Dylan's Sophomore Year

DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

Chapter 74

by Donny Mumford

John Beverly and Chubby pull-up behind Robby's pickup and park the Jeep. Ryan's looking out the back window, mumbling, "They're here," and Robby goes,

"Okay, lets get out and join them." The closest parking spots available are the ones we've taken three blocks from Tracy's. That's an indication there's a big turn-out at the speakeasy tonight. Sunday nights are usually busy, and shockingly after tonight there's only two Sunday's left of our sophomore year. The five of us walk back to Tracy's and go up the steps. At the top of the steps I see the same guy I got the case of beer from this afternoon. He's checking college IDs and collecting tonight's cover charge. I can never remember this guy's name, which pisses me off because he always remembers mine. He's a big teddy bear of a guy unless he needs to go into his 'bouncer' mode and then he's more like a grizzly bear. I get a nice greeting, "Dylan, dude, don't tell me you and your boys finished off the case of beer already." I grin at him, "Okay, I won't tell you we drank the whole case, but we did. Um, how much is the cover charge tonight?" He says, "It's cheap-date night, dude. Only five bucks, and the beers are only a dollar each." I go, "Good, deal!" and bump fists with him. My fist looks like a little kid's fist next to his. We all pay the man and get our tokens. On our way to the bar I casually look around for Tracy as Chubby says, "It's nicer up here without that tent roof. Open air with the stars and the moon overhead again." I tell him, "They were taking the roof down when I was here earlier today." We all buy cups of Coors beer and begin making our way through the mass of college students to our spot against the railing.

Before I get there someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and see a nice looking African American boy. Amazingly the name Rajon Whyte pops into my brain. I had sex with him early in my freshman year. I know we did it, but I can't for the life of me remember the circumstances that brought us together. Rajon's a smallish fellow, but if I'm remembering correctly he's sort of dominant and tough too. Ryan-like in that regard. He's smiling cutely at me showing his super white teeth, his dark eyes are shiny and full of mischief. I yell, "Hey Rajon! Dude, where'd you disappear to for almost two years?" I'm proud of myself for remembering his name even if I can't remember when exactly, or where we fucked. He goes, "Oh, yeah, I knew it was you. My favorite pretty white boy, Dylan Newman." I go, "Seriously, dude, have you been on Merrimack's campus the entire freshman and sophomore years?" He says, "Um, no dude, I'm in an apartment with a couple of guys, but I've been going to classes both years. Where the fuck did you go?" I tell him I'm in an apartment too. He has hold of my arm pulling me gently away from my friends, who are now leaning against the railing. My back is to them so they don't see Rajon take my beer. Then smirking at me, he drinks half of it. Then, while handing the cup back to me, he gooses my privates and holds onto them a second. I'm like, "What's up with that, Rajon?" He burps, then chuckles and says, "I felt like squeezing your balls and as I recall you didn't have any problems with me dominating your white ass when I fucked you," and he grabs my crotch again pulling up a little. I'm up on my toes praying I don't spring a boner in his hand, as I mutter, "Yeah, you're probably right about that. I don't mind a dominant fuck every now and then." I'm desperately trying to remember us fucking because I'm guessing it was a really hot experience being fucked by this little dominant fucker. He's still smirking at me and looking sexy, as he says, "Dude, you were one hot piece of cherry ass." Cherry ass, huh? Ha ha! He asks, "Hey, why the fuck didn't we get each other's cellphone our freshman year?" I shrug, wondering the same thing.

He pokes my chest with his finger, "You want to get together later? I might be able to break lose from my hot boyfriend if you can. I'd love to hear that squeal of yours again." He's a sexy fucker and it's very tempting, but I use my incredible willpower again, saying, "Nah, not tonight, Rajon. How

about another time?" Turning my head a little I'm nodding in the direction of my homies, saying, "That's my boyfriend over there and he's one jealous

motherfucker, ya know?" Rajon goes, "Oh sweet jesus, tell me about it, I hear ya. My man, Cliff, is the same way. Okay, give me your fucking cellphone." I get it out and he grabs it, then his fingers are a blur moving swiftly on the keys. Almost instantly my cellphone number appears and he logs it into his phone, then logs his into my phone. As he's handing my cellphone back to me, Robby's come over, asking, "What's up Dylan? Who's your friend?" I go, "Oh, I'm getting reacquainted with Rajon here. I haven't seen him since freshman year." Rajon holds his fist out for Robby to bump as I introduce them, "Rajon, this is my boyfriend, Rob Dickers. Rob, Rajon Whyte who's been avoiding me for two years now." Rajon laughs, muttering, "You lie, pretty boy," then he asks Robby, "You're on the baseball team, aren't ya?" and Robby goes, "Yeah, second base, how ya doing?" Someone calls Rajon and he says, "That's Clifford, my main man. I'll check you out later, Dylan. Nice to meet ya, Rob," and he drifts into the crowd. So this Cliff guy dominates Rajon, and Rajon dominated me. Something else he has in common with Ryan.

Robby and I go over to our spot against the railing, with Robby asking, "When'd ya meet him, babe?" I go, "Jeez, to tell you the truth, I forget. It was early in our freshman year and, ya know, I can't believe I remembered his name." Robby mumbles, "Awesomely sexy looking guy." I ask, "Really? I didn't check him out that closely," and Robby laughs, squeezing the back of my neck, muttering, "Bull shit alert." Robby, me, and the other three guys drink our beers, smoke cigarettes, and commiserate about our sophomore year, the highs and the lows. Then we bitch a little about what's on everyone's mind... final exams. Interrupting our commiserating, a creep shows up, one I haven't seen for months. Chad Bundy breaks through the crowd and arrogantly says to Robby, "Yeah, I thought that was you, Dickers. That fucked-up ponytail of your's threw me off at first." Robby has a look on his face like he just stepped in dog shit, as he says, "You're still the jerk-off you always were, huh, Bundy?" Chad chuckles, "Be nice, Rob. Ya didn't always feel that way, did ya?" Chad nods at me, saying to Robby, "You're still being pussy whipped by girlie boy here, huh?" Robby takes a step towards him, snarling, "Fuck off, Bundy, I don't want to hear anymore of your childish bull shit." Chad smirks and take a drink from his cup of beer giving Robby the finger as he's backing away, saying, "There he is folks, stuck-up Rob Dickers. Oh, and too bad about your batting average taking that big dip this year." Robby goes to grab Chad, but he gives Rob the finger again and disappears in the crowd. Chubby asks, "Who's that dorky asshole, Rob?" Robby's face is red as he shakes his head, muttering, "A fucking mistake, that's who he is." Before anyone can ask what he means by that, he says, "Oh jesus, here comes pete and repeat." Ryan asks, "Whaddaya mean?" I tell him, "Ears Henderson and his shadow Scott Tinsdale are coming towards us. If you see one of them the other's right behind." They come over smiling and bumping fists and tapping their cups to ours as they tell us about their adventure during spring break, claiming they came really close to finally getting laid. "Close, but no cigar," is how Ears puts it. With those two it's always no cigar. I half expect Scott to ask if any of us want a blow job. He doesn't though, so I guess he's given up on that quest. They hang-out with us bitching about finals week coming up the week after next, and when their beer's gone they work their way over to the bar for refills.

I guess everybody's getting drunk before review week. Fucking final exams are on everybody's mind of course. That's the direction most conversations turns to every year about this time, but right now I'm wondering how it's possible in a student body of only five thousand that I haven't crossed paths with Rajon before this. I'd forgotten how good looking and sexy he is. I guess the same could be said for that ass-wipe, Chad Bundy, except for the part about good looks and being sexy... he's neither as far as I'm concerned. He was Robby's side-sex buddy during part of freshman year although Robby's never admitted to it. They, heh heh, apparently didn't break-up amicably. Guess I wasted my time being jealous of Chad. It's kind of creepy-weird we should run into a couple of our old side-buddies one after the other like that. Well, Rajon barely counts as a side-sex buddy beings it was one and done for us. I consider it a total screw-up on my part that I didn't exchange cellphone numbers with him from the start. That's a rookie mistake I'm embarrassed to have made. Huh, I still wish I could remember if he was as hot during sex as he looks. My memory tends to play tricks on me at times. Still, there's nothing cute or sexy about Chad Bundy although apparently Robby saw something in him that I don't. Funny how that works.

