Young Lather

Hiding Out

The next morning, I started... hiding. That's what it was, really — hiding. Hiding from Track mostly, but also just hiding from everything the meant Track. You know: the woods, swimming, my friends. The problem was, I couldn't think it through to anyplace good. I imagined all these scenes — like where I'm talking to Archie somewhere, and up walks Track, and he puts his arm around me and looks at me funny. Or maybe we're all swimming, and Track gets close and kisses my nose. Or maybe just where the three girls look at me and somehow know! Just know, like the always seem to do.

The other thing — and this is big — is that I can't really remember things all that well. I mean, I remember the part I already told about — going up the trail to swim and getting shocked by Track, and then I don't feel so good and he holds me up, and I know he kissed my nose. ...I think. And I remember that I held on to him and put my head on his shoulder, and that my cheek was next to his cheek, and that... Well... Just... Something I think I remember. Do I?

But after that? Well the next thing I'm sure of is puking. I was lying down somewhere, and I had been puking, and I leaned over to puke a little more. I remember it seemed colder when I got up. Right after. Track was there waiting, and we just started walking, not close to the cops, to the corner of the town streets, then he goes his way, and I go home. Before that but after my head on his shoulder, I don't remember. ...Nope. Nothing. There's time missing there. An hour? Five minutes?

So I'm sort of hiding out. I guess I'm afraid of what might be next, and I keep coming back to that moment we were close together, and I could feel... him. I shake my head. Shit. I remember something I think. Shit. Now I remember... hard. He was— we. We were... hard. Shit. I'm sure. I know it. Shit. So that means...? Shit, what does it mean? ...Or...

Was that what I felt? I mean, I should know, right? If I had a hard on. ...Could you think you had one when you really didn't? I get 'em, plenty — every morning is wake up to 'good morning hard on.' Every fucking morning, but that's supposed to be every guy on the planet, right? So billions of guys. Every morning. And once in awhile during the day they just show up, but not so much anymore — not since a couple of years. So usually I gotta... help. start it up. Fantasize. Watch something. So how is it just there in the water when, hey, 'surprise!' it's Track, and one second later. Two seconds? Maybe three? ...

I can't be sure. I can't remember enough, and what I do remember doesn't make complete sense.

Fortunately, the weather has been cold and mostly wet since party night. Plus my job started, and I'm working a lot of hours — at the Nu-Mart grocery. Mostly I stock shelves, rotate stock, clean up — break down boxes, sweep a lot. Mop some. I like the job fine, because I don't have to deal much with customers, except when I'm stocking and someone asks me where something is. The rule is I walk 'em to the exact spot — I can't just tell them the aisle. I know where everything is, though. Everything. So that's easy for me.

I do keep up with texts and social, but I'm just staying boring. You know, liking things, emojis, saying things where people should say things. But I'm not posting or sharing anything that puts me in the middle. Everything seems fine so far...

Okay! I know, it's stupid! It's no good hiding out. Track and me will either keep a secret, or something will get out. Eventually, everything gets out. I should just talk to him. Besides, it's summer now, and it's way stupid that I'm not hanging out with my friends when I'm not working. So, fuck it, I'm calling Track — phone not text. Nothing in writing, ever!

Except I hear, knock knock knock. ...It's Track. At the door.

...Okay.

* * *

Dara kissed Archie again, long and sweet. She couldn't stop kissing him, and he seemed to feel the same way.

They held each other sweetly, too, like characters in a show, arms a certain way for each kind of kissing — standing kissing, sitting on the couch kissing, leaning back in the grass kissing, and even lying down kissing, which is what they were doing now. On Dara's bed. And her parents weren't home.

And they had done a lot of kissing already, and Dara felt like she knew every millimeter of Archie's face (by sight) and mouth (by touch), and she loved it. She loved him! She loved Archie. His shyness, his jokes, his... everything!

* * *

Archie kissed Dara again, long and sweet. He couldn't stop kissing her, and she seemed to feel the same way.

Archie was pretty happy with how he was doing. He had been worried he'd mess everything up — say something stupid, or be a bad kisser. He had asked his dad for advice. Archie had no idea how lucky he was to feel comfortable going to his dad about a situation like this, but his dad knew how lucky he was to have a teen son who trusted him, and his advice was simple:

"Two things, Archie. Two. First, always respect. You've heard 'no means no,' right?"

"Yeah," Archie had replied.

"Well I don't like that, because it kind of hints that one person might have been trying to force something, and the other person had to say 'no.' And there should be no force anywhere. It's permission that matters, and people have to permit each other every step."

"Yeah."

"I'm not worried about you, though. You're a kind young man. You wouldn't think of pushing a girl on things."

"No." And he wouldn't.

"So you gotta see where it goes, and have fun. Take your time. See where it goes, right?"

"Right."

"And if things might get a little more serious... You know..."

He didn't, really, but, "Yeah."

"...Then figure it out together. Talk with her — don't ever be afraid to talk with her, because, if she's as good a girl as you say she is — and I'm sure she is — then she will take you just as you come, and she'll talk with you straight, and private if you need it. She won't just be a girlfriend. She'll be a true friend."

Archie got that. "So what's number two?"

"Be clean."

"Clean?"

"Yeah. Take more showers — you get a little smelly sometimes."

"Oh."

"And your teeth too. Brush your teeth more. No one likes to kiss a stinky mouth."

"No."

Archie had taken the advice about being cleaner, and it had helped him feel confident, but now he felt like me might be getting close to a place where that 'permission' thing might need to be figured out, and he did not feel confident about that. ...Well, it wasn't the conversation about permission that made him nervous, but what it was he wanted permission for. Somehow he found no help in any of what he had heard in classes or among his friends, or seen in educational materials (or tiny bit of porn) he'd been exposed to. He knew there was a 'next' after kissing, but what that really was for him and Dara — and how to get there — he had no idea.

His next kiss was off a bit.

"What are you thinking about?" Dara asked him, alerted by the subtle fail.

Archie gazed into her eyes, and then heard himself say, "What's next, Dar?"