Apartment #9

As soon as I woke up that morning, I went to the window. Pulling the curtain to the side, I examined the sky and was immediately disappointed. There were few clouds, and it appeared that today would be a nice day. I went back to the bed, sat with my back against the headboard, and pulled my knees up under my chin. The party would not be canceled, and I would have to attend.

My hands began to tremble, and I wrapped them around my knees and held myself tightly. Why did I agree to go? Why wasn't I quick enough to come up with an excuse? I fought back my tears and tried to calm my breathing. I hadn't had to take a Xanax in over two months, and the last time was only because I had to give that stupid progress report to a room full of people. They had given me no warning on that one.

I'd known about this party for over two weeks. I should have made up an excuse and reserved a hotel room out of town. They would have known I was here, and the party was only four hours away. I didn't understand why people like things like that. Sure, they would serve food, and grilled meat was popular. I mean, I liked hamburgers from the grill, too. But all that incessant talking about nothing and fake camaraderie. Maybe just half a Xanax.

With a swallowed pill, a small bowl of Raisin Bran, brushed teeth, and a long hot shower, I stood naked in front of my underwear drawer trying to figure out which pair to wear. I would probably wear my khaki short pants, so I needed a pair that wouldn't show through in case someone spilled something on me. Or, heaven forbid, I spilled something on myself.

My choice finally boiled down to my gray Separtec underwear. I liked that brand of underwear the best because it kept my dick away from my balls. Before that underwear, I always had to keep my dick pointed up. I didn't like the way it felt when my dick pointed to the side. The problem with my dick pointing up is that, at seven and one-half inches, the head of my dick often road under the elastic band, or sometimes, even above it. My dick didn't grow long when I got a boner, so I never had to worry about that, but it did get about twice as thick when it got hard. I always had to worry when a handsome guy was around that he would notice.

With the Separtec underwear, my dick pointed down, so it was more difficult to get a boner, and when I did, they didn't show as much, so I had one less thing to be as worried about.

Now I had to decide whether to wear the gray ones with the stripes or the ones without the strips. I stood looking from one hand to the other for about ten minutes before deciding to go with the striped one. I'd wear the solid one with the long pants I'd planned to wear the next day. They were a lighter beige, and the stripes might show through on those.

I put the underwear and pants on. I had decided to wear a pale blue shirt because the sun would be out and I'd be a little cooler. Plus, if I started to sweat, it would be more difficult to tell. I wasn't sure whether to wear the shirt with the hem out or tucked into the pants. The mirror in the bathroom was no help at all. I looked like a pathetic nerd no matter which way I wore the shirt.

After pulling the shirt out, I sat on the couch. I looked into my hands. I was only asked to go to this thing because they invited all the residents, not because they wanted me. Why the hell did I move to this complex? I knew they had things like this as soon as the weather got warm.

Maybe I should just drop off the beer I signed up to bring. No one would miss me, and I'd already walked around the complex enough to take a good look at the guys who lived here. Only one of them interested me, and he has a wife and a baby. Could there be someone new who would be there? Probably not.

It was time to go down. I slipped into my sandals and grabbed the beer. I could already hear the noise from the people gathered by the pool. I went down and looked for the place to leave the beer. Marlene, the manager, pointed to a cooler at the other end of the pool. I went immediately and started to stuff the bottles into the ice.

"Dos exes," said a guy who looked about twenty. "Fuck man, that's my favorite. Cool, it's already chilled. Did you bring that?"

He was too young for me, but he had a nice body. His shirt was open, and he exposed his abs and his Hanes elastic band. I nodded. "Yes, I did."

"A million fucking thanks, dude." He made a fist; I bumped it, and off he went, giggling as he did.

That should have been my cue to exit, but Marlene had prepared me a burger with cheese and tomatoes. "I hope you like tomatoes," she smiled. "Why don't you sit over there in the shade? I'll send some other young people to sit with you." She made her way to the grill.

I sat and slowly ate my burger and sipped the can of Dr. Pepper I'd pulled from one of the other coolers. I was surprised at the number of people who came down. Someone put on some rather loud music, and a group of girls started to dance while they pretended to eat.

I had decided to get a hot dog. I'd never had one cooked on a grill, so I got up and tried to figure out if there was a line. About that time, someone decided it was time for some silly string. I'd never found the stuff to be that fun, and it was always a mess to clean up. What I didn't know was how flammable it is.

Many of us around the grill ended up with the string on us. My right arm and my food plate had several strings on them. A fireball erupted. People screamed, pushed, shoved. I was knocked to the ground. I was able to pat the fire on my arm with my free hand. I sat stunned by the pain and saw several people jumping into the pool.

