Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 3

Part one got flagged for some reason, and I haven't figured out how to contest it. Let me know if I need to repost it or something. Ya'll, I really thought I was cooking back when I started this shit. Now I'm not so sure; maybe it's because I'm farther away from my own college experience than when I wrote the bulk of this epilogue. Whatever. Here's some more of it, and hopefully it resembles a story with plot and characters.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 2

"Are you going the foam party on Friday?" I ask casually in lab.

Dillon shakes his head, and then sighs. "Yeah, actually." I knew this, but it makes it way easier knowing that he doesn't want to go. We work in silence for a little bit, until he does what I want and asks, "You?"

"Naw, man," I say. "My friend Carter's pledging Sig Ep, and they're all having a Fortnite tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser."

Dillon seems to perk up at that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You wanna come?" I can feel him analyzing me, but my face is all up in the microscope. "Okay, I found the water flea."

Dillon passes me a dropper of alcohol and replies, "I could make it."


Dillon fits in easily with the guys, making fart jokes like everyone else. I wonder if it's habit or experience. You almost can't tell he's gay, but every so often he'll look at some guy with this kind of like, heavy-lidded sleepy gaze, up and down real quick, and it's totally obvious that he's imagining that guy naked. He only does it when they're not looking, so I can't tell if he does it to me. He does smile at me different than everyone else, and I wonder if that's because he knows I have a dumb secret; like, even Carter doesn't have that kind of shit on me.

What Carter does have is even less of a filter than me. “Hey, are you biracial?” he asks Dillon just out of nowhere.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I was wondering.”

“Why?” Dillon asks.

“I figured you were too dark to be Middle Eastern or something. And blue eyes, brown skin.” Carter points at his own face to contrast.

I punch him in the side. “That’s fucking rude, bro. Stop microagressing.”

“I wasn’t!” Carter looks at Dillon, rubbing where I hit him. “Was I?”

Dillon makes a funny face, like yeah duh, and just walks back into the main room.

“Who are you trying to impress?” I hiss at Carter.

My friend shrugs. “What? I was just making conversation; I only know that he played All State and is gay.”

“Then talk about football. Or that we’re in Human Biology together.”

“Jesus. Sorry, mom.”

“LeAndre would—”

Carter scoffs. “You always bring him up like he and Aaron were Jesus and John the fucking Baptist. We’re all just people, bruh. Chill out for half a second, kay?”

I let him walk back into the den alone. Am I really being that much of a tightass? Kayleigh is big into social issues, though, and if Dillon tells her that I called out a friend, then that could earn me a lot of brownie points.


“—with fruit,” Dillon is saying as I walk into the room.

"You're kidding," Carter scoffs as I flop down on the couch.

Dillon's eyes slide to me and back again, and shakes his head. "Said it was better than pussy 'cause he didn't have to work for it." He grins a little, getting into the story. "Bananas were his favorite. He'd drape the peel over his dick," he shifted to mimic the act, "and wrap his hand around it to jack off."

Carter and the guys guffaw. "That's sick, man," someone says, and I say it's better than spreading peanut butter on your balls for a dog to lick off, because I always have another story.

"That's fucked up," Carter declares. “Dude, can you imagine Porkchop—”

I wave my hands quickly. “Don't drag my family pets into this, pervert.”

"That's like the guy in Washington who died from getting fucked by a horse," Dillon adds, and all eyes are back on him. It's a true story, there's a documentary, and now bestiality of any sort is outlawed in the state. Carter looks it up.

"How do you know this shit?" Carter asks, and then he gets that look when he's about to say something mean that he thinks is funny. "You got a Google alert for 'fucked up the ass?’ Get around the porn blockers?"

I go stiff. You're not supposed to do that, are you? Like, you don't out somebody in front of a bunch of strangers. Everybody's quiet, but Dillon acts like he hasn't noticed.

"Naw, it's 'cause I learned how to read in school," he says in that same tone. "Newspaper, motherfucker."

"Who the fuck reads a newspaper anymore?" asks another pledge. It's turned from guys shooting shit to some weird bear-baiting, and I don't know how to fix it.

Dillon shrugs. "People who don't spread peanut butter on their balls for the family Labrador, probably."

I kick Carter in the shins. "Where's the fuckin' pizza, asshole?"

It's clearly an attempt to change the subject, but it helps that Carter forgot to order it on his way over.


Dillon and I end up walking home at the same time because Carter's passed the fuck out and Dillon has even farther to go. I don't know what to say to him. Like, I invited him along, but just because I was trying to prove I'm not a complete asshole.

"Sorry about Carter," I say awkwardly.

Dillon gives me this look I can't read, and says, "Jay. I can take care of myself."

"Dude, I'm not saying you can't, I'm just sorry you had to, or whatever." I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

"It's fine, bro, I know you're doing this because of Kayleigh." He shakes his head at my protest. "Seriously, it's fine. I had fun. Carter's mean, but he's just insecure."

I shuffle. "Yeah. Well…"

"I'll tell Kayleigh you were friendly and all, but she's gonna date who she wants. I can't really control that." Dillon's gaze slides to the side a little when he adds, "and to be honest, dude, you're not really her type. She likes tall brainy guys."

"I'm tall."

He laughs, "You’re five-ten at most, just like me. Probably five-nine."

"And I'm not a fucking idiot."

Dillon sighs. "You know what I mean. Kayleigh dated valedictorians in high school."

Most of me wants to get mad, but there’s no better way to kill my chances with Kayleigh than to let my anger show now. For all I know, Dillon has been updating her the whole time on Snap or something. So I choose to pretend.

“All good, man. Just want to make sure you didn’t feel too weird,” I say with a shrug. “If I didn’t know Carter I wouldn’t have gone, so. You know.”

Dillon chuckles like he can see right through me. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in lab, I guess.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

We part ways, and I’m suddenly in a better mood not having to babysit him anymore.

If I could have it my way, that would have been our last real conversation. Dillon clearly doesn’t like me, and I have enough friends already. The thing is, we're still lab partners, and so every Tuesday and Thursday we have to get along enough to complete assignments. It’s not like we have to meet outside lab, so it’s fine. I just have to be nice enough that I don’t get a reputation as a homophobe, just in case Kayleigh’s getting reports.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

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Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Will.5

I'm in the part of this story where I don't really know what a satisfying ending would be. Will's perspective, which in my head cannon is after the events of Declan's story, is already published in "Olive Juice," so we know where they end up. I'm open to suggestions.

If you haven't read the previous parts…that's what the tags are for, baby.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

My parents were both about to scold me for being snarky when Cassie walked in, probably from show choir or something. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Mom, Dad, and I almost spoke simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cassie gave us a funny look, and then got a super annoying smirk. “Is this about Declan’s crush on Will?”

Ha ha! With that I escaped upstairs so that my sister could get the It’s-Unkind-And-Unsafe-To-Out-Someone speech. They even made her come tell me sorry, which was amazing. Cassie was so frickin mad.

One good thing about prom coming up was that no one was looking at me or Will. Surviving the week and prom was the only conversation we had. I tried to invite Will to lunch off-campus, but a group of our friends caught up to us on the way.