DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 9
by Donny Mumford
Today's Thursday, the first official day of our senior year at college. I say 'official' because students need to be here attending introductory classes for the courses they're taking this semester. Usually, these classes are short with the professors outlining what they expect of you and what you can expect of them... and so forth. Regularly scheduled classes begin for all Merrimack students next Monday.
Rob and I have only the one class at three o'clock today and then our other three classes tomorrow. Yeah, three classes on a Friday but then we won't have another regularly scheduled class on a Friday the remainder of the semester. We wanted three day weekends and structured our course selections accordingly. Because of registering late this year we didn't get all our first course choices, but we worked it out. Such is life...
Other than that, this week was primarily for the freshman. You know, so they can get acclimated to campus life, find their way around, figure out how their meal ticket works and where the academic buildings are, get settled in their dormitory and hopefully figure out a way to get along okay with their roommate, etc... I forget most of the pain of freshman year although I'm sure there was some initial unpleasantness.
All of the above information is just paraphrasing what was outlined in a letter mailed to all Merrimack students earlier in the summer. The letter explained the aforementioned introductory classes, plus the earlier start for the fall semester, information about cars on campus, and lots of stuff about fraternities and hazing etc. etc. that doesn't apply to us.
Anyway, like every 'move-in' day, yesterday was hectic and long. We got everything pretty much-accomplished with the one notable exception being a slipcover that will fit the stained sofa. The one we bought didn't work and who the fuck even knows what that big-ass stain on the cushions is. We've been spraying disinfected cleaner on it so when we get around to returning the first slipcover and buying one that fits we'll be able to use the sofa without being overly stressed about contracting a nasty rash or something worse. The new router works so we're hooked up to the Internet and we're as ready as we'll ever be to get started on our senior year.
In that regard, we prepared by having great sex last night and then a good night's sleep. Okay, we both have a minor hangover this morning from the beers we had at the Bertucci's dinner with Chubby, John Beverly, and John's roommate from freshman year, whose name I've forgotten. Oh yeah, then Rob and I met Danny and his roommate, Carl-something, for two or three more beers. Maybe six or seven or eight beers the entire night but with a full meal in between. We're good to go.
This morning Rob's wearing pajama bottoms that he must have put on when he got out of bed. He's at his desk emailing with the baseball team's co-captains as I pretend I'm still sleeping, peeking at him with one eye slightly open. I'm up for some morning wake-up-sex but I'll wait to see what Rob has in mind. Maybe ten minutes later Rob gets up from the desk to sit on the edge of the bed thinking he'll wake me up by pinching my nose. I open both eyes feigning I was asleep as Robby smiles, asking, "Whaddya wanna do about breakfast?" Huh, so that's what he has on his mind, huh? After a brief discussion, we decide we'll do breakfast here at the apartment.
Wearing his pajama bottoms Rob goes out on the balcony to see what the weather's like and shouts back to me, "Shorts are all we need, Dylan." So we both get dressed in shorts and t-shirts, sweat socks and sneakers as Rob says, "I'm gonna run over to the rental office and buy a Boston Globe." Nodding, I mutter, "Don't get lost," as I'm going to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Rob has said a number of times he wants to get involved with cooking our meals and he did a little of that during the last part of the last semester. I'll be interested in how much he wants to get involved with cooking this year.
As I get eight strips of bacon frying I'm thinking, on the one hand, it's easier doing the cooking myself but on the other hand, once Rob learns how to do some things in the kitchen it'll be fun cooking together. Hmmm, that sounds like something a female person would say. Couldn't it apply to two gay guys though? It's tricky being gay and still being masculine which I feel I am.
That's a small concern though when I consider, for example, the rare but sad situation of the guy or girl who just knows they were born the wrong gender. Oh man, my heart breaks for them and that situation is just one more out of many examples that I need to keep in mind and put in perspective when complaining about my comparatively tiny, inconsequential little issues. Jesus, good 'talk' with myself! To whatever degree Rob decides he wants to get involved with the food preparation is fine with me.
When Rob returns carrying the newspaper he apparently wants to have zero involvement with the food preparation this morning. Huh, well I'm okay with that, plus he did make his own coffee in the Keurig machine so that's something. Robby sits at the kitchen bar drinking his coffee, without slurping, and reading the sports section. The front page section of the Boston Globe is ignored by Rob and when I glance at the headlines I don't blame him for ignoring it. When was the last time good news was printed in that big headline font? The end of World War II perhaps. People like bad news.
As I'm making breakfast for us Rob reads me excerpts he likes from the articles he's reading. To put it mildly, that isn't one of my favorite things Rob does, but after that good talk I had with myself it seems a small matter so in response to his excerpts. I go, "Oh man!" or "You gotta be shitting me," and other appropriate responses to the paragraphs he chooses to read aloud. It's not life or death but I do prefer reading the articles myself although, like I just said, it's not really that big a deal. It is annoying enough to send streaks of pain up the back of my head, yes, but Rob's excited about something he read and he just wants to share.
When I've got eggs, bacon, and buttered toast situated on microwave-warmed plates I set Rob's plate right on the sports page as a small insignificant non-verbal protest about Rob insisting on reading snippets of articles out loud. He looks up a tad startled as I say, "Oh, sorry," and snort out a chuckle. I feel better now as Rob frowns while pulling the paper from under his plate and then reads to me what Tom Brady said about how much he loves to practice but now he's ready to play the games for real. Earth shattering comment from Tom. Well, maybe not as he says the same thing every fucking year for the past seventeen. Still, Rob wanted to share.
Rob can eat while reading silently too, so I should mention that in all fairness. He's not doing the silent reading at the moment however so I'm grinning as I resist the strong urge to plop one of my fried eggs on his head. He stops in midsentence, asking, "What? Why are you grinning like that? If Gronk can't play it'll be...?" Interrupting him, I go, "Oh, nothing. Um, except maybe I could read that myself when you're done with the sports section." Chewing a strip of bacon, he goes, "Oh, are you saying I don't need to read part of each article out loud to you?" I shrug, "It's no big deal at all actually one way or the other. "Um, although I do recall you once complained when I was doing that to you. Do you remember that time?" He snorts out a laugh of his own now, and says, "Yeah, it's annoying when you read stuff to me before I get a chance to read it myself, but it's not the least bit annoying when I do it to you." I go, "I can't argue with that," and he says, "Ya know what, Dylan?" I shake my head, "No, what?" and he goes, "We gotta have some sex this morning. Don't ya think?"