We're over at the table that serves as Tracy's bar getting our second beers when we bump into Rolly North. He's with someone I don't know so we just exchange, "Hey, wassup?" but that's about it. Walking back to the railing, making our way through the masses, Ryan says, "You know a lot of guys, Dylan. I didn't know any of them." I'm like, "Nah, at the most I know twenty-five guys out of five thousand here at Merrimack. That's not a lot of guys and anyway I think you met Rolly before, and I know you met Ears before. You and I were talking with him and Scott at the holiday mixer when he spilled his drink on your sneakers, remember?" We lean back against the railing as Ryan goes, "Oh yeah, I remember that ears guy now, and I guess I've seen his shadow, Scott what's-his-name, in the dorm a few times, but that's about it." I shrug, mumbling, "You're not missing much. They're okay guys, but a little on the goofy side." Now I'm smiling watching Chubby talking with a couple of girls who have the giggles, and there's hound-dog, John Beverly, with his arm around the waist of one of the girls. Then Ryan grabs my arm and goes, "Oh fuck! There's Marty and his asshole buddy, Rex." I look in the direction Ryan's looking and see Marty, but not Rex. Marty's got his arm around the back of some geeky looking guy's neck. I go, "Looks like fuckwad's found your replacement, Ryan." He goes, "Shhh, don't attract his attention. I do not want a hassle tonight." I go, "Fuck him. If he gives us any shit I'll sic Robby and Chubby on him... heh heh. And after that, while Marty's looking for his teeth crawling around on the floor, we'll move in and finish him off." Ryan turns his back on the crowd, mumbling, "Ignore him, Dylan. I can't stand to even look at that piece of shit. I hate his guts." I turn around and join Ryan looking over the railing at the street below, muttering, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Let sleeping dogs lie, although I wouldn't exactly mind if Marty sucker punched me. Oh man, he'd be in a shit storm then. Robby and Chubby would take turns going Medieval on the fuckwad. Still, I guess we don't need a problem tonight. Plus, you and I already kicked both their asses." That's a bit of an exaggeration, but we did get the best of them.

Still looking at the college students milling around on the sidewalk below the speakeasy, Ryan ignores my musings about readjusting fuckwad's appearance and we gaze at nothing for a minute before Ryan mumbles, "You like to fight, don'cha?" I'm like, "What? No, I don't like fighting! Why do you say that?" He shrugs, "Never mind," and he changes the subject, saying, "I've had my fill of college for this year. Thank god for summer break." I guess he's a little down, probably thinking about the horrible experience he had with the fuckwad. But that aside, yeah, he's right, I'm kinda sick of college by now myself. I mean all that sitting in classes trying to stay awake, and then studying boring stuff at the apartment, and writing papers, and all that shit. If we we're learning anything of practical value in the real world I might feel differently. Okay, so right now I think college blows, but by Labor day I'll be itching to return and that's mostly because of the party life that goes with the boring parts of college. So yeah, summer break is needed about now, but obviously this year's summer break will be nothing like any summer I've ever had. If I was going to have a normal summer vacation working at something I'm familiar with, like Robby's crew, I'd be more excited and certainly more relaxed about this summer than I am now. This summer I'll be doing nothing I'm familiar with at all, except having sex with Ryan. He says, "I wish I was on spring break with you this year." I go, "Me too, Ryan. You know what I liked best about spring break? I love staring at the ocean. It fascinates me. You know, the Atlantic Ocean stretching empty into the distance, hinting of eternity." Ryan says, "That sounds cool"

When we turn around facing the packed house again, I see Robby talking with Mike Mananski and Jasper Jenkins. Somebody says something that makes them all laugh, but with the music and loud crowd noise I couldn't hear what was

said. Ryan goes, "Dylan, look at that," and I look where he's pointing seeing the crowd backing away from a girl who's bending over, and I know why. Sure enough she hurls her guts out. Jesus that's gross! Ryan says, "Glad we're over here." The bouncer guy, who's name I can never remember, is inviting the throw-up girl and her two girlfriends to leave. Inviting them quite emphatically I might add. They'll be banned for the rest of this year and all of next year. Throwing up is not allowed. Someone appears with a pail and mop to clean up the mess and almost immediately the smell of Lysol or some cleaner drifts past us. Better that than the alternative. Chubby's back at the railing patting my shoulder laughing and telling me, "Oh fuck, bro, I dated that bitch who just threw up. It was last year and she threw-up on our date too. Some people simply shouldn't drink." He's laughing and standing on his tiptoes watching her being escorted off the premises. Just because I feel like it, I give Chubby a tight hug, saying, "I'm going to miss you this summer, Chub." He says, "What? Don't tell me you're actually going through with your crazy plan to spend the summer with Ryan?" I go, "Um, yeah I am, you and me talked it out together, remember?" He says, "I thought it was just one of your 'maybe plans' you're always speculating about." I mutter, "No, this plan I'm going through with." He says, "You and me will have a heart to heart talk about that when we're both sober." A girl gets hold of Chubby's hand pulling on his arm, saying, "You're dancing with me now, Jeffrey." He grins at her, saying, "Yeah, it looks like I am," then he grins at me, mumbling, "I'm a chick magnet." I go, "Um, that phrase went out of style three years ago, bro." He chuckles, still grinning at me, "Oh, I didn't know that. What should I have said?" I shrug as the girl pulls Chubby away from me. Huh, maybe Chubby can talk me out of going to Georgia. I wonder if I want him to?

Ryan gets next to me now, "I heard your brother say he'd talk to you about coming with me this summer. Um, I thought it was already settled, Dylan. You are coming with me, right? I mean we've been talking about it for two months." He looks so concerned I put my arm across his shoulders, "Yeah, I'm going with you, Ryan. I don't go back on my word." Hearing that, he tries not to smile, but he gets half a smile on his lips anyway, saying, "Yeah, you always keep your promises." Not that I remember ever promising him I'd do it, but I guess it was implied. Anyway I'm going to follow through with it for all the reasons I've told myself, like it being a good move on my part for maybe growing-up a little, and for whatever the fuck else I told myself. Plus, how could I disappoint Ryan and his big brown puppy dog eyes? It's just Ryan and me at the railing as I scan the crowd looking for Robby, but see drunk Harry Black instead. He has a plastic shot glass in one hand and a cup of beer in the other. He taps the cup of whiskey with someone who's back is to me, and then downs the whiskey and gulps some beer right after. Fucking Harry. The guy with him turns a little and it's of course it Harry's roommate, Travis Hunter. Travis says he's straight although he's blatantly come on to me a half dozen times between last year and this year. He's not

interesting to me though, so nothing's come of his flirting.

Travis makes eye contact with me now and says something to Harry who looks over and they walk towards us bumping into people as they go. I mutter to Ryan, "Oh shit, here comes a couple of drunks." Travis holds his hand out so I shake it and he leans against me hugging me with his other arm and spilling some of the beer. The beer splashes on the floor behind me, just missing my ass. With the side of his face against the side of mine, he slurs into my ear, "Wanna fuck?" then he laughs like it's a big joke. Harry says, "Yo Dylan, listen to this. A guy's in the hospital after a serious fucking car accident. He wakes up yelling, 'Doctor, I can't feel my legs!' The doctor says, 'I know you can't. I had to amputate both your arms.'" I ask, "Is that suppose to be funny, Harry?" then, "Have you ever given any serious thought to a detox center?" He sways a little, asking, "Whaddaya mean?" Travis grabs Harry's arm, yelling, "There Murphy, he got some weed, come on," and they stagger off. Ryan's shaking his head, "Cool friends you got there, Dylan." Then I see both Robby and Danny dancing with girls near Tracy's back door. The girls look like twins. Robby must be drunker than I thought. The twins obviously initiated the dancing, not Robby or Danny. Huh, Danny's a pretty good dancer, but my boyfriend makes me smile with his version of a dance I'm not familiar with. Yeah, but looking at the concentration on Robby's face causes a wave of love and affection for him to sweep over me. Damn, I love that boy. For some reason me feeling love for Robby gives me confidence that I can do this summer thing without losing him. Then I'm scared for a second because I didn't realize I had a subconscious thought that I might lose him. Was that really a concern I had subconsciously? Ryan interrupts my thoughts, "That kid is waving at you, Dylan." I'm like, "What? Who?" and look over to see Jarod Mellincamp grinning and waving, saying something I can't make out.

I watch Jarod pushing people out of his way heading towards us, making me think back to the fight we had early in our freshman year. I've run into Jarod a number of times since the fight and we've became sort of friends. Stepping towards him we do the one arm hug and handshake being careful not to spill beer on each other's back. Jarod says, "Yo, Dylan, you're looking good as always." I mutter, "You too, Jarod," and he is looking good. Too bad he's straight. He goes, "Fuck, how about this turnout tonight, huh?" We look out at the noisy throng of college students who seemingly are in constant motion. Dancing couples interspersed with groups of guy and girls drinking, talking, and laughing. I go, "Yeah, dollar beer night, so it's what I'd expect." Jarod says, "We still haven't had our double date, ya know." I grin, "Oh yeah, that's right. Who ya going out with now?" He says, "Tanya Brown," and I go, "Dude, she's hot," even though I wouldn't know a Tanya Brown from a Tanya Green. Jarod rubs his fingers up the side of my head, saying, "Cool haircut, dude. You get the coolest haircuts." I grin at Ryan, who's looking smug. That makes me laugh, then says, "Meet my barber, Ryan Wilcox. Ryan this tough guy is Jarod Mellincamp who once kicked my ass in a fight." They bump fists with Ryan saying, "Dylan likes fighting," and I go, "I do not!" Jarod says to Ryan, "He kicked my ass, not the other way around." We talk a little about Dick Varis who was the real reason for the fight. Varis dropped out of college after first semester of freshman year, the loser. Then we talk about final exams of course, and then the professors who are hard graders and the ones who aren't. It looks like Ryan and I have two of each. Jarod tells us he'll be in Europe for two months backpacking through four countries. Ryan tells him our plans for the summer. As Ryan talks a frown appears on Jarod's face as he glances at Robby on the dance floor. It's maybe a look of confusion more than a frown because he knows Robby's my boyfriend, but he's too polite to bring it up. I leave it at that figuring it's too complicated a situation to try explaining to Jarod.

