"I don't know, Angie, it's like the more I talk, the less I can explain it. I just needed you to know,  and if you can't handle it, I get it, I mean, we haven't been back together that long and if it seems to you like I'm being whatever or like I don't love you or I'm cheating on you or if it makes you think I'm secretly…I mean, I guess I don't have to have him in—"

She squeezed her eyes shut, let out a frustrated chuckle, and groaned, "Andy, would you just chill out, take a breath, and shut up already."

I knew I'd been talking fifty miles an hour and stumbling all over my sentences, but I was nervous, and I wasn't sure what I was feeling, and I wasn't entirely sure how she'd respond. So I was off to the races.

Draining the last of her glass of wine, she set it down on the grass beside her and looked out over the park where we'd come to have this picnic dinner. She looked into my eyes, smiled a weary smile, and then leaned in and kissed me.

She pulled her face back from mine just enough to make sure our eyes met again. "What have I ever done or said…what have I ever done or said either back in high school or now…to make you think I don't know exactly what the score is?"

"I don't know," I said. "It's all so weird, I'm not sure I understand it myself. It's not something most girls would be all that thrilled about. I just…"

"I'm not most girls," she said, interrupting. "You heard what I told you at Christmas. And was your head not in the room this spring when I practically forced you to call him? Haven't I always been your biggest supporter about…well, about you and Matt? Did I ever give you the impression that I thought it meant you didn't love me?"

"But it's not just 'buddies.' I'm tryin' to tell you I'm…"

"You don't think I know this? Andy, why are you beating this to death? Why are you determined to make this a deal-breaker for us? Why are you so damn set to make me someone who can't handle this?"

I just stared at her. I didn't know what to say.

She did, though. "Okay, I'll tell you why. God knows where, because it sure didn't come from your parents, and it sure didn't come from Matt...but somewhere deep inside, you got convinced that loving him…maybe loving any guy...is wrong."

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe, but…but if you and I are…if it's good and it looks like we may be in it for the long haul, isn't…I mean, doesn't that mean he and I should just…Well, I should try to just…”

"No. You shouldn't," she exclaimed. "You're not like everybody else, any more than I am, and you never were, and there's no point in trying to be who you're not. When are you gonna get that I love all of you? And this is part of you. I didn't choose someone else. I chose you. And I know you need to love Matt, and I know how you need to love him, too."

She took one of my hands and clasped it in one of hers. "Okay, you've told me about the beach trip now. I appreciate the honesty, although I gotta say I've always trusted you; you've never lied to me about anything."

I looked down at my lap and shook my head. "That doesn't mean it's okay for me to…"

"Listen to me, knucklehead," she broke in. "You should be happy, not upset. I'm happy for you…to the point of being relieved. So get over it! What the two of you do together with your body parts doesn't matter to me. If I were gonna get all upset, it would be over what the two of you do with your hearts. But I'm not."

"Why not?"

She paused, exasperated.

"Dammit, Andy. You're making it so hard, when it's not hard. You're so damn smart.  Smart people know they have to think outside the box sometimes. The answers to people like you almost always lie outside the box."

I wanted to interrupt, but she was on a roll, so I kept my mouth shut...

"The reason I'm not upset," she said, "is that I know you need this. Need him, I guess. I know it's who you are. And if you think it's gonna make me run away screaming, then you've misunderstood who I am for years. Do you really misunderstand who I am, Andy? Or are you just letting a bunch of internal blackness throw you around?"

I sighed. And believed her.

And relaxed.

I felt a smile in the back of my throat, so I decided to open my mouth and let it out.

"I'm just letting a bunch of internal blackness throw me around," I said, grinning as I felt my face flush.

"Love him, Andy," she said. "Make love to him. With your body, with your heart, I'm fine with all of it…because I know you love me. I know you're choosing a life with me. Look, babe, I know that what you feel for him doesn't subtract from what you feel for me…and if you try to push him away, that's gonna come back and hurt us. You can only be who you are."

She stood up and took my hand. I pulled her into me, and we hugged quietly for a while.

"Thanks," I said.

She laughed. "Thanks? For loving you just the way you are? Love isn't something you thank people for. Love is just what it is."