See, something good happens when you're extra tolerant about small annoying almost unbearable foibles your lover does until you're ready to scream. We finish eating and Rob helps clean up our breakfast dishes and whatnot. We have a second cup of coffee each and drink them on the balcony while smoking a cigarette and talking about the thumping on the wall last night from our neighbors. Neighbors who could any minute now come out on their balcony that's twenty-five feet to the right of ours. Robby's like, "That's a disturbing situation right there. The closeness of their bed and ours I mean." I go," Yeah, it is creepy so let's move our bed." I get the floor plan from where we left it in a desk drawer last night so we can perhaps come up with a new configuration for the few furniture items in the bedroom.
Looking at the floor plan we consider alternative furniture layouts in our smallish bedroom. It's not a tiny room at fourteen by twelve feet but we'd like to be able to look out the one window from bed. We finally come up with a way to put the bed on the opposite wall necessitating the relocation of the bureau and desk as well as the TV and of course the bedside table and rug. The worse thing is we lose our view out the bedroom window. The window will be at the bed's headboard but it's the only other viable layout everything considered.
It's only a little past noon so we've got the time and the inclination to do this. Moving furniture sucks but we do it with the necessary f-bombs as sweat drips off our faces. Moving the bed required us taking it totally apart basically and then reassembling it in its new location. When that's done and the bedding made up again, I mutter, "The next people who rent this furnished apartment will undoubtedly move the bed back where it was." Rob goes, "Yeah, until the new tenants hear those assholes next door thumping on the wall when they're getting laid."
Okay, now we're sweaty but satisfied we've solved that problem. Rob tries for a positive attitude by brightly saying, "Last night was some wicked sexy fun so, ya know, I'm wondering if I could interest you in a little messing around right this friggin' minute." My eyebrows go up as he continues, "We deserve it after all the work we just did as moving men." My ass twitches as I mutter, "Um, oh so you're saying you're interested in doing that right now?" He grins, nodding his head, saying, "Well fuck yeah, and I should mention you look even hotter and sexier than usual with those little sweat balls running down your forehead."
I'm like, "Oh, that's so nice of you to say," and Rob steps over in front of me smiling and asking, "Did we ever have our morning kiss?" We do a 'good-morning' kiss and then Rob looks me in the eyes, asking, "Shouldn't we get more comfortable?" He means get naked which is a damn good idea. Hell, we'll need a shower anyway before venturing out to face this new day.
Off go our sneakers, we pull off our socks and then drop the few clothes we're wearing. I'm intrigued by Rob's sexually aggressive behavior that goes all the way back to when I moved in with him, and it's been quite something since then. And I mean that in only the best possible ways. Encouraging too that it appears Rob's planning on carrying over that excellent approach here at college. And, gawd, his naked body is something special. Rob's got all the muscle definition a guy could want, and none of it is overdone either. Great upper body with perfect muscle definition under that pinkish/white flawless skin of his that's taut and smells eatable... or at least lickable.
Neither of us is a hairy guy body-wise, which is my preferred body type but this past year or so I've been okay with some guys who have body hair. I like Robby the way he is though and the only thing I'd change, if I could, is I'd add a couple of inches to his very fat penis. Other than that I think he's perfect for me.
We're both as naked as it's possible to be as Rob guides me down on the bed, murmuring, "I'm feeling extra frisky this morning in case you haven't noticed." I nod and he says, "Yep, and it's mostly your fault because you're so sexy and cute." I squirm around getting my head on the pillow expecting Rob to join me on the bed. He goes, "Just looking at you gets me horny," and he reaches down with his right hand to take hold of the outside of my right knee. I look at his hand like, 'What's this?' and then Rob pulls my legs toward him which of course drags my head off the pillow as my body slides on the sheet until I'm now facing him with my legs off the bed and me lying on the mattress sideways. I go, "Hey!" and Robby murmurs, "Hey, yourself," and then he pulls me toward him until my ass is at the edge of the mattress. The way he confidently did all that makes my dick shimmer. I'd love to stroke it, but I don't. He strokes his cock, saying, "Just a quickie, as you've been known to refer to this sort of thing. We'll get this day started right!" I nod, gulp, and then say, "Damn, that's a good idea."
My feet are on the floor as I watch Rob pulling his dick and stepping closer to the side of the bed in between my legs. My eyes are big watching him lean over me, he's so close our dicks squish together as we kiss again. A sweet kiss with Rob rubbing his hands under and up the back of my neck, then my head as I hug him around his back. He gently humps between my legs, his tongue moving deliciously around in my mouth until I can't catch my breath. My cock gets very hard pressed between our bodies.
Pulling his mouth away Rob rubs the hair off my forehead, and murmurs, "My life is so fucking good because of you, Dylan." I mumble, "Me too, Rob," and feel his fairly firm fat cock getting harder on the inside of my left leg. Smiling confidently again he gets an arm under both my thighs and, with me helping, he lifts my legs and pushes them towards me.
By now I'm starting to feel that hypnotized state of mind slide over me, which isn't all that unusual. I need to let it happen though, and of course, there needs to be a catalyst bringing the trance-like state on me. In this instance, it's the way Robby's taken charge of things right from the start. Yeah, one second I'm ogling his sexy body and a minute later I'm captivated by Rob and doing whatever he wants me to do.
The taste, scent, and feel of him are in my head and my body feels like it's vibrating as I stare stupefied into Robby's big blue eyes. He's so good looking and such a 'hunky' guy, but at the same time he's uber preppy-looking too. His cool preppy haircut has a lot to do with that and, oh fuck, I almost wish he was wearing cool-looking horn-rimmed glasses, haha, Omigod, I'd probably spontaneously climax if he was. I might do that anyway as Rob pushes my legs back almost to my chest, my feet in the air. He motions at my legs with his chin and in my hypnotized state, I slowly wrapped an arm around each of my legs holding them back. Rob nods at me and puts a finger on my anus and then pushes it in, murmuring, "Good, there's plenty of lube left from last night." I nod again, enjoying my trance as my boner throbs.
It's kind of thrilling to be so easily and quickly sexually aroused like this. There's no one else who can do that to me like Robby can. Maybe back in the day some guys could, but I'm not with those guys anymore. Love, of course, has a lot to do with it but it's Rob's sexual attractiveness too. He's a lot of things to me but his sexual attractiveness is the first thing I noticed when we met and it's the first thing I think of every time I see him now too... the first thing but many other thoughts of Rob quickly follow. Obviously, to be 'in love with him' which I am, there needs to be a lot more than just sexual attraction and I learned that way back with Willie. Without the strong sexual attraction that piqued my initial interest in him though, would I have ever gotten to know him well enough to fall in love with him? What came first, the chicken or the egg? Who the fuck knows, ya know?
Putting that passing thought to the side, I'm staring at Rob's hard cock while he's using a couple of fingers and his thumb to stroke it. The foreskin moving smoothly and hypnotically on and off the big fat head. His penis hardens-up as Rob shuffles even closer to me; close enough so that the back of his hand is rubbing against the inside of my left butt cheek as he continues stroking his cock. His fat nice-looking penis is a pinkish/white color with a darker rosy-colored head. It looks almost pretty sticking out from his dark blond pubic hair.
