The Ties That Bind: A Marble and BlackStar Adventure

Part One

Scott took a long drink from his wine glass and peeked over the rim at Alex, who was sitting across the table.  He was still stunned almost daily at how beautiful the other boy was but now he looked at him with apprehension as much as exhilaration.  There had been a bubble of tension between them, too many words unspoken, and it felt like the bubble could burst at any moment.  Scott was reasonably positive that what he felt for the man across from him was love. He hadn't said it--couldn't say it, not yet. Because two days ago he had gotten on his knees in front of his best friend Mitch and scrambled all of his priorities. They had kissed and touched and tasted each other, obliterating the boundary lines between them.  They had done this in full recognition and acceptance of the consequences and had vowed to talk it out and not let the tension eat them alive like last time.  But this much-needed conversation had not taken place.

It's fair to say that Scott didn't really want to have the talk, since it would hurt him one way or the other.  But in his defense, it wasn't his fault it hadn't happened. In the two days since their little incident, Scott hadn't seen Mitch once. He'd left to hang out with some dude he'd met at a party and hadn't come home.  Scott and Alex had run out to the gym yesterday and when they'd returned it was clear Mitch had stopped by, but hadn't stayed.  He hadn't called or texted or left a note in his loopy left-handed scrawl.  And Scott being the coward that he felt, hadn't reached out either.

It would have been okay, he supposed, if he'd been alone in his worry and stress, but Alex was clearly affected too.  They'd never had so many long and awkward silences as in the last two days.  So many opportunities for Scott to confess.  So many missed opportunities.  If he'd known for sure that Mitch was never going to look at him with those needy brown eyes again, never kiss him with those lush lips, then Scott felt he might be able to come clean.   If he was positive that what he and Mitch had done could never be repeated or escalated, he could probably give it up for good.  But as long as the possibility existed, he kept quiet.  Almost as quiet as the gorgeous boy across the table, who was cutting his grilled chicken into tiny bite-sized pieces to avoid conversation.

Mercifully, before Scott could bring up another inane topic, there was a buzzing sound and Alex reached for his phone, his face breaking into a surprised smile when he saw the caller ID.  "Hello?"  Scott tried to figure out who was on the other end of the line by the look on his face, but Alex's smile abruptly froze and fell and then vanished altogether. "What's wrong, honey?"
Scott's brow furrowed. Alex called most people, male or female, some sort of endearment, so there was still no way to tell who he was speaking to. But the look on his face made it clear that something was seriously wrong.  This was confirmed by Alex's next words: "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Scott set his fork down and gave an alarmed little gasp. Alex, as a paramedic, would be a good person to call in an emergency, especially if you didn't want the police involved.   But he was so moral and upright, this sort of shady business didn't come up with him often.  Scott's interest was beyond piqued.

"No, it's fine.  I have a bag in my car.  I can be there in twenty minutes," Alex told the caller, hanging up and pocketing his phone.  He caught the attention of their waiter and made a writing gesture in mid-air, the universal symbol for "bring me the check."  When he finally looked up at Scott, he seemed almost surprised to see him there.

"Care to fill me in on what's going on?" Scott asked gently.

"An old friend of mine...  She's gotten herself in a...situation and needs my help.  She thinks she dislocated her shoulder."

"Okay..."

"It's Lorna Crowe," Alex said finally.  "She didn't want a big deal made about it, with ambulances and sirens."