"I know," I said, "but…"

"I don't work at loving you. It's not an effort, and this thing with you and Matt isn't something I 'manage to overlook,' like I'm doing you some big favor. I love you…all of you. And you love Matt. So that means I love that you love Matt. And, truth be known, it also means I love Matt just a little bit too. How can I not love what you love?"

The sun had gone down; the park was deserted. I looked around, lowered her to the quilt we'd spread out, and, kissing her, slipped my hands under her shirt. Before too long, our clothes were on the ground beside us, and we were proving with our bodies what she'd told me with her words.

********

Summer came back into my life that summer. A quiet, ordinary ecstasy began to wrap itself around me as Matt and I eased back into what we'd lost two and a half years before.

It took awhile. It was a good while, though. A happy while. A peaceful while. A while of comfortable silences and relaxed words and letting things find their own paces and places.

We spent the summer reconnecting. Rediscovering each other's rhythms and ways, falling back into concert, re-finding matching puzzle-piece edges and bringing them together.

My friend. The missing part of me. The bodily-separated rest of me that I'd lost, finally returned to me. Like an amputated arm regenerated. Or, more accurately, like an amputated heart--a good half of it, anyway--restored.

My friend. Yes.

But now it was more. More than ever before.

He was my man.

Our schedules that summer settled us into a routine; the regularity of it--the comfort of it--brought us back into each other's hearts. When I didn't have an evening shift, I'd wait for him to get off work. We'd play a little basketball, have dinner with my family or his mom, and grab some time in the hot tub. Dusk would usually find us sitting side by side in my back yard, at the edge of the pool, our feet dangling in the water. Music--usually The Dandy Warhols' Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia, because we both really liked it that summer--playing softly in the background.

Talking and talking.

Debriefing on all the bad things. Celebrating all the good things.

Mostly celebrating us.

For the first week or so, that's all it was. Spending time with each other, sitting next to him at the water's edge.

Talking.

Holding his hand. Occasionally putting an arm over his shoulders or feeling his arm over mine. Going slow.

And then we'd each be on our way, and I'd pick up Angie and spend the rest of the evening with her.

On one of those evenings, Matt was talking about his fear. We were talking at a depth and level of honesty we'd never reached before; never needed before.

"I felt things getting better," he was saying. "It felt like you were ready, maybe…but I was scared."

"Why, Matt?"

"I was afraid it would all cycle around again. That you might freak and push me away again."

"I understand why you didn't trust me," I said, hanging my head. "I don't know what to say…I never meant to…"

"Shhh. Don't talk," he whispered. He leaned toward me, put a hand on the back of my head, and pulled me into him.

As our lips met, a dizzying sense of fantasy descended on me. It was the first time we'd kissed since the beach, and he was escalating things rapidly, pushing his tongue into my mouth, leaning me back until he was on top of me, and sliding us both into the pool.

Before I had a chance to get my head clear, we were making out in the pool. He pushed my shorts down, and when they were down around my calves, he used his foot to push them to the floor of the pool. I stepped out of them, but the idea of having sex with Matt in my parents' pool unnerved me a little.

I looked around. "My parents…"

"I don't care," he said. "They know. You know they do."

“Easy for you to be all calm. But I’m naked. And hard. You’re not.”

“I’m not naked,” he said. “But I can fix that. As for that other thing...”

He shucked his board shorts and threw them out of the pool. I couldn’t help myself; I reached over and felt for his dick. It was steel-hard.

He laughed. “Don’t the risk excite you?”

I felt my dick throb. “Asshole,” I muttered.

I pulled him into me. There in the shoulder-deep water, our cocks ground against each other, our chests were joined, my arms were around him and my hands cupped the cheeks of his tight, beautiful butt…and he was kissing me. With his lips…with his tongue.

On my mouth. My cheeks. My neck. My ears.

This isn't happening, a part of me said to me. I've never done anything sufficiently good to deserve anything like this.

"Matt," I said, pulling away from his lips and looking him in the eye.

"What?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mirth. With love.

I closed my eyes and kissed his cheek, took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him, and laid my head on his shoulder.

"I'm dreaming this, right?" I half-whispered. "I'm gonna wake up and discover that everything still sucks between us, right? Don't make me wake up. I just wanna sleep, okay? I just want to sleep forever with you loving me like this. Forget all the bad stuff we ever went through. I could just go on dreaming this."

