Just Making Out Read online

  Just Making Out

  © 2010 Mark A. Roeder

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Photo Credit: on Rui Vale De Sousa on Dreamstime.com

  Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License

  Cover Design: Ken Clark

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-1456331443

  ISBN-10: 1456331442

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank Ken Clark, Jennifer Tripp, Kathy Staley, and Robbie Ellis-Cantwell for proofing this manuscript. Their job is a difficult and laborious one and I can’t thank them enough for the many hours they dedicated to improving this volume. A task no less difficult, and likely far less enjoyable, was performed by James Adkinson, who formatted this volume for Kindle. I also want to thank Ken for creating the cover and coming up with the title for this novel.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Ken Clark. Ken runs my website and my yahoo fan group. He critiques my work, offers his input, and doesn’t get upset when I go my own way. He not only created the cover for this novel, but came up with the title.

  Thanks, Ken, for all you do!

  VHS Cafeteria—Verona, Indiana

  Thursday—February 11, 1982

  Shawn

  “You suck, Brandon.”

  “Blow me, Jon.”

  “You wish, Brandon.”

  “No. You wish, Jon! You know you dream about it.”

  “Sometimes, it’s hard to believe you guys are friends,” Tristan said.

  “They’ve been going at each other like this for as long as I’ve known them,” Ethan said. “It’s their way of expressing love.”

  “Yeah,” Brandon said. “We don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and think we’re homos!”

  Brandon was immediately pelted by wadded-up paper napkins, straws, and the odd green bean. This came as no surprise, since Brandon was sitting at the “homo table.” That’s not what those of us sitting there called it, but I’d heard the name. Just about everyone sitting there, except Brandon Hanson and Jon Deerfield, were indeed gay.

  Not all of us were out, but Ethan, Nathan, Brendan, Casper, Tim, Dane, Casey, Tristan, and myself were all gay. Both Ethan and Nathan and Brendan and Casper were out couples. Tim, my little brother, and Dane were a couple, too, but not quite out yet. They weren’t making a secret of their relationship, however, so I figured word would get out any day now. Casey, my best friend, had a girlfriend, but her girlfriend went to another school. That just left Tristan and me. We weren’t a couple—but, oh, how I wanted him to be my boyfriend!

  Tristan had come into my life only recently. I could remember it as if it was yesterday…

  I sat by myself in Ofarim’s. The bell on the door rang. I looked up. That was the first time I ever laid eyes on Tristan Graham Cole.

  I sighed at the sight of him. He was perfect, but oddly enough not any perfect I had ever imagined. He was my height, about 6’1” but had a slimmer build. His hair, which he wore shoulder-length and loose, was black, luxuriant, and ever so slightly curly. His eyes were deep and dark, a chocolate brown. He was Calvin-Klein-model good-looking, with full red lips, high cheekbones, and arched eyebrows. He wore small, round glasses, a brown-suede duster over jeans and a dark-green sweater. I had never seen anyone more beautiful in all my life. Even his glasses made him look incredibly sexy.

  If someone had described him to me, I wouldn’t have been the least interested in Tristan. I was more into studly than studious, but words could not do justice to the boy who walked through the door of Ofarim’s…

  “Shawn! Hello, Shawn! Earth to Shawn!”

  “Huh?” I asked as I looked around the table.

  “Who were you daydreaming about, Shawn?” Brandon mischievously asked.

  I couldn’t help but glance at Tristan for a moment. I turned red.

  “Ohhhh,” Jon said. “Homo-love blossoms.”

  “Yeah, you’d know. Wouldn’t you, Deerfield?” Brandon asked.

  “Screw you, Hanson.”

  “I seriously think Jon is one of you guys,” Brandon said.

  “Oh, I don’t know if Jon could make the cut,” Brendan said.

  Jon stuck his tongue out at Brendan, who only laughed.

  I was thankful attention was no longer focused on me. The guys knew I was gay, but it wasn’t general knowledge—yet. I wasn’t too concerned about coming out, but I wasn’t accustomed to anyone openly talking about me like that. Neither Brandon nor Jon meant anything by it. They were the best friends a gay guy could have. It was just new territory for me. I was also a little embarrassed that the guys knew I had a crush on Tristan. Casey smiled at me across the table. That small gesture put me at ease.

  I stole another look at Tristan, but nothing more than a glance. I was afraid the guys might tease me if they noticed. I wasn’t fearful of Tristan himself taking note. He knew I was interested in him. I had brought up the possibility of us dating and had been gently and kindly rebuffed. Still, there was hope. Tristan’s response was more of a “perhaps someday” than a “no.”

  Devon, the resident homo-hater of Verona High School, walked past and scowled. That was standard operating procedure for Devon. I’d never quite figured out why he hated gays so much, but he sure did. Brandon hated Devon every bit as much as Devon hated gays, if not more so, but that’s another story. There were a lot of stories at VHS and a lot of drama, too. A soap opera could have been based on my classmates. I could see it now: Days of Our Teen Lives.