I sustained mostly minor burns, but a few areas on my arm began to blister. The initial pain was excruciating. Someone turned on the sprinkler system and told everyone to run water over the wounds until help arrived. I moved closer to a sprinkler head and felt an agonizingly slow relief.

With my eyes closed and water spraying both the palm of my left hand and the forearm of my right, I began to yell at myself for not taking the burger back to my apartment. The anger building in me kept me from crying. I heard a clattering as EMTs, firemen, and policemen arrived on the scene. There were people hurt much more badly than I was, and the EMTs and firemen attended them.

A tall figure approached me. He seemed well over six feet tall, wore a policeman's hat, and dark sunglasses. He sported a porn mustache and a strong, square chin. His long-sleeved shirt was rolled up to just below his elbow, and I noticed a tattoo of some sort on his right arm. His name badge read T. Higgins, and when he spoke, his voice was deep and serious. I had the vague sensation that I had seen him before, but I knew I'd never met him. "How serious are your injuries? May I see your arms?"

I rotated my arms and hands to allow him a clear view. I noticed that the water was spraying onto his pants. "You're getting all wet, Officer."

"Higgins. Don't you think you're more important than a wet pant leg? What's your name?"

"Ethan Portefoy. But your shoes," I implored.

"Just shoes." His tone was serious but somehow comforting. "How much pain are you in?"

"It's getting better with the water. It hurt like hell at first."

"I bet it did. I see some blisters on your arm. It doesn't appear as severe on your hand. Are you burned elsewhere?"

"No. The silly string was just on my arm, and I put it out with my hand."

"I think you'll be OK, but we need to have one of the firemen look at you. Are you breathing OK? Hurting anywhere else?"

"No. I'll probably just put some antibiotic on it later and cover it up with a bandage."

He pulled out a notepad and wrote something. "What's your address?"

I live here in apartment nine. It's on the second floor of that building." I moved my head toward my building."

He scribbled in his notepad. "Phone number?"

I gave him my number, and he told me to wait there. As he stood and walked away, I heard his shoe make a wet, squishy should. He seemed to ignore it.

He returned a few minutes later. "The EMT told me that if you've been running water on it for twenty minutes, you can stop. The water makes it feel better by taking the heat away. He wants me to bring you over there so he can take a look.

Officer Higgins walked me to my apartment after the EMT checked me over. I promised to use antibiotic ointment on the burn and to check with my physician if it wasn't healing. "Do what he told you."

"I will," I nodded. I watched the officer walk back toward the steps. The way his butt moved as he left caught my eye. I went back in to find my antibiotic, but I kept seeing his face with those dark glasses and his hat pulled down. He stirred a fire in my blood.

I squeezed the tube of neomycin and applied it to my arm. I thought about his arm, with the tattoo. I found tattoos repugnant, but his tats made him sexier. And that awful mustache. Was it stiff and bristly, or soft?

Stop it! I told myself as I looked in the mirror. I pointed a finger at myself. You only find him sexy because he's a cop, a man in uniform. He was only nice to you because it's his job. I went into the kitchen and took some Aleve. I got comfortable on the couch to watch TV, but my mind kept racing over earlier events. I kept seeing the silly string flying over people in slow-motion. Streams of colored polymer landed on my arm before it all exploded into flames. My eyelids grew heavy and I drifted off to sleep.

-2-

The ringing echoed in my head, and I opened my eyes. Less light in the room signaled that I'd spent the afternoon asleep. The doorbell rang again, and I got up, still drowsy, to answer it. I opened the door to find Officer Higgins standing there. He smiled.

Wow! I thought. He had perfect teeth, straight and white. "May I help you, Officer?" It sounded stupid as soon as I said it. I moved to the side to let him in.

"I guess I should have picked up a comb," he said as he walked in.

His voice sent shivers through me. "Huh?"

He ran his fingers through the tangled mess of hair on the top of my head. "You've got a bed-head." He chuckled. "Sorry, I only brought you some antibiotic." He removed his sunglasses.

I could have dropped dead right there. He had eyes like crystals; they were a mix of amethyst and grey-blue. I found myself staring.

Officer Higgins cleared his throat. "Here's the cream."

"Thank you. Please, have a seat." I pointed toward the sofa."

He nodded and turned. I looked down at his ass; I wanted to reach out and touch it. He glanced back, and I looked up quickly. Had he caught me? Just before he sat down, I noticed that he was only slightly taller than I but more muscular. While I weighed about one-fifty, he had to be about one-ninety, and every pound was pure man.

"I was concerned that you wouldn't take care of that arm,” he smiled again.

I stood at my bookcase and straightened books that were already straight. “I appreciate that.”

“Plus, I wanted to see you again,” he said. He got back up and walked toward the bookcase.