I feel the fat head against my asshole and right away it begins steadily spreading me open back there, slowly at first and then as the stretching continues a burn starts building and I grunt, "Umpth." Rob leans in then and the head forces its way up my rectum as if it owns it and in a way, I guess it does. Rob moves his head back, moaning, "Oooooh," and I grunt again and hold my breath while Rob rubs both hands up my stomach and then onto my chest, his palms smooth except for the pads right below his fingers where calluses are forming from him swinging a baseball bat this summer a hundred thousand times. I like the combination of his smooth soft palms and those harder forming pads! It gives me the shivers as I gasp in a deep breath.
Rob diddles around with my nip-ring, saying with a big-ass grin, "I'm getting myself one of these, Dylan, and you're coming with me." Damn, that reduces the hypnotic spell a little because he said that playfully in a sing-song kinda voice that broke the serious manner he was previously doing everything. I liked it better when he was going about the serious business of confidently fucking me. There's a fine line between being in a hypnotic spell and not being in one although I'm never sure what that line is. I think if he had said, 'I'm getting myself one of these,' with some authority behind it I'd be squirming on the bed with a deepening hypnotic sense. Funny how that works.
Meanwhile my asshole has relaxed a lot, still pretty much stretched to the maximum but accepting it's much larger diameter and consequently most of the hurt has faded away. I didn't respond to Rob's comment about the nip-ring, so he asks, "Aren't you going with me, baby?" I nod, muttering, "I suppose," but at the same time, I'm thinking... no fucking way! That thought eliminates the rest of my hypnotic sense... it simply evaporates. Oh well, it's not necessary to be in that condition to enjoy a fat, hard cock in my ass.
Rob casually moves his hips back a few inches and his boner slides over my prostate gland with me clenching my teeth as buzzing sensations get my shoulders shuddering. Rob's leaning forward now and his fat boner smoothly but very tightly sliding back up my ass and it feels so good I moan, "Aaaah, oooh Robby..." Still acting very casual, he leaves his boner spreading me wide open as Rob continues rubbing up and down my stomach and chest with both hands, quietly asking, "Feel good, Dylan, huh?" I don't trust my voice, so I nod my head a little and Rob leans over further taking a hand up from my chest to lightly sweep the hair off my forehead again and then he kisses my lips quickly before murmuring, "God, you make me ridiculously hot. Nobody has a boyfriend like you." Running the tip of my tongue around my lips, I mumble, "You too," and he straightens up, saying, "Here we go."
Huh, it's not the hard fast thrusting I expected though. Instead, Robby doesn't even move his hips. Standing straight, his hands on his hips, he just sways back and then forward, his bone of a penis sliding tightly to and fro in my rectum setting off fireworks of sexual pleasure right from the start.
Rob, swaying back and forth like this, moves his ever hardening cock tightly over my prostate gland and the sensations coming from that, plus the pleasure sensations soaring off my stretched anus have me scrunching-up my face and moving my head from side to side on the mattress, moaning, "Ummm, ummm, ummm, ooooh...." and then a quiet murmur, "Mmmm, this feels so fucking good, Robby."
Sometimes, accidentally, our bodies just happen to be in the exact positions for maximum stimulation on my rectum's nerve endings and this happens to be one of those perfect positions. The height of the bed, Robby standing up straight, my ass slightly over the edge of the mattress, him not thrusting, everything... Omigod, it's perfect!
Rob has a puzzled expression, probably wondering what's all this fuss I'm making is about. All my exaggerated squirming and moaning, I'm like a dog in heat. The sensations Rob's getting off his boner are probably what they always are; fantastic, but not especially different so he's not experiencing, like I am, the extra bonus of us being in perfect fucking positions.
Whatever, Rob continues his swaying to and fro with his four inches of fat boner still very tightly sliding inside me. The leftover lube from last night is proving very helpful and it's really quite something how that slow-moving fat boner is creating an outrageous amount of sexual pleasure in my ass. Almost too much actually, it's all mixing together as I continue flopping on the bed like a fish out of water. During my flopping around on the mattress I let go of my legs and my feet drop to the floor on either side of Robby, but then I immediately lift them because it feels better with them in an 'up' position. I don't want to change the perfect position! Omigod it feels fantastic! I'm pulling my hair, moaning, "Oooh Rob! Ummm, yeah Rob, yeah..."
Of course, my climax is in high gear and building like a cyclone, but it holds off for a delicious, almost too delicious, three or four more minutes until now it appears Robby's feeling his climax grabbing hold of him too. His miracle boner continues creating sensations that defy description with Robby making desperate moans now, "Oh, oh, oh, ummm, ooooh!" He leans over at the waist unaware of his previous position being so extraordinary perfect for me, as he grabs holds my legs lifting them onto his shoulders and begins slamming his cock up my ass with the "SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!" sounds ringing out now for the next door neighbors to hear from across the room if they listen real hard. I'm jostling on the bed, bouncing and moaning, "Ah, ah, ah, ah..."
Less than a minute of that and my cock sticks straight up from my belly, hard as the Rock of Gibraltar, lightning strikes going off in my balls as I scream out a squeaky-sounding squeal... my climax erupts like a volcano and cum shoots straight up with me struggling on the bed as a second stream of shiny cum shoots up passing the first eruption on its way coming down to splatter on my stomach and then the second shot joins its brothers landing on my stomach with cum spray hitting under my chin. I'm almost doing a sit-up with my head and half my back up off the bed as I frantically pull on my cock getting the last drools of cum on my fingers. Holy shit, what an awesome orgasm!
Meanwhile, Robby's against my buttocks breathing loudly while moaning at the same time. My legs are forgotten again so my feet have dropped off his shoulders and are flat on the floor again. I leave them there now that I've had my climax and then I feel Rob firing his load up my ass, and then again, and lastly a desperate third hump against my buttocks finishing off his orgasm. I'm seriously dizzy, continuing to pull on my dick but only halfheartedly now and then I stop and spread my arms falling back flat on the bed. A late shoulder shudder happens as sensations tantalizingly zip around my dick and then fizzles out almost at once.
Robby has a funny expression on his face as he steps back pulling his cock out. My feet are still on the floor with the rest of me lying flat on the bed, my wide open asshole at the edge of the mattress with Rob's cum first peeking out and then drooling down the form-fitting sheet. I'm looking at my own cum on my stomach amazed at how quickly it changes from creamy white to just a wet slippery splat and then look at the wall across from us but there's no thumping. Haha, assholes! Get your kicks some other way.
