Love (and other four letter words)

Authors Note:
Hi reader! Thank you for choosing to read my story, despite the fact I that I haven't posted in a long time and I am REALLY sorry for that. Writers block combined with "real life" obligations are a major drag. With that being said, this chapter deviates from the others a little bit, in the sense that a majority of it takes place before the events of the first chapter and there is no Travis/Noah action. (WHAT?!) I suppose this chapter is a bit more about getting to know Travis and his motivations for certain things. But there IS some smut in this chapter so if you're into that kind of thing (and we both know that you are) read on and enjoy!

(Insert usual disclaimer here about how I'm not perfect and how you may find some grammatical errors/spelling errors/Freudian slips that will be corrected asap.)

February 14th 2015 4:14 PM

I sat behind in the desk of the equipment storage room in the hockey arena, reading my book alone as the sound of sharp blades skidding across ice and the chatter of the Jr. Boys hockey players echoed through the chilly stadium. I was hidden behind a wall of sticks and knee pads so that if anyone were to walk by they wouldn’t see me reading instead of organising equipment, like I was supposed to be doing.  I heard someone approach the counter and drop their helmet on it before shouting,

“Nina! Are you back there? I need a mouth guard!”

I rolled my eyes and stood up with my finger holding the spot on the page of the last sentence I had read. I grabbed a new, sealed and sanity mouth guard from the plastic tray on the shelf and made my way around the stack of equipment where the boy behind the counter raise his eye brows (one of which was pierced) as I entered his line of sight. 

“You’re not Nina,” he said, wiping a layer of sweat off his forehead with his puffy gloved hand.

“Your observation skills are exceptional,” I said, tossing the mouth guard on the counter and taking a seat on the stool behind it. I realised that I recognised this person from a couple of my classes. He was around 5”8, not particularly thin, but not too bulky either, with yellowish brown eyes and medium brown hair that was sticking out from underneath the blue bandanna that was wrapped around his head.   We were in the same grade but with him being a popular hockey player and me being…not a popular hockey player, this was the first time we had ever interacted with one another. If my memory served me correctly, his name was Ryan.

“Where is she?” He asked in reference to my friend, Nina, the ex-equipment manager of our schools hockey team.

 “She’s finished all of her community service hours, so she’s out. And I’m in,” I answered, opening my book and continuing to read.

“That’s not fair,” He complained as he removed his gloves, “Who am I supposed to flirt with during intervals now?”

“Not my problem,” I sighed, still staring down at the pages. He unwrapped the mouth guard as he leaned over the counter, trying to peak at the cover of the book I had chosen to do a report on for a Black History Month. 

“What are you reading?” he asked. I held it up for him to see, displaying the title, The Book of Negroes.

“Now there’s a word neither of us are allowed to say,” he said with a smile, displaying a set of lovely teeth that would probably be destroyed by a puck one day, “How is it?”

“Interesting,” I said, flipping to the next page, “Apparently, black people have had a pretty rough existence in North America. Who knew?”

 “Uh, everybody?" he said, obviously not catching my sarcasm, "It’s weird to see someone reading an actual book, most people these days just use Audible.”

“I don’t have an audible account,” I sighed, "Too expensive..."

“Camilleri! Tick Tock!” The Coach hollered from across the rink.

“I'm coming!” Ryan shouted, before turning back to me and throwing the wrapper for his mouth guard on the counter, “Thanks, eh?”

“You’re welcome,” I answered, picking it up and throwing it in the garbage. He stuffed the blue plastic piece into his mouth and strapped his helmet back on, before putting on one of his gloves.

“Oh…um…Hello?” he said through clenched teeth while holding his bare hand up, seemingly unable to put it on the other glove himself, “Help?”

I rolled my eyes as I put my book down, then grabbed his glove, and shoved it onto his hand.

“’Thank you!” He grinned, his teeth now a bright shade of blue. I smiled back slightly.

“You’re welcome,” I said again, as he picked up his stick and skated back onto the ice.

At 5 o'clock when practice ended, I stood behind the counter while the players tossed their sticks, helmets and the rest of their gear at me without a single “thank you” muttered. I put away the rest of equipment and cleaned up the area surrounding it, then proceeded to check to make sure that all of it was returned and not stolen.

“Hey,” Ryans voice said from the hallway on solid ground on the other side of the equipment room, which was used to get to the locker rooms and exit to the parking lot, “I’m surprised you were able to lift all of those all by yourself.”

“They’re really not that heavy,” I shrugged, trying not to lose count of the shin guards.

“I guess you’re past the point of needing my help then,” He said as he the players passed by behind him.

“Yeah, thanks though. You should get going, your friends are leaving without you,” I said as I realised he had in fact made me lose count and that I needed to start over.

"Nah, they couldn't leave without me. One of my moms boyfriends is out front, he's gonna drive some of them home. You want a lift?" He offered.

“No thanks,” I declined.

“Are you sure? It’s no big deal,” he pressured.

“My step-dad’s on his way to get me, but that’s nice of you,” I said. Despite my silence, he continued to linger in front of the counter.

“It sucks that you have to spend your afternoon cleaning up after us,” he said empathetically.

“Yeah, it does," I agreed, "But every hour spent here gets me one step closer to graduating. Besides, it’s not like I had any other plans today anyways.”

“Me neither,” he said, leaning against the counter,  “It’s hard being single on Valentine’s day, eh?”

“Why do you automatically assume I’m single?” I asked, mildly offended.

“Because you said you didn’t have any plans,” he answered. 

“Just because I don’t have a plans, that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m single,” I defended.

“Well, are you?” He asked.  As I was about to answer I heard the door at the end of the hallway open and one of his team mates stuck their head in and shouted,

“Dude! Are you coming today?!”

