Rainbow High (18 page)

“Is that why you want to be angry at him? To help you decide?”

“No,” Kyle grumbled. “I don’t
want
to be angry with him.”

“Wel . . .” Nelson brought down his arms. “Whatever you decide, I told you
I’m
not going to Tech.” Kyle peered at him. “Are you just saying that so I’l go to Princeton?”

“No. I told you I never wanted to go to Tech in the first place. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t decided.” When they got to his house, Nelson continued trying to get Kyle out of his mopiness—by making brownies, listening to CDs, playing with Atticus—until at last Kyle started cheering up. But that night, after Jason’s interview played on TV, Kyle phoned, dejected again.

The fol owing day at lunch Nelson continued consoling him. “Hey, you want to come with me to meet some of Jeremy’s friends tonight?”

“No thanks,” Kyle replied. “I’ve got to get to bed early for that swim meet trip tomorrow.”

“In that case—” Nelson smiled as charmingly as possible “—can you cover for me if my mom cal s you? Please, please, please?” He knew Kyle hated lying, but with his mom so set against his dating Jeremy, what choice was there?

That evening Nelson told her, “I’m going to Kyle’s!” and slammed out the door before she could question him. He metroed downtown to the gay coffee shop, trying his hardest to be on time. But even so, he was late.

“I’m sorry,” he told Jeremy, kissing him in front of the entire café. “Where are your friends?”

“Not here yet.” Jeremy sighed. “The late gene must be linked to the gay gene.”

“Do I look al right?” Nelson checked himself in the mirror. “I hate my hair. I wish Fd worn something else. I bet your friends are al buff, aren’t they? Wil I be the only skinny one? What if they think I’m a dweeb? What did you tel them about me?”

“I told them you’re a skinny dweeb with bad hair who doesn’t know how to dress.” Nelson swatted him. “You are so evil.”

“Dude, you look great,” Jeremy assured him. “They’re going to like you just fine.” He rested a hand on Nelson’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “What would you like to—”

“Are they al positive?” Nelson interrupted.

Jeremy replied with a cross look, frowning.

“Sorry,” Nelson mumbled. But could he help being curious?

Jeremy ordered chai. Nelson asked for an extra-tal double espresso. He may as wel have mainlined caffeine, especial y since he practical y guzzled down the drink.

They sat at a table, and half an hour later Jeremy’s friends trickled in.

First there was flawless-faced, perfect-posture, every-hair-in-place, zero-body-fat Reed, wearing creased khakis and a pressed white shirt.

Probably irons his underwear too
, Nelson thought. Merely looking at him made Nelson want to go shopping.

After Reed, Bob showed up. He was cute in a nerdy sort of way. His nose was a little big, and his ears stuck out a tad much, but Nelson liked that. At least he felt more at ease with Bob than with cover model Reed.

Then there was hunky, blond spiky-haired Matt, with superhero pecs and biceps as thick as Nelson’s neck.
Put “Go to Gym” on To-Do list,
Nelson thought.

None of the guys looked positive. When they went to order their drinks, Nelson leaned close to Jeremy and whispered, “They hate me. I can tel .”

Jeremy grabbed Nelson’s hand reassuringly. “No, they don’t. Relax.”

As the group of friends returned from the counter, Bob asked, “So where did you and Nelson meet?”

“That group,” Jeremy told him.

“You’re in the HIV group?” Matt asked eagerly. “I’ve never seen you there.” Nelson leaned back, surprised. Matt was
positive?
No way!

“Not that group,” Jeremy clarified. “The youth group.”

Bob’s cel phone alarm rang. He shut it off and pul ed out a pil case. “Cocktail hour,” he told the group in a low voice. “It’s the only way I remember to take them.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing that in public,” Reed told him.

“I should probably take mine, too.” Matt pul ed out a pil case with a dozen little compartments. “I keep forgetting.”

“Can I have one?” Nelson asked, joking of course, though he did feel a little left out. “Just kidding,” he added in response to Jeremy’s scowl.

“What happened to that new guy you were dating?” Jeremy said, turning to Matt.

“The jerk. He told me I was getting fat, so I dumped him. Do you think I’m getting fat? I think it’s the drugs.”

“You look fine,” Reed told him, and turned to Bob. “What about that red-haired guy you went out with?” Bob made a glum face. “He couldn’t deal with—” Bob raised his fingers to signal quotation marks “—The Issue.”

“I stopped dating anyone negative,” Reed said. “It’s too much work—not to mention the whole condom crap. I’ve got enough to deal with. The least I can do is enjoy sex.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “You’re continuing to re-infect yourself, you know.” A sly grin crossed Reed’s lips. “Not often enough.”