Just then, a plaintive, hypnotic guitar lick began floating through the air from the stereo. Pretty soon Courtney Taylor-Taylor's voice began to intone,

Well, I could sleep forever,
But it's of her I dream…
If I could sleep forever,
I could forget about everything…

We looked at each other, wide-eyed, startled at the synchronicity.

He chuckled. "No dream," he said, smiling at me. Then he pulled me back into to him and began kissing me again.

The intensity spiraled out of control. I couldn't get enough of him in that position, in that pool. My breathing got heavy; I was drunk with desire for him, and he liked it. As our tongues danced together, he took my cock in his hand and began stroking me. Slowly, lovingly, he caressed my hard rod, running a gentle finger over the sensitive spot just below the head.

I moaned into his mouth. "Stop," I urged in a half-whisper.

He pulled back to leer at me. "Why?"

"I'll shoot off in the pool, dammit."

"That would be pretty fuckin' cool," he laughed, still stroking me. "I'd like to see that."

"No…Jesus, Matt, I don't wanna leave that in the p…in the pool…let's go to my r…to my room," I stuttered.

"Now you're talking," he said. We wrapped our towels around our waists, grabbed our shorts, and quietly made our way upstairs. I could hear Mom and Dad watching TV in the living room; Danny and Beth weren't at home.

He shut the door behind us and ripped the towel off me. Dropping to his knees, he took my dick in his mouth and got after it. My mind was reeling from the sensations; for a guy who'd never done this with anyone else, he was amazing.

After a few minutes, I had to tell him to stop. Any more and I'd be shooting in his mouth. He pulled off of me but not away from me and began licking my balls. Moving farther and farther under, his tongue made its way across my taint, and as he got to my ass he scooted under me, spread my cheeks with his hand, and began licking my asshole.

"Fuck," I gasped. "I can't believe you're doing that."

I heard him say, "You like that nasty stuff, though, don't you?"

"Hell yeah," I said, "but you're a straight boy."

"Shut up," he said sharply. "Always with the categories. Forget the damn categories. I wanna make you feel good. I don't give a shit about anything else."

I let him eat my ass for a while, but before long I was getting too sensitive there.

"You gotta ease up, babe…"

I flinched when I heard myself say it.

He knew right away what was up. "It's fine," he said, laughing. "You can call me that. I like it. I'm not afraid of havin' you love me like this."

"Whatever," I said, embarrassed. "Either way, you gotta stop or I'm gonna shoot."

"Wouldn't want that," he said. "Because I want you to fuck me."

My dick lurched, right along with my stomach.

My face must have lurched too, because he said, "I mean it, Drew…just like years ago. I liked it then. I want it again. I want you again. I wanna feel you loving me. I wanna feel you inside me, making love to me with that thing."

I looked into his eyes. Wonder and lust and love flashed back and forth as we stared at each other.

I nodded, and he lay back on my bed.

I went over to my nightstand and pulled out a condom.

I started to tear open the wrapper, but he frowned. "No."

"What?"

"No damn condom."

"But…"

"You been safe with everyone else?"

"Yeah," I said. "Well…not with Angie."

"You both been tested?"

"Yeah."

"Both negative?"

"Yeah," I said. "But, Matt…"

"You screwin' anyone else?"

"No," I said.

"Is she?"

I glared at him. "Of course not. What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"I been safe every damn time I've screwed, since I lost my virginity," he said. "I get tested once a year as it is. Last time was in March. And I'm not screwing anyone else right now either."

"Yeah, but I don't…"

"Andy," he said, "this is a closed circle, buddy. I don't know how it could get safer than this. I don't want to feel you stick a damn latex sock up my ass. I wanna feel your heat push into me. You spent two damn years holding me at arm's length. I want all the skin of yours I can get. Especially there."

I shook my head. "I don't know, Matt."

He bent his knees, spread his legs, and, grabbing his asscheeks, began to separate them, exposing his hole. "C'mon, Andy," he whispered. "Take me. Don't you want this?"

He wet two fingers in his mouth, brought them to his hole, and pushed in, closing his eyes and breathing rapidly.