Rob mutters, "Whoa, Dylan, you got a little crazily excited there?" I've got my hand on my heart feeling it go boom, boom, boom and then, sitting up, I say, "It was an extra hot climax, Rob, that's all. I don't know why or how, but our bodies were aligned just right... haha, or some damn thing. I haven't gotten 'off' quite like that in, well like forever. Your dick was hitting everything perfectly! Jeez, dude, let's do it again." He chuckles, saying, "Yeah, okay, get your legs up," and I go, "No wait, I might have a fucking heart attack if we did that again this soon. Let's wait, um, five minutes." Rob's still chuckling, obviously feeling mighty fine as he flops on the bed lying on his stomach next to me, saying, "See, nobody can do sex with you like I can. You're a lucky boy to have me as your boyfriend, baby." Gawd, why doesn't it bother me that Rob calls me 'baby'? A year ago it wouldn't have sounded right but now it sounds like a term of endearment and therefore it's okay. Weird!
We goof around a little saying complimentary stuff about each other and our sex and then start what amounts to wrestling on the bed. Yeah, wrestling because we like to feel each other's naked body against our own. It just feels good. When I end up on Rob's back, my semi-limp dick on his ass, I get this intense urge to fuck him but he bumps me off his back, saying, "I need a shower." I watch him go off to do that and then I get out of bed and walk around a little feeling really good!
Settling down I check my cell phone. There are two texts; one from Connor saying, 'When are we gonna get together, Dylan? I'm anxious to show off my boyfriend and of course, see you!' Huh, I'd like to meet his boyfriend too, but first I should find out what Rob's plans for today are. And, checking my watch I see it's almost noon but we've already had breakfast so we're in good shape time-wise. The other text is from Danny just goofing around saying, 'Hi' and he added some corny emoticons.
Walking into the bathroom that's steamed up from the hot shower water, I yell, "What do you wanna do now, Rob?" He puts his head out the end of the shower curtain, saying, "Oh, I was thinking we'd just walk around the campus a little and see who we run into." I go, "Do you wanna come with me to say 'hi' to Connor?" He thinks about that for two seconds and goes, "Not especially, but I will if you want me to. I don't really know him all that well. He's your friend." Rob knows him! Rob's parents included Connor in Dodger's going away party and the welcome home party after basic training. They offered to let Connor stay with them during those trips home too. Why argue about facts like that now though?
Well, I wanna see Connor so I text him back saying 'hi' and then some small talk, 'blah blah blah' briefly and then tell him I'll meet him outside the quad around two o'clock. That'll give Rob and me time to walk around the campus first 'cause I'd like to do that too. Connor texts right back, 'See you then.' Huh, very succinct. Next, I call Chubby to see if he wants to say 'Hi' to Connor but his phone is dead. Probably needs to be charged.
Getting my laptop out of my backpack I go online to check emails and see one from Mom asking how everything is going and, haha, one from Danny asking in his relentless manner if Sunday morning would be a good time for us to do our haircuts? I laugh out loud at how he never gives up and then I respond to his email: 'Oops! Sunday I'm busy!' The email is delivered but I get no response so obviously, he isn't 'on' his computer. Truth is I don't want a haircut from Danny.
Other than sixteen advertisement emails, that's it for my email messages. I send my Mom an email assuring her everything has worked out perfectly with our apartment and college and I love her and hope she's doing great and... blah, blah, blah. Huh, maybe I should have texted her like Rob did to his parents yesterday.
Getting my cell phone out again to be sure I didn't overlook anything, but there are no other texts. Huh, that pisses me off until I realize I haven't texted anyone either, not since I've been here on campus. Chubby called me yesterday but that's been it. Yeah, but where the hell is Pony? Well if he isn't gonna text me I'm not texting him! Then I do text him asking how he's doing. He texts right back saying he hasn't returned to Merrimack yet because he's going to his Grandfather's funeral in Ohio tomorrow. He's notified the college and his roommate he'll arrive Sunday.
Oh fuck, I'm glad I texted him. I send another text with my condolences and add, 'here's a hug' from me' and tell him I'll see him Sunday. He sends back this long text about how close he was with his Grandfather and how he was named after him and he's so fucking sad, and this and that... and on and on.
Jesus, I don't know what to text back to that except I'm very sorry for his loss and I leave it at that. I'm not some grief counselor or anything. Then I feel bad for having that unsympathetic thought and text back how it must be really rough on him and I wish I could do something to help and blah, blah, blah and he texts back saying I can make it up to him when I see him. What's that mean? I text back, 'Of course, Pony,' and put my phone away. Jesus!
I'm still sitting at the desk when Rob comes in the bedroom with a towel around his waist. He ruffles my hair, asking in an offhanded manner, "Did you text Danny about a haircut yet?" I sarcastically say, "No, I haven't Daddy! I don't want a haircut," and then I tell him about Pony's grandfather. Rob insincerely mumbles, "Oh yeah, that's a shame." I guess he isn't a grief counselor either.
As Rob's getting dressed I take a quick shower thinking about how I'd feel if I'd had known any of my Grandparents before they died. That's hard to imagine though since that didn't happen. It makes me think of a friend I had in high school whose dog died. Well, they had to 'put it down' which is another way of saying they thought it best to kill the dog to alleviate its suffering from whatever ailed it. The kid, Frank Billingsley, was crying and totally devastated which I thought was oddly overly-dramatic for a dog dying. He told me though that unless I had my own dog, and from the time I was three years old, a dog who came running with its tail wagging like crazy every single time I came in the house after school and licked my face like crazy, I had no fucking idea what it would be like to lose that 'friend' who idolized me. Well fuck!
Yeah, I gotta admit he made me feel wicked bad, but he was right. You've got to experience, um, whatever before you can have any fucking idea what it's like. Frank taught me something that I forgot when hearing Pony's sad news. His Grandfather's death is like a similar situation to Frank's. Well, a dog isn't the same as... oh never mind.
It's after one o'clock by the time we're driving to the campus, without getting lost in the apartment complex for the first time. Rob parks the pickup near the Stuart Building for our three o'clock class. Getting out we look around on a nice early September day, one that still has a lot of 'summer' in it. I slip on my shades as Rob grabs his backpack and carries it with one strap over his shoulder. I'm like, "You brought your backpack?" Ya know... like, that's weird. He goes, "Yeah, didn't you?" Shrugging I go, "No, why would I? It's only a fifteen-minute class." Shaking his head slowly, Rob mutters, "You might want to type some notes on your laptop maybe." Yeah, or maybe I can copy your notes later...
