I deflated. “Damn.”
“Matthew freaked out. Before rumors could spread, he spread his own, saying I came onto him. I forced him. That I pinned him to the wall and kissed him against his will. That it was unexpected and unwanted. That he shoved me away.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He made it into assault?”
“Yes. It spun out of control from there. The whispers started. The rumors spread. The taunts and name-calling were unbearable. Funnily enough, his vile accusations were never brought to the school authorities. I was never approached or disciplined in that regard. They would have probably kicked me out.
“Regardless, I was outed and ostracized. Ridiculed. Teased, bullied, shamed. All the above. I was a child molesting priest in the making. It was worse than what I’d endured in high school. Crueler in tone. They called me a sinner. Quoted Bible verses at me. I was an abomination. They made me question my faith andruined my relationship with God. They took from me the only peace I’d found since I was ten years old.”
“Jesus, Gale. So you left?”
“I left. What else could I do? I spent the rest of the year at home, but I couldn’t stay. My dad knew something was wrong, and I was terrified he would figure it out, so I enrolled at the University of Oklahoma the following year and tried to forget. I never told anyone why I left.”
“Until me?”
“Until you.”
I didn’t have to ask why I got the privilege of hearing the story. It seemed clear. Confessing would mean admitting he was gay, and he wasn’t ready to do that. His questions and accusations made sense now. Gale was terrified of the past repeating itself.
“I’m not like Matthew.”
“I know. You’re comfortable with yourself. I can see that. I…”
“Needed to hear me say it?”
He nodded.
I shuffled closer, eliminating the inches between us, and rested our foreheads together. “Then hear me. I’m. Not. Like. Matthew. Not only am I comfortable with my sexuality, but I fully respect your discomfort. I will never out you, Gale. Your truth is yours to share or not share. Do you believe me?”
“I do. So…” He shyly laughed. “For the record, my fumbling make-out session behind the church with Matthew is the only experience I have with men.”
“Nothing wrong with that. The question is… do you want more experience?”
“Yes.” The word came out without hesitation.
“Where do you want this night to go? There is no right or wrong answer, and you won’t upset me if you go back to your room and nothing happens.”
“I’m nervous, but… I don’t want to leave.”
“One step at a time. We do as much or as little as you want, but I need to know you’ll communicate and stop me if it’s too much.”
“I will.”
“Can I touch you?”
“You already are.”
Smiling, I brushed our lips together. “Smart-ass. Can I kiss you?”
“I was hoping you would.”
As I joined our mouths, I slid my hand around his waist, sneaking it under his shirt and connecting with warm, bare skin. He shivered. I urged him closer, nipping his bottom lip and dancing my tongue along its seam.
Receptive, Gale opened with more confidence than the first few times. I went slow, despite every impulse to get him naked, ravish him, make him squirm, and show him a good time.
I didn’t want Gale floundering to keep up or regretting the encounter. If this was to be his first time, it should be memorable.
It took a minute before he actively participated beyond kissing. Since I wore nothing more than boxer briefs, I suspected my near-nakedness was intimidating. When his fingers brushed my chest, I broke the kiss.