“Yeah, one sec!” he called back.

“Your friend sounds impatient,” I said as I gave up on trying to get an accurate number on the shin guards and decided just to move on to the sticks instead, “You should probably go.”

“Yeah, Okay. You’re sure you don’t want to ride?” He offered for a third time.

 “Yes, I’m sure. Have a good night, Ryan.”

“You too, uh…um….uh…” He moved his around in a circular motion while he tried to recall what my name was, which would be pretty difficult since he hadn’t asked for it.

“Travis,” I said finally.

“Travis! I knew that,” he smiled, swinging his bag over his shoulder, “And thanks again for the mouth guard.”

“You’re welcome. Buh-bye now,” I said, waving him away ala David Spade on SNL. He waved back and trotted down the hallway to meet his friends in the parking lot as I continued taking inventory, a little annoyed that someone would take the chance to mock me for being single.

“Valentines Day is a bullshit holiday anyways,” I thought to myself.

Februrary 14th 2016 4:14 PM

10 years worth of Ryans hockey trophies, ranging from participation to provincial championship, rattled on the shelves above his bed as the metal frame slammed against the wall.

“Harder! Harder!” I moaned as he thrust into me, his lower lip clenched between his perfectly white teeth. He stared down at me intently,with  his hands just above my shoulders, holding him in a plank position as his hips rose up and down.

“I’m getting close…” he groaned, sweat beading on his forehead like it did during practice.

“Keep going! Harder! Pound my fucking ass!” I gasped as I squeezed my legs around his waist tighter, my left hand firming holding onto the back of his neck while my right hand pumped my cock. He dropped himself down lower so that he was resting on his elbows and kissed me as he vigorously jack hammered into me.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” he gasped, pulling away from my lips and burying his head in the pillow beside mine.

“Come on, daddy, fill me up. I want to feel it!” I groaned as he took hold of my hips and rammed me until his body started vibrating and exasperated moaning filled the room.

“Oh my god, yes…yes, Travis…yes…” he gasped as began to climax, his aggressive jack hammering replaced with quick, hard slams, “Holy shit! I fucking love you!”

“I love you, too!” I moaned out as I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of his warm cum shooting deep inside me while slowed down his rhythm and attempted to catch his breath.  After a few more thrusts, his body went limp and he let all his weight collapse onto me.

“Holy fuck…” he exhaled as he kissed me on the side of my neck, “This was definitely worth missing practice for.”

He trailed kisses up my neck and eventually back to my lips.

“Mmmmm, I agree,” I sighed, rubbing his back, “I bet the guys are missing you a whole right now.”

“Who gives a fuck?” He scoffed, “Come on, it’s your turn, I’ve been doing all the work.”

“You’re supposed to. Aren’t hockey players supposed to have great stamina?” I teased.

“Well, yeah, but you’re so good with my equipment,” he said, pulling out of me and laying down on his stomach beside me. I quickly got up and grabbed the shoe box from under Ryans bed where he kept all of his sex paraphernalia; condoms, lube, a butt plug he had ordered off the internet with his moms credit card, even a pair of handcuffs.

“Wanna use these?” I asked, dangling the shiny restraints on my index finger.

“Sure,” he said, putting his heads over his head. I leaned over him and clasped one over his left wrist, before looping it around the metal bar of the bed frame and locking it onto his other wrist. There were no keys required to open it, all you had to do was flip a little switch on the side of them to get them off.

I lubed myself up and kicked the box back under the bed before taking my position behind him and rubbing my dickhead against his adorably pink ass hole.

“Bend your legs a little more,” I requested, to which he obliged so that we were in a bull dog position. I pushed my way in carefully, not going too hard or too fast, causing him to let out tiny guttural moans as I slowly pushed in deeper and deeper.  

“What is this, our first time?” He sighed, unimpressed, pushing his weight back on me, “Pick up the pace, slacker.”

“Oh, so I’m a slacker now?” I scoffed, rubbing his lower back.

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged, “Give it to me hard. As hard as you can.”

 I responded by pushing his head down into the pillow as I took a firm hold of his hip with my other hand and forced my dick all the way in.

“Fuck!” he screamed into the pillow.

“Like that?” I asked, pulling out and slamming back in again.

“Uh! Yes!” He groaned as he clenched his fists around the metal pole between his handcuffs. I firmly grasped him around the waist and gradually began to develop a rhythm that caused him to groan every time my hips connected with his backside. 

“You ought to play football instead of hockey, you've got a tight end,” I joked as I continued to slam into him.

“I…used…to…” he groaned in between thrusts, “I…switched…teams…”

“Yeah, no shit,” I scoffed as I pushed him down so that he was laying flat on his stomach and banged him even harder than before.  He moaned and twisted his hands around in the cuffs as I raised and lowered myself over and over again, my mouth kissing and gently biting the skin on the back of his neck.

“You want my cum?" I asked, licking the soft skin on his ear lobe.

"Yes," he gasped.

"You want it? You want it in your ass?" I asked, as I felt my need for release rising.

“Yes,” he groaned, “Give it to me, Travis.”

I took a firm hold of his hips and lifted him back up onto his knees as I fucked him for all I was worth.

“Say my name again,” I demanded, grabbing his hair and lifting his head up off the pillow so I could hear him clearly.

“Travis…Travis…” he groaned as I tugged on his chocolate brown mop top.

“More,” I demanded as my breath got shorter with my orgasm building up.

 “Fuck me, Travis, shoot your fucking load in me!” he groaned.

My mouth opened wide as I let out a sound that sounded more like pain than pleasure as my eyes rolled back in my head and I released myself into his tight hole, gasping for air as I braced myself on his back for balance.

"Mmmmm, yes," Ryan moaned , biting down on the pillow, "Fuck, that feels so good."

