Page 41 of Rhymes with Metaphor

While all this was happening, while they were packed in very tightly, Joel pressed against the wall with Reg pressed against him, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, his hand between Joel’s legs clasping him firmly, feeling Joel, hard and eager, and pulsing with energy.

When Reg relaxed his hold, Joel pressed his hand over Reg’s, pinning it there.

He murmured in Reg’s ear, “Keep going.”

So Reg squeezed him. All the while, Raelynne flirted with Joel, leaning across the table, putting her hand over his, fingers playing across his wrist, and Joel surreptitiously pushed Reg’s hand aside, unzipped his jeans, and put Reg’s hand back.

Raelynne fed Joel a nacho dripping with cheese, and he fed one to her.

Joel kept leaning into Reg’s hand, goading Reg, and Reg stroked him under the table, coaxed him, Joel continuing to dare him, until it was a game of chicken to see how far Reg would go, and how long Joel could last.

Right to the finish, as it happened. The only thing betraying what happened was the tiniest hitch in Joel’s breathing, followed by a long exhale.

Joel sat back in the booth, picked up his glass of water, and drained half of it.

He set the glass on the table with a much-too-satisfied look on his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then he went right on talking to Raelynne.

Reg pretended to be interested in the television screen over the bar while he zipped up Joel’s jeans.

Joel untucked his T-shirt casually and tugged it down as he slid out of the booth. They made their exit quickly and discreetly.

Outside, Reg, who could barely think straight, pulled Joel into an embrace. “No decorum, you. None.”

Joel laughed into his shoulder, pressed emphatically against Reg, reminding him.

“That was so decadent , Reg...like...the train station.”

Reg kissed the side of his head. He smelled of sex, weed, and nutmeg. Reg felt something stirring just then, and he patted his pockets frantically.

“What?” said Joel.

“Poem.”

Joel fished a ballpoint pen from his pocket, because of course he had one on him. But no paper.

Reg knelt on the ground in the vacant lot between the restaurant and a shoe store. There, he used the pen to make words in the new-fallen snow.

“Dictate it to me, and I’ll type it on my phone,” said Joel.

“Shhh.”

Reg wrote, words cascading out of him while Joel knelt beside him, holding him around his ribs. Reg finished quickly and sat back on his heels. Joel read the words with a smile quirking the side of his mouth.

“That’ll melt,” said Reg. He took out his phone and snapped photos, blue light flashing over blue shadows.

They both stood. Reg’s trousers were wet where he’d knelt in the snow.

“Are you all right to walk, cariad? Or do you want to get into an Uber like that?”

“We could go back to Silas’s,” said Joel. He looked wicked and mischievous, grinning, with his hands balled in his coat pockets.

“What—now?”

“He gave me a standing invitation.”

“You want to go there—in the state you’re in?”

“Why not?” said Joel. “I don’t think he’d mind. He might even appreciate it.”

“I’d appreciate it more if we went home.”

Reg buttoned Joel’s coat, noting the translucent patch on Joel’s shirt over his heart where Raelynne’s snowball had struck. Reg put his arm around Joel’s shoulders, and they walked home. Joel kept bursting into spontaneous laughter, probably the aftereffects of the pot.

The fresh, sharp air cooled their jets. On the bridge over the river, Joel stopped and leaned over the railing. Reg stood beside him, their arms touching.

“You’re not going to be sick, are you?” said Reg.

“No,” said Joel.

Reg watched the falling snowflakes vanish into the black water. The lamps on the bridge were decorated for Christmas with silver wreaths and white lightbulbs wound around the posts.

“I won’t try to publish that poem if you don’t want me too,” said Reg.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t you mind having your youthful indiscretions revealed?”

“Why would I?”

“I worry that because of the way I made things for you your first time, I’ve given you a penchant for that.”

“So?”

“Your future partners might not appreciate it.”

“You’re my future partner,” said Joel.

“I am. But ten years on, when you’re married with children, would you want them to know?”

“I don’t want kids,” said Joel.

“A wife?”

“A what ?” said Joel, sounding almost offended.

“You enjoyed it when Raelynne flirted with you.”

Joel shrugged. “I liked the attention.”

“Do you want to have sex with her?”

Joel considered. “I’m curious to know how it would feel.”

“Are you?”

“You’re not...jealous?” Joel looked at him, astonished.

“Maybe I am, a little,” said Reg with a smile.

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have sex with a woman?” said Joel.

Reg laughed.

“What’s so funny?” said Joel.

“I’m gay, Joel.”

Joel took Reg’s hand, and they stood insulated from the world, their hands locked, the world silent and muffled in snow.

“If you want to be a proper actor,” said Reg, “you’re going to have to touch people the way Raelynne touched you, kiss them and such and let them touch you the same way. So, you probably will find out how it feels.”

“Acting isn’t real,” said Joel. “And just because I’m curious doesn’t mean I actually want to do it with a woman. I don’t want to do it with anyone but you.”

Reg’s squeezed Joel’s hand, knowing Joel was drunk and stoned and in no fit state for clear thinking. But he couldn’t pretend it didn’t feel good to hear.

“Reg? If I get into Juilliard, would you move to New York with me? We could rent a place together.” Joel looked at him.

“You should live in the residence halls, at least for your first year,” said Reg.

“I don’t want to take that experience from you.

You should meet people your own age, have a proper social life, engage in hijinks, do everything you didn’t do in your first year here because your sister made you live with her. ”

“She didn’t make me,” said Joel.

“I’m not accusing her of frog-marching you into her house, but living with her wasn’t entirely your idea, was it?”

“The rent was cheaper,” said Joel, “and it’s cheaper cooking food for two people than buying it at the campus cafeteria, and—”

“She made a list, didn’t she?”

Joel blinked. “It was an Excel spreadsheet, actually. It was the best way to illustrate how much I’d be saving.”

“And that’s why you haven’t made a single close friend at university. Take it from someone who went to boarding school: The people you live with will become the friends you’re closest to long after I’m gone. You need to live your own life, make your own friends.”

“I have friends,” said Joel.

“You were grandfathered into those friendships by me.”

“Then, what’s going to happen to us if I get into Juilliard?” said Joel.

“Nothing.”

“But I won’t see you.”

“I’ll come and visit.”

“I want to see you every day,” said Joel. “I want to keep living with you.”

“Realistically, you’ll be so busy with school and making your own friends, you’ll barely have time to see me even if I were there. You should keep your options open, Joel.”

Joel stared at the water. He didn’t speak again as they made their way home.