IV. Javid
Jack shouldered open the door and looked around. The room had one queen-sized bed with a tasteless quilt and shapeless pillows, and the bedspread matched the curtains on the window. The carpet was a worn-out hue of tan with little red diamonds, and all of the furniture conformed to one main pattern. But Jack supposed it didn't matter—it wasn't bad for the price, as hotel rooms went. He leaned back out the door and glanced at David, who stood against the wall, head back. It had been three days since his last shave, and he didn't smell too god, but nevertheless he was the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen.
"Seems fine, Davey," He said, patting David on the stomach.
David lurched forward, moving mechanically into the room. His movements were disjointed and dragged slightly, ending with a loud drop onto the bed. Lying spread-eagled with his shoes still on, David shut his eyes. "Jack?"
"Hmm?" Jack asked from across the room. The view from their hotel room window was not impressive.
"Where the hell are we?" Stretching out his arms and legs, David turned his face to look at Jack's back.
It was nearly a minute before Jack responded. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, shrugged, and turned around. "Someplace in Virginia, maybe?" He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed by David's head. "I could go ask the guy at the desk, if you want."
Dave frowned and looped a finger through the belt loop of Jack's jeans. "No, I don't like the look of him. Too surly and he'll probably try to seduce you."
With a laugh, Jack replied, "Davey, he's my cousin. I made you stop here because my uncle owns this place."
"Go on then, I guess," David said as he turned over onto his back and flopped an arm above his head.
Jack leaned over as if to kiss David's cheek but paused half an inch too early. The air between his lips and David's cheekbone burned, and he pulled away. "Um, yeah. I'll be right back."
Outside the room, Jack rested his head on the door. He wasn't quite sure what was going on in his head. He knew that while he started moving into the dorms at a city college, David would be flying to Stanford. No doubt he would meet lots of smart, talented, sexy boys and forget about Jack. Why would he remember a boy who was destined to work minimum wage jobs and live in roach-filled apartments all of his natural life?
With a sigh, Jack walked out to the reception desk and rested his elbows on it. "Heya, Henry."
"What do you want, Jack?" Henry's sleeves were rolled to the elbow to show off his very tanned, very toned, very hairy forearms.
"Two things—can you spare a minute for a cousin?"
"Make it snappy, there's a party leaving today and checkout's in ten minutes."
Jack bit his cheek to keep from making a smartass remark. Instead, he held up a hand and ticked off his points on his fingers. "First, where the hell are we? Second—well, that can wait till you answer the first."
"Just outside Richmond. What's the second one?"
Jack leaned forward a little and said quietly, "I need some help with the guy that came in with me."
Immediately, Henry closed up. His eyes clouded over and he hunched his shoulders in slightly. He glanced around the lobby, then said, "Jack, you know I don't approve of your... ah... lifestyle."
"Okay, fine," Jack snapped. "There's this girl that I need help with. Better?"
"A bit."
"So she's going off to college in California and I know she'll move on. I don't wanna be left behind. What should I do about hi—erm, her?"
Henry played with a button on his shirt and eventually replied, "I think you already know what to do, you just don't want to admit it."
Jack frowned. "Thanks, I guess."
--
Jack pushed open the door again. David sat in his boxers and a wifebeater, tracing patterns on his knee. "Just outside Richmond," Jack said without ado.
"Come here."
Jack was helpless to disobey. Once his butt hit the quilt, David's hands found their way around his neck, behind which his fingers laced together.
Specs had once compared kissing Dutchy to a chemical reaction that's triggered by heat. When David's lips pressed against Jack's, he could think of nothing more fitting.
Before Jack even realised what was happening, David was moving on. His tongue tasted like cotton. Jack didn't think about it, just automatically kissed back. Leaning into David's body, Jack sighed. His brain wasn't saying, "JACK, GET A GRIP!" like it should have been—it simply kept switching between "GET SOME! GET SOME!" and "DAVEY'S A REALLY FUCKIN' GOOD KISSER..." like a politician between sides of an issue.
Moments later, Jack's hands took charge. From the vantage point of David's pectorals, Jack's hands said, "Now hang on just one cotton-pickin' minute!" and pushed away from David. Sit took a few minutes for the message to get to Jack's brain, so Jack and David spent the next moments breathlessly staring in each others' eyes. Then Jack's brain caught up with the show and he blurted, "Oh, shit. David—Davey, hang on."
David hung on.
"Dave, I—I mean, I love you, 'kay? You gotta... fuck, but yeah, I love you."
"Well, I love you, too, Jack." David folded his ankles and waited.
"You're flying off to fucking Stanford, Dave. That's in California. Like, with smart, talented, sexy Californians and stuff."
David let out a small laugh. "Jack, I'm not going to cheat on you or, like, forget you or anything. I promise."
Jack glanced down at his fingers. It was completely against everything he believed he was to say it, but he said it anyway. "It doesn't matter what you say, David. I'll be stuck here in a crappy college and the fact is I'll—I'll still think you're getting with sexy, smart, talented people from Stanford. I'll be too fucking jealous."
"And," David pointed out, "knowing you, you'll probably end up hooking up with stupid, untalented sexy people. I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, Jack—you're not headed for great things. You'll probably go to college, get mediocre grades, and get drunk or high every night and have lots of sex. Don't get mad—you know I'm right."
Jack sucked air through his teeth and hissed, "Davey, no, I wouldn't. I need you."
"Don't be ridiculous—of course you would. Don't think I don't know you've had sex with Spot more than once since we started dating." David was undeniably angry now—his voice was laced with poison and his eyes bore through Jack.
"I was drunk!" was Jack's feeble protest.
"You'll be drunk at college, too."
Jack had no reply.
"Fuck you, Jack. I don't need you. I'm headed straight for a great life with lots of opportunities. I don't need you to sit there and drag me down."
Quietly, Jack asked, "Are you breaking up with me, Davey?"
David paused, considering his options. He had never considered breaking up with Jack before, and the thought had always sent him into panic attacks. Still, he was right—he could have such a bright future, with a great job and lots of money. He could do anything—he had the brains and the motivation. Jack's life wasn't going to be that way, it was a simple fact. "Yeah, I'm breaking up with you."
Slowly, Jack's face changed. It had been smooth, human, slightly detached, and beautiful, but now, with a smooth crumpling, it degenerated into a splotchy, red, pinched face, rife with unbridled emotion. "Davey." Jack's voice was strong and desperate, and it scared David. "You can't break up with me."
"I can—I am. I know how you feel, but—"
"Shut the fuck up, David Jacobs. You don't know SHIT about how I feel!" Jack's voice cracked. "I fucking love you, David, but that's not all—I can't be alone! I just fucking—"
"Jack," David said evenly, "You were going to break up with me anyway."
Jack was silent, then, fists clenched, he whispered, "Well, it was wrong of me."
"I'm not taking it back, Jack. We're done." Getting up to leave, David lightly patted Jack on the shoulder.
Jack's hand shot out and gripped David's wrist almost painfully tight. "Email me when you get to Stanford," he begged.
"I will," promised David. Then he pulled free and walked out of the hotel room, jingling the keys to his car as he walked.