“Holy…shit…” I shivered as the last of my cum shot out and I let myself rest on top of him, both of us panting heavily. Once we had both recovered, I pulled out and dropped the cuffs on the bed as he turned to face me.

“You are the best,” he sighed as he leaned forward and kissed me, wrapping his arm around my neck.

“So are you,” I complimented as I wrapped my arm around his waist, "I fuckin' love Valentines Day."

PRESENT DAY

I opened my eyes and stared at the wall, momentarily confused about where I was and what I was doing, before I realised that what I had just experienced had only been a sleep induced memory.

“What a vivid dream…” I thought to myself as I sat up and rubbed my temples, “It had dates and everything…”

How typical. I finally meet a new guy and the first thing my stupid mind wants to do is remind me of the old one. I looked down and realised that my dick was rock hard from my nocturnal affair and needed to take care of it.

I put on my glasses and made my way to the bathroom, locking the door and dropping my boxers as I leaned over the sink with one hand on the side of it for support. In less than 5 minutes, it was covering my mouth instead as I tried not to moan too loud while I shot my load into the sink. After washing it down the drain, I completed my usual morning routine and culminated it with a self examination in the mirror. 

The hickeys were still there, possibly even darker then they were the previous day. I held my phone up and took a picture, attaching it to a New Message to Noah and typing as I walked back to my room.

Me: Good morning. Look at what you did to me

Attached file – 1 Picture Message

I climbed back into bed and nearly fell back asleep in the 10 minutes it took for him to respond.

 Noah: buenos dias bombon. me gusta tu foto. mas por favor? 

Me:  Was I supposed to understand that? Because I didn’t understand that

Noah: lol I was tryna be romantic :(

Me: Spanish is only romantic when you can hear it. And when it isn’t being screamed out a car window.

Noah: I said “good morning hottie, I like ur pic, more please?” ;)

Me: Did you even notice the cornucopia of hickeys you gave me you horny s.o.b?

Noah: don’t call my mom a bitch, u leopard

Me: *leper

Noah: whatever

Me: Guess who noticed them

Noah: idk

Me: Guess.

Noah: ur mom? ur tom? ur JEEEEEEsus?

Me: The mom

Noah: oh no. oh no. *kool-aid guy voice* OH YEAH

Me: This isn’t funny, I’m scared as fuck

Noah:  don’t be scared, homie. “the only thing we have to fear is fear its self” – william shakesper

Me:  Franklin D. Roosevelt and that’s not how you spell Shakespeare.

Noah: WHATEVER. my point is that u shouldn’t be afraid of ur mom. what can she REALLY do to u, anyways? ground u? take away ur wifi?

Me: She said we’d “talk” about it today. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say that won’t end with me getting disowned.

Noah: don’t be dramatic lol just tell her we got into a fight

Me: What’s more awkward – explaining to my mom that I got in a fist fight with a guy I just met which somehow resulted in a bunch of hickeys OR explaining that I fucked a guy I just met, resulting in a bunch of hickeys?

Noah:  idk what u want me to say lol

Me: Give me advice! Help! Do SOMETHING! You’re older, you should know what to do in these kinds of situations!

Noah:  it doesn’t matter how old i am, i’ve never had to explain a hickey to anyone’s mom before lmfao

Me: NOAH, THIS IS YOUR  FAULT, YOU NEED TO HELP ME NOW!

Noah: MY FAULT? how was I supposed to know u were gonna bruise that easily? fuckin’ white ppl

Me: YOU’RE WHITE,TOO!

Noah: im tan

ME: NOAH! I NEED HELP! YOU ARE NOT HELPING!

Noah:  tell her u got it from a vacuum cleaner. tell her household appliances are ur fetish

Me: THAT’S WEIRDER THAN JUST ADMITTING THAT I’M GAY!!!

Noah: so just admit that ur gay then lol

Me: NO! I CAN’T DO THAT! I DON’T WANT HER TO HATE ME! GIVE BETTER ADVICE!

Noah:  STOP YELLING AT ME!

Me: SORRY

Me: I mean, sorry. Caps lock was still on.

Noah: shes not gonna hate u just because ur gay. she was all “LOVE THY NIGHBOUR!” and shit when I was over there, so she obviously believes in the nice version of God and not whichever vengeful ass hole the Westboro Baptist incest breeding church believes in.  I bet u 20 bucks she’s gonna be chill about it. she loves u. obviously.

Me: My mom believes in the bible.

Noah: ok??? ur point???

Me: The bible says you shouldn’t be gay.

Noah:  right. right. right. ok. and what does it say about having kids with 2 different baby daddies?

Me:  -_-

Noah:  look, if she gives u any shit about it, just be like, “hey, u have 2 kids with 2 different dudes, so u obviously like dick just as much as I do.”

Me: Dude.

Noah: what?

Me: That’s still my mom, eh?

Noah: ur mom who’s had AT LEAST 2 dicks inside of her, which is exactly the same number of dicks that have been inside u.  if she gets mad at u about it, that makes her a hypocrite. im just stating facts

Me: …

Noah: what?

Me: How the FUCK am I supposed to respond to that?

Noah: now u know how I feel!

Me: Okay, well, thank you for all of your excellent advice, you’ve really helped.

Noah: ur welcome. so. how about that other pic? ;)  

“Travis? Traaaaavis? Travis. TravIIIIIIIS!” My sister shouted as she raced across the hall. She bounded into my room excitedly as I hid my phone under my blanket.

“Tammy, get out!” I commanded, pointing at the door from which she came.

“Good morning to you, too. Mommy says it’s time to get up,” She replied cheerfully.

“Tell mom that I respectfully decline,” I said, putting my glasses on top of my head.

