The Reluctant Party-goer

[Xenobody]

The Reluctant Party-Goer
by Nobody
(Jon_Sands84@yahoo.com) <mailto:(Jonathen622622@yahoo.com)>


I glanced up from my seat behind the counter just in time to see Andrew walk in. I set aside my copy of Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and glanced at the clock. Almost closing time.
We exchanged greetings. I was okay. He was wonderful. As usual. The bastard.
“Looks . . . quiet in here,” Andrew observed.
“As the grave,” I said. “You’re maybe the third person to stop in for the last half-hour or so. And as you’re not going to buy anything, you don’t really count anyway.”
I discreetly glanced over him as we chatted, taking in his cropped blonde hair and bright-blue eyes and his mega-watt grin. He’d been hitting the gym a bit more lately, mostly to bulk up his slender frame, and it was beginning to show. Especially in his skin-tight white tee-shirt and blue jeans.
I used to have a huge crush on Andrew. But as we got older, and my emotional blinders came off, I pretty much got over that. His straightness was a minor factor in that as well.
“So, what are you doin’ tonight?” Andrew asked. “After work?”
I held up Wicked.
“No,” Andrew shook his head.
“No?”
“No,” Andrew repeated. “You are not going home, on a Friday night, to read a book. Not on my watch.”
“Why not?” I asked indignantly.
“It’s just so . . . pitiful,” Andrew said. “God, you’re too young to be spinster. And you’re a guy. It’s just not right.”
“And what should I be doing on a Friday night?” I asked.
Andrew’s answer was instantaneous. “Partying. Drinking. Getting laid.”
“And where would I be pursuing these activities?”
I instantly regretted my words as he smiled, that mischievous, dangerous smile. “Well, Devin’s having a little get-together at her apartment tonight.”
“No,” I said.
“Why not?” Andrew said. “And don’t say because you’ve got a book to read. ‘Cause I’m so not accepting that.”
I paused at this, but quickly changed tack. “I don’t like parties.”
“This won’t be a party,” Andrew said. “It’s a get-together. Just a few people. Besides, Devin asked me to bring you.”
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded.
I gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re not just saying that so I’ll feel obligated to go, are you?”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
I turned from him with a low growl. “Lemme shut things down and then we’ll go to Devin’s.”
“Score!” He said, pumping his arm victoriously.
“What?”
“Devin bet me fifteen dollars that I couldn’t convince you to come to her party,” Andrew smiled. “I knew I could talk you into it.”
Not for the first time, I wondered why our friendship had lasted as long as it has.

