In Another Life (7 page)

I picked at the blanket. “Yes.”

“Since when?”

I shrugged. “It’s new.”

“Your mother didn’t tell me,” he said, sounding confused.

“Mom doesn’t know.”

“Really?” His voice suddenly got higher. I glanced up and saw a smile spread over his face. “She usually knows these things first.” He stood up. “I should tell her.” He paused. “Because she’s been worried and…. I should tell her.” He rushed over to the door, turned the handle, and then looked back at me. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No, I’m good. Go ahead.”

I figured I had about three minutes before my mother came marching in, demanding to know every detail imaginable about Travis. That didn’t give me much time to decide whether I should lead with our age difference and then soothe her with our similar backgrounds and his future job, or start with the Jewish almost-doctor part to get her on my side, and then toss in the bit about him being older.

“
W
HAT
’
RE
we doing for New Year’s Eve?” I asked Travis on the phone a couple of nights later.

“New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes. The holiday to celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of a new one. Sometimes there are fireworks or balls dropping, and traditionally, there’s a kiss at midnight.”

He was silent.

“Travis? Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” he said, his voice sounding scratchy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He snickered. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You sound funny.”

“Ehm, I’m good. Just trying to keep myself from making bad jokes about your ball-dropping comment.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Yes, I guess I did.” I decided to try a different tact. “What time are you picking me up on Sunday so I can make you see fireworks by kissing your balls?”

He started coughing.

“Trav, you okay?” I asked sweetly.

“You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because. It makes me want to….” He whimpered. “You just can’t.”

“Did I tell you what my parents said?”

“Your parents?” he asked, sounding nervous all of a sudden.

“Yes. They said I can spend the night at your apartment on New Year’s Eve.”

“You told your parents about me?”

“Yup. And I reminded them that my brothers stopped having a curfew when they turned eighteen and they were out all night on New Year’s Eve and other nights and—”

“Oh my God, they probably want to kill me,” he mumbled.

“No, they don’t. They want to meet you.”

“So they can kill me,” he insisted.

I laughed. “They want to meet you because of what I told them.”

“And did what you told them involve a guy out of college seducing their youngest son?”

“I’m eighteen, Trav,” I reminded him, trying to keep my voice calm because he sounded genuinely concerned. “And you didn’t seduce me.” I snorted. “If anything, I seduced you.”

“Great. I’m sure they appreciated that distinction,” he grumbled.

“What they appreciated was the fact that we love each other.”

I heard him breathing, but he didn’t speak for several seconds, and then he said, “Why do they think we love each other?”

I tried to gather my courage. Then another memory from my dream flashed in my head.

Me and you. This is it.

“Because that’s what I told them,” I said.

He sighed. “I’ll come pick you up right after my shift. I should be there a little after seven. Please make sure all the potential weapons are out of reach.”

“S
O
? W
HAT
do you think of him?” I asked my father.

He had walked into the kitchen under the guise of getting more drinks for everyone, but I knew that was an excuse for him to get away, both because all of our water glasses were full and also because my father wasn’t the type to notice or care if they weren’t.

“He’s polite, well-educated, conservatively dressed, comes from a good family, and is appropriately nervous but still manages to make amusing jokes.”

“So you like him?” I asked excitedly.

My father grunted and opened the refrigerator door.

“What?” I asked. “Those were all good things, right?”

“Yes,” he admitted grudgingly. “But nobody is that perfect. How do we know he isn’t some sort of a gateway gay?”

My jaw dropped. “What is a gateway gay?”

“You know.” He shook his hand over his shoulder.

I didn’t understand the motion or the words or why he was still standing in front of the refrigerator. If I had done that, he would have told me I was air-conditioning the house and docked my allowance.

“No,” I said. “I really don’t.”

He sighed and closed the refrigerator, but he didn’t turn around.

“What can I tell you, Shiloh? He’s nothing like I expected. He’s great. If I had a daughter, he’s the kind of man I’d want her to bring home.”

I decided to let the daughter comment go. “But?”

“I mean, I can see how you’d be drawn to a man like that. I can understand how he might make you, ehm, feel things. But that doesn’t mean other men will—”

Well, it seemed that Travis’s concern about how my parents would react wasn’t completely off base.

“I knew I was gay before I met him, Dad. Travis isn’t the first guy I’ve, uh, had these feelings for.”

He nodded and quietly said, “Do you think it’s realistic?”

“What do you mean?”

He finally turned around. “You’re only eighteen, and he isn’t much older. That’s hard enough. And it’s not as if you’re going to get married and have kids, right?” He dragged his hand through his hair. “So how can something like that work?”

I knit my brow in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.” My father looked regretful. “And that’s fine. Like I said, Travis seems wonderful. I’m happy you found someone like him to… spend time with. But, please, Shiloh.” He walked over to me and grasped my shoulder. “If it doesn’t work out, you come talk to me. I don’t want you getting upset and….” He shivered. “Just come talk to me. I’ll be here.”

I finally understood what my father was saying.

But with my goals for a productive future firmly in place, and after the way my parents and my brothers had rallied around me, and knowing I could feel the way I had since I’d woken in that hospital room—happy, loved, hopeful—no matter what happened….

“I won’t hurt myself again, Dad,” I assured my father.

His shoulders lowered, and the tight lines next to his mouth disappeared, as if tension sloughed right off him. “Good,” he said and then took a deep breath.

I couldn’t argue with his concern. We were young. Travis was amazing, and I was still a kid, living at home, while he was an adult with his own place and medical school on the horizon. Really, how could something between us last?

Made for me.