“But you gotta! It’s Tammy and Travis Day!” She grinned ear to ear, “You get to spend the entire day with ME!”

“Tell mom to just take you with her,” I replied, rolling over so that I was facing the wall, “I don’t feel good.”

“No!” Tammy pouted, stomping her foot, “I don’t want to go do boring grown up stuff! I want to stay home with my favourite brother in the whole wide world! And yes, you only win because I have no others. Hey, did someone punch you in the neck?”

I could feel her tiny fingers poking the bruises.

“Ya,” I replied shortly, swatting her hand away.

“Who?” She asked curiously.

“Noah,” I sighed.

“Why would he do that?” She asked, poking me again.

“Because I’m annoying like you,” I said, pushing her hand away one last time.

“I’m not annoying!” Tammy exclaimed hitting me with her stuffed Olaf plushy, “Now, come on! Giddy up! Let’s go! Hop to!”

“Ten more minutes,” I requested, moving closer to wall and cuddling up with my blanket.

“Okay! But no longer then that! And I’ll be your alarm clock just to be on the safe side. One Mississauga…two Mississauga…three Mississauga…”

“Tammy, shhhhhhh,” I hushed.

“But I have to let you know when your ten minutes are up!” She explained.

“Count in your head,” I instructed, “Better yet, count in your room.”

“I can count to ten in French!” She squealed, jumping up on the bed with me, “Un, deux, troit….um…I forgot the next part. But I’ll learn! Did you know that I’m gonna be learning French this year?!”

I grabbed my pillow and put it over my head, squeezing it against my ears as tight as I could in an attempt to disable my hearing. It was not very effective.

“ I already know some French words!” She continued, oblivious to my suffering, “Merci means Thank you, Du Rien means You’re welcome…”

“Please be quiet,” I groaned, removing the pillow from my head and putting it back underneath it.

 “Do you know how to say ‘Snowman’ in French?” Tammy asked, placing Olaf on my forehead and making him dance across my face. I angrily grabbed the toy and threw it onto the floor.

“Pick that up and go to your room now,” I said sternly.

“Le Snewman,” She continued, completely disregarding my request as she jumped off the bed to retrieve her toy, “La snowMON…No, that doesn’t sound right…LA Snooomun…”

“Travis!” Tom shouted as he swung the door open without knocking.

“Oh my god, WHAT?!” I exploded, my fists slamming down on the mattress with pent up frustration. Toms face twisted up with anger.

“Who the hell do you think you’re yelling at?!” He exploded back at me. I closed my eyes tightly took several deep breaths in.

“I’m sorry,” I said through gritted teeth, “I dont feel very well…”

“Not feeling well doesn’t give you the right to yell at me,” Tom scolded.

“I know, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” I repeated, “But I have a really bad headache so can you please ask my mom to take Tammy with her today?”

“No. She’s got too much stuff to do and I don’t want her getting banned from another grocery store because SOMEONE thinks it’s normal to eat 10 mini spring rolls while her back is turned.”

“Costco needs to be clearer about their Free Sample policies,” Tammy defended.

 “Tams, let's go to your room and get you dressed,” Tom said. 

“Okay!” Tammy chirped with no argument, running over to him, “Do you know how to say ‘Snowman’ in French?”

“We’ll look it up,” Tom said, guiding her into the hallway, before turning back to look at me, “Your mother wants to talk to you before she leaves. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I replied, despite a chorus of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,”  playing in my head.

 Tom shut the door behind him and I took a deep breath as I stood up, looking around for my glasses momentarily before remembering that I had put them on my head. I pulled them down and grabbing a pair of cargo shorts out of my dresser and put them on. I searched through the box of clothes I had yet to unpack and pulled out the highest turn down collar button up shirt that I could find in a shade of unappealingly bland grey. I walked at a snails pace to my parents room and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

I opened the door to see my mom sitting on her bed flipping through an envelope full of coupons. She looked up at me, holding a green flyer in her hand.

“Does Noah like Quiznos?” She asked point-blank. I raised an eye brow looked left to right.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“2 for 1 sub coupon. That’s a good deal,” she said as she handed me the coupon, “I don’t like their subs, though, they give me heart burn. But I DO like that shirt on you, how come I’ve never seen you in that before?”

“I don’t know,” I said again. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

“Well, you should wear that more often, it really brings out your chin. And smart thinking with the high collar, because I was going to suggest a scarf but it’s a little too hot for that right now. ”

She shoved the rest of her coupons in her purse before placing it down on the floor and folded her hands on her denim clad lap.

“Why are you just standing there like a statue? Come sit with me,” She said, patting the space next to her. I made my way over and sat down, and she put her hand on my knee as she spoke those dreaded words that makes everyone’s heart beat a little faster.

“We need to talk.”

I put my glasses on top of my head and rubbed my eyes so hard I saw stars on the back of my eyelids.

“Are you okay?” She asked, noticing my anxiousness.

“Yeah, it’s just that those are the four worst words in the English language to be strung into a sentence,” I sighed as I pulled my glasses back down in front of my eyes. She took her hand off of my knee and stared at me sombrely for a long time.

“Your grandma just died,” she said finally.

“What?! She did?!” I exclaimed, all of my memories of my grandma flashing before my eyes.

“No, she didn't. But that was a sentence with four words that was worse than the first one,” she said with a smug grin.  I shook my head as she laughed hysterically at her own joke.

“That’s not funny,” I sighed.

“Oh, honey, have a sense of humour! You know, you get your comedic wit from me. Just one of the many genetic gifts I passed down to you. You inherited my great taste in clothes, music, movies, books…” she paused, before adding, “Men…”

“Mom, I’d really rather not talk about this,” I said as I stared down at the floor, my thumbs battling each other.

