Page 111 of Summer Lessons
“So what else did Mrs. Bradford’s speech say?” Terry asked, as Mason took deep breaths of happiness oxygen. “How bad did she burn those assholes?”
“So bad,” Mason told him. “It was like… like… she said stuff like ‘Caring more about a person’s job description or education than about their character and performance is like picking out wines and caring more about label than taste. And then gulping your overpriced chardonnay and complaining about the hangover.’” Mason giggled and then realized there was only puzzled silence on the other line.
“See, Ira, he used to throw these dinner parties where everyone came and sampled wine and cheese and stuff—”
“You like doing that?” Terry asked, sounding pretty alarmed.
“Not really. I mean,beerI can get into, and I don’t mind stuff that tastes good, but mostly—”
“Sounds like a good way to throw up,” Terry agreed.
“See? That’s what I always said. But the thing is, Ira and Roy like to do this thing, and I knew it, and theyknewI knew it, so—”
“It let them know you thought they were douche bags.” Terry chuckled as he caught on. “That’s good. And you didn’t have tosaythey were douche bags, which is even better, ’cause what are they going to do? Complain ’cause you used an example?”
“Right? And she did that all throughout the speech. And….” His voice dropped, because he was sort of ashamed about this, even though Ira had it coming. “She used examples about graphics, which was sort of mean, because Ira is the head of their graphics department now. But he sort of sucks—I mean, really sucks. He used to make our Christmas cards. Dane would laugh at them and draw mustaches and stuff on them because they were dumb. So really, that whole part was to—”
“Make him feel like shit,” Terry said. “I approve.”
“It wasn’t… kind,” Mason said, coming down a little. “I… I mean, comeuppance is nice, but….”
“You were kind and they hurt you,” Terry growled. “I think you’re even now.”
“Yeah. But being a nice guy is something you like about me.”
There was a thoughtful silence on the other end of the line. “I like so much about you,” Terry said at last.
Mason’s heart fell. “But….” That statement wasalwaysqualified.
“No buts.” Terry’s voice sounded warped when he spoke again. “Nothing in the way. Everything about you I like. Your smile. Your brown eyes. Your geeky clothes. Your pretty house. The way you laugh. The way you make me laugh.” He choked a little, caught between laughter and emotion. “Your cock.” His swallow was audible. “The way you touch my face when we’re making love.”
Mason closed his eyes, the last of the champagne fizzing out of his blood and the heady liquor of Terry’s words taking its place.
“I love your laugh,” Mason said. “The unexpected things you notice. The unusual way you think. Your eyes that hit me in the gut whenever you look at me. Your pride. The way you’ve grown. The things you’ve done with yourself without my help.” And his throat grew thick. “I really loved that you texted me tonight.”
“I wanted to call you all the time, these last two months,” Terry confessed. “But… but it wouldn’t be fair, calling you, unless I knew what I wanted. You’d been so… so damned fair. If I was just calling to tell you about my day or about a guy I’d talked to—that’s not right. So I had to wait.”
“For what?” Mason asked, heart in his throat.
“Until I knew what I wanted.”
“What do you want?”Oh please. Oh please oh please oh please….
“I want you.”
Thank you. Oh God, thank you.
“I want you too.”
They talked longer than that—they talked forhours,actually. Some of it was silly: the lizard who climbed in through Terry’s bedroom and then kept running across the covers at night had Mason burying his face in his pillow to stifle his laughter.
Some of it was painful: Terry’s stories of trying to date other men weren’t exactly welcome. One guy tried for the car blow job when Terry didn’t want to put out; another called him bottom boy before they even went to the movies. The best and worst story was the last one, though.
“What was wrong with him?” Mason asked, wondering. Because Terry actually described a pretty nice, normal date—dinner, a movie, looking at comics on Terry’s phone and laughing their asses off.
“He wasn’t you,” Terry said softly. “When I realized that’s what it came down to, that’s when I knew what I needed to do.”
“So you came to the party,” Mason realized. Oh.
