Meathead and Loser

Graduation

My dad's car, a red 5 seater 2 door 2000 mustang, became mine after graduation. Two days after that, Nick and I were leaving town together. With our stuff in the trunk, we were making good on our plans.

"We're doing this; I can't believe we're doing this," I said even as I got us on a highway.

"Believe it, Meat Head," Nick joked while he was lying in the backseat.

"Why'd you have to kill the mood," I remarked.

"It's ok. You don't have to try so hard anymore. We can share the thinking," he said.

"I hate that name," I said for the hundredth time.

He sat up and leaned his head from the back seat up to the front, asking, "So what did you tell your dad?"

The question stunned me so much I nearly swerved into another lane.

"What do you mean?"

"How did you convince him to let you take the car?" Nick continued.

"It's my graduation present," I said.

But that was a lie. It was a half-lie. My graduation gift came with strings attached because It was technically a company car. Since I didn't get into school, I was expected to start working for my dad at the dealership.

"Did you tell him?" Nick asked.

I was hesitant to spoil the mood, but I answered, "he doesn't need to know."

"Where does he think you're going? And with who?"

"Right now, he thinks I'm driving to the coast to see my mom," I said.

"What do you think he'll do when you never come back?"

I imagined he'd call the cops, report a missing persons, start a search party. It was nice to imagine those things, but in reality, he probably wouldn't care. My dad had three kids, two of which were already in college. If I went missing, he might not have been happy, but he'd get over it. Eventually.

"Look, it's not perfect, but it'll work. It's already working, unless you want to turn around," I argued.

I didn't want to fight, but it was hard to avoid it. The subject of my parents was just as painful as Nick's parents who were already six feet under.

"You shouldn't be afraid of your dad," Nick said, climbing up into the front passenger seat.

"I'm not afraid of him, but I know if I tell him I'm gay, I'll lose him...if I haven't already."

I was the towns best running back, but I never got us far. I didn't get into college. I was gay. Honestly, I was surprised my dad hadn't disowned me already.

"We're not coming back, so what's the difference," Nick reasoned.

"If I could tell him, my coach, my friends, or anyone else, we wouldn't have to leave. But I can't. Alright?"

I tried turning up the music because things got too tense, but it probably came off as passive aggression.

"When we get to Seattle, we have to try to be ourselves," Nick said.

"I'm trying now," I answered with less attitude than I had a moment ago.

The longer we went on, the easier it got again. As I said, it wasn't perfect, but we were running away together. It was like a surreal dream, but when Nick held his hand across the car, and I took it, I knew it was real.

I took a breath. We weren't fighting, not really. It just went to show no matter how much we liked one another, we still had our bumps in the road.

"So, I know I'm broke, but you never told me how you came into so much money we can afford this getaway," I said.

"My parents, before they passed away, they were saving up to send me to school. They even made a few investments in my name," Nick explained.

"So you're loaded?"

"We won't have to worry about where our next meal is coming from."

I chuckled, "It hasn't even been a week, and you're already taking care of me."

"You can take care of me in other ways," he said.

"Like?" I questioned before glancing over to his side of the car and asking," wait, what are you doing?"

"Taking my shoes off," he said.

He didn't stop at the shoes, his socks came off too, and he threw them both into the backseat.

"In the car?"

"This is our house now. We should get comfortable, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but my dad," I started until Nick finished my sentence with, "will never see us again."

It was difficult to swallow my hesitations, but I said, "Right...right. Your feet stink, though."

"You'll get used to it," Nick laughed.

"I'm already used to it," I added.

"Aren't I supposed to be the weird one," he said, reclining his seat as far back as it would go.

"We both are," I argued.

"There's nothing weird about you," Nick said.

"Liking the way you smell isn't weird?"

"I'd say that's level 3 weird. I have all the level 10," he explained with pride.

"You know what else I like about you?"

"What?"

"Your big hands," I said.

"My hands," he laughed, but I was somewhat serious.

"You could have been a basketball player with those things," I went on laughing just as much at myself for saying something I could have kept a secret.

"But my hands?" He remarked.

"I told you we're both weird."

"Ok, keep going," Nick said, propping himself up enough to look at me.

"What?"

"Keep going until you freak me out," he continued.

"What are you asking for," I asked, still somewhat confused.

"Keep telling me weird shit until I can't take it," he explained.

That was the birth of our long-running driving game. It was stupid, but it was us.

"I think you should get a turn since you're a level 10," I remarked.

"You're sure?"

"Please, I'm dying to know what kind of freaky shit you like about me."

I waited, but he didn't say anything until I turned my head and our eyes met.

"Your pubes," he said with a straight face.

"What?" I laughed, thinking it was a joke, but he added, "your pubes, your bush, I like it."

I rolled my eyes.

"That's not weird. You like dick," I reasoned.

"It's not about your dick. Your pubes are perfect. They grow in an almost perfectly symmetrical pattern. I know you don't shave down there, but I could draw straight lines on those edges " he tried to make his case, but it only made me laugh harder.

"Nick, I hate to break it to you, but that isn't weird. It might turn me on if you keep going," I said.

He finally stopped explaining, but the look on his face told me he was at least a little embarrassed.

"Maybe you are a level 10 after all," he remarked.