“What a co-incidence, me too!” She replied, “That’s just one more thing we have in common. And I’m not kidding by the way, Noah very attractive. If I were 10 years younger and single, of course...”

“Mom,” I groaned, rubbing my temples.

“What?! I’m married, not blind,” She said, picking her purse up, “Which reminds me, do you need eye glass cleaner? Because I have a coupon for that…”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I decline, still rubbing my head.

"Travis, could you look at me, please?”

I raised my head and reluctantly looked her in the eyes.

“I love you and I always want you to be honest with me,” She continued, “Okay?”

“Okay. I love you too,” I nodded, hoping this would be the end of our exchange.

“Okay?” She repeated back.

“Okay,” I nodded. "What is this? The Fault in our fucking Stars?''

“Okay. So,” she said putting her hand back on my knee, “Travis. Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

We sat in the most awkward silence I have ever experienced as I tried to will myself into a seizure to escape it.

"Not...really," I shrugged.

“Okay, maybe I should be a bit more direct,” she continued,  “Are you…gay?"

I stared down at the floor, unable to answer.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," she added. 

“I don’t know,” I answered quietly as I picked some imaginary lint off of my shorts.

“How could you not know?” My mother scoffed, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know,” I said again. She unfolded her arms and sighed as she stared up at the ceiling.

 “Answer me this. Would it be safe for me to assume that Noah is more than a friend?” She asked. I stared silently at the floor, praying to God for the ability to teleport.

“Okay…” she exhaled after I refused to answer, “Would it be safe to assume that Ryan was more than a friend?”

My eye brows shot up and I looked at her in disbelief. A proud smile emerged on her face.

“Uh-huh! Yeah! You didn’t think I knew about that one, didja?” She beamed. I shook my head and looked back down at the floor.

“How?” I asked quietly.

“Oh, honey, it was a little obvious,” She laughed, “’Oh, hey mom, I’m just gonna go sleep over at Ryans house because we have to do a science project…again.’ Like, how many darn projects could you two be paired up on? Plus, you would get all giddy when ever he came over. And when he stopped coming over...you stopped being giddy.”

“You’re a regular Nancy Drew,” I sighed, somewhat relieved that I no longer had to keep this a secret from her.

“I really am, I should have been a private investigator,” she beamed, before adding, “Oh and also, one time you forgot to clear the browser history on my laptop and I saw all the gay porn sites you went on.”

I felt all of the blood in my body rush to my head.

“OH MY gosh,” I groaned, covering my blushing face with my hands. 

“Honey, it’s okay. It's nothing to be ashamed of.  Just use Incognito mode next time,” She suggested.

“I will, I’m sorry,” I said, removing my hands looking back down at the floor. This day just kept getting better and better. 

“I know that, as Catholics, we’re not supposed to engage in sins of the flesh. But everyone has needs,” She rationalised, “Masturbation is very normal. You know, sometimes even I…”

“No, no, no, please stop,” I said, covering my ears, much to her amusement.

“Oh, it’s funny how embarrassed you get,” she giggled, pulling my hand away from my ear, “And just so I say it out loud…I like Noah a lot more than I liked Ryan. Pardon my French, but he was a little bitchy. Tom thought so, too.”

Oh good, Lord. Tom.

“Does Tom know that I'm...ya know?” I asked worriedly.

“Oh, heavens, no. And to be honest, I don’t think it’s any of his business,” she said, picking her purse up and putting it on her lap, “I mean, it’s not like you want to hear about what he and I do in the bedroom…”

“I CERTAINLY do not,” I agreed.

“Exactly. Those kinds of things are private. It’s between you, the person you’re doing it with, the four walls and God,” she concluded. 

“Do you think I’m going to go to hell?” I asked, looking her in the face, which was also blushing slightly, showing that she wasn't as comfortable in this conversation as she was pretending to be.

“Oh, honey…no. No, I don’t think you’re going to hell. As long as you ask HIM to forgive you…” my mother said, pointing up with her index finger, “Then He will. He forgives all of us, no matter what. That’s kind of his ‘thing.’”

“Okay,” I nodded as I gazed down at the floor again. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until she finally spoke once more.

“Okay, well, I’m glad we finally talked about this,” She said, "Can I have a hug?"

She leaned over and squeezed me tight and I squeezed her back, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Oh! And one more thing," She said as stood up, grabbing her purse by the strap and swinging it over her shoulder, "Please, Please, PLEASE use protection!”

“I know, I know,” I muttered.

“I’m just making sure you’re not confused about it,” she continued, “I know it that it technically goes against the churches views of contraception, but Jesus’ love will not protect you from the Aids.”

“It’s not THE Aids, mom. It’s just Aids,” I said, standing up.

“Either way, you don’t want it,” she said, making her way towards the door.

“No, I do not,” I agreed, following behind her.  We walked out into the living room and she called for Tom, who was getting my sister ready for the day.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, exciting her room, glaring at me as he adjusted the collar of his work shirt, “You better make sure you feed her today.”

“I will,” I answered as I sat down on the couch and grabbing the remote. As if I would forget to feed my own sister. Again.

“Can you do me a favour and vacuum in here while she’s gone and I’m working? Oh, and do the dishes, too?” Tom asked, putting his shoes on, “And if you have time, give the stove a quick scrub.”

“Would you like me  to rob a bank for you, too?” I asked, flicking through the channels.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Am I interrupting your plans of lying on your butt all day?” Tom sad as he tied his laces.

“I don’t lie on my butt, Tom, I lay on my back,” I responded proudly.

“We know, Travis, we know,” my mom mumbled under her breath as she put her shoes on, “Okay, let’s get going. Bye guys, I love you!”

“Bye mommy! Bye daddy!”

“Bye honey, I love you,” Tom said as they began to exit.

“Bye,” I waved from the couch.