"Oh, fuck," I whispered, as I watched him fuck himself with his fingers.

I couldn't hold out any more. I opened my nightstand drawer, grabbed the bottle of lube, and squirted some onto my fingers. Lubing up my cock, I leaned my body over his, grabbed his wrist, and pulled his fingers out of his hole. I took the bottle, squeezed out another dollop of lube, and got his hole nice and slick. Then I took my own dick in my hand, brought it to his pucker, and pushed gently.

He gasped, and I watched him struggle to stay relaxed. Once I'd made it past the entrance, the taut softness of his insides gripped me, stroked me, invited me. I kept pushing until I was all the way in, and when I'd sunk my cock into him all the way to the hilt, he put his arms around my back, pulled me into him, and kissed me violently.

As our tongues met and played with each other, the soft friction of his guts caressing me sent me into overdrive. I made love to him with an urgency that startled me; fucking him felt so good--and beyond that, so right--that I wanted to cry.

He was into it with every thrust, talking dirty to me, urging me on, slapping my ass on occasion, probing my hole with his fingers, running his hands up and down my back. "Never leave me again," he said between kisses. "Never stop loving me."

"Never again, Matt," I said. "I never stopped. I just lost my way."

That was all the talk we had energy for; our bodies robbed us of the rest. It was almost animalistic in its intensity, but there was no mistaking or denying the love. Eventually, with a growl, I tensed up, plunged my dick as deep into him as I could get, and fired off into his guts. As I was cumming, he covered my neck and face with kisses. "I love you so much, Drew," he said. "I'll be with you like this any time you want. You and me, okay? Always."

"Oh, God, Matt," I said. "All my life I've wanted this, seems like."

"You have it, buddy. Forever. My body is yours any time you want it. I mean it."

I collapsed on top of him for a few minutes. He stroked down my back, his fingers drifting further south until he was caressing my glutes. I moaned and kissed him, and as we kissed I felt his breath become more forceful and his cock push up and grind against mine.

I scooted down, put his dick in my mouth, and sucked him until he shot. I swallowed it all, moved back up and kissed his lips, and turned him onto his side. Lying on my side against him, I pulled his back into my chest, his ass into my cock.

We fell asleep like that.

When I woke up the next morning, I found him asleep with his head on my chest, using it as a pillow.

Halfway between sleep and wakefulness, the thoughts and feelings came in one-word fragments:

this

him

us

Feeling him sleep naked with me, his head on my chest, vulnerable and transparent in his love for me…it was so unutterably beautiful, I couldn't keep my eyes dry. I lay there as the sun began to peek through the window, stroking his hair with my hands while he slept, and crying silently for pure joy.

********

We made love three or four times a week that summer, re-experiencing all that we'd had together over the years, and now discovering each other's bodies in new, soaring ways. We came to know each other again and for the first time. In the process, we came to know ourselves again and for the first time.

As the weeks went by, we explored the contours of our desire for each other: The peculiar and particular equations of pleasure that constituted us individually and together. The similarities and differences in our physical responses. During those days the intimate, previously-forbidden details of his body and his desires came to mean everything to me: The smell of his skin up close. The feel of my tongue on his nipple. The taste and texture of his semen, and the expression on his face when it would jet out of his body. The moans and sighs, the ragged urgency of his breaths as my body brought his to the edge. The way he'd look at me when he was deep inside me; when I was deep inside him. The secret knowledge of where to touch him, and how. The special caresses he liked me to use.

Even with our summer jobs, and even with the time and emotion and devotion I gave to Angie...

...even with all that, Matt and I had a Summer of Love, as we took the time--and availed ourselves of the freedom Angie had given us by her consent--to savor everything that came down between us; in those long days, in those warm nights, our souls and our bodies began to imprint on each other, and our love deepened and bound us together more tightly than ever before.
 
That summer Matt became mine and I became his in ways we had never experienced before, even for all our previous closeness. And this man--this boy I had known so well over the years--began to work in me a strange and incredible transformation:

More than ever before, the sight of him began to make me lightheaded and hungry for him. Just laying eyes on him laid a claim on me, a claim more intense and demanding than it had ever been.

He'd always been important in my life; now he began to be my life; the other, away part of me that called to me, wanting--and achieving--union and reunion.  

