Once a Nerd Ch. 11 - Sex Stories

Once a Nerd Ch. 11

... The options are:

Shitty, shitty options.

Everything's going so well, I can't imagine just...letting Sam go. There's time to figure it out, as our cars are in a pay-by-the-hour lot fifteen minutes from the bar. Sam's nudging into my side as we walk, unsteady on his feet. He reminds me of a bumblebee swept up in a draft, so I anchor an arm around his lithe shoulders. He lets me do it without a fuss. John and Casey are a couple strides ahead, acquainted enough to make casual conversation. For Sam's sake, they're giving us privacy.

Fresno's downtown isn't themost walkable, so the byways aren't jammed with pedestrians. It isn't yet completely dark, that point where the sun's gone and the horizon is bruised by its absence. Finally, it's a day where the wind cuts with cold, demanding upturned collars and hands stuffed to pockets. Sam's wearing a buttery, black pair of joggers that cinch around his waist and ankles, and a thin, hooded shirt with the sleeves bunched around his forearms. He's got the hood pulled halfway over his head, as the top of his ears are beginning to redden in the cold.

For most of the trip, we don't talk. There doesn't feel a need to. Simple, precious skinship to the orchestration of life happening around us: rubber grinding against asphalt, dialogue near and far, faint laughter from a remark we'll never know. The air's weighted with food smells, stale beer soaked in the sidewalk, and a metallic tang that's absent from nature. On the opposite ...

... side of a little sect of greenery, the lot is fast approaching. There are trees, benches, and panels of grass between cement paths, but it falls short of being labeled a park. Unbeknownst to me, Sam's been bottled up this entire time.

His steps slow, until he's stopped altogether.

Casey and John have already made it out of the not-park, and there's no one else in it but us. You know that...nagging inkling? You think, something profound is about to happen here, and I'll remember this insignificant place for the rest of my life. This stupid, small, dirty excuse for an intercity park, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be than in it with him.

"Dean...?" He's caught me by the hem of my sweatshirt, a featherlight grip that he's uncertain about.

Turning back, it's like being slugged in the sternum. Like he always does, Sam's using his hair to hide his face. But, I can see his mouth, and he's got the corner of his bottom lip pinched between neat teeth. He'll make it bleed if he doesn't let go. Urging him in a soft, unhurried way: "Sammy, come on. Look at me."

After a moment's hesitation, he does. His eyes are bright andwet, dark brows drawn like he'll burst any second. I startle, terrified something's wrong. He's upset with me. He's genuinely hurt by the meddling and pushing, and he's buzzed enough to let it show.

"Shit, hey—"

"I have a really, really hard time being honest when...it comes to you." He starts, voice splintering off the words. "But, today, you ...