“Don’t forget the dishes!”  He barked.

“Love you t-oh,” I said, rolling my eyes. Tammy plopped down next to me and immediately stole the remote as soon as the door closed.

I felt like a massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had always thought that my mom had just assumed that I was asexual since I never showed any interest in girls, and especially since I had done my best not to show any interest in boys around her. Part of me was scared that she would follow suit of a lot of other religious parents by casting me out the family until I changed my ways, but she was surprisingly understanding about it. The most surprising part of our conversation was that she had known about Ryan and had decided to bring him up on the same morning I had had a sex dream about him. I thought I had done a terrific job of hiding our relationship, and our break up, but apparently I was wrong.

Ryan was my first for everything, except kissing. He was my first hand job, first blowjob, the first person I ever had sex with and the first person outside of my family to tell me that he loved me. I was not his first for any of those things, but that was a small discomfort I quickly got over. So. Why didn’t we blossom into the greatest love story ever told? Good question.

April 1st 2016 4:40 PM

I shifted around uncomfortably in the stuffy waiting room at the Walk-In clinic in London, crossing and uncrossing my legs every few seconds and taking frequent deep breaths to stop myself from scream-crying. Nina sat next to me, flipping through the pages of an issue of ‘Todays Parent.’

“I want a baby,” She sighed as she stared longingly at a picture of a small Chinese infant that vaguely resembled her.

“No, you don’t,” I sighed as I crossed my legs again tightly, “How much longer is this gonna take?!”

“If I have sex with you, will you knock me up?” She asked in a tone that suggested she was actually serious.

“I don’t want to have sex with you, Nina,” I answered honestly, clutching my bottle of juice between both my hands tightly, using it like a stress-ball, “Oh my god, this hurts so bad…”

“Urinary Tract Infections aren’t very much fun, I know,” she sighed, looking at me sympathetically, “But at least you learned your lesson. Drink some more of that cranberry juice, it really does help.”

“I don’t want any more juice! I want a pill, or a cream, or a fucking miracle from God to make this pain go away!” I groaned.

“Shush!” An elderly woman glared at us over her clinic-copy of ‘Ensure Monthly.’ A young red haired receptionist entered the waiting room and, after a quick and I’m sure completely necessary chat with the woman behind the front desk, turned around while starring down at her clipboard.

“Results for Charles?” She said, looking around.

“Oh, thank God!” I gasped, as I stood up and walked as fast as I could to the interior office.

“I’m with you in spirit!” Nina called after me.

I greeted Doctor Fredrick at the door to his office and hopped into a chair right beside his desk as he placed himself behind it.

“Good afternoon, Travis, I heard you’ve had a visit with the medical technician. How are you feeling?” he asked, his blue pen clutched between his fingers, a yellow notepad beneath his hand.

“Pretty bad, but you should already know that by now, eh?” I laughed nervously. He laughed back.

“Yes, well, that’s understandable. We’re gonna make sure that we get you back to normal as soon as possible,” He said, marking God knows what down on his notepad.

 “Listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time so if you could just hand me that prescription, I’ll get out of your hair, which looks great today by the way. But seriously, prescription? Now? Please?” I begged, the burning in my loins getting worse with every passing second without antibiotics.

“Well, yes, in a moment,” he nodded, before adjusting his glasses and looking at me, still twiddling that blue pen between his forefinger and thumb, “First, I want to make sure you understand  the preventative measures that you must take in order to assure that this doesn’t happen again…”

“Yes, I know, I know,” I interrupted, “Condoms. I need to wear a condom. All the time. Every time.”

“And it’s important that you understand the underline cause of…” he tried to continue, but I cut him off again.

“I know, I know,” I repeated, “Urinary Tract Infections are caused by anal bacteria making their un-welcomed way into the urethra. I get it. I will wear a condom from now and for the rest of my life. Or I’ll just bottom for the rest of my life, whatever, I don’t care. Gimme the pills.”

Doctor Fredrick furrowed his thick pepper and salt coloured eye brows, flipped to the next page on his clipboard, flipped it back and stared at me quizzically.

“Urinary Tract Infection?” He said, puzzled, “Is that what the medical technician told you?”

“No, but I looked up my symptoms online and they matched up. Plus, my friend’s had one before and it’s exactly like she described it," I explained. 

“Oh…” he said, placing his pen down on his desk, “Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that you don’t have a UTI.”

“Okay…?” I said hesitantly, “And the bad news?”

“The bad news is that you have Chlamydia,” he said bluntly as he tore the yellow prescription paper off of his note pad and handed it to me. My first instinct was to laugh.

“No I don’t,” I said through my giggling fit. His face remained stern.

“Yes, you do,” he said, pointing to the spot on the paper with the bright blue letters spelling out the C word. I shook my head, my smile glued onto my lips.

“Oh, I get it! April Fools!” I laughed, waving the flimsy, obviously fabricated document around, “Very funny, Doctor Fred, I didn’t know you had such a good sense of humour. But seriously, can I get those pills now?”

“This is not an April Fools joke, Travis, I don’t have that much time on my hands,” he said, rolling his eyes, “And you should be thankful that it is only an infection and not a disease. You got lucky this time.”

 My smile faded as I stared down at my prescription.

“That’s impossible,” I said, my eyes scanning the page.

“Yes, I know, I know,” Doctor Fredrick sighed, “You’re a teenager, there for you think you’re invincible but I hate it break it to you; you’re not. And your actions, sexual or otherwise, do in fact have consequences. Fortunately, Chlamydia is incredibly treatable, unlike some of the other possibilities such as herpes or the HIV virus...”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand…” I said, attempting to hand him back the paper, but he pushed it back towards me.