********

"Oh, come on…you're so damn weak," I taunted, waving Angie's bikini top over my head like a flag. "You gotta catch me if you want it back. Can't you do any better than that?"

She splashed me in the eyes in response; while I was wiping what felt like an ocean out of them with my hands, she leaped up out of the water, grabbed my shoulders, and pushed my head down into the lake, grabbing her top.

We were at her parents' lake house on Lake Dallas. It was a Saturday afternoon just before sunset in late June, and we'd come the night before. I'd made love to her all night long; we'd fallen asleep around dawn and had slept until noon.

"Pervert," she said.

"Hey, what's perverted about wanting to see…"

"Shut up," she scolded. "You were just wanting the neighbors to see! You were getting off on the thought of 'em spying your girlfriend's tits, you perve! You're an exhibitionist-by-proxy! Why don't you flash your own junk at the neighbors?"

"My junk ain't near as pretty as your breasts," I said. "And anyway, what neighbors?" I smirked at her. "You see any neighbors?"

I grabbed her, pulled her into me, kissed her, and then picked her up like a baby and carried her out of the chest-deep water. She thrashed around the whole time but I held on tight, and, setting her down gently on her beach towel, I sat down next to her, stole one final kiss, and said, "Let's eat. I'm starving. All that swimming got my appetite up."

"Your appetite's always up…in more ways than one," she said, rolling her eyes. She opened the cooler we'd hauled with us and pulled out two iced-down beers. Handing me one, she went to the picnic basket, pulled out the spread, unfolded it, and laid it out on the sand. Then she grabbed the bucket of fried chicken from the basket and set it out, along with the slaw and the fruit salad.

We ate quietly; the weekend had been perfect. Angie and I floated along together these days perfectly in sync, in love and intimately familiar with each other's moods and moments.

I watched her as she ate. She saw me looking, stuck her tongue out at me, and threw a grape at me. But I could see in her face, in her eyes, the same thing that I knew was in mine:

Perfect contentment. Complete and utter freedom from trouble or pain.

As the weeks went by, I fell more and more in love with her, and found that she made me more and more whole, more and more healed.

********

Angie and Matt.

My lovers. My life.

I was almost beside myself with joy that summer; in danger of losing myself in this glut of love and fulfillment. I didn't know what the future held for me and Matt, but I didn't need to. And as for Angie, it looked more and more like I'd found—or returned to--The One.

I had never known anything like this, never experienced a state of being like this. I'd always been low-grade dysthymic and looked at the world as a hard place that required brute force and steel will to navigate it. I went around masking my deep cynicism about the world with my ain't-it-all-the-shit extroversion.  

I didn't know the clinical diagnosis for how I'd responded to the fear I'd taken into my life when I was eight years old…but that summer I began to feel my interior rewriting its script.

For the first time ever, I found a place to go where I could set aside my battle armor and lie naked and defenseless in the arms of someone—two someones—who made me feel totally safe, totally loved, totally free to take time off from constant sentry duty.

That wasn't all I found: That summer I found frequently that I was just about fucked out, because on days I wasn't having sex with Matt, I was having sex with Angie, and sometimes I was having sex with both of them on the same day.  

"Having sex," though, doesn't begin to get it told. What I did with Matt and Angie that summer was like no meaningless fuck I'd ever had, and I'd had a hell of a lot of those.

It was lovemaking. It grabbed me totally--all of me—and unlike the serial fucking I'd done for years, it never grew old. It drained me and recharged me at the same time. It made the world's colors look more intense. It made music reach into deeper places in me; it made random conversations with random people seem more worth having.

Sexually, I was often used up and wrung out. But emotionally, I was alive like I'd never been before.

********

I kept a close, quiet, watching eye on Matt's love for me that summer. Not an untrusting eye; a learning one.

I wanted to know what it was like for Matt. The current and configuration of his sexuality wasn't exactly like mine. The current and configuration of his personality wasn't like mine, either.

I wondered how it was for him.

Our Significant-Other status was different too. While Angie and I were reclaiming each other more and more deeply that summer, Matt was dating around and sexing around a little.

And all of it seemed to revolve around Julie.

