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Yeah," I breathed. "I'm just... I gotta make a phone call for class. I think I left my assignment sheet in my locker." I didn't think Becky would buy that, but it didn't really matter. She was a wretched bitch, and if even the slightest doubt that I had figured her out existed, she'd milk it to bother me as much as possible. I went to my room, not even bothering to listen if my mother objected to my departure from the dinner table, and called up Reggie. I paced impatiently as the phone rang. "Hello?" asked Reggie. "It's me, Zach," I replied. "Zach! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he cooed. "Listen. This is serious. The other guy Cindy likes... do you know who it is?" "I know it's someone from her math class... that's about it.... why?" he asked. "It's fucking Jamie... my cousin." "The twin!?" he exclaimed. "That's the one." "... Oh lord..." Reggie practically squeaked. "Any progress on where the rumor started?" I asked. "Some," Reggie informed me, to my relief. "I still. I had so many impure urges when I was with him that I often wondered if I needed counselling. Some impartial third party upon whom to vent, in an effort to bring my tempestuous libido under control. It wasn't the only thought stream that ran through my head. Another, sluttier part of me wanted to drop to my knees in front of him like a porn star and take him in my mouth until he shot his sticky load down my throat. But I also somehow wanted the afternoon to last forever. Loved the tension of taking it slow, building our desires until we could no longer hold back and had to ride one another to orgasm. Whether that act would take place in the bedroom or out on the more public balcony overlooking the palm-bordered gardens would not be a conscious decision. We would twirl, roll and crash against anything that would take our weight, completely lost in one another. As the hot water sprayed and rivulets poured down my cheeks, I broke the kiss and looked up at him, settling for simply.
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’ — Chris went straight home after his visit with his father. It left him emotionally drained. He could still picture a rugged, healthy man who had loved nothing better than to go fishing or camping with his son. Now, all that was left of that man was a frail body, one that was not strong enough to hold on to life anymore. His father could die anytime and Chris wanted him to die happy. It was the least he could do. That night, he sat down with a bottle of whisky at his balcony, drowning his sorrows and bringing memories back. There were so many good memories. He thought of his first day at kindergarten, when he’d refused to go unless his father dropped him and picked him up. His father had done that without complaining for nearly half a year, until Chris was comfortable enough to go on his own. He then thought of graduation, his father’s proud smile as he watched his son graduate with honours from Harvard. He had said that it was the proudest moment of his life, watching his son.

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