Jarod's roommate grabs him telling him something about some girl and Jarod says, "I gotta run. Great seeing you, Dylan," and he's off. Ryan and I make our way to the bar again for another refill and on the way I bump into a kid I apparently should know, but don't. He says, "Dylan!" I look at him trying to remember how we know each other. He goes, "Oh fuck, you don't remember me, do ya?" I go, "Of course I do, um..." He laughs, "We met at the North Shore mall last year. How could you forget?" He's smiling, so I guess it was a good encounter. I'm pointing my finger at him like his name is right on the tip of my tongue, which it isn't. He says, "Morgon Matos, remember?" I go, "Morgan my man, your name was right on the tip of my tongue. Don't tell me you're going to Merrimack now" He laughs, "Jesus no, me and my buds are slumming it tonight. We go to Tuff's." I mumble, "It's not nice to mock us hicks in suburbia." He says, "No offense intended." I'm like, "None taken," and pat his shoulder, "Nice seeing you again, Morgan," then nod my head at Ryan, saying, "We're getting refills," holding up my empty cup. We continue on our way to the bar where Ryan asks, "Who was that?" and I'm like, "I swear to God I haven't a clue, Ryan." A girl behind the bar pours beer from the tap in both our cups as we both each drop a token on the bar. Ryan looks back to where I ran into the mysterious Morgan, muttering, "That guy sure remembers you."

On the way back to our spot at the railing Ryan's waylaid by Felix Jones, his friend from last year. Ryan, Robby, and I spent an unpleasant night shooting pool at Felix's house. The unpleasantness was not because of Felix though. He's a sweetheart of a guy, although straight. No, it was Robby who was acting like an asshole that night by fucking Ryan in Felix's bedroom. Felix was showing me how to shoot pool at the time, but that's water under the bridge, or however that saying goes. Felix and Ryan hug and make a fuss about seeing each other, then Felix bumps my fist, saying, "Dylan, um, Newman, right?" I go, "Awesome memory, Felix." He laughs, "Yeah, I came close to kissing you that night at my place. Remember?" I go, "No, really?" Actually he did kiss me. Drunk of course, but now he's convinced himself he only 'came close'. It wasn't a memorable kiss in either case. Jarod wants Ryan to meet someone so I tell him, "I'll catch you later, Ryan. Nice seeing you, Felix." They go off to meet 'whoever' leaving me alone so I'm hoping at least one of the guys is back at our spot. I don't get to find out though because an arm goes around the back of my neck and someone's lips are on my ear, murmuring, "This is my lucky night," and then a kiss on my cheek right here among all of these drunk college kids. My eyes go to the side and see Tracy grinning at me. He's guiding me to the back door, saying, "You look delicious tonight, Dylan." I'm like, "Tracy, dude, good to see ya. How's it going?" He goes, "It's going good, buddy, but you've ruined me for girls." I go, "Huh! Yeah I think you mentioned that before." He chuckles, "Maybe I'll recover over the summer. Hopefully it's not a permanent condition."

Inside the back door he chooses one of a dozen bottles of whiskey, saying, "We never got to my uncles for that dinner, Dylan. You're not avoiding me are you?" I'm staring at him, thinking he's cool looking, then I mumble, "Not hardly, Trace. I'd never avoid you." I gave him his last haircut eliminating his ponytail, but that was awhile ago and his hair's grown over his ears a little by now, and that's not a cool look for him. He's usually so neat with his appearance. I don't say anything about it though because I don't know when I'd have the time to give him another haircut, and maybe he doesn't want one anyway. He's pouring our shots into heavy, expensive-looking shot glasses that have thick glass bottoms. Tracy's saying, "This is the smooth single malt whiskey you like so much." Nothing could be further from the truth of course because there isn't a whiskey in the world that I want to do shots with. That little fact doesn't slow up Tracy's though. He passes me a shot glass, holding his up. I tap it with mine and he says, "To the sexiest college student in Massachusetts, you!" and he throws the whiskey down

his throat as I gag on mine, but get it down with sweat breaking out on my

forehead, then chug some of my beer. Tracy pours us another shot, saying, "I fucked this guy in Cancun during spring break because he reminded me of you, but his ass couldn't compare with yours. He was cute, but couldn't compare with you in that department either. So you might ask, why did he reminded me of you? After I fucked him I asked myself the same question. And guess what, we bumped into each other an hour later at a beach party and I fucked him again to make sure." I'm giving him a 'look', and he laughs, "Don't worry, both times I was wearing one of the world's best condoms." I mumble, "I wasn't worried," and I wasn't, that was the furthest thing from my mind. I was just taken aback at how full of compliments Tracy always is with me. He probably does it with everyone, guy or girl, that he's fucking. He's very attractive though, and an extremely cool guy so I'm good with it.

Tracy says, "So, I tell you that story to show you that you've not only ruined me for those of the female persuasion, but for guys too." I say, "I'm truly sorry about that, Trace. It's not my intention to ruin you for anything, and certainly not sex." He grins at me, "I know that. Okay, I'm sorry to have to tell you that this will be the last shot before you give me a quick haircut. The last haircut you gave me was awesome, but too short even though it's what I asked for." I can't help but smile, muttering, "You know damn well I hate these fucking shots." He taps my little shot glass, saying, "Nonsense, this is your favorite whiskey," and gives the toast, "To the best hair stylist in Massachusetts, you of course," and we flash down the shots with me gasping then holding my breath hoping not to throw up. If I hurl Tracy might think I'm the worst shot-drinker in Massachusetts. Taking a deep breath, happy the shots are over with, I chug some beer with my mouth and throat burning, then tell him, "I can't give you a haircut, Tracy. I don't have any tools of the trade so to speak." He puts a hand on either side of

my face and kisses me with most of his tongue in my mouth. His kiss and his neatly maintained short soft beard against my face gets me aroused. Tracy's more likely the sexiest guy in Massachusetts, not me. My arms go around the back of his neck with our bodies grinding together. He's got a nice sexy guy's personal scent and a slim hot body to go with his handsome face. It's a one minute kiss that causes a boner in my pants that feels good. Tracy breaks the kiss, and says, "Come with me, Dylan," and I follow him to the spare bedroom he uses for storage and fuck room.

Tonight there's a barber kit laying on a box of something. It's the kind of barber kit you can buy at any drugstore and a million other places. The b ox has never been opened. He says, "I'm thinking of a neat-looking haircut, Dylan, without taking any off the top." I'm like, "Oh a preppy look, huh?" He goes, "That's it exactly!" I say, "Normally that'd be no problem, but I've been drinking beer for hours." He goes, "And you just had two shots of your favorite whiskey too, what could be better?" I ask, "Do you ever get drunk?" He shakes his head, "Nope, I've mastered the art of just staying high, which means no binge drinking. I miss doing that of course, but I've sacrificed it in honor of moderation." Still dubious about giving him a haircut in my condition, I open the box of barbering tools. He picks up a little bag and goes, "Oh, I also bought these barber scissors at the Boston Barber Company. It's in the North End." I take the scissors out of their case and they're beautiful. Better than mine and I want to try them out. I say, "This is an awesome scissor, Tracy, but why didn't you get the clippers there too? These clipper you bought are the inexpensive vibrator type clipper. Professionals clippers, like Oster, are much more powerful with a sophisticated transmission system powering the clippers." He shrugs, "Well, I got that cheap ones at RiteAid because the fucking scissors cost so much I went cheap on those clipper thing-a-ma-jigs." I take out the clippers, mumbling, "I've never actually used this type of clipper, but it should be okay for a trim. It would suck though if I was trying to use it cutting thick hair like when I cut through all your hair and the ponytail." He's not interested in my dissertation on barber clippers though, as he says, "Oh fuck, I don't miss that ponytail at all, Dylan, and I wanted the Marine haircut you were rocking for my haircut. It looked cooler on you though, so I'm switching to whatchamacallit, preppy." I'm like, "Oh, huh, and I thought the ponytail looked kinda sexy on you. I told you that before I cut it off, but you insisted." Ignoring all that, he pinches my cheek, saying, "You are so fucking cute!" I don't have anything to say to that because I'm not sure if he's serious or just breaking my balls. He's emphatic about everything he says so it's hard to tell when he's kidding. While I'm examining the clippers, I ask him, "You worried about finals, Trace?" He goes, "No! What's to be worried about?" I shrug, what indeed.