Matt had been with a steady girlfriend--Caitlyn--at school up north, but he broke it all off when he decided not to go back there. I'd gotten the impression that she'd been a pretty serious girlfriend, but the relationship was at odds with his decision to move back south; she wasn't going to follow him.

As a result, Matt had lost his equilibrium. I knew he missed Caitlyn, but he was determined to move on. That problem was that he'd always fallen in love with everyone he fucked; he didn't have that cold use-'em-then-lose-'em attitude that I did. That's not to say he fucked around less than I had. But he didn't treat women as objects they way I had sometimes. All of which meant he was a little more cautious with dating than I was, and he seemed awfully tentative that summer with the women.  When Matt gave away his heart, he gave it away hard.

Julie had been part of our "crew" back in high school. She was a cheerleader with Angie. She also played girl's soccer and was good at it. I'd been out with Julie in high school, and so had Matt, but nothing significant ever developed from it for either of us. That summer, though, she seemed to have gotten into Matt's head.

He took her out regularly. They'd go out for three or four dates, then he'd back off and ask out somebody else. Several somebodies-else, in fact. Then he'd end up asking Julie out again. And then the cycle would repeat itself.

I watched him feel the pull with Julie, and I watched him resist it by backing off and dating other people. I found myself wishing he'd give his anxieties a rest and give Julie a chance to be more than just "someone he dated." But he wasn't going to go there thoughtlessly.

The net effect was that his relationship with me--emotional and sexual--was much more stable, regular, and settled for him than his involvement with women that summer. I took note of the fact that with him bedding a few women that summer, we didn't have quite the "closed circle" he talked about when he was first trying to get me to bareback him. He was using condoms when he wasn't with me, though, and making love to him bareback was so intimate, so much a part of what I'd begun to need from him that summer, I decided I'd take the risk…as deadly serious as it was. I talked to Angie about it; she wasn't concerned. She did suggest that I might want to keep getting tested periodically, though, just to be on the safe side.

I took note of the fact that I was Matt's "most significant other" with wonder. I was still wary of labels, but whatever I was sexually, Matt was much straighter than I was. He had never been with another guy besides me, and guys didn't catch his eye the way they caught mine. He didn't look at guys "that way." And yet I was his main "love interest" that summer.

It made me worry just a little.

One lazy, daring night I'd made love to him on the lawn by our pool. Afterward, we lay side by side naked, talking. Kissing occasionally. Deep contentment swirled through us and around us; we could almost feel it in the air. What we were and what we were doing felt completely right, completely natural, and while it was late enough not to have to worry much about it, I didn't particularly care if my parents or siblings caught us there naked.

Nevertheless, my one small insecurity was buzzing around, wasp-like, in my head. I swatted it back for a while, then finally blurted out, "I like guys, Matt."

He blinked and stared at me, uncomprehending. Silent.

Finally he said, "And?"

I didn't know what else to say. What I wanted to express wasn't clear to me.

After a moment or two he said, quietly, "I know this, Drew. You know I always have."

The contours of my worry started to clarify. "But you don't like guys like that."

"Well…no. I don't."

"Okay, so I know you love me and I know you're glad things are good for us now..."

"Andy, I like doing sex things with you," he said, interrupting me. "Because it's you. Because I love you. Making love to you is one of the best things ever."

I winced. "You're not just…"

"I like it. Okay? I want it. I love the way you touch me.  I love feeling your hands on my ass. I love the way you can make my dick feel in your mouth. I even love it when you push deep into me with that big cock of yours. It's not about throwing you a pity fuck. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do…I just get to wondering what it's like for you, though."

"Well, don't." He leaned in and planted a feather-soft kiss on my lips. "What it's like is loving you like I never have before. And that's the best thing ever."

I sighed. "I'm more queer than you, though."

He rolled his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Does it disgust you?"

I watched him get angry. "Listen to yourself. That's ugly, Drew. Look at me and tell me where you just had your dick."

I felt my face flush with shame.

"Answer me," he said. "Tell me where your last orgasm was."

I got the point. "Don't, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," he said. "Tell me."

I sighed. "In you," I whispered. "I was inside you."

"What was inside me?"

"My dick," I said quietly.

"That's right," he said. "I let you put your dick in me. You were fucking me. You were fucking me and you came inside me and shot your stuff deep into me. I asked you to."

