All American Boy 3

Chapter 3

Monday brought its own trauma. Coach Johnson announced the changes
and as expected, Justin became the star, JC his satellite.
Congratulations rained on Justin along with the obligatory buck up
message to JC, the boys excited about their prospects of winning with
Justin installed in the #1 spot. Justin's nerves were frayed though
as he swiveled constantly, looking for JC and how he was taking the
shift. Whenever they made eye contact, Justin shot him an
encouraging smile, wishing that he could make JC understand that
Justin would gladly trade places.

JC fumed inside, angry at Justin, angry at the coach, and angry that
he would have to take major shit from his father and he was hoping he
could transfer some, if not all, to Justin. He watched them clapping
his stepbrother on the back, congratulating him on being born with
more talent than the rest of them, because that's all it was as far
as JC was concerned. Hanging around only as long as he had to, JC
slipped away, waiting in the car, wondering what unlucky star he had
been born under to end up with Justin as a stepbrother.

In the car on the way home, Justin bit his lip, agonizing over what
to say to take some of the sting out of the change. "JC, sorry,
man," was all he managed. Definitely a cool move, he thought. He
scrunched down in the seat, actually hoping to fade into the
upholstery, and stay out of JC's sight.

JC surprised him when he nodded and said, "Not your fault, Justin.
You were just born with more talent." Justin frowned. JC didn't
sound angry, but the comment about talent hurt. Justin worked hard
and it wasn't just a matter of genes. But he was relieved that their
relationship seemed to be okay and he smiled shyly at his older
stepbrother.

The respite was short lived. Dinner was the usual battlefield. Paul
glared at his son, "So, did the coach make the changes?"

"Yeah, Justin is officially #1 on the team," JC replied, no emotion
in his voice. Justin stared down at the table, wishing he was
invisible, wanting to cry. He didn't see any of the faces— Lynn's
triumphant as she envisioned the application with his success in
large block letters or Paul's filled with a dull hatred for his
stepson or JC's, carefully neutral.

Paul continued to stare at Justin until the boy felt it and raised
his eyes. "Quit the team, Justin," Paul said, no inflection in the
command.

Justin felt like he had just been punched. Panic sent painful
signals from head to toe. No. He couldn't quit, not even for JC.
Basketball was his escape, the place where he let his body and mind
soar together, united in fluid movements, graceful ease. Out on the
floor, he could be himself, be proud for a few rare moments. His eyes
filled and he brushed the tears away self-consciously.

"Did you hear me?" Paul asked.

"Yes." It was the only word he could force out. He turned to his
mother and was relieved to see her mouth set in that grim slash that
meant she was pissed, but his hope faded when she remained silent.

"It's only a year. Let JC have his chance to shine without you
fucking it up for him."

Justin's stomach was churning, his heart racing. "Can I be excused,
please?"

"No. Sit here and answer me," Paul ordered.

"Please....," Justin begged and then bolted, pushing away from the
table and racing for the bathroom where he heaved the remains of
today's lunch into the toilet. He sank down on his knees and leaned
on his arm, letting the tears flow, hoping no one would bother to
come looking for him.

He was in there awhile when he heard Paul's angry voice. "Get out
here, you little prick." He stayed where he was, pretending that he
hadn't heard, afraid to face anyone. He wasn't surprised at the loud
banging minutes later and his stepfather's rageful tones carrying
through the door.

"*Now*, Justin." Justin pushed himself up and unlocked the door,
afraid of what was waiting for him on the other side. He looked into
his stepfather's face and backed up.

"Come back to the table. Immediately," he said, turning on his heel
and leaving Justin to follow.

Seated again, they finished in silence. It was painful. JC watched
Justin try to force food down, enjoying every moment of his
stepbrother's dismay. His father's idea had been ludicrous, but he
loved seeing Justin believe it and agonize over it. He saw how
important the sport was to Justin and was determined to take that
away as well if he could manage it.

One by one everyone left Justin alone to clear the table. His
stomach was still tight, threatening to vomit up the few bites he had
been able to swallow. He wondered what it meant that no one had
mentioned him quitting again and then his thoughts drifted. He knew
everyone at school saw him as a golden boy, doing everything right,
equipped with all the essentials—looks, talent, brains. They didn't
see Cinderella, constantly belittled, striving for a little self-
esteem every day, pushing himself *beyond* his limits some days. If
it weren't for Lance and JC, he wasn't sure how he would survive at
times.

He heard his mother's soft steps, coming in for a refill, no doubt.
He looked, searching her face, hoping it was safe to ask the question
he needed answered. He knew the signs that signaled danger and they
weren't there yet. "Mom?"

