The first time this happened was my senior year in high school, which was Scott’s freshman year in college. A bunch of his buddies shared a run-down old house near campus, and the tradition was that whoever rented that house had to throw a bash on Halloween. They’d kind of go with a creepy haunted house theme, which, given the condition of the place, didn’t take much in the way of decorations. And everybody would dress up, show up, and get wasted. Normal college party stuff.
If there had been a contest for best costume, I’m sure Scott and I would have taken it. I worked my ass off for the better part of two weeks putting together a replica of Cher’s Oscar outfit circa 1986. You remember the one—beaded black skirt hovering just above the pubic area, a barely there top with a grid of black bands going up the neck, and the pièce de résistance: a headpiece with two-foot black feathers coming out in all directions like a lion’s mane.
Look, I don’t want to brag, but my kids win best costume at every fucking Halloween carnival around. When I first started out, I designed costumes for some off-off-off Broadway musicals that were low-budget enough to require dancers to work production. I know how to make kick-ass costumes. And I got my start that Halloween, so I think documenting it is important.
This picture is of me and Scott standing on his buddy’s front porch. I’m channeling Cher with one hand on my hip and my best sultry expression aimed at the camera. Scott has his arm around me and he’s wearing his trademark grin, a tux, black wig, and fake mustache. It’s a great picture commemorating a fun night. And, side note, that night I made Scott promise to never, ever grow facial hair.
Charlie (“Chase”) Rhodes
TWO knocks on our shared wall, a pause, and then three more knocks. Now that Scott and I were in different schools, it wasn’t as easy to line up our schedules, so we had implemented that code to let each other know when we got home.
I was in my final year of high school. Moment of silence in honor of the upcoming ending of that horror. Seriously, I couldn’t wait to be done with school. My brainy, beautiful Scott, on the other hand, actually enjoyed homework and books and even math, so he had started college at SUNY in September.
“You rang,” I said in my best Lurch voice as I did a stiff-legged limp into his room, completing the impression.
Scott was pulling books out of his messenger bag and then stacking them on his desk. His hair was messy, his clothes rumpled. When he heard me come in, he looked up, grinned, and his eyes sparkled. Damn, but was he ever gorgeous.
“Hey, baby,” he said.
“So?” I asked. He shook his head. “No?” I sighed and flopped onto his bed. “Scotty, the party is in two weeks.”
“I know.”
My guy leaned against his desk, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and looked at me appraisingly. I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Well, if you know, then help me. I’m not a miracle worker and you already told me a zombie was no good, same with the Joker, and now Lurch. We need to figure out costumes now or it’ll be too late.”
“Too late for what?”
I raised both eyebrows. “Uh, too late to get our costumes together for your friend’s Halloween party,” I answered. “Do you know what you’re going as yet?” Scott shook his head. I scowled. “Don’t pretend like you forgot. I’ve been reminding you constantly.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he answered as he walked over to the bed and then draped himself over me, supporting himself on his knees and elbows while he gazed into my eyes. “I’m just waiting for you to decide on yours first.” I huffed and he smiled. “You’re cute when you’re pouty.”
“I’m not pouting.”
“No? Well, this lip sticking out right here—” He dipped his face and pulled my bottom lip between both of his, licked and sucked it gently, and then released me. “—says otherwise.” I shivered. One corner of Scott’s mouth tilted up, and he gave me a heated look. “I love that,” he whispered.
“What?” My voice sounded like it was being dragged over gravel.
“The way you respond to me,” he answered. “Your cheeks get red, your heart starts racing, and you get hard.” He rolled his body so his belly dragged against my erection. I whimpered. “Yeah, see? That too. The noises you make, baby. And your eyes… I love your eyes. I’d say they’re like the sky, but I’ve never seen the sky look so blue, and when you want me, they get darker. Did you know that? Like, right now, they’re almost navy.”
I licked my lips and gulped as I tried to catch my breath. “I always want you, Scotty.”