His eyes drilled into mine, and he said, "It doesn't get more gay than that. And I'm not ashamed of it. So why are you ashamed of it?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You should be," he said.

His scowl faded, though. He pulled me into himself and kissed me again. "Don't hate. How can you hate what I love?"

The words reminded me of something Angie had said that summer. Before my mind could drift, though, he said, "You think I care if hot men make your dick hard?"

"Matt, I…"

"I'm sorry, buddy," he said. "I didn't mean to …I mean, it's just…well, this is the shit that caused us all the trouble. You know it is. If part of you didn't hate it, you wouldn't have been convinced that I hated it. You wouldn't have run from me…"

He paused and then added, "You wouldn't have hurt me."

I winced again.

"I been working on that part of me," I said.

"I know," he replied. "I know it's complicated, too. But Andy, you gotta believe me…this is your baggage. It's not mine."

"I know," I said.

I listened to the steady rhythm of his breath as we both searched for the right words, the right move.

I ran a hand over his shoulders, his back, his butt.

"That feels real nice," he sighed.

"Fuck me, Matt," I answered.

He chuckled. "Another round? You are one horny bastard."

"Yeah. I am," I said. "And I need you to love me."

"You have that already," he said.

"Show me, then," I said.

So he did.

********

In July we hosted our Third Annual July-Fourth-Weekend-On-The-Beach get-together. The Fourth was on a Tuesday that year, and in the beach towns, a number of the celebrations were held Sunday evening, July 2. So we planned the event to begin on June 30; everyone would go home on Monday, July 3.

Matt invited Julie to come along with him, and of course, I had Angie now. We saw almost all of the old gang, and during the weekend, it struck me that this was the first one I'd been able to enjoy, the first one that didn't feel sorrowful, didn't feel painful.

That first beach party two summers before, the fact that I was Without Angie and Without Matt made the whole experience agony…that is, when I wasn't numb.  The next one, the worthlessness of my interactions with Matt that summer made the beach party the same torture it had been the summer before.

But somehow this summer, Matt and I had pressed the Undo button on a bad, fucked-up piece of us. Over the weekend, the beach, as usual, stoned me. But life in general had stoned me that summer. Loving Matt and Angie had stoned me. The summer contained so much wonder, so much joy, so many highs, I didn't even smoke that much on the trip. Who needed to?

Julie and Angie left together Monday, along with the rest of our guests. Matt and I were staying one more night; we'd told them we needed some best-friend time.

Monday night we had a campout on the beach, like we'd had the previous month. And Matt brought his guitar again.

This time things were different. This time, in each other's company, we knew who we were. In ourselves, and for each other. And that knowledge colored and changed everything.

We cooked hamburgers and hot dogs, smoked a little dope, had a little beer, and Matt began strumming tunes on his guitar and singing.

I sat across the fire from him, staring, listening, marveling. Matt is my lover now, I said to myself over and over.

********

He caught me looking and smiled. I looked away, embarrassed. I felt the need to divert from the intensity of the moment. "You got a tune for me this time?" I laughed.

"Of course," he said, his eyes intense and brimming with purpose.

"I…I was kidding," I said nervously.

"I'm not," he replied.

He began plucking out the opening strains of a tune I recognized. A cover of an older tune. We'd listened to the CD on the way down; it was by the late Eva Cassidy.

He opened his mouth, and the words, aimed straight at my heart, made their way to the target.

Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you,
Turning in circles: Confusion is nothing new.
Flash back to warm nights, almost left behind;
Suitcase of memories, time after…

Sometimes you picture me: I'm walking too far ahead;
You're calling to me; I can't hear what you've said,
And you say, "Go slow; I've fallen behind."
The second hand unwinds...

If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time.
If you fall, I will catch you; I'll be waiting,
Time after time.

I thought back on the love songs he'd sung me here over the last three years. That's what they'd been, though I didn't always recognize it.

I listened to the words, chosen for me; aimed at me. I closed my eyes, overcome with love for him. There was something about his singing to me that seemed more naked and intimate than even our lovemaking was.

When he was finished, he put down his guitar, and looked at me, blinking the tears away. "You get lost again, you look for me. I'll be waiting. You understand me?"