There's an electrical outlet near an end table and I'm curious about these clippers so I plug in the plug and turn them on. They're noisily vibrating in my hand, but they should work out okay. Obviously I don't have enough energy to change Tracy's mind about getting a haircut now, and like I said, I wanna try these awesome scissors, so I ask, "Where you gonna sit for your haircut?" He says, "How about that little table?" I'm like, "Sure. Um, do you want to use this silly plastic barber cape that came with the clippers?" He grins, "No, that would make me feel geeky." He sits on the end table as I'm saying, "Take off your shirt at least." He does that and I admire his hot body for a second, then decide I'll use the cheap plastic comb that came in the box and the awesome professional scissors he bought to do most of his haircut. I'll use the scissors over comb method. I do the sides and back of his head quickly, neating it up without going too short. It takes me less then five minutes. The imitation barber comb has a tapered thin end so I can taper his neckline hair with the scissors too. The only thing I use the buzzing clippers for is to outline around his ears and a little bit at his hairline in back. These cheap clippers work fine for the little bit I used them. It's a seven minute haircut that looks very professional so I'm pleased with myself. It doesn't matter that I'm half in the bag, I still got it! Ha ha! As I'm brushing little clippings off his shoulders, I tell him, "This looks good, Trace." He says, "Let me check it out," and he leaves the room to look at himself in a mirror, probably the one in the powder room. I'm working the scissors admiring them and wondering how much they cost. The used pair of barber scissors I bought on Ebay nine or ten years ago cost ten bucks, which at the time I thought was highway robbery. Chubby said he'd pay for them so I lent him the money and as of yet he hasn't gotten around to paying me back, but I'm still hopeful.

Tracy comes back just as I've put everything back in the box, "It's perfect, Dylan. Exactly the haircut I wanted." Then his cell phone's ring-tone goes off. His ring tone is the first notes to a rock song I know although I can't think of the song's title. Tracy answers, "Todd baby, wassup?" He listens, then laughs, "You dumb shit, I told you that would happen." He listens again, then laughs, "Yeah, dummy, I'll rescue you. Give me ten minutes." He puts the phone away and pulls down his fly, saying, "I've only got a couple of minutes, Dylan, so could you drop your pants?" I frown at him as he's gets his penis out through his pant's fly and strokes it absently, saying, "Oh, you can keep all that barber shit if you want it. I just got it so you'd have something to use. I knew I'd see you before the semester's up." I'm flabbergasted. "Tracy, um, why didn't you just go to a barber. I mean these clippers are for shit, but they still cost more than a haircut and these scissors must have been expensive." He goes, "It's simple my hot sexy friend, I wanted you to be my barber. I'm just sorry I gotta bounce outta here tonight so quickly, and you still owe me that sleep over." I'm like, "Next semester, Trace, I promise." He says, "I'll hold you too it. And FYI, I'm not getting another haircut until the beginning of our junior year when you'll be my barber again. That's assuming I'm not back to fucking girls again. Oh shit, even if I am you'll still be my barber. I'm versatile where sex is concerned so I don't know who I'll be fucking by then." Tracy's cooly verbose saying everything as if it should be the most obvious thing ever. I'm staring at the scissors, "Um, do you mind if I ask how much you paid for these?" He goes, "I forget. Something like fifty-nine or sixty-nine bucks." I'm shaking my head, "You're nuts you know?" He chuckles, "Yeah, I know."

Putting the scissors in their case, I look at Tracy stroking his dick, and say, "I'll take care of that for you, Trace," and get down on my knees in front of him taking his slightly hard cock in my fingers to slide half of it into my mouth. Sucking and licking his nice looking cock gets it hard in two minutes. The whole time I'm sucking him off Tracy's making a wet smacking sound with his lips in between low grunting sounds of arousal. He's a very sexual animal. When his six inches or so of cock is pretty much sticking straight out, I stand and drop my pants, then turn around bending over. He murmurs, "You're truly awesome, Dylan," and his cock plugs right in past my sphincter muscle with me going, "Umph, ooh." Some of Ryan's KY jelly remains inside my ass so it's more or less a tight smooth trip up my ass for Tracy's very hard cock. When he humps against my buttocks his boner is all the way in. "Damn, I love your ass, Newman. Just love the hell out of it." He pulls his cock back and shoves it right back up my ass again with me arching my back this time, grunting, "Umpth, oooh, ooh." He asks, "You're okay, right Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, more than okay. Your cock feels fine up there. Nice and tight and fine."

Tracy gets a grip on both my hips and does his usual hard fast fucking, but without the usual slapping sounds of bare bodies colliding. Those sexy fucking sounds are muffled by his jeans. Then it's about four minutes of exquisite sexual pleasure that has me moaning a little louder with each of his humps up my ass, loving the sensations they're causing inside of me. Without slowing his thrusting, Tracy calmly says, "Can you please try to keep it down a little bit, Dylan? My cunt of a sister's sleeping off an afternoon drunk in the bedroom right over us." The way he said that gets me grinning and putting a hand over my mouth. Fucking Tracy is a trip alright. So cool with a world of confidence. He takes so much for granted, but I wouldn't say he was dominant. For one thing he's full of too many compliments for me to be dominant, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know that there's such a thing as sub/dom sex. He's a free spirit without a mean bone in his body. I really like him as a friend and fuck buddy. He lets go of my hips and grabs my shoulders pulling me up against his chest slamming his boner up my ass faster and harder now. So hard each thrust is bumping my hips out away from him a little bit making my boner sway. If I hadn't been double fucked by Ryan a few hours ago I'd have climaxed by now. It feels so fucking good that my orgasm has held off this long. It's building now though, and coming on me faster and faster like a runaway train.

He has an arm around my chest and the other around the front of my throat. The side of his face is rubbing against the side of mine and I hear him quietly grunting, "Aah, aah, aah," with every thrust. His soft beard is sexy but I can't focus much on that because my rectum is offering up a magic show of sexual pleasures. My anus and prostate gland are in full pleasure mode and my climax has now reached the point of no return. It's at the tipping point and feels so awesome I begin whining with desire, my cock's straight out like Tracy's and now he joins me in making desperate-sounding whines of his own. It's obvious both our climaxes are on us hot and heavy. Tracy arches his back almost lifting me off my feet. Just my toes touch the floor with my body jerking against Tracy as he slams his hard boner up my ass. I groan with my hips trying to hump as I'm scarily seeing only white blankness. Then my squeal erupts along with cum pumping up from my hard nuts and shooting from my cock in three quick streaks of spunk. Shaking in his arms I only now realize that along with Tracy's last breathy whining moan his cum flooded my bowels. He must have climaxed at about the same second I did. I try not to whimper but the after effects of my orgasm are flying around my belly and groin making me tremble with pleasure. Tracy sets me down on my feet as he licks my ear and cheek. He's breathing hard next to my ear and still doing thrusts up my ass, but much slower ones now. With a final rush of air from his lungs he lets go of me and backs up pulling his cock from my ass. Cum runs slowly from my ass, some of it drooling around to the back of my scrotum and some going down the back of my legs. I lean forward resting my hands on a box with a label that reads, '1000 plastic cups... 12 ounces'.

Tracy's wiping his cock with paper napkins from an open box of, '2500 cocktail napkins'. I'm still taking deep breaths enjoying the sensations from being fucked really well. Then I feel paper napkins wiping cum off my legs and ass with Tracy saying, "I apologize for the slam bam thank you ma'am fuck, Dylan. No that's not right, you're certainly not a ma'am." I go, "Tracy, it was awesome, as usual." The fact is Tracy has never taken longer than five or six minutes to fuck an orgasm out of me. He's the champion of the fast hard fuck." I ask, "Do you fuck girls as fast as you fuck me?" He goes, "No, because they don't turn me on as much you do. When I fucked that guy in Cancun I fucked him more than twice as long before climaxing, but there's something to be said for that too." I go, "Uh huh,' and he pulls my pants up. He turns me around and gives me a long kiss on my mouth, then says, "Thank you, Dylan. I could fall for you in a second. That boyfriend of yours is

lucky, but I gotta run now and rescue my dumb-ass buddy, who's happens to be my best friend from childhood. I rescue him a lot." I say, "No problem, Trace," as I'm thinking that I better get back to my boyfriends and brother before they send out a search party. Tracy says, "I'm gonna quickly clean up a little and then go out the front door. Don't forget that barber stuff and lock the backdoor on your way out." Then he gives me another kiss, a quick one this time, saying, "Thanks for the haircut too. Don't even think of leaving at the end of the semester without saying goodbye, okay?" I go, "Sure," and he grins at me, rubs my head, picks up his shirt and he's gone.