  I didn’t like the way Devon eyed Tristan. Word was slowly spreading about my dream boy. Girls were naturally attracted by his good looks. Tristan had deflected the interest of one of his admirers by telling her he was gay. News like that usually spread like wildfire, but I think Tristan’s “secret” was whispered in confidence from one girl to the next. The news would no doubt escape soon and engulf the school, but so far its progression had been slow. Devon was the first sign that word had reached the guys. I think it was still in the rumor stage. Devon’s gaze was one of curiosity and mild animosity. If he was certain Tristan was gay, he would have stared at him with baleful hatred.

  Devon moved on and was soon forgotten. My friends and I joked and laughed our way through lunch. Tim and Dane sat next to each other, of course; they were so close together that their shoulders touched. I hadn’t heard any rumors about them yet, but it was only a matter of time. They were so obviously a couple that no one could fail to notice. Then again, perhaps I only thought it was obvious because I knew about them. I was there when they met. I had stepped aside so my little brother could have someone to love. That’s another story, too. See? I told you there were lots of them!

  Tristan took off with Ethan and Nathan right after lunch without so much as looking back at me. I frowned. Part of me felt like crying, which was weird because I’m not a crying kind of guy. Something about Tristan walking away from me with nothing more than his general “bye” broadcast to the group got to me. I picked up my tray and walked across the cafeteria to dump it.

  “Hey, Shawn.”

  I turned. I hadn’t even noticed Casey following me.

  “Give him some time,” Casey said.

  I smiled wanly.

  Casey knew about my feel
ings for Tristan. As my long-time confidant, she knew everything. Until recently, she’d also been my “girlfriend.” Okay, I should probably explain that. For most of my life, I didn’t dare come out. I feared my father would kill me—literally. I had an older brother who would’ve beaten me senseless—or worse. The situation had changed dramatically (which is one of those many other stories), and Casey and I no longer pretended to be a couple. We are still extremely close. She’ll always be my girl. I love her.

  “It’s hard,” I said.

  “I bet it is,” Casey said with a smirk.

  I gave her a look that said, ‘Don’t go there.’

  “You’re almost as bad as Brandon and Jon,” I said.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  “I finally found someone I really want to be with. After all those losers I met, I finally meet a guy I truly want to get to know, and he holds me at arm’s length.”

  “Just take it slowly, Shawn.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You have Sandy. I’m dating my hand. I need sex!”

  “I thought you were looking for more than sex.”

  “I am. I could call up Blake if I just wanted sex, and believe me I’ve thought about it! If it was just about sex, it wouldn’t be nearly as difficult, but I really like Tristan. I want him to like me.”

  “He does like you.”

  “I mean like like.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself: give it time. Tristan laid down the ground rules. He told you he wanted to take it slowly. He wants to be friends first, so be his friend.”

  “Some friend. He didn’t even say ‘goodbye’ to me after lunch.”

  “Shawn, you’re too sensitive when it comes to Tristan. Relax. So he didn’t say ‘goodbye.’ That doesn’t mean anything. He is coming to your birthday party this evening. Happy Birthday, by the way.”

  “Thanks. I can’t believe I’m seventeen now. Do I look older?”

  “I can’t really say you look older than yesterday, Shawn, but you’re definitely a hottie.”

  “Oh. Like your opinion counts. You like girls.”

  “I know a good-looking boy when I see one. Why do you think I sit with all the hunks?”

  “There are some majorly hot guys in our little group.”

  “Yes, and you’re one of them.”

  “Thanks, Casey.”

  “What are ex-girlfriends for?”

  Casey kissed my cheek. We parted ways. I felt much better as I walked to my locker. Casey had a way of putting things in perspective. That was one of the many reasons I was glad she was my friend.

  ***

  My birthday party was held at the Selbys. The loft I shared with Tim was large enough to host a party, but was not well-equipped. We were still missing…well, most things. It’s not easy setting out on your own when you’re my age. Besides, Ardelene was fixing us all supper and baking me a cake. I could barely feed Tim and myself. If the party was at our place, about all I could scrape together would be some peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.

  I smiled when I thought of my party. This was going to be my first birthday party since I was a little kid. Someone actually cared enough about me to throw me a party—several someones. I had no right to be down. I had some truly great friends. Things were not as I wanted them to be with Tristan, but how could I complain about that when everything else was going so well? Besides, as I pointed out before, Tristan didn’t say “no.” There was still hope.

  “Are you ready yet, Tim?” I called out from the kitchen.

  “Just about.”

  Tim walked up the hall, naked, drying his hair.

  “I hope that’s not what you’re wearing.”

  “It does look good, doesn’t it?” Tim said, flexing his biceps.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go get dressed, or we won’t have time to pick up Dane.”

  Tim shot back down the hall in a flash. I knew that would get him. If he’d stopped to think, he would have known I was bluffing. Sometimes my little brother doesn’t stop to think. This time, it worked to my advantage.