"What, honey?" she asked, pouring the scotch freely. It was as if
nothing had happened during the meal.

"What about the team? Me quitting, I mean." He wanted to beg, to cry
his fears out to her, but the last time he did that, she called him a
wimp and told him to grow up.

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Paul."

That didn't answer his question. "So I won't have to quit?"

He saw by her expression that he had pushed too far. "What did I say,
Justin?" she asked, her tone no longer sweet.

"That you'd talk to Paul...." he started but before he got the words
out, she had turned and left. He felt the tears start again and this
time brushed them away angrily.

He escaped to his room and threw himself on the bed. How could she
hurt him so easily and why did she do it? He hoped it was her
drinking. When his Dad had died, she started using alcohol more, not
too much at first but then it just got worse. In the past five
years, Justin had learned the signs, when to approach and when to
back off and he was usually careful. Just sometimes, he needed what
she never seemed able to give, unconditional love, not the hugs and
kisses based on his performance. He blamed the alcohol but he had
this nagging feeling that that was only a part of the story.

If he was honest with himself, no one in his life seemed to care for
him just because of who he was. Even Lance. He shook his head. He
didn't want to go there. So he rolled off the bed, shutting the door
on his pain and finding escape in his books.

He spent a restless night, worried what Paul would say. He knew his
momma was nothing if not persistent, her polite term for nag, but
Paul could be just as determined and Justin cowered some nights as he
heard the raised voices. He hadn't heard any last night so he hoped
that meant good news.

He was cautious at breakfast. His mom had her usual slightly hung
over look that meant go away and Paul's expression was the same as
always. He poured himself cereal and slipped into his seat, hoping
that he wouldn't have to be the one to bring the subject up.

His belly was flipping, tight coils of anxiety twisting his insides.
He couldn't wait any longer. He put down his spoon and took a deep
breath, "Paul? What about the team?"

He knew now where the expression about looks killing came from. It
was that look, the one that said Paul wished his stepson was dead.
Justin swallowed hard and looked down. The silence was unnerving and
Justin knew if it went on too much longer, he would burst into tears
and induce his stepfather's rage.

"Stay on the team, you selfish little bastard," Paul spat out,
pushing away hard enough to upend his chair. Justin didn't look up
until the door slammed and he was able to take a deep breath again.

He looked at his mother, her self-satisfied expression telling him
that she didn't even hear the hurtful words tacked on at the end.
She had gotten what she wanted. Justin was grateful when JC ran
through offering a ride.

Lance was already at school, already surrounded by his friends when
Justin jumped out of the car. Lance's eyes narrowed. Justin hadn't
called last night and because his parents didn't know he had a
boyfriend, Lance wasn't supposed to call their house. Normally he
would have anyway, but last night he was pissed that Justin blew him
off and decided to give him some of it back. As he watched his
boyfriend run over, he believed Justin didn't realize anything was
wrong between them.

"Hey," Justin said. Lance's assessment hadn't been totally
accurate. By the time things had settled down last night, it was too
late to call the Bass house. Justin did feel guilty and was going to
apologize when they were alone. He hadn't realized *how* pissed
Lance was — until that moment.

Cold eyes met his and Justin shrank back. This was the last thing he
needed. Please, Lance, he thought, don't be mad again. But he
looked and saw it was a wasted thought. Those green eyes were
definitely angry, spitting fire, and Justin knew he was in for it—
again. He sighed.

"Sighing already?" Lance asked sarcastically, drawing laughter from
their friends. He almost apologized when he saw the hurt flash
across Justin's face. But he didn't, recalling how upset he was last
night.

Justin stayed, anxious to get a moment alone with Lance, but Lance
made sure that didn't happen. Finally, the group broke up, scattering
to their various classes. "Lunch?" Justin asked hopefully.

"I think so," Lance replied and trotted off before Justin could ask
what that meant.

Justin was distracted in most of his classes and one teacher even
stopped him afterwards to ask if anything was wrong. "My whole
life," was what he wanted to say but "Nothing" was what came out.

He was grateful when lunch arrived and he was determined to make
things right. His heart sank when he saw Lance already surrounded by
three of their friends. Britney was one. God no, I don't need this,
Justin thought. He sat down as far away from her as he could and
tried to make eye contact with Lance. Tried was the key word as
Lance studiously ignored him. He stopped himself just as he was
about to sigh again.

Lunch was almost over and Lance still hadn't said more than three
words to him. Justin couldn't deal with another afternoon like the
morning he had just spent. "Lance, can I see you a minute? Alone?"