I take a deep breath looking at my cum drooling down the box of plastic cups. Fuck it. If Tracy doesn't care I guess I don't either. Picking up the case with the barber scissor and the box with the clippers I make my way to the back door, glad I didn't need to do another shot of whiskey with Tracy. I would have had to if he wasn't in a hurry to help his friend with whatever his problem is. Pushing the button on the backdoor's knob to lock it, then step outside closing the door behind me, I'm assaulted by the same level of noise and crowded conditions as before. I was only inside about fifteen minutes. Sidestepping drunks I make my way to our spot at the railing, but no one I know is there. It's been taken over by two couples who are making out soiling our spot somewhat with heterosexual vibes. Then I chuckle at myself for thinking that insane thought. Huh, guess I was premature thinking there'd be a search party looking for me. Okay, what am I going to do with this clippers box? I can stick the scissors in my pocket, but this box has got to go. Hmmm, I don't want to throw the box away because someone might find it and maybe mentions it to Tracy. That would not be cool. I am glad to have these scissors though, so it's only right that I keep the drugstore clippers too. They can be backup clippers for emergencies, or something.

Then I spot Robby talking to a guy I recognize, but don't know his name. I know he's on the baseball team though. I make my way through the crowd, mumbling as I go, "Sorry, excuse me, oops sorry." I tap Robby's shoulder and he turns, then smiles at me using his 'glad to see me' smile, "Hi, Dylan," and the guy he was talking to, says, "I'll catch you later, Rob." Robby pats the guy's shoulder, mumbling, "Later, dude," then says to me, "Dylan, babe, what have you got there?" I say, "Tracy gave me scissors and these clippers. I guess they're payment for giving him a couple of haircuts this semester." Robby says, "Oh yeah, you cut off his ponytail last time, didn't you?" I nod and Robby goes, "Tracy's a really good guy. What are you gonna do with these things tonight though? You don't want to carry the box around with

you all night, right?" I ask for his pickup keys, telling him. "I'll drop this stuff off in the pickup and be right back." On my way out of the speakeasy I bump fist with my buddy, the bouncer-money collector who's name I can never remember. I talk with him about Merrimack for a few minutes, then say, "Dude, good luck with finals week. I'm dropping some stuff at the car, then I'll be back." He goes, "Sure things, Dylan. Oh, did you see Tracy? He was asking for you." I nod my head, "Yeah we hooked up a little while ago." The guy adds, "Oh, wait a second, I didn't know you gave haircuts." I go, "Yep, I just gave Tracy one. You don't appear to need one, so..." Then I say, "But for you, ya know, anytime you want a haircut." He says, "Thanks, but you're right I don't need one now. I got one just last week, but next year hook me up, okay?" I go, "You got it, big guy," and skip down the steps.

I'm thinking about Tracy's hot fuck and how unexpected it was that he started our side-sex relationship in the first place. I never suspected he'd be bisexual and I don't believe for a second he's not bi. He says I ruined him for girls, which is weird if it's true. He's so complimentary it's kinda impossible to believe everything he says, but it'd be nice if he means it all. Ha ha! I'd need to check my hat size if I listen to all Tracy's compliments and believed them. When I've walked to the third block from the speakeasy I should be seeing Robby's pickup any second now. I'm looking ahead trying to spot it when I stumble over something on the sidewalk. I'm falling forward, dropping the box of clippers, and banging my face on the fender of a parked car. Stunned, my head's spinning, I lay where I fell for a few seconds, then sit up slowly looking at the brush burn on the palm of the hand I put out to break my fall. Beginning to stand I feel like I'm going to throw-up so I sit back down and close my eyes taking deep breaths slowly, praying the urge to throw-up passes, and then it does. Now the side of my face is aching. I feel under my eye and bring my hand away looking for blood. There a faint blood smear on my fingers, so I'm barely bleeding.

My dizziness fades as I'm blinking my eyes sitting here. Then turning my head to see what I fell over I see this chubby kid asleep sitting on the sidewalk leaning against the car behind the one I collided with. What the fuck? This could happen only to me. Goddammit. I yell, "Asshole," at the sleeping kid, figuring he's gotta be drunk. He doesn't stir so I guess he's out cold. Getting to my feet shakily I'm looking for the clippers box and then lean over to fish it out from under the car I fell against. The box is under the car, next to the back right tire. Then, glancing over at the sleeping drunk, who I'm pretty sure I've never seen before. I lean down to get a closer look. Maybe he's dead?, but no, the poor bastards breathing at least, although unconscious in his drunkenness. He looks very young with a chubby baby-face, but he's not sexy in any way that I define sexy. Fuck 'em! I continue walking past five more cars and there's Robby's pickup further down the block than I remember. Unlocking it, then putting the box and the scissors on the back seat, I close the door and re-lock it. Taking a deep breath feeling odd, I start walking back while gently feeling under my right eye which is swollen already. I guess it could have been a lot worst depending on how my head hit the car's fender. What kind of asshole sits on the sidewalk anyway? Jesus!

Continuing slowly back to Tracy's, not feeling any better, I light a cigarette then drop it after inhaling one drag because it made me so dizzy I almost fell on my face. Well this blows! Maybe I have a concussion. I've been hearing so much about sports-related concussion lately that the thought I might have one just popped into my head. Finally making it back to the speakeasy I go slowly up the steps and at the top there's no bouncer guy on his stool. Huh, he's probably off bouncing someone. Did it get louder in here? The noise is unbearable as I look for one of my friends bumping into people as stumbling towards our usual spot. It's become more and more obvious to me I need to get back to the apartment and lay the fuck down. This scene is making my headache worse and I irrationally wonder why the police don't break this loud-ass party up. At the railing, looking lost, I see Ryan finishing the last of the beer in his cup. He pushes his little glasses up his cute nose and senses someone staring at him. That would be me of course. He glances at me, then looks startled. He comes right up to me, "Dylan, what the... I mean who?" He lifts my head with a finger under my chin gawking at my half-closed eye, "Who did this to you, Dylan? Goddammit, you and your fighting! What the fuck's the matter with you?"

I'm frowning and smelling the back of my hand, not sure why Ryan's yelling at me. I'd love to lay down someplace as I look at Tracy's back door, then remember he's off saving his childhood friend, or something. I mumble, "Who's fighting? What are you talking about?" Ryan has tears in his eyes, "Weren't you fighting, Dylan?" I start to shake my head, 'no', but that makes the dizziness worse. "No, I wasn't in a fucking fight, will you stop with the fighting shit! I stumbled over some dumb-ass drunk guy sitting on the sidewalk. Stumbled and fell hitting my head hard on a car's bumper." Ryan's got his arm around the back of my waist walking me over to the railing, mumbling, "Oh sure, that's a totally believable story. Falling over someone sitting on the sidewalk. Yep, that happens every day." I'm leaning on the railing, sort of hanging onto it as I feel under my eye again. I guess I look kinda pathetic because Ryan changes his tune, "Damn, I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dylan. You fell? Oh fuck, let me have another look at that eye. It's bloodshot and..." He peers at my eye, and tenderly touches under it with the pad of his forefinger, murmuring, "That looks painful. Wait here, I'll get some ice." He goes off as my dizziness fades a little, but when I move my head it comes back again. Fuck! My eye throbs and I can feel it closing a little. Why does shit like this always happen to me?

Ryan comes back with Robby, who's at least concerned instead of yelling at me like Ryan did. Robby hugs me, asking, "What happened?" I tell him what I

told Ryan and Robby says, "I'm gonna go down there and kick the living shit out of that kid." I go, "No, don't do that, Rob. The kid's drunk out of his mind and I wasn't watching where I was going. I was looking ahead for your pickup." Robby takes the ice pack from Ryan who put crushed ice in his clean handkerchief. Robby gently holds it under my eye. "You hold this on your eye, baby, I'm taking you back to the apartment," then he tells Ryan, "Find Chubby and tell him we're leaving. We'll wait for you at the pickup." I hold the ice pack and follow Robby as he runs interference through the crowd. Going down the steps I need to steady myself holding onto the railing and at the bottom I'm relieved to be this much further away from the noise. Robby sees how unsteady I am, and says, "Fuck the apartment, I'm taking you to the emergency room," and I go, "No, don't, Rob, I just want to lay down. Please!" With all the emphasis on concussions in sports, like I mentioned, it has everyone super conscious about them. What used to be a 'shake it off' situation is now a major production. Robby asks, "You sure we shouldn't have you checked out at the hospital?" I mutter, "I'm sure." When we pass the sleeping drunk on the sidewalk Robby kicks him hard in the ass, and without opening his eyes the kid mutters, "No, Doug, let me sleep." At the pickup it feels so good to just sit down with my head laying on the back of the

seat. I keep the ice pack in place and by now the skin under my eye feels numb.