I heard the voice in my head that made me think of the way Travis looked at me, his eyes warm and soft; the way Travis talked to me, his tone sweet and amused; and the way Travis touched me, gentle and reverent. And I knew that no matter how unlikely and whatever the reason, he wanted me. Maybe it was fate he was the person called to save me that day, or maybe it was luck. Either way, he had walked into my life at just the right time, and I was going to make sure to treat him so well he’d never want to leave.

“Thank you for worrying about me.”

He nodded sharply, grunted, and said, “Now let’s get back out there before your mother scares him away by offering to pack your bags and move you in with him. Did you see the look on her face when he recited the haftarah from his bar mitzvah?”

I chuckled and followed him to the door. “I did. And I think it’s really strange that she made him do it. But don’t worry about scaring him off. I already told him I was going to live with him in the fall.”

My father stumbled and then looked back at me over his shoulder. “The fall?”

“Yup. He’s going to State for medical school and has an apartment, so I don’t have to live in the dorms.”

“You told him this?” my father confirmed.

I nodded.

“And he still came here tonight,” he said thoughtfully. “Huh. I guess you never know.”

Then he pushed the door open and headed back to the living room.

T
RAVIS
HAD
a million friends, and at least half of them were throwing New Year’s Eve parties that absolutely required a drop-by, so when we left my house, we went on the magical mystery tour of drunken debauchery. Well, all around us was drunken debauchery. My boyfriend hovered around me and made sure both of us stayed completely sober.

“Whose party is this?” I asked when we pulled into yet another apartment complex.

“The fun one,” he answered with a wicked grin, and then he turned off the ignition and reached into the backseat for my backpack.

I was pretty discombobulated from all the festivities, so I was a little slow to catch onto his meaning. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m getting your stuff, taking you upstairs, and ravaging you.”

I stopped breathing, whimpered, and then scrambled for the door handle.

“C’mere, honey,” Travis said once he got out of the car.

I grasped his outstretched hand and followed him toward his apartment.

“It’s not midnight yet,” I pointed out. “Don’t you want to go to one of those parties until the countdown?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I want to count down to the New Year with you.” He raised our joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand.

My heart flipped over, and I pressed up against him, wanting to get as close as possible.

It didn’t take long to reach his apartment. He let us in, closed and locked the door behind us, and said, “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

“Thirsty?”

I shook my head again.

“Dying for a tour?”

Another headshake.

“Ready for bed?”

“God, yes,” I said breathlessly.

Travis chuckled and pulled me into the bedroom. He dropped my backpack by the door and immediately started working on my clothes. My sweater and long-sleeved shirt landed in a chair in the corner of the room, and then he pressed his lips to mine for a tender kiss.

“Mmm,” he said, tangling his fingers in my hair and caressing my cheek with his thumb. “I love kissing you.”

I melted against him, sucked on his tongue, and ground my erection against his thigh.

“That’ll feel better with your jeans off, Shy,” he said, reaching for my button and zipper. When he had my jeans unfastened, he pushed them and my briefs to my ankles and then squatted in front of me to get my shoes off.

“Oh!” I moaned when he swiped his tongue over my balls. Apparently, he liked that reaction because he kept licking and then sucked them into his hot, wet mouth. “Trav! I…. Trav!”

“You like that, honey?” he asked, sounding husky.

I couldn’t answer with words, but I thought my trembling body, quick breaths, and rigid shaft spoke for themselves.

“Want me to do it to your dick?”

I bobbed my head, but when he leaned forward, I put my hand on his head and kept him back. “Me too,” I said incoherently. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and made myself focus. “I want to suck you too.”

He jumped to his feet and slammed his mouth against mine, giving me a kiss so hungry and voracious, it made my knees buckle. “Get on the bed,” he said and led me there, only letting go once I was sitting down.

I kept my gaze glued to him as he stripped out of his clothes, exposing a strong, muscular body. Then he came over and kissed me while he slowly lowered me to my back on the bed. We stayed that way for a long time, writhing our naked bodies together, connecting our lips and tongues over and over again. And just when I’d forgotten our plans and started rocking up, looking for that last bit of friction to get me off, he kissed his way down my chest and belly and started licking my dick like it was a popsicle.

“Flip around,” I said.

He opened his lips, dropped them over my dick, and then sucked his way back up. I’d never felt anything like it.

“Trav!” I shouted. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” I pulled his hair and started pleading. “Please, I want to taste you too.”

Without stopping his up-and-down motions over my cock, he flipped his body so he was straddling me and planted his knees on either side of my head. That left his package right above me. I wrapped one hand around his dick, gripped his hip with the other, and tugged him down until his smooth crown was pressing past my lips and fucking into my mouth.

It didn’t take long after that. We both sucked and licked and moaned, and then I gurgled in the back of my throat, thrust my hips up, and shot deep in his mouth. I was still pulsing when I felt him stiffen and bitter liquid coated my tongue.

“Wow,” I said breathlessly, when he collapsed next to me.

He kissed my hip and said, “Yeah.”

“This is the best New Year’s Eve ever.”

He flipped around, lay on his side next to me, and looked into my eyes. “Let’s make it a tradition.”

“New Year’s Eve in bed?” I asked with a smile.

He pushed my hair off my forehead and kissed my chin. “New Year’s Eve together.”

I crawled on top of him and held on tight. “It’s a deal.”

“Shy?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what you told me you said to your parents?”

I racked my brain to figure out specifically which thing he meant.

“Are you going to tell me?” he rasped.

It hit me and I smiled. “Travis?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Shy.”

Epilogue

Shiloh, Age 18

M
Y
PARENTS
insisted that I start seeing a therapist after I left the hospital, and I didn’t argue with them. I understood how much I’d scared them, and I wanted them to stop being so nervous that I’d crack at any moment. But also, I appreciated having someone to talk to who listened without judgment and gave me useful tools to deal with the people I still had to sit in class with until I graduated in May.