Page 18 of Julian Shared
I do it anyway.
My curiosity outruns my modesty as I march up to the front door. I ring the doorbell once and then knock a few times just for good measure. The sounds of the television cuts off before Cameron opens the door.
"Oh, hey," he greets me with a note of surprise.
I muster up a sunny smile. “Good morning.”
Cameron’s eyes widen. "Did I…um, did I forget something again?"
"No, nothing like that. I came over here to see if you wanted to come over to my place for tea."
"That sounds nice," Cameron smiles back. "Um, maybe later? Or tomorrow, actually? I've got an essay I need to finish for class, and I'm supposed to meet a friend for lunch soon."
I give Cameron a quick once-over. His shorts are awfully short and his t-shirt is, well, it's very small. And tight.
Somehow, I don't think Cameron's really going anywhere. Not dressed like that.
My smile starts to wane. "I'd really prefer today."
"Oh. Well."
I can see the gears in Cameron's head turning. He's going to blow me off. Again. Just like he did with the bake sale.
That won't do. No more trying to be discreet then. I'm going to have to come right out and say it.
"I saw you the other night, Cameron." I take a deep breath and cross my arms. I lower my voice and avert my gaze to the side. "In your pool. With Buddy…and the other soldiers."
"Oh," Cameron says very, very quiet. “Maybe you can come inside so we can talk about this?"
I walk in with my head held high and Cameron closes the door behind us.
???
"I can't believe you don't have any tea." There are no lemons to make lemonade either. I shake my head and cluck my tongue. All Cameron has is soda and coffee.
"Julian, c'mon. Please can we just start talking?" Cameron wrings his hands together as he sits at the kitchen table.
"Fine," I relent. “Another cup of coffee it is.”
There's milk in their fridge, thankfully, but there's no creamer. I add half a spoon of sugar to my cup and give it a whirl before I join Cameron at the table.
"I'm not cheating on Trevor." Cameron’s eyes are so big. So earnest. Like a puppy dog begging for scraps, though what he’s really doing is begging me to accept the truth.
"I know that. I saw Trevor there too. He seemed to be overseeing the…festivities."
"Trevor likes it," Cameron says, so soft and quiet he may as well be whispering, "and I like it too. I know it’s weird. I’m sorry we bothered you."
The blush on Cameron’s cheeks matches the fresh overlay of hickeys on his neck. He looks so worried.
I make it a point to rein in my judgment and soften the way I look at him. I’m not here to condemn Cameron for having an open marriage. Or whatever it’s called. I’m here because, well, because I couldn’t help myself.
“Well, I’m glad it’s all consensual and you’re having fun with other men.” I clear my throat. "How long have you two been doing…that?”
“Hot twinking,” Cameron says. “That’s what it’s called.”
I take a quick sip of my coffee. I'm even quicker to set it down when I notice my hands have started to shake. I fold them in my lap, hiding my nervousness under the table.
"I see,” I nod, “and so how long have you been…is that seriously what it’s called? There’s no way that’s a real word.”
