, in truth. But now that I step back and consider it, I can see what he means. Brandon was always the one to hang back, to ask nervous questions, to say
don’t, don’t
. He would never have done that sort of stuff without a little cajoling.
And now I can see just who the cajoler was in that scenario.
It’s the guy who walks through the front door a second later, grocery bags in the loop of his big arm. A look on his face like the one he always has – Y
eah, I know what you’ve been talking about. I know what you want, and what you need, and what’s going to happen now. The only question is, what do you want to do about it?
Chapter Five
The coffee he brings back is just what I need: strong, thick and barely tasting like coffee at all. I’ve no clue where he got it from but that sucker has so much sugar in it – so much syrup and foam and extra other stuff – that after I’ve finished it I feel like I’ve just been attached to the nearest electrical outlet.
Things get brighter. Clearer. Safer. We even watch a little morning television together, as though we’ve suddenly become the strangest married unit in all of existence. There’s even some breakfast to go with it – from yet another heavenly place that can’t possibly be real – and then a nice hot shower.
Everything is almost totally normal. Apart from the face palming I keep doing each time I go over sections of the conversation I just had. And how naked I feel when I walk out of the bathroom, in just some too big boxer shorts and a humongous T-shirt of Tyler’s. Seriously, this thing hits my knees, and I still find myself squirming around inside of it.
They’re going to see my bare legs. And my bare feet. And probably a bunch of other stuff that I don’t want to think about too hard, as I retake my seat at the makeshift dining room table, in a dining room that doesn’t actually exist. It’s all just one big L-shaped room, really, with a kitchen and a bathroom tucked into the side of it – though I can see how it could be nice. It’s really quite a big place, all open-plan. Sunlight coming in from those
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