As the group joked and laughed, Nelson only understood half of what they talked about. But clearly, they al shared a common bond. One that he didn’t.

After about an hour, the group began disbanding and saying good-bye.

“They didn’t like me,” Nelson said as Jeremy and he walked outside.

“Yes, they did.” Jeremy laid his arm around Nelson. “How could they
not
like you?”

“Because I’m negative.”

He didn’t mean to say it—or maybe he did.

Jeremy stopped, turned to him, and let his arm slide off Nelson’s shoulder.

“I mean . . .” Nelson stared across the sidewalk at Jeremy. “Al of you are positive and I’m not. Maybe if I was ...”

“You’re talking crazy,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.

“Everyone has it but me,” Nelson protested.

“No, they don’t! Everyone doesn’t have it.”

“You al do. Everyone you guys talked about does.”

“Let me get this right.” Jeremy’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You want to get a life-threatening il ness that makes you total y dependent on toxic drugs forever, just because you think everyone else has it?”

Nelson gave an unabashed shrug. “I’l probably get it eventual y anyway. Besides, I heard then you can get steroids legal y.”

“I can’t believe you!” Jeremy threw his hands in the air. “Not a day goes by that I wish I didn’t have this stupid thing, and you’re tel ing me you wish you had it?”

Nelson fidgeted with an earring. “At least I wouldn’t worry al the time about when I’m going to get it.” Jeremy became quiet. His forehead wrinkled, then his brow smoothed.

“What?” Nelson asked.

“I was remembering when I got it,” Jeremy replied. “I felt this awesome sense of relief. At least I didn’t have to worry anymore if I was going to get it.”

“See?” Nelson asserted. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy heaved a deep sigh. “But take my word for it, the worrying doesn’t stop. You just trade the old worries for new ones.” He laid his arm across Nelson’s shoulder again. “Believe me, babe. You don’t want it.” It was the first time Jeremy—or anyone—had ever cal ed Nelson “babe.” He wrapped his arm around Jeremy’s waist, not wanting to think about al this crap anymore.

As they approached the metro station, Nelson asked, “Can we go to your place?” When they got to the apartment, Jeremy said, “My brother’s away for the weekend.” Nelson’s heart took off at a gal op. They had the place to themselves.

“Want something to drink?” Jeremy asked. “Water, Coke, Sprite?”

“Water’s fine.” Nelson pul ed his jacket off. “Can I put some music on?” He chose the cowboy’s CD again. It was starting to grow on him.

Sitting down on the loveseat, he kicked off his shoes and started peeling off his socks. He paused to make sure Jeremy wasn’t looking and sneaked a sniff of his feet. Good thing they were okay.

Jeremy brought their drinks and sat beside Nelson. He brought a foot up to pul off his boot, but Nelson said, “Here,” and pul ed it off for him, then helped with the other.

“You’l spoil me.” Jeremy grinned.

Nelson gazed into those imploring, espresso-colored eyes, and next thing he knew, his tongue was slipping between Jeremy’s lips, rol ing across his Sprite-sweet tongue.

While the cowboy sang about having to choose between fishing and his wife, Nelson folded himself into Jeremy. Their hands feverishly grasped each other—pressing, holding, caressing, clutching. He plucked at Jeremy’s shirttail and, encountering no resistance, slid his fingers beneath.

The touch of skin made his hormones do a quick cancan. In a flash he’d yanked Jeremy’s shirt off and in awed silence beheld the spectacular sculptured pecs he’d merely imagined in bedtime fantasies.

“What’s the matter?” Jeremy said, peering at Nelson.

“I’m in love.” Nelson sighed, unable to stop staring.

“You’re a nut.” Jeremy laughed. But Nelson ignored him, bending down to paste a tribute of kisses on the beautiful chest.

“Yours too,” Jeremy said, tugging at Nelson’s shirt, but Nelson drew back, embarrassed by his scrawny chest compared to Jeremy’s. “Can we turn off the light?”

Too late. Jeremy had pul ed the shirt off. His hands slid across Nelson’s bare chest, triggering an explosion of goose bumps. Ever since he was a kid Nelson had been prone to gooseflesh.

“Cool.” Jeremy grinned.

Nelson buried his face in the val ey of Jeremy’s chest, blushing.

“We better talk about this,” Jeremy whispered.

“My goose bumps?”

“No, sil y. What we’re going to do.”