“I think you’re the one who’s not understanding,” he said, spinning around to face his computer, “Would you like a printed copy of your results? Would you believe me then? I’m running low on black ink so it’ll have to be any other colour, which would you prefer? I’m thinking blue.”

“I don’t have Chlamydia. I CAN’T have Chlamydia,” I insisted.

“And yet, you do,” he sighed as he looked through the colour choices on his computer screen, “What do you think about a nice dark green?"

“No, no, listen," I insisted, putting the paper he gave me back down on his desk, "Before my boyfriend and I did ANYTHING, we came here and got tested and we were both clean. And neither of us has hooked up with anyone else since then, so…you’re wrong. I mean, you’re not wrong, but the test is wrong. And that means you gave my prescription for my UTI medication to someone else and that really burns my ass. Pun entirely intended.”

“Travis,” doctor Fredrick sighed, turning back to towards me on his spinny chair, “Our tests are very accurate. In my thirty years here, I don’t think I have ever given anyone the wrong diagnosis. So, what do you think is more likely; that our tests somehow came to the wrong conclusion or that your partner has been unfaithful to you?”

I stared down at the paper, twisting the edges of it between my fingers.

“He wouldn’t do that,” I said, but even I wasn’t sure I believed myself. The humming of the printer started going off as a bunch of pages began to print.

“I understand that this might be hard for you to accept, but it had to come from somewhere and if you haven’t been with anyone else than…that doesn’t really leave very many options now, does it? Now, this is probably a lot for you to grasp right now, so I’ve printed off your results along with some very helpful information about the underlined causes of Chlamydia and tips for preventing future STI’s. I also suggest you talk to your partner about this because he probably needs to get treatment , as well. And that also might be a good time for you to inquire as to where he has been docking his ship, so to speak. Do you have any questions?”

I looked up and silently shook my head no.

“Very good. Now, you can go get that filled at the pharmacy downstairs.  I gave you the generic brands because I know you don’t have insurance and the name brands can be very expensive. Make sure you read over those papers as well. And if you’re not feeling better in two weeks, come back to see me. Okay?”

I nodded as I stood up from my chair.

“Try and have a good day,” he called after me as I left his office. I walked back down into the waiting area with my head down where Nina greeted me.

“Hey, I drank the rest of your juice. We good to go?” She said as she stood up. I looked down at the prescription, than back up at her.

“Can I borrow $50?” I asked, embarrassed, as we walked towards the staircase that lead to the basement pharmacy.

“$50?!” She gasped, “For what?! The stuff he gave me was like, $20!”

“I’ll explain in the car,” I sighed as we walked down the stairs.

After we got my anti-biotics, which consisted of a a cream and I pill I immediately dry-swallowed, I explained what had happened to Nina as we drove away from the clinic. She immediately lost her shit and started calling Ryan every name in the book, insisting that I confront him.

“That mother fucker!” She screamed, slamming her fists on the steering wheel.

“Nina, relax,” I sighed as I looked out the window.

“No! I will NOT relax! NOBODY cheats on my b-f-f and gets away with it!” She fumed as she cut someone off in traffic, “Call him and find out where he is right now!”

“I know where he is right now, he’s at hockey practice,” I sighed, looking at the time on my phone, “It’s actually ending right about now.”

“Well, then, we’re goin’ to the hockey arena!” She said, pulling a sharp right turn.

When we pulled up in the parking lot in front of the stadium, Ryan and a handful of other hockey players were standing outside, presumably waiting for someone’s mom or dad to come get them.

Nina parked the car on the other side of the building and pulled off her seat belt.

“Come on!” She demanded as she hopped out.

“Nina…” I tried to protest. She slammed her door and made her way over to my side of the car, practically dragging me out of it.

“Come on!” She said as I meekly followed behind her towards the group of boys.

“Hey, it’s the stick people!” One of Ryans team mates said, pointing at us. ‘Stick boy’ and ‘Stick girl’ had been our respective names when we were equipment managers for the team.  Ryan turned around and smiled at us.

“Hey! What’s up?” he said with all of the innocence in the world. 

“Oh, nothing, Ryan what’s up with you?” Nina asked as she folded her arms across her chest. Ryan looked around awkwardly.

“Uh, not much?” He shrugged, “We’re just waiting for Jimmys dad to come get us and take us to Wild Wings. You guys wanna come?”

“Uh, no, we don’t,” Nina said, rolling her eyes, “We actually need to have a little chat with you, so could you join us over at my car for a second?”

“We can chat on our way to Wild Wings,” Ryan suggested.

“Wild Wings!” The other members of the team cheered.

“Ryan, no! We need to talk to you in private. Right now,” Nina said like a stern parent.

I literally had not spoken once during the entire exchange.  If Ryans team mates had to guess which one of us he was secretly banging, I bet that they would assume it was Nina.

Ryan looked at her, than at me, then back at his team mates.

“Well, I’m a little busy right now, so...you’ve got my number, call me about it later, okay?” He said, turning his back to us as he and his team mates launched back into their discussion of who was the best player on The Toronto Maple Leafs.

“Do you really want me to embarrass you in front of all of your friends right now?” Nina shouted over their chatter. They stopped talking and Ryan looked back at us like he was about to have a stroke.

“Christ…” he sighed, shaking his head, “Fucking chicks, am I right?”

The guys on his team laughed and agreed with him as he assured him that this “wouldn’t take long.”

He walked with us back over to Ninas car, all the while whispering,

“What the hell are you doing?! Are you TRYING to out me? What have I ever done to you?! Travis, what is she doing?!”

Nina opened the back door of her car and shoved us both into the back seat.

“What are you doing?!” Ryan said as she forced his legs inside.

“You two are gonna sit here and talk! And YOU are going to be honest with my best friend, for once in your god damn life, Ryan! And if he’s crying when I get back, I’m gonna run you over with my fucking car!” She threatened before slamming the door. Ryan looked at me with immense confusion.

