Page 138 of Pride High 2: Orange

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Cameron said, bringing the receiver closer to his lips. “Do you want to come over?”

The faint hum on the line was drowned out by Anthony’s laugh. “We’re going on a date tomorrow. You can’t wait?”

“No,” Cameron said, his voice raw with emotion. “I need to see you. Please.”

“I’ll be right there,” Anthony said before the line clicked and went dead.

Cameron looked at the receiver in surprise. He would have driven over to pick Anthony up. It was freezing outside! Instead of risking another call, he went downstairs and kept a vigil on the street. As soon as he saw a skinny guy in a long dark coat, he threw open the front door, meeting him on the walkway. He took hold of Anthony’s hands, which were like ice, before pressing them to his lips. Why didn’t he wear gloves? Or a hat? He was probably too worried about his hair, the goofball.

“I can almost feel that,” Anthony said, his teeth clenched together from the cold.

“Get inside.” Cameron held his hand as he led the way. He let go after closing the door behind them and placed a finger to his lips before nodding toward the stairs. They went up them and down the hall in silence, not speaking a word until they were safely locked in his room.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asked softly.

Cameron didn’t trust his voice, so he pulled his boyfriend close, gently squeezing his frigid ears in an effort to warm them. Then he buried his face in Anthony’s shoulder while leaning against him. He couldn’t help wondering if his mother used to do the same thing with his father. Maybe she still did, on the rare occasions he was there for her.

“What’s going on?” Anthony asked.

“My parents,” Cameron said.

“Oh. I thought your dad was out of town?”

“He is.”

“Did he call or something?”

Cameron shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Or at all.”

Anthony searched his eyes before reaching for his face. Cameron intercepted his hand to kiss his palm before he allowed it to cup his cheek. Anthony’s gaze was concerned before he leaned forward to kiss him. Cameron reciprocated, his emotional need manifesting as physical desire. Anthony was right in step with him. He shrugged off his coat and let it hit the floor. Cameron reached for the grey sweater his boyfriend wore and searched his eyes for permission. Anthony nodded, and as soon as the sweater came off, began undressing him in return. They left a trail of clothes that led to the edge of the bed. Cameron sat on it while Anthony got to his knees. Soon he was gasping in pleasure.

And yet he still needed more. Cameron scooted backward toward the center of the mattress while pulling on Anthony’s arm so he’d crawl on top of him. He clung to his boyfriend, needing to feel the reassurance of his full weight, and thought briefly of the price his mother had paid for loving so deeply. Cameron quickly banished the thought from his mind. He wouldn’t let that happen. They were different.

Cameron rolled over, taking Anthony with him and reversing their positions, so he was on top.

“Stay close to me,” he whispered.

Anthony’s green eyes searched his. “But how will we…”

Cameron reached down, wrapping a hand around them both. “I’ll take care of it. Just keep kissing me.”

He began to pump his arm, euphoric waves rushing through his body and chasing away any further thoughts. He became lost in bliss, a certainty building in him as they continued. He felt it as a truth that resonated down to his very soul.

This was love. And it would last forever.

* * January 8th, 1993 * *

Ricky could barely contain his excitement. He kept running around Omar’s bedroom, unable to focus on any detail for long. Like his collection of movies, the VHS tapes filling shelf after shelf. Or the amazing balcony attached to his room that overlooked the front yard. Ricky even ducked into the private bathroom and tripped over a soggy towel.

“This is so cool!” he said when returning to the bedroom.

“We’re gonna have a good time tonight,” Omar said with a wry grin. “What do you wanna do? I’ve got options.” He walked over to the bed and grabbed a plastic bag from the local video store. “You like sci-fi, right? Have you ever seenBrazil?”

Ricky shook his head. “What’s it about?”

“It’s supposed to be dystopian, whatever the hell that means, but it’s written and directed by Terry Gilliam so…”