Lance almost said no but Justin looked whipped enough to let up on
him. "Sure," he answered and followed Justin to a quiet corner.

"I'm sorry," Justin began.

"Why didn't you call?"

"Things were bad last night and it was late..."

"Bad? How?"

"Paul told me I had to quit the team." Lance looked shocked. He knew
what that would mean to Justin.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry."

"Well, my mom got him to change his mind. But last night..."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have tried to help." Justin seemed
surprised at the idea. He always felt alone with his shit.
Occasionally, he would ask for help but it was becoming more and more
rare.

"I don't know. I just..." he trailed off, hoping that Lance wouldn't
take his not calling the wrong way. That hope was dashed when he saw
the sour look on Lance's face.

"Whatever," he said. Justin panicked. His moments alone were
running out and he had to make it right before class started again.

"How can I make it up to you?" Justin begged.

"Skip practice and come to my house," Lance said. Justin was
shocked. He couldn't really be asking that, could he? The younger
boy felt the beads of sweat forming, trying to formulate a response
that wouldn't make things worse.

"I can't. You know that," was all he came up with. He bit his lip.
It was so unfair of Lance to even suggest it.

"What? No sighs?" Lance smirked, letting Justin know it had just
been a tease. This time Justin did sigh, in relief. It never even
occurred to him that he should be angry with his boyfriend for being
so mean. He was just grateful that Lance was kidding.

"So really, what can I do?" He put on his best sexy face, knowing
that was something Lance would respond to.

"Oooooh, that face. Yeah, come over tonight." Lance never stopped to
wonder if Justin wanted to. And Justin never stopped to wonder that
either.

"OK, I'll call you when I'm coming," Justin replied with a sweet
smile. "Gotta go. Later." Lance watched him leave and wondered why
he had been so mean. He swore he would make it up that night.

Practice went well for Justin and poorly for JC, who blamed Justin
for all of his mistakes. Even though none of it was true, Justin
took the blame, rationalizing that JC was upset and who cared if
everyone thought *he* fucked up. When JC yelled at him for the fifth
time, the coach shouted at him, "Quit your bitchin', JC, and lay off
Justin."

JC's eyes narrowed briefly. Somehow he twisted the whole scene
around in his head and once again held the younger boy responsible,
this time for the coach's remark. Wise enough to keep quiet, he
simply stared at the floor and just threw the ball a little too hard
at Justin. Justin frowned, wondering what he had done wrong, but
before he could ask, coach called the practice.

He ran after JC who slipped away easily as the other members of the
team crowded Justin, complimenting him on his play. Normally, Justin
would have soaked up the little bit of positive affirmation in his
life, but he was too concerned for JC to even hear most of it.

In the car, JC was quiet and Justin hesitated. "Did I do something
wrong back there?" he said.

JC turned to him, a hearty smile covering his real feelings, "No, of
course not. Why would you say that?"

And then Justin wondered why he had thought that. He forgot being
yelled at, he forgot that JC had tried to knock him down with the
ball. All he remembered was that JC said everything was OK. He
smiled happily. "Any chance you could drop me off at Lance's after
dinner?"

"Sure, kid, let me know when you want to leave. *Studying*?"

Justin flinched at the tone but kept the smile on his face. "Yeah,
studying."

The dinner was peaceful and he had finished cleaning up quickly and
was ready to go. He had called Lance and JC was waiting. He was
being lulled again into the Leave It to Beaver fantasy that he wanted
for them.

Lance was waiting in his room. Justin shyly said hello to the Basses
as he passed through the hall. He was still uncomfortable around
them. They knew and accepted that Lance was gay and by extension,
Justin, but Justin wasn't ready for it to be public so he squirmed
when they seemed to know about and tacitly approve of what took place
in Lance's bedroom.

Lance was lying on his bed, a book propped on his stomach when Justin
walked in and shut the door behind him. Justin looked great. Lance
never stopped being amazed at how heart- stoppingly beautiful Justin
was and how little he knew it. He laughed whenever he realized that
Justin was *grateful* to be going out with Lance.

"Hey, baby boy, how goes it?"

"Pretty good, actually," the younger boy answered, a surprised tone
to his voice.

"Shall we make it better?" Lance growled, his voice low and sexy.
Justin blushed, aware that he had just been undressed mentally.

Justin moved to the bed as Lance threw the book on the floor and sat
up. When Justin stood before him, Lance looked up, eyes wide with
desire. "Let me undress you," he whispered. Justin just nodded.

