A great many things happened in between our tiff and prom. Looking back, I'd have to say we were scared little faggots. We lied to each other and to other people but most of all to ourselves.

Justin and Mikey spent a week and a half with their heads together, planning what they would wear, their mode of transportation, strategies for keeping their (theoretical) love of cock secret (theoretical because both were virgins), and ideas for making the event memorable (taking acid, playing pranks, and/or nominating each other for prom king).

I had ideas of my own. But I had to wait until at least the night before the prom to put any of them into action. And the wait was proving to be intolerable.

It's like he knew. Knew that Mikey's touching him (at all—even a hand casually laid on his knee or on his shoulder), him and Mikey's having their heads together (usually talking about their next comic book), or fuck Mikey's just sitting next to him, knew that all these things individually or together made me want to kick a puppy on the way to punching a baby (Relax Polyanna. It's just a figure of speech). Yes. It's like he knew. Because he started touching Mikey (he NEVER did that before). He'd ruffle his hair and smile at him, his crystal blue eyes twinkling. Fucking seriously. He'd brush his hand against Mikey's. Squeeze his shoulder. Bump into him gently. And Mikey was eating it up. I'd never seen him smile so much. And he constantly acted like an excited puppy (very like the one I wanted to kick). Jumping up and down (literally) and drooling (figuratively), nearly pissing on the floor. I half expected him to roll onto his back and beg for a "tummy rub."

So yeah, I was pissed. Livid pretty much every second of every day. And I did what any insanely jealous teenage boy would do in that situation.

I took to inviting guys over when I knew they had plans. And the encounters I had grew more and more outlandish as the days passed.

Six days before prom … I left my door partially open and pushed guy #1 to his knees. And when Justin passed by (on his way to the kitchen), I rasped, "That's it. Suck my dick. Oh fuck, yeah. Harder. Harder." Justin turned three shades of red and dropped his glass. It clunked and rolled all the way back to the couch. Best yet, his entire body flushed (well, what I could see of it) and his breath caught in his throat. Fuck yeah. I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

I fucked guy #2 deep, first hard and fast and then slow. Painfully slow. I fucked him the way I wanted (desperately) to fuck Justin. I thrust into him for almost an hour (and so hard at times that the bed knocked loudly against the wall) before I came. Then I walked out into the living room on my way to the kitchen, wearing only a pair of shorts and covered in sweat. I took a long pull off of a bottle of water and grinned at Justin (who looked stunned and something else … something that caused my cock to stir a little), completely ignoring the guy. Guy #2 scurried away half-dressed, his shirt and socks balled up in his arms. I guess he was embarrassed. But then, Justin got me back. Recovering (his color and his voice), he whispered in Mikey's ear and giggled. I set my jaw.

Guy #3 rode me. On the bearskin rug in the living room. Justin and Mikey walked in, carrying groceries (Justin had invited Mikey to dinner). I didn't stop guy #3, and he was oblivious to their entrance. He just moaned and writhed. I didn't know Justin was in love with me. I didn't even know he wanted me. (Though, seriously, who doesn't?) I just knew that my "whoring around" annoyed him, and I was angry.

Jealous.

Hurt.

And very frustrated. You wouldn't think so with the amount of fucking I was doing, but wanting something (or someone) you know you can't have .. wanting it (or him) with growing intensity for 3 or more years … it wears on you. Makes everything (every person) that (who) isn't what you want almost a joke. A mockery.

I was taking a roundabout way to the lunchroom. I'd snuck out to the tall evergreens back behind the track and field building to have a smoke. And to think. Mr. Green, my Participation in Government teacher, had been quoting John Locke during the last period. And it had an effect.

Part of me was deriving the most incredible—and fucked up—satisfaction from forcing Justin to see me with other guys. To push him to participate, no matter how indirectly, in my fucking. I wanted him to see me naked and sweaty, to hear me breathing heavy, to watch as I slid my cock in and out of some guy's ass. I wanted him to see me pounding guys, one at a time (yes, more than once in the last three days, I'd considered bringing two or three home). And I wanted to witness the flush in his cheeks and his wide surprised eyes … to hear his own ragged breathing

"[The state of nature] though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of license."

I was perverse. Justin was my best friend … and … something else, something more. I knew how wrong it was, but part of me didn't want to stop.

Yet I did.

There was no guy #4.

Why?

I wasn't sure I knew.

Clearly, my recent conquests were having an effect.

"And thus, in the state of nature, one man comes by a power over another…"

Justin was hurt somehow by my behavior. And turned on by it. I was starting to think that Justin might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. To think that he was more than simply appalled (with my having offended his romantic sensibilities) by my tricking (as usual) and my turn toward exhibitionism (that was new).