Ryan comes jogging up with Chubby and John Beverly next to him. Chubby's all concerned wanting to see my eye. He takes the ice pack away, looks at my swollen eye, and says, "Rob, take him to the hospital. I'll follow you, we need a doctor's opinion." I mutter, "No, Chub, I just need to lay down." Chubby goes, "You heard me, Rob. He needs to be seen by a doctor." I go, "Oh fuck." Chubby pats my shoulder, "You're too important to me, bro. Can't take any chances there's something we should be doing, so we'll have a doctor decide." Again I mutter, "Oh fuck," and Chubby chuckles, saying, "That's the spirit." With my eyes closed and my head back the dizziness fades, but when we get to the hospital and I'm getting out of the pickup I feel dizzy again. If Chubby had just let me go back to the apartment and let me get in bed I could sleep this thing off. Sleep is all I need, but no, I've got to go through this unnecessary nonsense. Inside I gratefully sit down as Chubby goes to admissions and answers some questions, then comes back telling me, "A head injury gets quick attention. Someone will call for you in less then ten minutes." Robby's reading a text he just received, shaking his head muttering, "Dammit. One of my teammates ran out of gas. I'm going to help him and then I'll be right back, okay Dylan?" I shrug, "Sure Rob, there isn't anything you can do here." He says, "Okay, but I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Chubby goes, "Help your teammate, Rob. Dylan's right, there's nothing we can do for him right now." Robby nods his head, saying, "I'm coming back anyway," and then hurries out the door. I'm thinking, 'good, one less voice to hear', as I close my eyes. Chubby says, "They want to see your driver's license, Dylan." Keeping my eyes closed I take my wallet out and hand it to him. He takes it to whoever wanted to see my license as I'm wondering why the fuck they keep it so bright in here? When he comes back, Chubby hands me my license and tells Ryan, "You stay with him, Ryan. Go with him when they call him. I'm giving John Beverly a ride to his dorm and then I'll be back." He pats my shoulder and I open my eyes, "You're fine, bro, but we gotta be sure. Love you," then, pointing at Ryan, he goes, "Do not fuck this up. Stay with him." Ryan's eyes get big, so I say, "It'll be fine, Ryan." Chubby and John Beverly leave as a nurse, or orderly, looks at a form, asking, "Um, Dylan Newman?" Ryan jumps up saying, "He's here. He's had a head injury." The person frowns at Ryan like he's nuts. I have to smile because Chubby was so sinister when he pointed at Ryan and warned him not to fuck up. Ryan's taking it to heart.

The orderly or nurse insist I get in a wheelchair and I'm only too happy to oblige. Someone pushes me into a curtained-off room with Ryan following. A nurse takes my vital signs, then helps me get up on a skinny bed that's probably a gurney, then the nurse leaves mumbling that someone will be in to see me shortly. It's awesome laying down and I'm feeling better already. Looking around I see, in addition to this gurney, there are two chairs with a table in-between them, various medical equipment thingies, and a cabinet full of I don't know what. Next to the cabinet is a small trash can with a foot pedal that opens the lid. On the front of the little trash can: WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL. I say, "Ryan rustle around inside that little trash can. See what's in there." He says, "Stop messin' aground! This is serious." I'm smiling at him because he looks so uptight. I want to tell him I'm glad he's with me, but a doctor comes in before I can and introduces himself, shaking hands with me. His hand is kinda slippery with Purel hand sanitizer I saw him pump onto his hand from a dispenser at the front of this small area. I don't take offense he needs to sanitize his hands before shaking hands with me. I'm not paranoid. He asks me what happened so I tell him, finishing with, "I told my brother I'm okay, but he's the one who insisted I bother you people." The doctor says, "Your brother was right. How quickly you get yourself to a hospital after a head injury can mean the difference between life and death. When in doubt, go to the hospital." Huh! No shit, Chubby was right again.

I've been feeling better since laying down and it's a good thing because this doctors got a lot of questions, like: "Did you lose consciousness?" I go, "I'm not sure. I don't think so." "Did you then, or are you now experiencing amnesia?" I want to say, 'I can remember my name if that's what you mean', but what I say is, "No.' He asks, "Did you feel dazed or confused." I'm often confused, but I say, "I felt dizzy, yeah. It's better now that I'm laying down." He nods his head, asking, "Do you have a headache?" and I go, "Yeah, definitely." He asks, "Any vomiting?" and I go, "It was a close call, but no." "Did you have a seizure?" I go, "No, I don't think so, but I'm not exactly sure what a seizure is." The doctor says, "Well, okay. Someone will come in to administer the ACE Test and then we'll do a CAT scan of your brain to be sure there's no bleeding." He pats my thigh reassuringly, asking, "Is one of your parents in the waiting room?" I frown, "Um, no, I'm away at college." Now he looks confused, "Um, your parent will need to sign a release form." I ask, "Why?" and he looks at me, then asks, "How old are you?" I go, "Twenty, I'll be twenty-one this summer." His eyebrows go up, then he looks questioningly at Ryan, who says, "Yes, I'm also twenty," and doctor goes, "Oh, I wasn't asking, um, never mind." He shrugs, smiling, saying to me, " I thought you were much younger, Dylan. Did they check your drivers license out front by any chance?" This guy doesn't trust me I guess. I nod my head, but that makes my head hurt, so I stop doing that, and smile at him because I can't remember if he asked me something or told me something. The doctor, says, "Okay, you can sign the forms yourself." He leaves as Ryan and I exchange 'looks'. I go, "That's fucking insulting, don't ya think?" Ryan shrugs, "Not necessarily, it's cool being young looking." I say, "Ya know, when the doctor looked at you he wasn't asking your age, he wanted you to confirm mine." Ryan goes, "Oh," and blushes a little. Ha ha, that's cute.

A nice looking young man comes in with a stethoscope around his neck and introduces himself, saying he's an intern and he'll be administering THE ACE TEST. I ask, "Yeah, okay, but don't I get to study for the test first?" He laughs, looking kinda cute. Light red hair that I'd like to cut for him, but the barber stuff is in the pickup. The cute intern starts asking me questions that are part of the ACE test, whatever that is. He goes, "These first questions are about you physically," and he asks some of the questions the first doctor asks, plus: do I have a problem with balance, and how is my vision, am I fatigued... all of which I say, "no" to, except I probably said 'yes' to the balance question. Then he wants to know if I'm sensitive to light or noise? I go, "Yeah, both of those, now that you mention it, especially noise. No, mark me down as being sensitive to both." He nods and continues asking questions and checking off block on the test form with each answer I give him. Then he says, "These are cognitive questions now, Dylan," as if I'd know what that means. He asks if I'm mentally foggy, which I am at times but I think he means because of hitting my head, so I say ,"No." Then he asks, "Do you have difficulty concentrating?" which I do in class sometimes, but again I'm pretty sure he means because of me hitting my head on the car's fender so I say, "Nope." There are other questions and then we come to the emotional questions like, am I sad, nervous, etc.. I give negative replies to all of them. There are more question and then he says, "You have a mild concussion, Dylan. We'll do a CAT scan and then talk to you some more after that."

When he leaves, Ryan asks, "What's a CAT scan?" I shrug, "They X-ray my brain, I guess." Five minutes later a man comes in, and says, "Hi, I'm Carl. I'll be taking you for your CAT scan. I smile at him because I don't have anything to say about that. It's like I don't have a choice anyway. When in doubt, smile. I picked up that little trick from Connor. Off we go with Ryan following. Chubby told him to stay with me and that's what he's going to do. I ask Carl, "Is it okay if my friend gets up on this thing with me?" He laughs, correctly assuming it's a rhetorical question. When we get to the X-ray room, Carl asks Ryan to have a seat in the waiting area, and then he pushes me though double doors. There's a big white machine dominating the room, looking scary. As I'm staring at the big machine, the technician tells me he'll give me an intravenous injection that will cause a funny taste in my mouth and make the palms of my hands feel hot for a few seconds. Sounds ominous, but before I can ask about it, someone sticks a needle in a vein on the inside of my elbow. I'm wheeled around on the gurney so that my head's in the opening of the white machine. Help! ha ha. Almost immediately my palms get hot and there's a weird taste in the back of my mouth, or maybe my throat, it's hard to tell. The machine whirrs as the taste fades and my hands return to normal. That's all there is to it. Can't help but wonder what that ten second CAT scan costs. I get wheeled out of the CAT scan room, and Ryan's looking apprehensive as he tentatively touching my shoulder reassuringly, and then walks next to my gurney with Carl pushing me back to the place we left ten minutes ago. Ryan looks so cutely concerned I make eye contact with him giving him a smile, but instead of smiling back he looks like he's going to cry. Is there something they're not telling me? Maybe the CAT scan has disfigured my face or something.