As we wander to the Quad on the other side of the campus, not wanting any tension between us, certainly not about a backpack, I enthusiastically say, "Wow, the campus looks great this year! How about these new sidewalks and all the new shrubs and trees!" He goes, "Yep, everything looks, um, fresh," and I'm like, "Hey, let's walk to Chub's dormitory and see if he's there." Rob shrugs, "Why not text him and see if that's where he is before walking over there?" I tell him I tried that and then remind Rob of the forgetfulness Chubby has about charging his cell phone. Rob goes, "Yeah, and he doesn't always remember to take it with him even if it is charged. Okay, we'll walk by."
On the way, we run into a guy who I know slightly. He was one of Ryan's roommates although I don't recall his name. He's got longish hair, he's about six feet tall, and he's boringly average looking. Huh, I don't even remember if he's gay. If I had to guess I'd say he's not. What difference does it make anyway? As we pass the guy says, "Yo, Dylan! How's it going?" I wave, "Hey, everything's good, How 'bout you?" He goes, "I'm good, dude. And you're looking good, Dylan, as usual." I go, "Ha, you too." I know I know that guy's name but damn, I can't remember it. I need to make a concerted effort to remember people's names! It's rude not remembering, especially when they remember my name. Rude and fucking awkward!
Walking on Robby snorts out a chuckle and I'm like, "What?" He goes, "You couldn't remember his name, could you?" I shrug, "No, but so what?" He goes, "Well, nothing really, but it's just something I noticed lately. You're terrible with names." I go, "How observant of you, Billy." He laughs as we turn onto dormitory row. Yeah, I'll make a concerted effort in the name game from now on!
Most of the dormitories are old brick buildings and they do look really fuckin' old too! Not Chub's and John Beverly's dormitory though. Those two are in one of the new dormitories. When we're standing outside the one I think Chub's in, Rob asks, "What floor is he on?" I snicker because I actually don't know. Shrugging I go, "Um, I'm not positive, but...," and Rob says, "Well why the hell did we walk all the way down here then?"
Good question! Trying to save face, I approach a couple of girls smoking cigarettes outside the dormitory. They're standing right next to a discrete 'No Smoking' sign. Putting one of my really friendly smiles on my face, I go, "Excuse me, would either of you happen to know if Jeffrey Romero is in this dormitory?" The girl with a significant overbite gives me a dirty look saying in what I believe qualifies as a Brooklyn accent, "Hey! You're not in some cow town Hicksville now, sonny. We're having a private eff'in conversation here and normal people don't just butt into private conversations 'cause they're lost. Okay?" I'm startled speechless so she adds, "Don't give me that stupid expression. It's not all that complicated, dude, you don't just barge into a conversation mumbling questions. All'ight?"
The other girl who's dressed like a whore flicks the back of her fingers at me like I'm a mosquito, saying in a deep voice, "Hey, dumbo, do we look like an information booth to you?" Rob steps next to me and says, "Excuse me, how about if both you sluts go fuck yourselves," and overbite says, "Why don't you do it for us?" Holy shit! I ask, "Hey, you two hotshots weren't in an apartment across the street last year by any chance, were you? We cleaned out all your shit from the medicine chest but the dumpster hasn't been emptied yet, so..." Overbite says, "Bite me, why don'cha?" and they turn their backs to us and walk a couple of feet away.
Rob and I make a 'face' at each other and then walk past these two scary bitches on our way up the front steps. Rob's like, "Was it something I said?" Ignoring that, I ask a couple of guys inside the front door if they know Jeffrey Romero and gets shrugs from both of them before a nice looking guy with bad teeth, says, "Can't help ya, dude." Going back outside I'm like, "Actually I could be wrong about this being the dormitory. It might be the other new one, but..." and Rob gives me a 'look', muttering, "You're not even sure it's this dorm?" I shrug, "I guess not," and Rob goes, "Can we forget this ill-conceived venture, Dylan? I mean, C'mon. Ya can't ask everyone on campus if they know what dorm your brother's in?" I go, "Nah, you're right. Fuck though, I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention when Chub told me his dormitory. Or he might have said he wasn't sure himself. Yeah, let's forget it."
We wander back toward the academic buildings with Robby giving me the latest information about what Dodger's up to. He goes, "You already know he's coming home next week from California, but did I tell you his Army buddy is coming with him? They'll be roommates in Dodger's townhouse. And get this, unbeknownst to me or my parents Dodger is a computer-whizz." I'm like, "What? Dodger?" He goes, "Yep, over two full years in the Army and that's all he did... learn computers and programming or whatever the fuck." I go, "He was a medic," and Robby nods, "Yeah technically, but in some computer capacity. They took aptitude tests and right after basic training they assigned his ass to computer training." I'm like, "No shit? Huh, yeah I remember computers being mentioned by both Connor and Dodger in their emails but then computers are involved in everything! I didn't know it was Dodger's specialty. Hell, I thought he was giving guys flu shots or putting band-aids on cuts, ya know... medic stuff."
Stepping around some girls who are both chasing down a Frisbee, Rob goes, "Yeah, he and his friend, Josh Price, have set up some kind of online store for marijuana products; that's just one of their projects. Not the 'pot' itself, but paraphernalia involved in that, um, pot culture I guess. Also, they'll be doing 'site' set-ups or some such shit." Jeez, legitimate businesses! Great!
Not that Dodger needs the money but this computer thingie does sound a helluva lot better than opening a store selling 'grass'. Rob mumbles, "Massachusetts is fucking with everyone about the law that was passed legalizing marijuana so the plan Dodger had to open a marijuana store is on hold." I say, "Fucking politicians are supposed to represent their constituents but instead they represent only themselves. They think they know what's best for us dummies who elected them."
Rob's about to say something, except I say, "Jesus, there's Travis Hunter! I don't think I saw him once all last year," and Rob goes, "No, that's not right. We saw him last year but, huh, I wonder what he's doing with Christopher Straight." I frown, "Is he that stiff who's like, 'don't call me 'Chris'!" Rob mutters, "Yep, he was John Beverly's roommate freshman year." I go, "How the fuck did you remember that obscure guy's name?" I remembered Travis' name because we go back to high school. I couldn't figure out back then if Travis was coming on to me or not. Since then we've had a little thing or two clarifying that he was indeed coming on to me. He's okay though.
Travis sees us and does his cute smile, saying, "Dylan! Whassup?" and then a less than enthusiastic, "and Rob Dickers too." Travis and I do the obligatory one arm hug and pat on the chest, as I mutter, "Travis! Hey man, what happened to your out-of-style wire-rim eyeglasses?" He chuckles and goes, "They weren't out of style, Dylan! Fuck you anyway... haha. I had LASIK eye surgery, that's what happened to the glasses. A half hour and three thousand dollars later and, dude, no more glasses or contact lenses needed." I go, "Good for you," and he goes, "The 'rents gave me some shit about the cost of course, but 'c'mon!" Yeah, Travis is good looking but in an 'older' good looking way, like he could be twenty-nine or thirty. It happens.