  I finished unloading the dishwasher and closed the kitchen cabinet. I almost couldn’t believe we had a dishwasher—or a loft, for that matter. I looked around the home I shared with my brother and smiled. We lacked a lot of things, but I was very pleased with what we had. The loft came furnished with a gas stove from the 1950s, a refrigerator, and the dishwasher. The kitchen was small, but it didn’t look small because it was separated from the living area by an antique counter that looked as though it had come out of an old store. The kitchen and living area took up the front half of the loft. Two big windows in the front looked down onto Main Street. Two smaller windows looked to the south.

  A hallway ran on the right side of the loft. There were two large bedrooms and a large bathroom. We didn’t have much furniture. There was a couch and an armchair in the living area and beds in the bedrooms, but there were no kitchen table and chairs, no dressers, no TV, and no desks. Tim and I did our homework on the kitchen counter or on our beds.

  I didn’t think too much about what we didn’t have. I enjoyed what we did have, instead. Our loft might be spartan, but it was beautiful. The living area, kitchen, and hallway had polished hardwood floors, while the bedrooms were nicely carpeted. The bathroom was tiled floor to ceiling with large white square tiles about a foot across on the floor and smaller tiles, about 5 inches across, on the walls. The smaller tiles were cream in color, except for three bands of dark green tiles near the floor, ceiling, and about halfway in between. I especially liked the shower. It kind of reminded me of the shower room at school, only this one had just one shower head and was nicer. There was no curtain or any kind of division from the rest of the bathroom. The shower area occupied one corner, and the water ran down a drain. All in all, our loft was much nicer than any place we’d ever lived.

  “I’m ready!” Tim said.

  “That was fast.”

  “I haven’t seen Dane since school let out!”

  “Wow. That’s three whole hours. I wonder if he’s taller now.”

  “Shut up.”

  I laughed. “Just let me get my coat on.”

  We walked down the stairs and out onto Main Street. My beat-up, old Cutlass Supreme was parked just down the street. I didn’t know what I’d do if it conked out. Well, yeah, I did. I’d walk. I guess Tim and I could get by without a car. VHS was a fair walk from our loft, but it wasn’t all that far. I could walk to my job at Ofarim’s without too much trouble. It was even easier to commute to Café Moffatt, which was located directly below our loft. Still, it would suck to be without wheels. I wasn’t going to worry about it until it happened. Life was too short to worry about all the bad stuff that could happen. Besides, it was my birthday!

  In practically no time at all, I pulled up in front of Dane’s house. Tim hopped out, but I stayed in the car. Dane and his family had only recently moved to Verona. They were renting a small house until the place they had purchased could be made livable. They’d bought the old Verona school and were having some work done on it. Poor Dane. Once they moved in, he’d be at school even when he came home from school. I guess it would be kind of a cool place to live.

  I looked across the street. There sat the old Graymoor Mansion. Just looking at the place gave me the creeps. It had been abandoned forever, which showed. Tall grass grew in the yard, and the immense gates were permanently rusted half open. There was nothing but darkness behind the windows. There were so many stories about that place and all of them terrifying. I wondered how many of them were true.

  For a fleeting moment, I thought I caught sight of a boy staring down at me from one of the third-story windows. I was almost certain my mind was playing tricks on me. Even guys my age didn’t dare enter that old house. A mere boy surely wouldn’t. I stared hard at the window, but there was only darkness. There was a lingering image of curly blond hair and purple cloth in my mind. I tried to bring the memory of the boy into clearer focus, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t have time to think about it long before Tim was back with Dane. They climbed in the back seat.

  “Hey, Shawn. Mom and Dad say ‘hi.’”

  “Hey, Dane. Say ‘hi’ back to them for me.”

  That was the end of the conversation. Tim and Dane locked lips. They were much too busy sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths to speak. I tried to ignore the sounds from the backseat as I headed toward the Selby Farm. The Selbys lived just a couple of miles outside of town, but it seemed as if the farm was deep in the country. There were nothing but trees, fields, and an occasional farmstead out their way.

  As I drove down the winding gravel drive that led to the farmhouse, I noticed a few cars already in the small parking area near the house. One was Brendan’s. He drove a Cutlass Supreme, too, but his was newer and in much better shape than mine. Brendan also had a red ’79 Corvette convertible. That was one sweet car. He only drove it in the summer, however, so I guess it was stored in the barn.

  “We’re here,” I announced.

  “Already?” Tim said.

  I shook my head. Tim and Dane lived in their own little world. I envied them sometimes.

  “See if you two can pull apart long enough to make it inside.”

  Tim and Dane both giggled. Yeah, they had it bad for each other. There was no doubt about it.

  We walked down the sidewalk, past the screened-in front porch, and around back to the kitchen door. I knocked, then entered.

  “Hey, Shawn! Happy Birthday!” Ethan said as he gave me a bear hug. Ethan was a wrestler and built, so his hug just about squeezed the life out of me.

  “Thanks.”

  My next hug was from Ardelene. It was much less life-threatening.

  “Happy Birthday, Shawn.”

  “Thank you, and thank you for going to all this trouble for me.”