Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

transformed his body. His bulk had turned into hard muscle and lean abs. Hell, even his face was more chiseled and defined.
    I was thirteen that summer. As teenagers tend to do, it was almost noon by the time I strolled downstairs. My brother had been home from college for a few days, and at supper last night he had mentioned Chase was due home today. So I was heading to the kitchen to forage for some breakfast— well okay, almost lunch by that time— when the loud raucous voices outside distracted me. I was a nosy kid, so I made a detour on my route to look out the living room window and that's when it happened. Bobby was washing dad's car, his trade for borrowing it to take Suzy McIntyre out on a date later. He and Chase were horsing around with the hose, getting more water on themselves than on the car. Chase's white T-shirt was plastered to his chest, and I could see everything— his flat stomach, his defined pecs and his very, very pert nipples. He was smiling and laughing, water dripping from his hair, which had grown out some. I probably would have stayed there forever watching, had I not felt the blood rushing to my groin and my gym shorts starting to tent. I looked down in horror and ran very uncomfortably up to my room and slammed the door shut tight. I sat down on my bed and just stared at my shorts. I tried thinking of every distracting thing I could think of– dead animals and sports scores and I even tried to play my favorite Zombie video game in my head. Just as it would start to go away, the image of Chase would flash through my head again and "it" would come roaring back to life, harder than before. Finally I couldn't take any more and I took a shower to get some relief. I tried to imagine some of the naked women in the nudie magazines the boys at school passed around. I stroked and stroked myself, trying to make myself come. But, nothing... until the pictures of long blond hair and blood-red lips and humongous breasts slowly morphed into a firm chin and a wide grin and broad shoulders with water dripping down his wet T-shirt. Less than two strokes later, I was exploding all over the shower tiles.
    There was clearly no denying it anymore, no more trying to say, "well maybe," no more pretending— I got off on boys. Men. And right now, not just any man— I was hard for Chase.
    After I got out of the shower, I sat on the edge of my bed, shaking for what seemed like hours. My world had just been turned upside down and my mind was racing. What did all this mean? Would people be able to tell when they looked at me? And why? Why me?
    What would my parents say? My Mom said she'd love me no matter what, but would she love me through this? And my Dad. Oh God, my Dad. He was not as touchy and huggy as mom; he was a man's man, an ex-Marine. He was tough but I'd never questioned that he loved us, in his way. But would he love me now? Could he love a son that was a... a... a faggot ? A queer ? A sissy ? About a dozen more words meandered through my brain, every word I'd ever heard from my friends, from adults, from TV. Was that who I was now? Were those words me now?
    My stomach started feeling queasy and I think my body and my brain were starting to shut down. It was way too much to deal with right now. I climbed back in bed and curled up on my side, pulling the covers completely over me, even though it was probably eighty degrees out. I escaped into the safety of sleep for a while.
    Mom stopped up once in the middle afternoon to see what I was doing and was concerned, of course. I told her I was sick and didn't feel well. Which wasn't far from the truth. I was still huddled under the covers; I didn't even turn to face her. She reached across my bed and touched her hand to my forehead in that classic mom move, to see if I had a fever. It apparently satisfied her enough that she left me alone to rest.
    I think I dozed some more off and on. The sun coming through my windows had started to fade when the next knock on my door came. My heart sped into overdrive at the deep baritone voice.
    "Little A? How're you doing there kiddo?" Crap! I didn't know what to do. Maybe I could just pretend I was sleeping. Yeah... except that I was turned toward the bedroom door he was standing in front of and my eyes were open. He took a step forward and ducked his head to look right at me. "I was totally bummed to hear you were feeling sick, I've been waiting all semester for the chance to squash you in Zombie Attack III."
    I