Christopher asks, "Have either of you seen John Beverly?" Rob goes, "You mean today?" We talk with these two for a few minutes and then Travis looks serious, asking, "Hey guys, did you hear about the stuffy minister checking in at the motel down route 114?" I go, "What minister?" and he's like, "Yeah, this stuffy old prick of a minister was checking in at the motel and snootily telling the guy at the front desk, 'I'm hoping the pornography in my room is disabled' and the clerk sneered back, 'No, it's not! It's just regular pornography, you sick fuck!'" We laugh our nuts off and tell a few more sick jokes before Rob and I move on.
Travis calls to us, "Yo, Dylan, I'll shoot you a text, dude!" I wave back at him. Damn though, I didn't even feel a lukewarm sexual attraction to him, although I used to. He's an okay kinda cute guy so it's puzzling I didn't feel something. As Rob and I continue walking and checking everything out we're talking about baseball practice after our class and discussing what I might do while Rob's there. Before I know it we're at the athletes' dormitory hooking up with guys on the baseball team. Rob's a clever fellow by not mentioning he was heading here...haha. I don't mind though because I'm happy Rob is psyched about the team but, oh man, I can only put up with the jock bullshit for so long.
I nod my head agreeably trying to get into their sophomoric humor for ten minutes before saying, "Um, Rob, jeez I'm due to meet Connor at the Quad. I'll see you at our three o'clock class, okay?" He goes, "Sure thing, Dylan!" My taking off also allows Rob to fully enjoy being in his element getting pats on the back with loud boisterous guffaws about some shit that happened on the team last season, and whatever. Gawd, what if I made the team as a bench player? I'd need to fake thinking that stuff was funny. Well yeah, the fart jokes were funny, but then they're funny no matter if you're a jock or not.
Walking slowly toward the Quad I'm not paying attention to anything special until I see those two bitches who used a date/drug or something to get my boyfriend to fuck one of them last year. Obviously, I can't remember their names, not that I want to! They're flirting with some goonie looking guy and his even goofier looking friend. Jesus, when I think of all the pain those conniving bitches and that pregnancy caused everyone... well, it still makes me sick to my stomach. Rob still feels guilty about it too, but he was trapped by those two deceitful cunts! Naturally, I'm walking out of my way to avoid them.
That was disturbing and then, as I approach the Quad I'm thinking I see Connor sitting on the steps in front of the building. Christ though, I'm kinda hoping it's not him because he's with a rough looking guy who I do not want to be Connor's boyfriend. Also, if that's Connor he has what looks like a quarter-inch buzz cut hairdo and he's wearing glasses! Oh God, the closer I get I'm sure it is Connor. Then it's confirmed when he glances over and sees me walking toward them and he shows his awesomely sweet smile. Oh, fuck, if that other guy is Connor's boyfriend and I find out he's not treating Connor right I don't know what I might do. Connor's the nicest most innocently sweet guy I've ever known and he deserves something good for once. Someone better than that guy for starters!
Connor hops right up and starts walking toward me as he motions for the rough-looking dude to come with him. The guy just stands there staring at me. I put on my best smile, saying, "Hi Connor!" and we do a good hug and then he holds on me pulling his head back to say, "You're even better looking than I remembered." I mumble, "You're too nice, Connor. Thank you and right back at you, dude." That's a little white lie right there though because Connor doesn't look like, um, the pure and perfect boy he was two years ago.
He lets go of me and his hand goes to his head as he blushes, muttering, "Oh yeah, you never saw me with this kind of haircut before, huh?" Damn, I must have been glancing at his head unconsciously! I like buzz cuts okay but not one as short as Connor's. I go, "Um, what, your hair? No, um, it's an Army haircut I guess, right?"
Shaking his head a little Connor smiles and takes my arm, saying, "C'mon, meet Stosh," and then he adds, "No, this isn't an Army haircut. Or, it is, haha, but it's not because I'm in the Army reserves. They don't require a basic training haircut. No, it's what Stosh likes. He cuts it for me every two weeks or so."
All his extra forced-chuckling I assume is because Connor's self-conscious about his quarter-inch buzzed head, and I can't say I blame him. I've had some fucked-up haircuts in my earlier years but not that bad. Well hell, haha, I'm still getting fucked up haircuts although not like Connor's 'prisoner-of-war-look', poor guy. It screws up his appearance! Connor's been the poster child for that special 'look' of pale complexion, dark blue eyes, and dark brown hair. Without the hair, it's not the same; not as striking at all and then those cheap looking eyeglasses... damn!
Yeah well, Stosh is still standing where he was when I first spotted Connor so we need to go to him. I already don't like Stosh! When we're in front of him and before Connor can say anything Stosh holds his hand out, saying, "Hi, I'm Stosh Kowalski. Glad to meet you, Dylan," and he nods at Connor, adding, "You've got a big fan there in Connie. He thinks you're the greatest." I shake Stosh's hand with him squeezing my hand way too hard before letting go as I wince, saying, "Ow, um, nice to meet you, Stosh. Um, I feel the same way about Connor, so..." and I shrug because I can't think what else to say. What a jerk-off it was hurting my hand during a nice-to-meet-you handshake.
Connor's glasses are inexpensive looking with pale plastic frames, totally devoid of style. Stosh says, "C'mon, we'll get some coffee in that big building," and Connor says, "Okay, Stosh. That's called the Quad, by the way." Stosh puts his hand on Connor's shoulder sort of grinning at him, mumbling, "The Quad, huh? Okay let's get a coffee in the Quad," and he guides Connor in front of him with Connor looking back, saying, "C'mon, Dylan."
Taking a few fast steps to catch up, I ask, "When did you get the eyeglasses, Connor?" His hand goes to his glasses and he adjusts them unnecessarily, saying, "During basic training. They gave me an eye exam and told me I needed glasses. I, um, well Stosh likes me in these cheap things so I keep them. Actually, he likes the fact I'm still in the Army, don't you Stosh?" Stosh mutters, "Un huh," and I'm nodding my head as if any of that made any sense at all... which it doesn't. Why anyone would like those stupid looking glasses is beyond me. I mumble, "You don't actually need to wear those Army issued glasses though, right?" He says, "No, except, like I said Stosh, ya know?" No, I don't know.
Inside Stosh mutters, "Over there, Connie. You and our friend sit at that table in the corner. I'll get us coffees," and then he stops to ask me, "Is coffee okay with you?" I go, "Oh, nothing for me, that's okay," and he raises his eyebrows. He's annoyed I guess. He lets out a breath noisily, and mutters, "You'll get a coffee too." Connor quickly says, "Thank you, Stoshie! Um, over here, Dylan," and we go over to a table in the corner we were told to go to.
