Page 56 of The Legend Next Door
“Yeah, why not? He’s a good-looking guy.” He is. I’ve seen him come and go on his way to Jeremiah’s. He’s very good-looking. Dark and brooding. Big. Up his own ass, but no one’s perfect, I guess.
“Well, actually, that’s a funny story. When we first met, we did go out once.”
My throat goes bone dry. “Did you fuck?”
“God, no! We kissed though.”
I hate this conversation. It was stupid of me to bring this up. It’s none of my business what Jeremiah has done with Marcus or anyone else.
“And it was awful.”
Scratch that. The conversation is fine. I don’t mind it at all.
“It wassobad. It wasn’t his fault or anything. He’s a perfectly fine kisser, and obviously”—he lowers his chin and looks up at me conspiratorially, placing his hand on his chest—“I’m an excellent kisser, but between the two of us, there was no chemistry. Like none. Zilch. Did you ever do that thing when you were a kid where you practiced kissing by kissing yourself in the mirror?”
“Huh?”
“No?” His brows shoot up, perfect twin arches that frame his face and make it look pretty. “Okay, just me then. Well, anyway, it was like that. Cold and lifeless. There was just…nothing. No spark whatsoever.”
“Damn, wasn’t that awkward?”
He grimaces and bobs his head. “It was at the time, but we got past it. We laugh about it now, and you know what? It’s a good thing it happened. I always say we’d never have been able to be such good friends if we hadn’t tried it and ruled it out early on.”
“Yeah, it’s good to try things like that and get them out of your system for good,” I say with a little more enthusiasm than the subject calls for.
31
Ben Stirling
Jeremiahislaughinguproariously.I am too, though I’m not entirely sure what we’re laughing at. The booze has hit me. It must have because I’m having trouble thinking clearly and the way Jeremiah looks is making me dizzy. He’s a riot of color tonight. Dark hair, pale skin. Pink lips, blue eyes.
“Hey, d’you know what’s funny?” he asks. I literally have no idea, so I shake my head dumbly. “If this was porn, you’d have asked me for a blowjob an hour ago.”
I blink to try to arrange his words into something cohesive. I wrestle with it hard, but I’m unsuccessful.
Beside me, Jeremiah goes bright pink and sits more upright. “I mean, not that you would. I’m just saying it’s a popular porn trope, that’s all. You know, straight single dad, hapless gay neighbor…w-who happens to be incredibly hot. It’s a thing. There’s a ton of porn like that. You can look it up. You’d get hundreds of links. Seriously. Maybe even thousands. In porn, there’s literally no other way for a scene like that to end. Except maybe with ana—” He cuts himself off. His breathing is labored, faster than normal, and he’s still pink. So pink, I think he might be tipping the scale to red. He’s talking fast too. “Not just in porn. It happens in real life too. If we were in a queer space right now, there’s almost no way one of us wouldn’t have propositioned the other. If we were both queer, obviously.Well…” He draws the word out and swallows hard. When he speaks again, his words run into one. “Actually, no, we wouldn’t both need to be queer. Straight guyslovegetting head. They love it. In fact, fun fact about me.” He clears his throat and his face goes redder. “My first time giving head was with a straight guy.”
“Really?How…did that happen, exactly. Did he like just ask…or, or what…um, what did he say?”
Chill. It’s an interesting topic, and Jeremiah is my friend. Of course I’m interested in his formative life experiences.
“It was at college. College 1.0, that is. I was eighteen, young, dumb, and full of…you know what, that doesn’t matter. He was this guy from one of my classes, and he came over ostensibly to get help with an assignment. And let me tell you, that was some false pretense bullshit right there. He wasn’t in my room more than five minutes before he asked if I wanted to blow him.”
“Hmph,” I say, dimly aware that I should say more but unable to think what would be appropriate. I land on: “And was that okay with you?”
“God, yes. I was in heaven. I said yes, and I loved it…and naturally, I wasverygood at it.” His laugh is soft and melodic. Woody like wind being blown through an instrument. The sound fades as he drifts off. It takes a moment for him to come back to me. “Of course real life is nothing like porn. In real life, those scenarios never end well. In real life, afterward, the straight dude zips up, gives a phlegmy cough, and says, ‘So, like, if you see me out with other people, don’t, like, come talk to me or anything.’”
He uses a deep Yo-Bro voice to deliver the last line and cackles as he says it. I don’t laugh. I don’t think it’s funny and not even the wine or the backward cap can convince me it is. It was his first time, and that asshole treated him like shit. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry that happ—”
“No, no,” he explains patiently. “It’s not horrible. It’s funny, see? We laugh at our trauma. That’s how we heal.”
“But, but, Jelly. I don’t want to laugh about someone treating you badly.” It’s a splash of seriousness that brings the conversation to an abrupt halt. The silence it leaves in its wake makes my ears ring.
Jeremiah brings his hands to his face and groans quietly.
Eventually, he says, “Sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry—major overshare. That was way too much. I heard myself, and I knew the direction I was headed was bad, and I tried to stop talking, I swear, but I panicked and talked more by mistake. It happens sometimes when I’m nervous. More talking instead of less. Just ignore everything I said from the first time I mentioned porn right up to now. Please. Just wipe it from your memory and pretend it never happened.”
He keeps his hands over his face for so long that I take him by the wrists and pull them down enough that I can see him. His eyes are watery and he’s biting his bottom lip so hard that part of it has gone white.