Carl leaves after saying a nurse will be right in and she is too. Very efficient place. A smiling woman about fifty years old brings me a cold pack for my eye to help keep the swelling down, then tells me the doctor will be in to see me shortly. 'Shortly' turns out to be more like an hour, so I may have been hasty about my 'very efficient' comment. I ask Ryan, "Um, do I look alright?" He says, "You look better than alright, Dylan,"and he sort of pats my head hovering around me. I'm glad he's here, although Ryan and I do very little talking during the time we're waiting for the doctor, and that's primarily because I fall asleep five minutes after the nurse leaves. The doctor wakes me and reassures me the CAT scan is negative which sounds bad, but is good. There's no bleeding in my brain. He adds, "And that's a good thing." He tells me to take paracetamol for pain and get plenty of rest. Also I'm to avoid stress, alcoholic beverages, and I need to stay home from college until I'm feeling completely normal again. That's the first good news I've heard since falling. He tells me, no contact sports and make sure I have someone with me for the next forty-eight hours at least. Also if any

symptoms reoccur, I'm to immediately return to the hospital. He hands me a

pamphlet, saying, "All the things I've told you, plus the symptoms to watch for are in this pamphlet. Be sure and read it." He asks, "How do you feel right now?" I go, "Better since I've been on this gurney," and he says, "Good, your friend here can take you home."

The doctor leaves and I get off the gurney pretending I'm barely able to walk. Ryan's nervous, telling me, "Lean on me, Dylan." I say, "If I don't make it, Ryan, I want you to have my posse boy's baseball cap," and put my arm across his shoulders. He puts his arm around my back and I slump letting some of my weight hang on Ryan's strong arm. He says, "I've got you, Dylan," and I go, "Everything's going black..." He mutters, "Don't kid about that." We leave the curtain room with Ryan's asking, "Um, what's a posse boy's hat?" I laugh and stop leaning on him. "I'm feeling better Ryan. How long was I sleeping?" He says, "About an hour. Hey, you can lean on me, Dylan, I don't mind." I grin at him, "My hero, but I'm okay, really." I ask, "Do you remember how to get back to the emergency room?" He nods, "Yeah, turn right at that corner and we're there." Then I'm like, "Shit! I forgot the pamphlet." He holds it up, saying, "Yeah, but I didn't." I give his shoulders a hug and when we turn the corner and there's Robby and Chubby looking anxious. How sweet! Hugs and kisses, along with lots of questions from both of them. We leave the hospital with Ryan answering most of the questions for me, obviously liking his role as my protector during this tragedy. I'm happy to let him do the talking too 'cause I don't feel like talking. As we leave I avert my eyes from a woman on a stretcher who appears to have been in a car accident. What a tough job it must be working in an emergency room!

Chubby insists I drive back with him, and that's what I do. Robby's giving Ryan a ride to his dorm. Back at our apartment, after I've assured Chubby I'm fine about ten times, I go in the bathroom to do my bathroom routine, then get undressed and get in bed. I feel very tired, but it's not necessarily because I bumped my head, I might just be tired. Whatever, I fall right to sleep not even hearing, or knowing when Robby got in bed with me. The next thing I know it's a rainy Monday morning. Robby's still sleeping so I snuggle up to him, but that doesn't work because I can't lay on that side of my head. It's still wicked sore, so I settle for snuggling with Robby laying on my back and then drift off back to sleep. Next thing I'm aware of Robby's gently shaking my shoulder, "It's ten o'clock, Dylan, do you think you can join Ryan and me for our study group?" I open my eyes and see both Ryan and Robby looking down at me. I ask, "Where's Chubby?" Robby says, "He's at

Merrimack in one of those review classes. I'm like, "Oh, where's Danny?" Robby grins, "He doesn't have the class we're studying for so I assume he's in his dorm. Um, you wouldn't be trying to stall getting up, would you?" I go, "No, where's Ears Henderson?" and we all chuckle. I get up and go into the bathroom and do what I need to in there. When I come out Ryan's smiling at me, asking, "How do you feel, Dylan?" I go, "Feeling better, Ryan, thanks for asking." I don't see Robby in the living room, "Where's Rob?" and before he can answer Robby comes in the front door carrying a box of Dunkin' Donuts and three large coffees. "I thought we all could use some energy food to get us going." I go, "Donuts, one of natures perfect food groups. Bacon being the most perfect." Ryan mumbles, "Good to see you're recovering." He looks shiny clean with light reflecting off his glasses. I lean over and kiss his lips, "Thanks for looking out for me, Ryan."

I like being doted on, but soon we're into serious reviewing of the material and I do mean a complete review of the subject matter. Robby keeps us at it until I could scream. So finally I use my mild concussion to my advantage, complaining, "I've got a wicked concussion headache," and we take a half hour break. After swallowing some Tylenol I join Ryan and Robby watching sports center on ESPN, all of us drinking Cokes. Robby checks the time on his cellphone and goes, "Okay, back to the grind," and we're into endlessly asking each other questions about the course, trying to stump one another. At one o'clock we have lunch at Fuddruckers with Ryan or Robby asking me how I feel every fifteen minutes, and me continually reassuring them I'm better. Everyone is making a mountain out of a mole hill. Back in the apartment we spend an hour and fifteen minutes going over every page of the workbook's trial tests. Robby the task master doesn't finally conclude were finished with everything until three-fifteen. By now Ryan's grumpy, mumbling, "I hate this fucking course." We all hate it by now, but tomorrow we'll still need to sit through a two hour class with the professor going over all this same shit again. And we don't take the final until Wednesday of next week. That's a fucked-up schedule right there. What I meant to say about the two hour review tomorrow is that Ryan and Robby need to sit through it. I unfortunately am under doctor's orders to stay away from college for at least forty-eight hours... at least, so I may have a little relapse in my future. Heh heh.

It's stopped raining so the three of us take a walk around the apartment's grounds to get some fresh air. Ryan and Robby have a cigarette, but I don't risk it afraid of getting dizzy again. Robby asks, "What time are we lifting Ryan?" and he goes, "I texted Jeff and Danny that we'll lift for an hour

or so at four o'clock." Robby goes, "Good deal, I've got baseball practice from five-thirty to seven. Our last game of the season is Thursday afternoon. That's our last chance to finish at .500 for the year." We talk about how hard it is for non-scholarship colleges to compete with much larger ones who give scholarships to the more talented seniors from high school. Then I find myself thinking about that asshole, Chad Bundy, who mocked Robby's batting average dipping this year. I'm not going to ask Robby about it, but I have thought it odd he hasn't talked about his batting average the past two months. That's unusual, but now I know why.

I watch the guys lift free weights without participating myself. They all have their shirts off and it's quite enjoyable looking at their hot bodies with their muscles bulging. After closely examining each of their hot bodies I conclude Robby's got the hottest body of the four. Chubby's and Ryan's bodies are sexy hot too, only in smaller versions. Danny's body is good too, and maybe my evaluation of it as only 'good' is influenced by him being Robby's other boyfriend. Or maybe it's just not as sexy a body as the others for real. I'd like to hate on Danny, but he's so nice to me there isn't any real reason to hate on him. He's cute an unassuming and even deferential to me. That's undoubtedly because he knows I'm Robby's real boyfriend and he's only a backup, or whatever. I've been giving Danny haircuts since after Christmas break and I've enjoyed doing it. He's consistently preppy and surprisingly he hasn't emulated Robby's ponytail. I was sure he would. Oh fuck, I actually like Danny and if Robby hadn't got to him first I'd probably have tried some side-sex with him myself. As far as we know, only Robby and Danny plus one other teammate, who they won't name, are the only gays on the baseball team. No one knows how many of their teammates are aware that Robby and Danny are gay boyfriends, but certainly some must realize it. His teammates are the ones who voted Robby the infield captain so apparently it doesn't bother those teammates who are aware of Robby sexual orientation. When I've asked Robby about it he says he doesn't care if his teammates know or not. He says he'll stand up and proclaim he's gay as soon as a straight guy stands up and says he's heterosexual. Straight guy don't go around telling everyone they're straight, so why should gay guys go around announcing they're gay?