“So, Devin aside,” I asked, opening his passenger side door, “who’s going to be at this ‘get-together’?”
“Well, Fiona’ll be there,” Andrew said. “You know Fiona, right?”
“Devin’s girlfriend? Well, they live together. I’d assumed as much.”
“Hey, you asked,” Andrew said. “I’m just giving you a complete list.”
“Fine, fine,” I sighed. “Continue.”
“Erica and Greg’ll be there. For a little while, anyway.”
“Six isn’t too bad,” I admitted.
“There may be a few more people than that,” Andrew admitted.“But, like I said, a small get-together,”
“Is there anything we should bring? Food? Drinks?”
“Oh, yeah,” Andrew said, making a slightly illegal turnabout in an empty intersection. “She said to bring drinks.”
“Drinks?” I said, my feeling of mild foreboding rising.
“Yeah, y’know, alcohol,” Andrew grinned. He knew that alcohol made me nervous. It made people act very, very strangely, which made me only a little less uncomfortable than the idea of myself being the one out of control. I’d only been drunk once. I couldn’t remember what had happened, but Andrew and the other people who’d been present seem to chuckle whenever the topic comes up.
I still haven’t had the heart to ask exactly what happened. And that’s if anything happened at all.
The beer run was brief. Andrew ran into the liquor store and picked up several sorts of alcohol. Including some of the sweeter stuff I prefer, which was another cause for concern.
We made small talk till we pulled into the lot for Devin’s apartment.
“Ah,” Andrew asked. “You didn’t want to change or anything, did you? I should have asked earlier.”
“Yes, you should have,” I said, “But no, I’m fine.”
We don’t wear uniforms at my job, but I’m not one for slumming at work. I was wearing my favorite black dress shirt and black slacks. What an odd pair we must have made, me with my dark attire and skin and his fair complexion and lighter dress. Eh. Anyway.
I’d just climbed out of Andrew’s car when a red pick-up truck pulled up in the space right next to us. I instinctively pressed myself against the side of the vehicle behind me, despite the space between myself and the parking pick-up.
As I took a moment to recover, the driver’s side door opened, and he stepped out.
He was a big fellow, maybe six foot two, somewhere over three hundred pounds. My best guess would have been between three fifty or three seventy five.
Over his substantial upper torso, he was dressed in a black tee with a widened yellow AOL figurine, the words GET FAT in bold print beneath it. Considering how the material strained to cover the overhang of his considerable belly, it seemed an apt sentiment. I wondered how he get it tucked into his snug, dyed-black jeans, filled out generously by his broad bottom and thick thighs.
He brushed a strand of dark brown hair away from his eyes and smiled, his red and slightly pouty lips parting to display very straight, very white teeth. He was maybe a year or two older than me, if that.
“Hello,” He said.
“Hi,” I said, managing a shy smile.
“Excuse me,” He said. I leaned back against Andrew’s car, although not as much as I could have, and he sidled past me. His stomach brushed - well, maybe brushed was an understatement - pressed against mine. For a second he lingered, his expansive torso resting against mine. It would have been so easy to - and then he was gone, his ample hips swaying as he sauntered away and into the apartment complex.
Andrew smirked. “Going to check out or are you just browsing?”
I shook my head. “What - Oh, shut up.”
“Hey, it’s your prerogative, man,” Andrew said. “Everyone’s got their own taste. Weird as they may be.”
“Thanks for that affirmation,” I said, shaking my head irritably.
“You’re welcome,” Andrew said. “Now, we’ve got a party to go to.”
“Don’t you mean a get-together?” I said, failing to contain my sarcasm.
“Oh, yeah. Right. One of those.”
That was one of Andrew’s few redeeming traits. Despite his career aspiration to act, he wasn’t big on pretense outside of work. Not that he wasn’t capable of it, just that he couldn’t maintain it for long.
We collected the booze and made our way into the apartment complex. Devin’s apartment was nice, much nicer than mine. I suppose when two full-time workers share a place, it’s easier to afford someplace better.
I knocked on the door. At the same time, Andrew rang the doorbell. Once we would have argued over who did what first, but now we just exchanged annoyed glances and waited for someone to get the door.
Fiona got the door. Fiona’s short and willowy, with dark eyes and long, light brown hair that fell down to her lower back. She was dressed very casually, in a too-large tee-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans. I was usually overdressed for this sort of thing.
“Hey,” She said, smiling as she stepped aside and opened the door wider, allowing some low-playing music to waft from the apartment. “Come on in.”
We stepped into the apartment.
“Everyone’s in the living room,” She glanced down the hall to the living room.
I held up the drinks questioningly.
“Hmm,” She took Andrew’s keys and two cases, one of beer, from Andrew, another of sweeter drinks, from me. “Just put the rest in the fridge.” She nodded toward kitchen.
We followed her instructions and then made our way out the other kitchen door into the living room.
There on the sofa was Devin, taller than Fiona and me, but wiry and tough, her blonde hair cut short for the summer. Erica and Greg, appropriately enough, sharing a love seat. They’d been together almost as far back as a I can remember. They were a funny couple, more Jack Spratt and wife than Barbie and Ken. Suffice to say, Greg was thin and Erica . . . less so.
And then there was -

[Xenobody]