Connor smiles, "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," and he reaches over to squeeze my hand, adding, "I missed you so much and thanks for all your awesome emails the last two years! It's sort of pathetic of me I suppose but I bundled all my homesickness into missing you. I didn't have anyone else to miss so you got it all... haha. You probably were wondering... what's this I'm feeling? It was me missing you." Jesus, he's still so innocent.
After a second of being taken aback, I mean who wouldn't be after hearing that sad tale, I shrug and smile, "I missed you too, Connor. Um, how'd you meet him?" He looks over at Stosh, then back at me, "You mean, Stosh, right? I met him over a year ago. It was in town at the bar Dodger and I went to regularly. A little gay bar actually. Yeah, Stosh and I hit it off right away. We went on like five dates together and then Stosh told me to move in with him. We've lived together since then in Texas. Dodger didn't want me to do that and I guess you know he was pissed at me for a couple of months." I sort of shake my head and Connor goes, "Ya know, Stosh said Dodger was jealous of him. I don't think that was it at all though. And then Dodger got into a fight with Stosh one night at the PX too, but I guess you heard about that." No, I didn't. So now, ya know boys will be boys and Dodger broke Stosh's nose so, of course, now Stoshie hates Dodger. Really awkward for me because Dodger did everything for me and I love him like a brother. We saw each other every day at work and always had lunch together."
I didn't know any of that! I glance over at that big clod, Stosh, wondering about the fight. Dodger's an inch taller than Robby and me and he's no pushover, but Stosh is a big motherfucker. Conner goes on, talking too fast, "Dodger's moving back from California as you know and I can't wait to see him. Guess I'll need to sneak away, ya know?" I'm frowning but Connor doesn't notice as he's looking over at the big clod in line for coffees.
I'm pissed but I don't want to say anything to indicate that. Connor looks back at me and says, "It's a pain, but Stosh, oh man, he gets jealous." I go, "So you really like that guy, huh?" He nods, "Um, yeah, he's taking good care of me and it's good being able to depend on, you know, stuff. He got us this apartment not far from Merrimack. The Hillsdale apartments. Do you know them?" I nod, "Uh huh, down near the Boston Market, right?" He nods, "Yeah, ours is a small place but fairly new." I say, "That's good; new is good. Um, Rob and I have an apartment at the Royal Crest Estates. Goofy name for apartments, huh?" Connor goes, "Oh, you mean the ones right across the street. They're really nice."
As Stosh sets down three paper cups of black coffees, I confirm Connor's last statement, "Yep, those apartments are convenient being right across the street." Stosh says, "You're in the Royal Crest apartments?" I say, "Yes, and thanks for the coffee. Um, me and Rob Dickers, my boyfriend, have had a different apartment in that complex for four years now." Sitting down and then slurping his too hot coffee, Stosh then says, "Good for you, but they're too expensive for Connie and me." Connor says, "Dylan's not rich, Stosh. He'll need to pay back college loans after graduating."
Stosh does a longer slurp of his coffee and I can't help saying, "It's probably too hot right now, Stosh." He goes, "No it's not!" and then he asks me, "If you needed to borrow money for college why the fuck did you decide to live in the most expensive apartment complex in North Andover?" Connor says, "Oh they're not that much more than ours, Stoshie." He goes, "Don't call me that," and then to me, "Do you work part-time?" I say, "Not this year but I worked all summer and the first couple of years, yes, I had a part-time job during college." He nods, muttering, "I admire that."
Maybe this guy's borderline rudeness is because he's uncomfortable meeting people, or he feels self-conscious about, well I don't know what but it's not unheard of that a shy person or one lacking self-confidence sometimes try covering that up by being aggressively obnoxious. No, that's too harsh I guess; he hasn't been obnoxious but Stosh isn't very likable. Connor says, "Remember me telling you, Stosh, that Dylan made it possible for me to do my freshman year here and..." Stosh cuts him off, "How many times do I need to hear that same story, Con? Jeez, dude!" I go, "Anyway Connor did it mostly on his own. I was basically moral support," and Connor goes, "That's not true, Dylan, you were..." and Stosh goes, "CONNIE! Knock it off... please!"
We all take a sip of coffee without slurping now that it's a drinkable temperature. It's black coffee without sugar... ugh! Stosh is three or four inches taller than Connor and me. He's broad-chested with big shoulders and big hands. A big dude who looks as though he could be in his later twenties. He has a thick beard that's like four inches long so it's a real beard and not the fashionable short beards that so many guys feel is 'in' nowadays. I don't really mind the 'style' beards on some guys, and some even look sexy, but Stosh's doesn't at all. His is more like a lumberjack's thick beard and he has dark hairs on the backs of his fingers too. Eww! His black beard and hairy hands are turn-offs for me but it's not 'me' Stosh cares about obviously. Connor seems fine with that and to each their own.
Stosh also has a rugged complexion, like he's worked outdoors or something and it's made more obvious when compared to Connor's smooth, blemish-free and almost 'pretty' face. I gotta say that Stosh's isn't especially attractive but it's not like he's freakishly unattractive either. Maybe some misguided individual could stretch matters and claim Stosh had macho 'rugged' good looks. I'd disagree strongly but some people's taste is out their ass so, ya know...
And then, Jesus, Stosh's thickish, dark brown hair is un-stylishly long, like an eighties hairdo over the ears and his collar in back. He dressed in baggy jeans and a flannel shirt with black hightop sneakers on his feet. Flannel shirts are, um, inappropriate for this weather... just saying.
And, for different reasons, I might suggest that both Stosh and Connor give strong consideration to wearing a hat. Oh man, how snobby is that of me? Poor Connor hooking up with this guy. Fuck! And that haircut of Connor's is so crisp it must have been cut an hour ago. It looks terrible! Not only the quarter-inch length or whatever it is but the edging around the ears and the squared-off back are done in a half-ass manner as if the barber didn't want to be bothered with it. The barber being Stosh according to what Connor said. That fucker, Stosh!
Stosh looks at me, asking, "Do you have a problem?" and I realize I've been staring at him. Oh fuck, that's not cool so I look away. Connor, I suppose, senses more tension so he says enthusiastically, "Stosh and I hope you'll have dinner with us some night. He's a great chef!" I go, "Oh, yeah? Thanks," and Connor goes, "With Rob too of course." I take a sip of this horrible coffee trying not to take another peek at Stosh but can't resist. No problem though as he's not paying attention to Connor or me at the moment. He's staring off to his left so I look in that direction too and see a tall skinny kid who must be a freshman with that fresh babyface of his. Yeah, the kid's kinda cute as he grins and looks shyly intimidated by the older looking dude at the table with him. So far this year on campus that skinny kid is one of the rare cute guys I've seen.