“Me?”

He smiled.

I bit my lower lip. He couldn’t possibly mean what I wanted him to mean.

“Of course, you. And I’d like to see you tomorrow, too. Maybe pick you up about eleven, have lunch, maybe see a movie?” He held my gaze for a moment or two. “Or did I overstep? I got this vibe from you when I was examining your hand.”

I tried to smile. “No, you didn’t overstep.”

“Then you’ll go out with me? On a date.”

I swallowed. I could feel my heart thumping rapidly.

I saw him take a deep breath. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

“I don’t mean to make it difficult. I’d love to go out with you. Who wouldn’t?” I asked.

He pushed my bangs out of my eyes and ran his fingers through my hair before holding the side of my face in the cup of his hand. I pushed my head against his hand.

“Ethan, you’re so fucking cute,” he said, “and you don’t even know it, do you?”

I looked down at the floor. “I don’t know your name, Officer Higgins.”

“It’s Tyler.”

“Tyler.” It was my turn to take a deep breath. What a sexy name.

“I have to get back; I’m on lunch break right now.”

I nodded. “Thanks for stopping by and bringing me the medication.”

He dropped his hand to my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.

“Just so you know,” I said. You don’t have to have an excuse to stop by; you’re welcome anytime.”

He nodded. “Eleven, tomorrow.”

We walked to the door, and as he walked out, I said, “See you tomorrow.” I smiled. It felt like the first real smile I’d had in such a long time. I closed the door and locked it. I leaned back against it and shut my eyes. “Somebody I like likes me back,” I whispered. That had never happened before.

-3-

The weather forecast for the next day was partly cloudy with temperatures in the low eighties. No rain was predicted. I took my time with my shower and made sure that no spot of skin was left unlathered. I gently cleaned the burn areas. The palm of my hand felt OK, but my arm was still sensitive. I made sure to apply the antibiotic, and I placed the tube next to my wallet and keys.

I had scrubbed under the nails of my toes and my fingers, and I made sure they were neatly trimmed. I gave my pants and my shirt a spot check with the iron and even gave the shirt a little starch in the collar and placket.

At ten-thirty, I was ready to go. I spent the rest of the time making sure the living room was straight and dusted, the bedroom and bathroom were pristine, and the bed was perfectly made with clean sheets. I still had a few minutes before eleven so I made sure the refrigerator was organized. The water bottles were lined up with their labels facing forward. I closed the refrigerator door just as I heard the doorbell ring.

I opened the door. Tyler Higgins may have been hot in his police uniform. Now, in shorts that matched the color of mine, a dark blue t-shirt under an open short-sleeved deep purple shirt, he was super-hot. His mildly hairy tanned legs ended with well-manicured feet in stylish leather sandals. I wanted him to grab me, kiss me, and pull me into my bedroom.

“Ready to go?” he asked with the perfect smile of his.

I grabbed my keys, wallet, and antibiotic from the table next to the door. “Completely,” I replied.

“I knew you would be,” he laughed.

That deep voice of his transfixed me. I wanted to place my ear against one side of his chest and my hand on the other and feel the vibrations as he spoke. I imagined that he considered my voice tinny and unsatisfying. I was trapped in the alto range, and people who only heard me on the telephone were unable to determine whether I was a man. It was only one of the things I hated about myself.

Tyler grabbed the doorknob as I stepped out into the sun. He pulled the door shut, and I locked it. It was only a small action, but the two of us completed it as though it were part of a ballet that we had practiced to perfection. I freed the key from the slot and looked over at him as I slipped the key into my pocket.

Tyler slipped my hand into his. “What would you like for lunch?” He started down the stairs, and I was right behind him. We remained linked together as we went down.

“I hadn’t really thought about what to eat,” I said. “I thought I’d just pick something from the menu of wherever you took me.”

We reached the bottom, and as I descended the last step, he asked, “You trust me then.”

I put my hand on his chest. “Implicitly.”

He covered my hand with his. “Then it’ll be a surprise.”

Another surprise to me was the car that he drove. I had expected him to drive a sports car, something sporty, sexy. Instead, he drove an old Ford pick-up truck with a diesel engine. It was clean but well-worn.

Tyler insisted on helping me into the truck, to which I replied, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I don’t want you to put any pressure on your hand. When it heals, I let you get in without any help.”

I got in and buckled myself. He barely knew me, and yet he planned on my riding with him more than once. I looked at the palm of my hand. It was still slightly red. My arm ached, but I wasn’t going to complain. I was sitting with the nicest man I’d ever met. The day was already perfect, and I wasn’t about to do anything to spoil it.

Chapter 2:  Tyler and Ethan continue their date.  Will their burgeoning friendship give rise to romance?