“I have to go,” Henry blurts, turning and literally running away from me, toward the brightly lit sign and the bus that’s just pulling into the curb.
The words, “You’re mine,” melt on my tongue as my boy darts across the street and rushes to climb the steps onto the bus.
THREE
HENRY
Oh my god,oh my god.
My chest is heaving with fear and lust and anxiety as I stumble down the aisle on the bus and slump into a seat.
What the hell just happened? Parker and I were having dinner, and then Danny and…Anders arrived, and my brain just went to mush.
Danny is a beast of a man, tall and built, but oddly energetic, kind of like an overly enthusiastic toddler. I don’t know what Parker was going to tell me before they arrived, but whatever the situation she has with that man, it’s going to end with them together. The way Danny’s entire face lit up when he looked at Parker was enough to lighten even the most intense situation.
Anders was like a thunderstorm in comparison to his sunshiny friend. The moment he appeared at the end of our booth, it was like the air filled with static and the oxygen thickened.
Unlike Danny, who is gym-bunny thick, Anders is built like a mythical Viking. I’ve never seen anyone look like him in real life. His hair is pale blond, almost white, and was twisted into a man bun on top of his head. His skin is a warm, sun-brightened color,not tan, but not fair either. His eyes are the kind of blue that look like a mountain lake, and his aura is…terrifying.
No, terrifying is the wrong word. I’ve met my fair share of scary people in my life, and Anders didn’t make my skin prickle with fear. Instead, he made every hair on my body stand on end. He made me feel like everything I’ve known until the moment we met was simply a prelude to how everything would change now that he’s stepped into my life.
I had to literally bite my tongue so I didn’t call him Sir, or Daddy, or Master, or just roll to my back and spread my legs in the air for him.
The last hour has been scary and intense and confusing. The way he’s acted toward me was intoxicating, but I’m not sure if he was flirting with me or if he’s just one of those overly caring people who felt sorry for me.
I’ve known I was attracted to men my whole life, but I have zero gaydar. I couldn’t pick another gay person out of a crowd if my life depended on it because I’ve never even spoken to a gay man before. I’m a reclusive, friendless virgin.
After living in a crazy amount of devoutly religious foster homes while I was growing up, I learned not to tell anyone that I preferred boys over girls, and by the time I hit high school, hiding my sexuality had become just another thing I had to do to survive.
Being a foster kid is scary enough, but being a quiet, small,gayfoster kid is just making yourself a target. When I started college, I thought that would be the time for me to explore my sexuality and experiment, but it just never happened.
I considered joining an LGBTQ+ society at school, but the idea of putting myself out there was too scary. I thought about going to a gay bar, but the idea of walking in alone made me feel nauseous.
I tried to convince myself to go and talk to cute guys I saw in the library, in class, and at the coffee shop I worked at, but I couldn’t find the courage to do it. So instead, I’ve become a gay guy who is scared of gay guys.
When I told Parker I was gay this morning, it was the first time I’ve ever admitted my sexuality out loud. The asshole guys who worked at the garage before her might have figured it out and then taunted me for my sexual preferences, but I never confirmed it. I never said a word, I never have, until today.
I’m not ashamed of being gay. I know that for me, being attracted to men is simply who I am, I just have no idea how to start living my authentic life.
The way that Anders looked at me tonight felt different from the way anyone has ever looked at me before. Although I’m not entirely sure why. No one has ever looked at me like they’re trying to see inside my soul and promising to make things better while also scaring me half to death all at the same time.
He called me Kitten. What doesthatmean? Was he insulting me? The way he said it didn’t sound like an insult, it sounded like an endearment. like the way I’d guess a lover would whisper a sweet nothing. But what do I know?
If it wasn’t an insult, then what was it? A guy who looks like him wouldn’t be interested in me. He looks like the type of man who would throw his wife over his shoulder and then spend the night putting his baby in her.
But he sat right beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his skin where his thigh pressed against mine. He offered me food from his fingers and told me to eat. Then he paid for my dinner and tried to give me a ride home.
Who does that for a stranger? The only things that make sense are that he’s either into me—which seems unlikely given he looks like he should be on a sexy Vikings calendar—or he’s a do-gooder religious freak and I look like an easy mark.
I’ve dealt with the overly good people of the world before, and sometimes they’re more dangerous than the really bad people. The overly good don’t see people like me as human, we’re simply a cause.
Let’s help the poor orphan. Let’s rally round and fill his trash bags with shitty secondhand clothes that no one else wants. Let’s start a GoFundMe to send him on the senior class trip, even though he has no friends and doesn’t actually want to go.
Let’s take him to church and ask the entire congregation to pray for him, even while we condemn others just like him.
What most people don’t realize is that the truly scary people show you they’re scary right up front, but the overly good people hide their evil behind good deeds and bright smiles. They’re the ones you have to be the most cautious of.
When I was in my early teens, I ended up living for a few weeks with a picture-perfect family, the Wilsons. They had eight foster kids, including me. Some of the things I saw in that house still haunt my nightmares, and the memories of the nights Mr. and Mrs. Wilson came into my bedroom are scarier than any scary stories I’ve ever heard.