Trailer Trash(42)

“Why would I be? Because you’re not falling all over yourself trying to get in my pants?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Because I did get in your pants, but I didn’t want to. I mean, I didn’t mean to. I just—”

She pulled her shirt on and bent to pick up her jeans. “You’re forgiven.”

He blinked at her, stunned. “Just like that?”

She grinned at him as she wiggled into her tight jeans and buttoned them. “You’re not the only fish in the sea, Nate. I mean, you’re cute and all, but it ain’t like I can’t find another guy.”

“Right. Of course.” And probably any other guy at the party would be happy to be pulled into her bedroom. They wouldn’t be afraid and embarrassed about touching her breasts or that warm place between her legs. They wouldn’t have a hard time getting critical parts of their anatomy to cooperate.

What was wrong with him?

“No hard feelings, right?” she asked.

It seemed like he should be the one saying that to her. “Of course not.”

“Cool.”

She opened her bedroom door and went back to the party, leaving Nate standing like an idiot in the middle of her room.

He’d had his chance, and he’d felt nothing. He was pretty sure his erection had never made it past half-mast, at best. He was glad she hadn’t tried to touch him there. He would have been beyond embarrassed to have her discover his lack of arousal.

And what about that? What exactly did that mean?

Maybe if you’d let her touch it, you’d have gotten hard.

Maybe. But shouldn’t just the thought of her touching him have been enough? His mind drifted back to that one amazing day at the wagon, when Cody had unzipped Nate’s pants and slipped his hand inside. His penis stirred at the memory, far more than it had at the actual possibility of being touched by Christine.

He’d had his chance, and all he’d proven was that he was a coward at best.

A fag, at worst.

Nate fought back the lump threatening to fill his throat. He made it to his car and halfway home before he started to cry. It wasn’t sobbing or wrenching or painful. Just hot tears running down his cheeks, and he had no way to stop them.

He’d never been so confused.

The difference between his experience with Christine and the one with Cody baffled him. Touching Christine had been uncomfortable and awkward. But Cody . . .

He’d never felt anything so piercing and perfect as when Cody’s lips had touched his. And the rest of it—letting Cody tease him into an orgasm—had been the most amazing thing he’d ever experienced. It couldn’t be right, but nothing about it felt wrong.

Nate thought of all the words he’d heard people use. All the cruel slurs tossed around.

Homo.

Queer.

Faggot.

Pansy.

I can’t be one of those things!

But on the tail end of that thought came the memory of Cody’s acceptance of being called those names. Cody hadn’t bothered to deny what he felt.

What they both felt.

“I’m not like him,” Nate said out loud. The croon of the Bee Gees from his eight-track player did nothing to ease his mind.

The TV was on in the living room when he got home, and he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, not wanting his dad to see him with his eyes red and swollen and his cheeks wet. He washed his hands until he could no longer smell Christine’s very feminine musk on them, then sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, trying to tell himself he wasn’t going to keep crying like a five-year-old, but he couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

Who could he talk to?

Cody.

No. Not Cody. Anybody but Cody.

Who else?

Maybe somebody from Texas? One of his friends?

Yeah, right. He hadn’t even heard from any of them since moving to Wyoming. Even if he was allowed to make long-distance calls, he couldn’t imagine calling one of them up now. Hey, Mike. How’s tennis going? Sure is windy here in Warren. By the way, you ever look at another guy and have the irresistible urge to see him naked, or maybe to jack him off? No? Okay. Just checking.

He hadn’t ever felt this way back in Texas. Maybe this was all simply a symptom of having moved to Warren, Wyoming, where there wasn’t a damn thing to do except get high or get laid. Maybe if he found a way to go back home, all of these horrifying feelings he had for Cody would go away. Surely there was a girl back in Texas with big hair and a familiar southern drawl who could make his heart race and his loins tingle.

His dad’s heavy treads thumped up the stairs, stopping outside Nate’s room. He knocked lightly on the door. “Nate? You in there?”

“Yeah.” Nate wiped his face as his dad cracked the door and poked his face through the gap.