I was beginning to think he was jealous.

"[But not] absolute or arbitrary power…according to the passionate heats, or boundless extravagancy of his own will…"

Part of me wanted to push Justin until he really reacted. Force him to … I don't even know. Do something. Say something. The potential payoff, just thinking about it, even now, caused me to feel … something that was half-tickle, half-orgasm. Like I was at the cusp of something wonderful. And terrible.

I wasn't sure what it was exactly that stopped me. Not until PIG today.

"[Man] has not liberty to destroy himself."

The air was damp. The sun had just re-emerged from behind an angry—swirling—gray mass. A bird, a blue jay, chirping happily in a sapling, jumped from one bough to another, and sent several small pools of water, which had been collecting on the wide expanse of its leaves, down. Onto my head.

"Fuck!" I moved closer to the middle of the path (leading from the track and field building back to the high school building), shook my head, and ran my fingers through my hair.

The night Justin walked in on me and guy #3, he didn't speak to me.

We didn't watch TV together on the couch before bed, Justin's head on my lap or both of us sitting up with my arm around him.

And the next morning, he didn't wake me up with coffee and drag me to the diner.

He didn't even go to the diner.

I was frustrated, hurt, and angry. And I wanted Mikey to drop out and Justin to ask (beg) me to go with him.

"[Man] has not liberty to destroy himself."

But none of that was worth losing our friendship. I needed to be the person Justin, uh, "sat with" on the couch.

Fuck it. Fuck it. These are my thoughts, privy to no one else.

And what was it that the fat old guy said? "To thine own self be true."

Fuck it. Why not?

I needed to be the person Justin snuggled with on the couch. There, I said it. Well, thought it. The person he hugged. The person he slept next to sometimes. The person he ran to (breathless, chest heaving) when he had good news. The person he ate dinner with every night. The person he trusted more than any other. The person he whispered secrets to in the middle of the night … about how his parents, particularly his father, had made him feel … about what it meant for him to create … to have a chance to be an artist. To be out (at least most of the time). The person who'd danced with him (the person he'd drunkenly kissed) one snowy Christmas night.

The person he danced with at prom.

I sighed.

The person he danced with at prom.

I didn't want to lose what I already had. And part of that was the question. The maybe.

So…

I asked him.

I fingered the thick piece of paper in the pocket of my leather. My ticket. I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Then I started walking again. But this time, I picked up the pace. I needed this to be over. For us to be us again.

Two minutes later, I burst through the double doors leading into the building (and into the lunchroom/auditorium). I stopped. I smoothed my jacket and caught my breath. No way was I doing this anxious.

I emptied my expression (I hoped).

Then I scanned the room for Justin. I found him easily enough: He was, unwittingly, walking my way, carrying a tray made of thick yellow plastic. I grimaced. The tray held a bowl of yellow-orange soup (I guessed cheese soup—it always, always, smelled like feet) and a tuna fish sandwich.

In three (cool) strides, I made it to Justin's side. I stepped in front of him. He ignored me at first (pretended to not to see me) and tried to move around me.

I was undeterred. I grabbed his tray, tossed it on the metal slide-through thing (from the lunchroom to the kitchen), and pulled him by the wrist outside.

He complained, "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

I harrumphed. "You'll thank me later."

That was the only complaint he made, and he wasn't struggling to get free. But when we reached the parking lot and I stopped and pivoted, he wrenched his wrist free and crossed his arms. Still … he didn't turn and leave.

I hesitated for three beats.

Was I really doing this?

I pulled the ticket out of my jacket pocket and held it out in front of him (in one fluid motion). Apparently, I was really doing this.

Justin just stared at me blankly.

Okay. Not the reaction I expected.

I cleared my throat and explained. "I want to go."

Justin dropped his arms and blinked slowly. But still said nothing. Was still frowning at me. What? He could read the print on the ticket from where he was standing. Did he need me to say it?

I waited. No words. More frowning.

Apparently, he did.

"I want to go."

"…"

"To the prom."

"…"

"With you … and uh Mikey."

Two seconds later, Justin was in my arms. "Really? Oh my God. We're gonna have sooo much fun!"

And that was it. All was forgiven. Forgotten.

Or so I thought. But that wouldn't come back into play for a few more years.

And my anger, hurt, and jealousy dissipated. I couldn't see or feel anything but shining blue eyes and a blindingly bright smile. Sunshine.

"So … where are you taking me for lunch?"

TBC…