“Did I miss something?!’ He asked, throwing his hands up in the air. I looked at him, then out the window at the trees across the street from the parking lot.

“I need to ask you something,” I said as calmly as I could muster,”And I need you to tell me the truth. Okay?”

“Okay?!” He said, still not understanding what this was all about.  I turned back to him and took a deep breath.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else since we started dating?” I asked. He raised his pierced eye brow and looked around the car for his answer.

“No?” he said, like it was the stupidest question he had ever heard, “Have you?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“Ok. Good. Great,” Ryan shrugged, “Can I go now?”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my copy of the prescription and the diagnosis I had been given.

“I went to the doctor today,” I said, handing him the papers.

“Okay? And?” He said, looking down at them 

“And I have Chlamydia,” I answered.

“Chlamydia?!” Ryan exclaimed in disbelief, “Where the hell did you get that from?”

“I was hoping you could answer that question for me,” I said, keeping my composure the best I could, “Because I know for a FACT that I haven’t been with anyone else so…that really only leaves one possibility."

Ryan handed the papers back to me and shrugged.

“I…I honestly don’t know,” he said, “I don’t know how this could have happened...”

“Ryan…” I said, my patience quickly draining, “Don’t lie to me. Just tell me who it was.”

“I’m not lying!” He insisted.

“Yes, you are,” I countered, “Just tell me who you fucked."

“Nobody!” He proclaimed his innocence.

“Ryan…”

“Nobody!” He repeated, “Nobody, I swear!”

“Stop lying to me…” I requested, the rage building from the bottom of my toes and quickly filling my entire body up like boiling hot water.

“Travis, I didn’t cheat on you!” He said, reaching out and trying to touch my face, but I shoved his hand away.

“Stop lying to me!” I reiterated, more firmly this time, my fists clenched in frustration. 

“Travis, I’M NOT-“ he tried to argue again, but I cut him off.

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!” I screamed, my hand shooting out and punching the seat in front of me, which admittedly hurt me more than anyone else.

Ryan starred forward, then ran his hand across his forehead, pulling off one of the many bandannas he wore during practices and pushing his hair out of his face. He the fabric kneaded it in his hands for a few moments before he finally talked.

“I didn’t know that I had it,” he said, in a barely audible tone.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you!” I growled, my face the same shade of red as my knuckles on the hand that had struck the seat in front of me. He took a deep breath and looked at me in the eyes.

“I thought it was a just yeast infection. It went away after a few weeks and…I didn’t think it was contagious,” he sighed, “If I had known what it really was, I never would have even risked giving it to you. I’m sorry.”

I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, removing the excess water that was, for some reason, filling them up. I put my glasses back on before asking again,

“Who?”

He placed his bandanna on his lap and began to refold it in the way he liked to wear it.

“Some guy,” he muttered.

“What guy? Who? What was his name?” I demanded to know, not that the answers to these questions would do me any good. He put his bandanna back on his head and tied it up before looking at me again.

“This guy named Mark…” he conceded. 

“Mark who? Who’s Mark?” I asked rapidly.

“You don’t know him, he's in College,” he confessed, "He might have been the one who gave it to me. Or…I might have gotten it from this guy who I met over Spring Break…”

That felt like a kick in the stomach. Not only had he fucked around on me, he had fucked around on me with multiple people.

“You said you were in Cuba for Spring Break."

“I was. That’s where I met him,” he sighed, “I don’t actually remember his name but…yeah, it could have been him.”

I moved my glasses up again and rubbed my eyes.

“Why?” I asked, my voice unintentionally cracking. He starred out the window to avoid looking at me.

“I don’t know…because they were there? Because they were interested. Because they were interesting,” he shrugged, "I don't know..."

“So, I’m not interesting enough for you anymore?” I scoffed, holding in my desire to cry.

“No, it’s not that, I just…fuck…” he took a deep breath and shook his head, “It’s just…we’ve been together for a long time and I…I just wanted something different, you know?  Something new, something exciting. I guess I’m just…bored.”

“You’re bored,” I repeated, “You’re bored of me?”

He starred down at the floor of the car and nodded.

“A little, yeah,” he admitted, “Look, we’re still so young and I just don’t want to spend my entire life with a ball and chain around my leg. I hate feeling like I’m tied down to one person. And that’s how I feel right now. I’m sorry, Travis. I really am.”

I swallowed hard and tried to will myself into not crying, but it was of no use.

“If you were really sorry than you wouldn’t have done it in the first place,” I managed to choke out, taking my glasses off and rubbing my eyes again, trying to force the tears back into them.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he sighed.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, “That’s why my balls are on fire.”

“I told you, I didn’t know,” he insisted, “I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry. I really am. I wish it didn't have to end like this.”

That last part felt like a stab in the chest.

“So, that’s it?” I asked, putting my glasses back on, “That’s all? It’s over?”

"Well...yeah," he said as he stared back a me, unaffected by my tears, "We can still be friends, if you want to but...I think our relationship has run its course. It was fun while it lasted though. You were a great lay."

I stared down at the floor of the car, unable to speak. If I did, I would have erupted into a blubbering sack of shit so instead, I kept my mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, placing his hand on the car door, “I’m gonna get going. Those wings aren’t gonna eat themselves.  I’ll see you around.”

He tugged the door handle and hopped out, walking over to rejoin his friends just in time to get picked up by Jimmys dad. I don’t know what he told them our conversation had been about, but apparently we had talked about something funny since all of his team mates were laughing as the truck sped away.

And that was it. That was all. He fucked me over, ripped my still beating heart out of my chest, stomped on it and didn’t even lose his appetite.

What a dick.