I stood up and made my way toward him. Standing, he reached out and pulled me into him, kissing me gently on the neck as I wrapped my arms around him. "I won't get lost again, Matt," I told him. "I promise."

"No. Don't say that," he warned. "Everybody gets lost sometimes. Just say you'll look for me."

"Why would I have to look for you? I know where you are and I know where you'll be."

His face grew somber as he said, "You knew where I was before. But you didn't look for me. You looked away from me."

"I'm done with that," I said with a vehemence that caught me by surprise.

Protest too much?

The smart-ass, know-it-all Voice In The Back Of My Head, all smug and sarcastic, said it.

"I know your head," he told me. "Better than you know it, sometimes, I think. I just want…I…I just want this." He closed his eyes and pulled my face toward his. Our lips met and kissed gently. He pulled away long enough to add, "and back at school, if you get lost again, remember I'm here waiting."

I wasn't fully sure what he was trying to say, but I heard the implications at the back of it that I’d chosen not to think about yet. Now I had to ask. "How long…"

"As long as I'm breathing," he said.

"Well…okay, but I mean, what are you…do you want us to be…"

"Let's make up the story as we go," he said. "I don't think I've read one like this before. But it doesn't scare me. The only thing that scares me is you freaking out again."

"That won't happen," I said, almost glaring.

"Just…just think about me, is all I'm saying. If it gets weird again, think about…god, Drew, think about how much I love you. How much I'll always love you."

I thought about his words all the way home.

********

The summer drew to a close, and it was time for me to go back to school. On a hot Sunday afternoon, Matt helped me load my car.

When all my things had been loaded and it was time for me to go, he shut the trunk and stood next to me.

The family came out to say goodbye. I gave my mom and sister a kiss, and shook hands with Dad and Danny.

"Matt, you're just up the road now," Mom said. "When you're home on a weekend visiting your mom, you better stop by."

"I will," he said, "if only to give Danny a few football pointers."

"As if," Danny said, grinning.

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments; then I saw my mom nudge my dad and cock her head in the direction of the house. "We need to finish up housecleaning detail. C'mon, Danny; Beth."

Danny started to protest. "But Mom, I already…" He looked at my mom, and looked back at me and Matt. The trace of a smile came to his face, and he said, "Oh, yeah. Okay. See ya, Andy. See ya, Matt."

"Call us when you get there," Dad said to me, as they went inside.

When they'd gone inside, I smiled at Matt. "I don't wanna leave you."

"You're not," he said, grinning. "You're just going back to school."

I stared into his beautiful blue eyes. "I love you," I told him.

"I love you too."

I held out my arms, and he walked into my embrace. We stood there hugging each other for what felt like ages. I lay my head on his shoulder once again, and he stroked my hair.

The scent of him--Matt's scent—was alive and vital on this warm summer day.

It had always done things to me.

I kissed him on the neck.

Once.

And again.

I felt him take a sharp breath in and tense in surprise. Then I heard him breathe out gently.

He said, quietly, "Look at me."

I lifted my face upwards and stared into his eyes.

His voice was serious. "Don't run from me again."

"I won't," I said.

"If you ignore me again, I'll fuckin' drive down there and knock sense into you. I won't take any more of your shit," he said. He smiled, but I saw in his eyes an intensity that said I mean it.

"Never again," I told him. "Ever."

"I love you," he said.

"You already said that," I told him, laughing.

"I'm making sure you remember it," he replied.

He leaned in and brought his lips to mine. I opened my mouth against his and felt his tongue push in and search out mine.

We kissed for a long time.

It was time to go. I didn't want to take my mouth away from his. I didn't want to take my body away from his. I didn't want to drive three and a half hours away from him.

But this time it was okay.

This time, Matt was my best friend again.

This time, Matt was my lover.

"Call me when you get there," he said.

"I will," I told him.

"Call me every day," he said.

"I will," I told him.

"I'm coming to your games this fall," he said.

"Bring it," I told him.

"All of them," he said.

"Away games?" I asked him.

"Okay, maybe not all of them," he said, grinning.

"I love you, Matt," I told him.

"We fixed it, didn't we?" he said.

"Yeah. We fixed it," I told him.

And we had.