Page 12 of Puck My Stepbrother
He was Levi Dunn.
“I found it.” He took a copy ofItby Stephen King off the shelf. “I saw the two movies they made from it. Fucking awesome, bro, fucking awesome. Now I can read the book. You talked so much about books and writing that I couldn’t help being sort of curious.”
“Oh?”
“That’s right. I told you I don’t read books outside of school, but every now and then I’ve wanted to, though. That conversation we had at breakfast got me thinking. I wanted to read something. And look at this: a reallybigbook.”
“Why not try the Crane Branch Library on Elmwood?”
He laughed and clapped my shoulder, his go-to response any time I had him dead to rights.
“Why go all the way to the public library when you’ve got a complete collection under your own roof?” he asked.
Because that collection lives in my bedroom, you knuckle-dragging asshole, I wanted to say. And I could’ve told him he’d done it only because my bedroom was off-limits. Even better, I could’ve told him that my privacy needed to countfor something. And really, anyone with an ounce of decency would’ve observed at least the most common-sense boundaries. Or, to say it plainly, they’d stay the fuck out.
But again, this was Levi Dunn.
He was the drop-dead gorgeous hockey stud for whom no rules applied. He’d carried that distinction into adulthood, as I’d already seen. I could’ve protested until I was blue in the face, but that wouldn’t have?—
Nowhe brushed up against me. Oh my God. My heartbeat quickened and every muscle in my body tensed. I drew a deep breath. That was the one thing I found uncharacteristic of the old Levi—he’d never brushed up against me or invaded my personal space like this.
Something had changed.
It hadn’t been an accident,couldn’thave been. Okay, I’ll say it plainly: his brushing against me was the most obvious thing on the planet.
I felt his rock-solid muscle. I wish I felt the bulge I’d seen straining against his towel, but that was asking too much, I guess. But I swore I felt his warm breath on my neck. That forced me to draw another deep breath just to cope. A hard-on stiffened in my pants, and I couldn’t stop it.
I had to fight this.
“The Stephen King books were cool,” he said, “but I was curious about a couple titles I saw.”
“Which ones?”
“The ones that were written by Christopher Rice:A Density of SoulsandThe Snow Garden.”
“What about them?”
“When I looked at the back covers, they seemed like they were written by…”
“A gay guy?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s because theywerewritten by a gay guy. Before you ask, the answer is yes, he writes about gay characters and themes, too.”
He lifted an eyebrow only slightly. Not enough to convey any kind of shock or dismay.
Levi paused, like he had another question, but even someone as direct as him couldn’t ask plainly.
“So…?” he asked.
“I read them because I’m gay.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have had such a hard time saying it. I was out to everyone, so it was no secret. But something about saying it to someone who’d bullied me so badly felt different. You know, like he could tear down everything positive I’d built up whenever he wanted.
“That’s cool.”
He said it like he really had no problem with it at all. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn he really did find it cool.