Lance stood and slowly reached under the hem of Justin's shirt,
pulling it over his head. He licked at the nipples that immediately
stood up under Lance's tongue. When Justin started to touch Lance,
the older boy held his arms at his side, shaking his head. Justin
knew this game. Piece by piece, shoes, then socks came off. Lance
reached for Justin's jeans, unbuttoning them so slowly, Justin
groaned. He pulled them down and let them drop into a pool around
the younger boy's ankles. Lance smiled at Justin's erection, poking
through the thin material of his shorts, but he was careful not to
touch. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Justin's boxers and
lowered them carefully, until Justin was totally naked.

"Lie down, baby," he ordered. Justin obeyed wordlessly, his
breathing ragged. It was not just the desire, it was the
vulnerability. He was stripped bare and Lance was still fully
dressed and from past experience, it would stay that way for awhile.
Justin let Lance touch him, the older boy running his fingers
admiringly over the muscular planes of Justin's body, the flat
stomach, the narrow hips, never brushing his erection even as Justin
strained toward his touch.

"Please, Lance," Justin moaned. It never occurred to him to take
charge, to change the game. Lance leaned over and kissed him gently,
tracing the soft lips with his tongue, dropping airy kisses on his
closed eyes, on the soft skin of his neck and down farther. He bit
softly on Justin's nipples, eliciting a soft gasp. It was part of
the game, Justin trying to maintain control, and never quite
succeeding.

"Sssh, Jus," Lance murmured, his breath warm and sexy in Justin's
ear. He sat back on Justin's legs and looked at this boy, his boy.
Justin's eyes snapped open.

"What?" he asked meeting Lance's green eyes.

"You are so beautiful," Lance said, almost reverently. Justin blushed
again, shaking his head, negating the compliment. He remained silent,
a part of the rules. He wanted to tell Lance that *he* was the
beautiful one, that he loved him, but he would save that for later.
Lance continued to stare until Justin nearly went mad with need. He
moved restlessly beneath Lance's weight, trying to shift Lance, to
bring him in contact with his erection, but he wasn't successful.

"Beg, baby," Lance said softly, granting permission for speech.

Justin needed no further encouragement, "Please, Lance, please. I
need you so bad. Please touch me. Please get undressed and come lie
down. Please?"

Lance got off and undressed quickly, laying down next to Justin.
Justin wriggled like a puppy, rubbing himself on the smooth skin of
Lance's hip. He rolled to his knees, straddling Lance and looked
down, waiting for a sign that Lance approved. Lance moaned and Justin
knew it was ok. He leaned down and kissed Lance, a less than gentle
exploring of his mouth, licking and thrusting by turns.

He moved down, bit by bit, until he could take Lance's hardness into
his mouth, lapping at the tip first, ignoring his own erection crying
for release. He was slow, agonizingly slow, making both of them wait,
prolonging the pleasure for Lance until Lance came explosively,
moaning with the exquisite feelings Justin had drawn from him. Justin
swallowed, trying to keep up with the spurts of creamy liquid. When
Lance was spent, Justin rolled onto his back.

Justin's erection was painful and he was ready to beg again when
Lance took him in, starting a rhythm that Justin met with his hips.
Lance felt his lover from his position, marveling at the powerful
feelings, sensing the imminent orgasm, the arching and simultaneous
groan that signaled completion. They fell into one another's arms,
resting, enjoying the quiet moments together.

Later, Justin kissed Lance's nose and grinned. "I gotta go. JC said
he wouldn't pick me up after 10:30," and glancing at the bedside
clock, he announced, " and it's 10:15."

Lance pouted and tried to manipulate his young lover, but for a
change, Justin stood firm. "No, I gotta go. Anyhow I have a paper to
finish."

Lance flounced out of bed, a wounded diva, "Jeez, it's always school
with you, isn't it? Do you ever take a break?"

It was Justin's turn to be wounded, "I *did* take a break. What did
we just do?"

"OK, fine, leave," Lance said, still pouting.

"C'mon, Lance, don't be like that. Please? Don't ruin it," he said,
pulling on his clothes.

Lance raised his eyebrows, "Who's the one who's leaving?" Justin
never questioned Lance's logic.

"I'm sorry. Please? I have to go."

"I said go," Lance snorted.

"Don't be mad then. Tell me we're okay."

Lance shook his head and sighed himself, "We're fine, baby. Go." But
when he didn't kiss Justin goodbye, it didn't feel like things were
fine.

After he left, Lance thought back to his promise to himself that
afternoon— not to be mean to Justin. Why was it so damned easy to
keep breaking that promise?

continue
menu