As we drink our coffees Connor continues being very talkative while Stosh is not. At least Stosh has stopped gawking at the cute kid. He's looking at Connor while Connor explains that Stosh didn't want him, Connor, to take advantage of the offer for an early exit from his Army's three-year active duty commitment. He goes, "But, Stosh gave in eventually and, as you see, the big lug came with me to Merrimack." Stosh reaches over and pats the back of Connor's hand. Connor smiles at him and then explains to me how lucky he was getting into an Army Reserve unit near Merrimack. There was an opening in the town of Haverhill and the Armory is less than half an hour from here.
Connor is into the 'too much information' realm now as he tells me the reason they stayed in Texas until just last week. It was so Stosh could get the approval from the place he worked at to transfer to Boston. He works as an investigator for an insurance company exposing fraudulent disability claims. Pretending to be interested, I ask, "Oh yeah! A private eye type guy, huh Stosh? What's the name of the insurance company?" Stosh mutters, 'What's it to you? I mean, do you really care?" After a second's pause with me staring at Stosh, Connor touches my arm, saying, "Let me tell ya, Dylan, my man Stosh is the smartest person I know. He's way too independent though, ya know, I mean to sit in classes or be preached at by professors who know less than he does." Nodding my head as though I believe that bullshit, Connor adds, "Stosh left college after his freshman year." Yeah, I'll bet that's the reason he dropped out, he was smarter than the professors... for sure. I say, "Oh man! Look at the time! I have a class in ten minutes."
Connor holds my arm preventing me from getting up, asking sincerely, almost formally, "Dylan, after your class would you please join us at Rolf's Tavern so I can at least buy you a beer?" Rolf's is a few miles from Merrimack in downtown North Andover. I'd love to have a beer with Connor but I'm pretty sure wherever Connor goes the Stosh is sure to follow. That's if he lets Connor go at all. I can't disappoint Connor though, so I say, "Absolutely. I'll see you there." He says, "See if Rob will come too. I'd love to see him. He and his family were so good to me." I'm like, "Oh, that will need to be another time. Rob has baseball practice this afternoon. Fall practice most weekdays at four o'clock."
Connor and I stand and have a good hug saying goodbye and then I look at Stosh who is still sitting in his chair. He goes, "Yeah, keep your bubble out of trouble." I nod and mumble, "What? Um, ah, thanks again for the coffee, Stosh. See you in a little while, Connor." He stays standing to watch me go out the door. Jeez, I love Connor but Stosh could be a real problem.
It's a fairly long walk to the Stuart Building. The Quad isn't exactly in the center of the campus nowadays although it was initially way back before the college campus expanded over the years with new dormitories and academic buildings. It expanded more to the left and back so it's a bit lopsided now; I mean the campus is in relationship to the Quad. Not that it matters.
As I approach the building our class is in I see Rob talking to a few guys outside. It's the Stuart Building and I believe I've seen all three of the guys he's talking to before because they're all ballplayers. Just as I walk up they all burst out laughing. Not at me though as none of them sees me walking up behind them. I go, 'What's so funny?" and Robby turns, "Hey, Dylan," and two of the guys he's with bump fist with me mentioning my name. Some people are just good at remembering names. Rob says, "Teddy has a joke. Tell Dylan, Ted."
Ted goes, "Yeah, it's only an okay joke. There's this guy, Nick, who's on college summer break when he sees his next door neighbor. She's a woman who used to be fat but now is thin although she's using a walker to get around. Nick says hello and she says, 'I bet you didn't recognize me at first, Nicky.' He goes, "You've lost some weight, huh?' and she says, "A hundred and thirty pounds. I went on the dog food diet." Nick goes, "Oh, uh huh,' and she says, 'Yup, I get a large can of Purina Alpo Chop House T-Bone flavored wet dog food for breakfast as my one big meal of the day. Then during the day, I can snack on Purina Alpo Come & Get It doggy treats, and I mean I can have all of those tasty snacks I want.' Nick's eyes cross but he manages to ask, "Is the loss of all that weight why you need the walker?" She goes, 'Oh gracious no. I was down on all fours last month sniffing a German Sheppard's ass and got hit by a car.'" Everybody laughs out loud although they just heard the joke two minutes ago.
Another guy has a joke and then Rob wants to go inside the classroom. I follow Rob as he's still snickering about the joke. Then he says, really excited, "It's so awesome being back with the guys, huh, Dylan?" Well, not really but I don't hold that against Robby. I mean he's more social than I am and most of his friends are teammates. We both were almost terminally shy through a lot of high school except Rob wasn't shy when with his teammates. In retrospect, I should have gone out for a team in high school. The wrestling coach was in a frenzy to get me on the team when I was a high school freshman because I was so skinny and the team didn't have anyone in that weight class or some such shit. Like I said though, I was too shy and anyway I only wanted to do stuff with Chubby. Being on a sports team expands your circle of contacts greatly though. You get to know a lot more guys. Oh well, I'll live I guess.
The professor comes in and he's all business. That's almost better though than the phony professors who act like we're all buddies. They're the ones who usually turn out to be the harder graders. The pricks! This guy is about forty years old wearing a bowtie and a sleeveless sweater with his sleeves rolled up on his long sleeve white shirt. He's wearing tan khakis with boat shoes. Professor Douglas is his name and he has an extraordinarily long neck and a prominent Adam's apple that bobs when he swallows and that moves the bow tie up and down. It's enough to get you dizzy watching it.
Professor Douglas is an odd-looking fellow with a big voice. Like I said, he has that long neck and then a longish head with smallish round ears set higher than normal on his head... like the ears of a, um, hyena. If you've ever seen a hyena you know what I mean. Anyway, the guy expects us to attend each and every class and in that regard he'll be taking attendance. Oh goodie, we're back in middle school. He goes on blah, blah, blah with Rob typing notes on his laptop.
We're out of there in twenty-five minutes and Rob goes, "What a dink he is, huh?" I nod, "Yeah, that's one word that comes to mind. Um, do you have time for a quick 'hello' to Connor?" and I tell him about my visit with Connor and about meeting him now for a beer at Rolf's. Rob goes, "Oh fuck, that Stosh sounds like a loser," and I go, "Ya can't tell a book by its cover." Rob mutters, "Most of the time you can. Sorry, babe, but I gotta get to practice. Invite Connor for dinner or something."
We do half a hug and he asks, "Can you take my backpack for me, please. You can copy my notes." I go, "Sure, and can I borrow the pickup?" He gives me the keys and I put his backpack on as Rob jogs off. He'll text me when he needs a ride to the apartment. Damn though, I wish I was as excited about something, anything, as Robby is about baseball. Well, with a sigh, here I go to try my best to like Stosh for Connor's sake.
to be continued...
Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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