Page 12 of Romance Languages

“I’m not used to working with regular condoms. I only use magnums.” He dusted imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “There you go.” He pointed to his creation, a perfectly sheathed dick. “We are ready to smash.”

The class gave him a smattering of applause as he took his seat. I stared at the demo dick, and from this angle, it looked like a sheathed middle finger.

5

JULIAN

It took no time for word to spread that Mr. Bradford didn’t know how to put on a condom. As I walked through the halls, I got thumbs-up and laughs and “Better luck next time” from students. I was back in high school—the worst parts of high school.

Rather than eating my lunch in the teachers lounge and facing their comments, I escaped to the roof. There was a section with old benches. Decades ago, it had been a smokers lounge for students and teachers. I pictured teachers bumming cigarettes off students, and students providing lighters to teachers. The ‘60s were wild.

It was the first days of March and the last weeks of winter. Spring was around the corner and would make an appearance every so often like it did today. A balmy breeze swept across the roof. The mountains stretched in the distance, framing the Hudson River and the downtown cluster of businesses. I’d grown up not too far from here and always loved coming to Sourwood. It had more going on than the average suburb. It had preserved that quaint small-town feeling.

“Found him!” I heard behind me.

Amos stood at the heavy door, yelling into the stairwell. Everett and Chase soon followed. As much as I wanted some solitude, I’d never turn down hanging out with my friends. We forged a bond thicker than the layers of cigarette smoke that had once clogged this roof.

“I hope you don’t mind some company for your brooding,” Everett said. As South Rock’s drama teacher, his personality was as fiery as his red hair. He was a fan of barbs and wasn’t afraid to use them. I admired how direct he could be.

“What are you guys doing here? Don’t you have class?” I asked, making room for Amos and Everett on the bench. Chase had hidden a bleacher cushion up here and sat on the ground.

“We wanted to check on you. We heard about your first health class,” Amos said, biting his lip. “Apparently, it didn’t go so smoothly.”

“Perhaps using some lubricant next time would help that,” Chase said, pushing his thick black glasses up his nose.

I buried my face in my hands. “It was a disaster.”

“If it makes you feel better, I suck at putting on condoms, too.” Amos rubbed my back.

“Not to brag, but I’m quite good. I can put them on guys with my mouth,” Everett said, sitting up a little taller. “Well, not anymore. That’s one of the benefits of having a serious boyfriend. No more contraceptives.”

Recently, Everett and Amos had both begun dating fellow South Rock gym teachers. In a perfect, not-at-all realistic world, I could one day join them with Seamus. I shook that fantasy out of my head because it would make today feel even worse.

“Thanks for rubbing it in,” I said with a wry smile. While I wanted what they had, I was happy for them, not jealous. I loved seeing my friends having it all.

Amos put a hand on my knee. “How are you feeling?”

“Is everyone in school talking about it?”

“Pretty much,” Everett said. “I even heard some freshmen laughing about it.”

I looked around the roof and wondered if I could live here permanently.

“I can’t believe that happened.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes. That class was going to be one of those moments that I thought about randomly at three a.m. twenty years from now.

“You taught those students a valuable lesson: sex is an inherently awkward experience,” Amos said. “Like, I seriously don’t know how our species survived this long knowing how awkward sex can be.”

“I blame straight men. They have no shame.” Everett shrugged.

“We’ve all had awkward sexual experiences. Hell, I climbed a tree, almost fell to my death, and tried to justify using expired condoms to have sex with Hutch,” Amos said.

“And I once squeezed a bottle of lube too hard and hit Raleigh in the eye,” Everett added. “We almost had to go to the emergency room.”

“I also have an embarrassing story that takes place during sexual activity.” Chase raised his hand.

“Yes, Chase?” Everett called on him. Force of habit.

“When I was in college, a guy was doing a terrible job at oral sex in my dorm room. On my wall was a poster of the periodic table. I shut my eyes and tried to list off all the elements by memory to distract myself. When I got stuck on tungsten, I came, and he started choking because I didn’t give warning. Ironically, that night was anything but a W.” Chase fixed his glasses and chuckled to himself. “Get it? Because W is the symbol for tungsten.” He laughed harder, fully embracing that he’d cracked himself up with a chemistry joke.

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