ROCKY: I’ve got tickets to a standup show tonight. Want to come?
Do I want to come? Of course I want to come!
I was so excited, I opened up Hazel’s text message chain and typed in: Rocky wants me to go with him to a standup special. I should go, right?
As if I needed any more encouragement. I pulled my legs underneath me and sat back on the couch, feeling myself getting all kinds of excited by the prospect of another date with Rocky Hudson.
HAZEL: Are you kidding me?! Of course you should go! And then go home with him too.
SAM: Alright let’s not get too crazy.
HAZEL: Too crazy? Bitch, you need to get buckwild!
I laughed, not expecting any other advice from my best friend. My fingers flew across my phone as I typed out: Fine. I’ll go and drop my pants the second I see him. Maybe he’ll just take my virginity then and there. I won’t even wear a belt, easy access hahahaa.
I hit Send.
And that’s when I realized I was in the wrong text chain. Hazel’s name wasn’t at the top of my screen. Neither was my mom’s or my dad’s or Abraham Lincoln’s for that matter.
It was Rocky Hudson. I had just texted the man I was infatuated with about taking my virginity like some wild animal in rabid heat. My body suddenly felt like it was consumed by flames. I read his name over and over again, hoping I’d gotten that stroke my dad was talking about and was just mixing around the letters in my brain. Surely it didn’t say Rocky Hudson on my phone. It couldn’t have. No way in hell.
ROCKY: I’ll pick you up in an hour.
ROCKY: Don’t wear a belt.
I melted into my couch and considered buying a one-way ticket to Indonesia, or some other distant land I could disappear in and never be heard from again. Somewhere remote and cute, where Wi-Fi still worked but maybe cellular service was spotty.
SAM: That was totally a joke.
I texted back after what felt like sixty-seven years but was more than likely five minutes.
ROCKY: Lol
Great. Reaaaal fucking great.
“Uggggh,” I groaned out loud. My dad turned my way, but the look I shot him must have been all the answer he needed. He went back to reading the newspaper as my mom walked into the living room, taking her seat next to him, almost tripping on her green-and-blue silk nightgown.
“What’s wrong, Sammy?” she asked, sipping on her drink. Steam swirled up and clouded her glasses.
“Nothing. Just wondering if the earth can open up and eat me already.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Is it boy problems?”
Pfft. If only you knew.
“Possibly,” I said, not wanting to dive into it. I got up and went to go change, every step I walked feeling like an anchor was tied to my feet. The embarrassment spread through me like a virus, replicating inside every single one of my cells, until I was sure my entire body was as red as a cherry tomato.
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t get over,” my mom said in her reassuring mom-tone, which didn’t do anything to reassure me in that moment of life or death (mostly death).
“We’ll see about that.”
“Are you going out on a date?” my dad asked, throwing himself into the conversation.
“No,” I said. “I’m heading to my funeral.”
They both laughed as I left the room to get ready.
And, even though I was fatally embarrassed by that mistaken text message, I still left the belt inside my suitcase.
16
Rocky Hudson
Sam’s text message came as a surprise. It was clearly sent to me by accident, but that didn’t stop the flicker of heat from spreading through my veins. It was easy to imagine Sam arriving at my doorstep, his shorts already unbuttoned, a shy smirk on his dreamy face, his body ready to be ravaged by mine.
I was in my bathroom, just getting out of my tub, water dripping down onto the white-and-gray marble floor. I reached for a towel and started to dry off, but my thoughts kept swinging back to Sam, the same way my cock started swinging back and forth, growing harder and harder until it was something I couldn’t ignore.
I began to stroke myself, dropping the towel onto the floor. This needed to be taken care of, or I’d end up ripping off Sam’s pants with or without a belt on.
Evening sunlight filled the bathroom, coming in from the large window above the tub. I looked ahead at the wall-to-wall mirror above the dual sinks. My body still dripped with water, down my abs, droplets falling off my already tightening balls.
I stroked a little faster, picturing Sam with me, dropping to his knees at my command, his lips wrapping around the head of my leaking cock. I pictured his own dick, hard between his legs, but his attention focused solely on mine, both his hands wrapped around my length as I buried myself down his throat.