“Not again!” Nelson groaned. They’d already talked to death about safe sex. Instead, he started laying tiny kisses along the Happy Trail of downy hairs leading toward Jeremy’s belt buckle.

“You’re making this very hard.” Jeremy moaned beneath him.

“I noticed,” Nelson replied.

“Dude!” Jeremy’s tone grew stern. “First you have to promise we’l be real y safe.” He hauled Nelson back up to where he could face him, gently holding his chin and peering into his eyes. “Promise?”

“Yes,” Nelson whispered. “I promise.”

Thirsty from kissing, he reached over and gulped his water down, setting the glass back on the coffee table. Then he brushed his lips softly across Jeremy’s goatee, pasting a tiny kiss to the right of Jeremy’s lips, then to the left, then below.

Jeremy opened his mouth, beckoning, and reciprocated the kisses. Each grew more fervent as their hands tugged and fumbled with belt buckles.

Unable to control himself a second longer, Nelson sat up to yank his jeans off. In the process, his foot accidental y kicked the coffee table.

His empty glass wobbled. Jeremy grabbed for it, but the glass toppled off the tabletop.

Nelson winced as it shattered onto the parquet floor.

He raised a hand to his face, covering it in disbelief. Just once, couldn’t he get laid without some mishap?

“Crap,” Jeremy said, propping himself up. “I better get the broom.”

“Can’t you leave it for later?”

But Jeremy was already leaning over the side of the loveseat, picking up a glass shard. “I don’t want you to step on—!” He gasped, dropped the glass, and yanked his hand up.

“You okay?” Nelson reached out. “Let me see.”

The finger had a slight cut with one droplet of blood.

“What a wuss,” Nelson kidded him, and leaned toward the finger, making a kiss-kiss sound.

Jeremy’s arm darted out, shoving Nelson across the narrow loveseat. Although the push wasn’t hard, Nelson careened off balance.

Jeremy reached to grab him, but too late. Nelson crashed off the side, his butt banging onto the floor.

“Are you crazy?” Jeremy yel ed, leaning over the loveseat.

Nelson peered up at him, dazed, his butt throbbing. “Why’d you push me like that?”

“You saw the blood!” Jeremy waved his finger like a loaded gun or something.

“I was just kidding,” Nelson argued back. “I wasn’t real y going to kiss it!” Did Jeremy think he was stupid?

Nelson pushed himself off the floor and onto his feet, examining his rear end to make sure it was stil intact. “Stop yel ing at me.” It was bad enough that his mom and dad yel ed at him. He wasn’t going to take it from his prospective boyfriend, too.

“How can you kid like that?” Jeremy shouted. “You promised we’d be safe.”

“If you don’t stop shouting,” Nelson warned him, “I’m leaving.”

“Watch where you put your feet!” Jeremy yel ed. “There’s glass al over!”

That did it. Nelson reached for his socks, pul ing them on.

Jeremy’s expression softened. “Hey, wait. I’m sorry I pushed you.”

Nelson slid into his shoes, wavering. Was Jeremy
really
sorry?

“But you shouldn’t have done that.” He started shouting again. “I’m bleeding!” Nelson tugged his shirt over his head and grabbed his leather jacket. “I’m out of here.”

“Nelson!” Jeremy cal ed after him. “I said I’m sorry.”

“Later,” Nelson said and was out the door.

When he arrived home, Atticus ran into the foyer to greet him, leaping up and wagging his tail. In contrast, his mom sat rigidly by the living-room window, glaring at him with arms crossed.

“I cal ed Kyle’s,” her voice strained angrily. “I know you weren’t there.”

“So?” Nelson shot back, in no mood to get chewed out even more.

“Nelson, I phoned your dad. He’s very upset. He’s coming down next weekend.” Nelson pul ed off his jacket and tossed it onto the hal table. “I’m
so
scared.” He stomped upstairs, slammed the door to his room, and dialed Kyle.

“Sorry,” Kyle said, “about blowing your cover. My mom answered the phone while I was in the bathroom. She told your mom you weren’t here.

I tried cal ing your cel —”

“I had it turned off,” Nelson interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.”

He told Kyle about the whole evening—meeting Jeremy’s friends, going back to his place, how Jeremy and he came so close to final y boinking, and then disaster.

“I can’t believe he pushed me like that.”

“But he was trying to protect you,” Kyle said softly.

“By shoving me on the floor?” Nelson reached for a cigarette, annoyed he wasn’t getting sympathy. “I can accept him being positive, I can tolerate his liking country music, but I can’t deal with his being so freaking paranoid about infecting me!” Kyle was silent on the other end. “So are you breaking up with him?” he said at last.