How had I not noticed? One can see a little of the living room from the front hallway, and he was seated in what should have been my clear line of sight upon entering the apartment.
He took up two thirds of the aforementioned love seat’s counterpart. He’d planted his wide rump right in the middle, making it nigh-impossible to share, unless he decided to make room for someone else. Not that that would free up much space anyway.
There were heys, hellos, and hi’s. How are you’s and I’m adjectives. And introductions were made.
“Chase, this is Bernard,” Devin said, “Bernard, Chase.”
Bernard smiled as he rose to take my hand. “We meet again.” He said, enveloping my hand in his.
“That we do,” I said, still startled and tongue-tied as a result of it. His grip was firm, warm and dry and much as I’d have liked to continue, I managed to let go before it got awkward.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Devin said. “Have a seat.”
A glance showed that Andrew and Fiona (back from placing Andrew’s keys in one of the backrooms) had taken the remaining spots on the larger sofa with Devin. And there wasn’t room for another soul on the love seat with Erica and Greg.
Bernard had already taken his seat, this time leaning on the armrests to make room for me.
With a slight smile and a relieved sigh, I took a seat beside Bernard. As soon as his weight shifted to a more comfortable position, I was pressed between my armrest and his ample girth. As I’d thought, there wasn’t much room. Not that I was complaining.
His arm, resting on the back of the seat, fell a little to rest comfortably over my shoulder.
“Comfy?” He asked with a coy smile.
“Sure,” I replied, somehow resisting the urge to snuggle into his side.
“Good.” He leaned back, taking in the rest people present.
Alcohol was being dispensed, in bottles and cans. Bernard passed me a wine cooler and cracked open a can of beer. After a sip, he said, “So Andrew, Devin said that you’d actually gotten into acting.”
Andrew shrugged. “I’ve had a few parts. No lead roles yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”
“Cool,” Bernard said.
“I heard you weren’t wrestling anymore,” Andrew said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Bernard smiled. “But I’m not doing college wrestling. Not really built for it anymore.”
“I noticed,” Greg said. “I almost didn’t recognize you when you came in.”
Those who’d known Bernard agreed. “I’d have said something earlier when Chase was og - when you pulled up next to us.”
I could feel a blush coming on and tried not to notice Bernard’s pleased expression as he said, “I’ve gotten that a lot since I moved back into town. Not being recognized, I mean.”
Normally I would have totally blue-screened at this point. I’m not closeted or anything, not at this point, but I’ve never been comfortable being openly attracted to people. So for me to be this obvious should have bothered me.
But, for some reason, it didn’t. If anything, I felt easier. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe I was just growing up. Or maybe ‘why’ didn’t matter. I let myself relax against Bernard.
“I suppose I got hit by the freshman fifty,” Bernard shrugged. “It happens to some students.”
“But to get hit all three semesters,” Andrew smirked. “Didn’t figure it’d go for sophomores and juniors.”
“There’s a version for every class,” Bernard said wryly. “Anyway, I don’t mind it. There are worse things a guy can leave college with.” He patted his gut affectionately.
This led to an amusing, if somewhat disturbing, discourse on what other guys had taken from college. Not having attended full-time myself, I was entertained and perturbed by some of the accounts. STDs, tattoos in the oddest places, post-hypnotic suggestions and other assorted goodbye ‘gifts’. A little weight gain didn’t seem quite so bad by the time the subject changed.
By this point the beer had begun to flow freely. Fiona and I were buzzed, as was Bernard, despite having had several more servings of stronger stuff. Damn higher body mass. The line between Andrew-drunk and Andrew-sober was a fine one, but I could tell he was feeling his drinks as well.
Devin was gone. She hadn’t reached the clothing removal stage yet, but it wouldn’t be much longer. Erica and Greg had a few drinks but wound up leaving not long after.
“Gotta work tomorrow,” Greg said apologetically. Erica barely had maybe a sip or two of Greg’s drinks, so she opted to drive them home. Fiona relinquished the keys, against her better judgement, and we watched them go.
Bernard turned his attention to me. “So, Chase, what do you do?”
“I work with books,” I said.
“How so?”
“Well, I’ve got two jobs right now,” I said. “One at a library, one at a bookstore. Both part-time.”
“So you like to read?” He shifted in his seat so that he was facing me.
“Oh, yes,” I said, following his lead. “Very much so.”
“Have you ever read anything by David Leavitt?”
“I like him well enough,” I said. “He’s very honest, very grounded. Somewhere between the Happy-Gay-Lucky authors and Christopher Rice.”
He laughed. “He really does get a bad rap, doesn’t he?”
“If I wanted to be depressed I’d - wait, no, I don’t want to be depressed. His style is interesting, but too gritty for my tastes.”
“I’m glad someone else thinks so,” Bernard smiled. “I thought it was just me.”
“No, no,” I said. “You’re far from alone.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” His grip on my shoulder tightened affectionately.
“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to anyone about gay authors without a counter between us,” I realized. “It’s . . . refreshing.” And stimulating, I didn’t add.
“Well, I’ve never discussed them with anyone,” Bernard admitted. “I don’t know any other people who read them.”
“Well, now you do,” I patted him on the thigh. “We’ll have to compare favorites.”
He flushed. “I suppose we will.”
We were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Oh, that should be the pizza.” Fiona got the door (which seemed to be her thing tonight) and labored back into living room burdened with four extra-large pizza boxes in hand.
I managed to reach her before there was an accident, and we split the load between us. I got some paper plates from the kitchen, under Fiona’s instruction. The pizzas were spread out on the coffee table to reveal one meat lover’s, one vegetarian, one pepperoni and one anchovy. It was quarantined away from the others.
“Who ordered anchovy?” Andrew asked.
Guiltily, Bernard raised his hand.
“Well, you two can share,” Andrew shoved the closed box in our direction. “Weirdos.”
“You like anchovies?” Bernard asked, looking up from the opened box to give me an appraising look.
“As long as I’ve known him,” Andrew interjected.
“Well, if you could finish that before you start dealing with any of the other pizzas,” Fiona requested. “I’ve never understood how that smell manages to contaminate anything it comes in contact with, but -“ She shuddered.
“Understandable,” I said, taking a slice.
In the course of conversation, Bernard and I (and I only add myself for the sake of accuracy, I had maybe three slices) made short work of the pizza.
I was fairly sated, but Bernard seemed ready for more. When I returned from disposing of the box, I found Bernard digging into the meat lover’s pie.
“Oh, just a second.” I waited for him to pile his plate high with several slices of meat-lover’s and pepperoni before taking my seat beside him.
“I got one for you,” He handed me a slice. We ate in silence, while Devin, Fiona and Andrew swapped the latest gossip and drama amongst our circle of friends. I didn’t know what was going on in anyone else’s life, at least, nothing Andrew hadn’t told me or already knew. Bernard hadn’t been in town for months.
I glanced at Bernard to find him studying me with a thoughtful expression.
“Hm?”
“You’ve got some pizza sauce on your face,” He said finally. “Lemme get it.” He ran his finger down edge of mouth, showed me the dollop of sauce, and then sucked it off his finger. “No need to waste it.”
“True enough,” I said, feeling a smidgeon lightheaded. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” Bernard grinned. “If there’s any other service I can perform, just lemme know.”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” I said, smiling in return.

[FatMike]

Thanks for your contributions. I always enjoy reading your stories on the various sites that I find them on. A lot more enjoyable and in-depth then a lot of the material that you find.