After the free weight lifting, Chubby takes a shower while Ryan and Robby wash up at the kitchen sink. Robby's got baseball practice so he'll shower after that. As for Ryan, he's kind of hovering around me asking if he can get me this or that every two minutes. It's sweet of him, although after awhile it gets a little annoying. Chubby informs me he'll be eating out, double dating with John Beverly and their girlfriends tonight. I'm not sure what the rest of us will do for dinner. I don't feel like cooking, but maybe I will later. Robby leaves first and then Chubby offers Ryan a ride to his dorm. Ryan says, "No, but thanks, Jeff. Someone needs to be with Dylan for at least the next thirty hours or so." Chubby rubs Ryan head, saying, "Oh yeah, that's right, you're a good friend, Ryan!" and Ryan grins shrugging, then Chubby points at Ryan, saying, "But don't fuck it up!" and I laugh grinning at Chubby. He gives me a hug and a kiss, then tells Ryan, "Just kidding, buddy. Thanks for watching out for my brother." I say, "I'm okay, really." Chubby nods his head, saying, "I know you are, bro." Now that it's just Ryan and me it's like we don't know what to do next. We look at each other as I'm smelling the back of my hand wondering if sex is considered too rigorous for someone with a mild concussion. Ryan gives me a hug, then says, "Okay, with all the excitement I just remembered that today's your haircut day, Dylan. Will you please get the barber stuff out and take off your shirt." I go, "Listen, Ryan, I'm all in with your haircut rules and all that other stuff, but lets pump the brakes on the haircut. Can't we wait a couple of days until I'll feeling like myself, and we can maybe have a little sexual escapade after the haircut?" He runs his fingers along my hairline brushing my short bangs to the side with me quietly asking, "My hair look better like this, doesn't it?" He says, "Yes it does actually. Okay, we'll hold off your haircut until Thursday because of your condition. Um, are you still going

home Thursday?" I'm like, "Yes, assuming I feel a hundred percent." I've already explained to Ryan that I promised my mom I'll be home the next two weekends. The reason for that is obviously because I'm leaving for Georgia right after the last final exam and I won't see her for five weeks or so. Robby's coming home with me this weekend, but he'll be tied up with planning for the summer landscaping crew with his dad. I'll spend as much time with mom and Tris as possible. Than the weekend after that Chubby's coming home with me and we're spending the weekend together.

So no haircut today. Instead we're sitting on the sofa with Ryan's arm across my shoulders and me snuggling against him as I'm running over in my mind

what Ryan said about my haircut on Thursday. Interesting he said my hair looks better with me combing it to the side in front, but I'm not sure he agreed to leave it that way when he gives me the haircut. It's probably a good move on my part to assume he's coming around to my way of thinking, so to reinforce that concept, I go, "I'm glad you're putting off my haircut and agreeing my hair looks better this way. It's always good to compromise" He kisses me on the lips, saying, "Yeah, of course your hair looks better a little longer, like it is now, although it's not the look you'll have this summer. You and me agreed that I'll give you the type of haircut I decide on, right?" He never gives in! Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I go, "Yeah, I know that, Ryan." He squeezes my shoulders, "Don't pout, we've agreed to this for your benefit, not mine." I nod my head respecting Ryan for sticking to his plan, although I think I'll be able to have my way in the end. I'm planning on using Ryan's old trick of brown-nosing him until he gives in. He's pretty special though and I'd be lying if I didn't admit his bossiness sometimes gives me a boner. I say 'sometimes' because he's almost apologetic about his bossiness. His plan is the haircut acts as a symbol that he's the boss and his bossiness we hope will satisfy my submissive fetish. That way I won't fall into the trap he fell into with guys like Marty. And anyway he's going to be my boss at work this summer so I might as well get used to it now. I'm skeptical about how it'll eventually work out though. That's anyone's guess.

And Ryan's not smug about his bossiness at all. Like I said, he's kind of apologetic about it, but he thinks it'll end up being beneficial for me to have someone who's willing to say 'no' to me once in awhile. I think he's right about that, but just last night Chubby put his foot down insisting I go to the hospital. He only does that though for important matters, life and death situations like the doctor said. For less important matters, like how I wear my hair, Chubby couldn't care less. He likes it when I'm happy and naturally I like that, but always getting my own way is not how life's is, in reality, so ya know, I'm trying this thing with Ryan. We're still on the sofa with neither of us talking. I'm staring at his profile wondering again what it is about him that arouses me sexually. I'm extremely fond of him in ways other than sex too, but what is it about him I find so sexually attractive, while others never have felt the way I do? It's fucking crazy how the two of us can go out of our minds in sexual heat for each other when it's never happened for Ryan before. Is it as simple as our pheromones causing sexual heat between us? I can understand Ryan's likability because he's a good guy. Everyone likes him, but seemingly only I am sexually turned-on by him. Robby's sexual interest in Ryan faded quickly when Ryan's sucking up to him got kind of old. Then Robby had some buddy sex with Ryan although he could take it or leave it, and it's been mostly leave it this past year. Yeah, but yet I'm still infatuated with Ryan to such a degree I'm spending the summer with him, and I'd like to know why the fuck that is! Life is a mystery.

I'll probably never understand it, never be able to articulate the reason or reasons I've got this 'thing' for him. It's just the way it is, so deal with it! Not that my infatuation with Ryan is a bad thing, it's the 'deal with it' part that's giving me a problem. It's a problem that I love him because I've been in love with Robby first and foremost for the better part of three years now. Hurting Robby is not an option. And then there's Ryan, who's in love with me and his understanding of my submissive bug makes him feel he'll be able to help me avoid the crap he's gone though in the past. My experience that first time with Marty, when Marty's dominance was working on me is what started this whole Georgia project. Until running into fuckwad I always thought I was immune to violently dominant types. As it turns out I'm never met one like fuckwad before and it seems I'm not immune to that kind of dominance. Okay, here's what I'm going to do about all this: First I am going to stop over-analyzing everything to death. Then I'm going to see how it goes in Georgia and if I don't care for it after giving it a fair chance I'll go home. In other words I'm going to do what I said I'd do taking it one day at a time and let things sort themselves out. And mostly I don't want to hurt anyone, including myself. So there's my plan. I feel like giving my boss of the moment a kiss so I lean over and kiss the side of Ryan's mouth and watch him smile and look at me. A little thing like that make him so happy, and what's wrong with that? Nothing, that's what.

Ryan's like, "I'm glad you're not mad at me, Dylan. I'm just trying my best to follow through on the plan you and I made together. You know how much I love you and want only good things for you." I nod my head with a little smile on my face, liking Ryan's sincerity. I say, "Yep, boss, I know." He goes, "You're not making fun of me are you?" I shake my head, "Not at all. I complicate my life by over thinking everything and I want to stop doing that. I'm going with you this summer and I'm going to miss everyone back home, but enjoy being with you, and that's it." He looks happy, saying, "And for my part I need to not make more out of it than it is. Naturally I'd like to think during this summer you'll come to your senses and realize it's me you love the most and you'll beg me to marry you." I laugh, "Oh fuck, you do

have an awesome imagination." He goes, "It's more like I've lived through fantasies for so long I can't stop fantasizing." I go, "Oh, that explains it," and we make-out for five minutes or so, until he says, "We better cool it because you're not supposed to exert yourself." I kiss him again, "Sex isn't exerting, Ryan," and he says, "Yes, it is." A little later we play a game on Xbox One until Ryan gets worried I'm either getting stressed or too excitable and insist we stop. We go back to snuggling on the sofa while watching a replay of a Pats game on the NFL network, and I fall asleep again. When Robby finishes baseball practice and he's showered, the three of us talk about dinner. Considering that neither he nor Ryan has a clue about cooking, and they won't let me exert myself by preparing dinner, we eat dinner at Bertucci's restaurant. It's eight-thirty by the time we're done. Robby drives on campus to drop Ryan off and after we've both kiss him goodnight, Robby says to Ryan, "Thanks for taking care of Dylan, today." Ryan mumbles, "I like taking care of him," and gets out of the pick up blowing me a kiss. Ryan and I do a little wave at each other as Robby drives us away with me thinking how lucky I am to have my two boyfriends and my brother taking such good care of me.

As we're parking at the apartment, Robby says, "I'm going to give you a bath tonight." Just like that, a definitive statement from Robby. I encourage his take-charge attitude by acting meek, saying, "Okay, Rob," trying not to

grin. In the apartment Robby runs a bath and undresses me and then helping me get into the tub of hot water. It'd be more fun for me if my fucking head wasn't aching like it is, and I didn't have this hideous black and purple eye. Not much to be done about the ugly black eye, but Robby gets some Tylenol for my headache. Tylenol is what paracetamol turns out to be, by the way. Then a nice slow sexy bath with me staring at my conscientious number one boyfriend's cute, handsome face. I rinse off under the shower and Robby dries me, then I hug him and we kiss a true lovers kiss. I put on boxer shorts and get in Robby's side of the bed so I can snuggle with him with the good side of my face on the pillow. After some more kisses, "Can you fuck me gently, Robby?" He says, "I'd love to, baby, but lets follow the doctors orders and wait forty-eight hours before doing anything exerting." What the fuck, I like being taken care so even though I want to, I don't argue with him, mumbling, "Okay, that'll be tomorrow night. "Truth is I'm feeling really tired again so it's gotta be the concussion acting up again because I've been getting a lot of sleep.

Next morning I wake up while Robby's getting dressed. He'll be leaving for that two hour final exam review. One huge advantage of having a mild concussion is the doctor's order to not attend school for at least forty-eight hours. In my case, don't attend college for forty-eight hours, and maybe longer. After Chubby and Robby leave for Merrimack, I have this warm feeling all over that I can just lay around all day doing nothing. I'm loving that I don't need to sit through a two hour review, but by two o'clock I'm so bored I could scream. Be careful what you wish for.

to be continued... Donny Mumford

thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com

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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are three books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. Three book about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

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