Chapter Thirteen

Charlie

“ I don’t know what to wear!” Trent arrived at my place two hours before the concert with a panicked expression and true drama queen flare.

I took his face in my hands, kissed his nose, then his lips. “You can wear what you always do.”

“I can’t go in a jersey and basketball shorts to a rock concert.” He flapped his arms, pointing to my Dropkick Murphys t-shirt and black cargo pants. “And I’d sweat in a hoodie.”

“Oh, Cupcake. It’s important that you feel comfortable and be yourself.” I pulled him into the house by the hand and sat him on the couch.

“I wish I got a t-shirt from the store we went to last week. Something black with a good band on it you could vouch for.” He shot his hand into his pocket and crinkled the wrappers of the lollipops I assumed were there.

“They may have a shop at the entrance, but they usually sell merch after the concert.” I straddled his thighs and put his hands on my hips. His reaction was immediate as he met my gaze and released a breath. After not seeing him for several days, looking at his face up close reminded me how gorgeous he was, that it was not my horny imagination late at night conjuring images of this perfect man.

“I guess nothing of yours would fit my big ass.”

“Big, bouncy, and so fuckable.” I flicked his nose with mine and reveled in seeing a blush spring to his cheeks. “Your wide shoulders won’t fit any of my—No, wait. One second!” I skipped to my bedroom and pulled out an oversized Bad Religion t-shirt from my closet. With a triumphant “Ha!” I presented it to Trent.

Trent stood up, looked at it then me. “Is this your ex-partner’s or something?” He narrowed his eyes, not accepting the garment.

“Nope.” I lifted to my tiptoes and kissed his nose. “I sleep in it but it’s washed and clean for you.”

“Pity, I’d love to smell you on it.” The casual way he said such heartwarming stuff proved how natural he was at blurting out the truth. I rarely did that, except that one time I’d almost told him I loved him. That night I’d lain in my bed and analyzed my past relationships and how deep into a relationship I had said those big words. That wasn’t a confession I’d casually throw on the wind to a person I’ve been dating. Then it had occurred to me—I’d told my parents I loved them, and my closest friends, but not any of my partners. Did my subconscious catch up to what my heart was up to sooner than my conscious mind? I cared about Trent, as a friend with experimenting benefits, but was I already in love?

I showed the thought aside to ponder later.

For now, I’d show him my kind of entertainment and see if he could stand it. We were so different. Being a couple makes little sense in theory, but in practice, Trent made me feel that anything was possible.

Trent shed his jersey, flashing a set of abs I sadly had no time to lick, and exchanged it for the t-shirt. “It fits.” He did a Julie Andrews in The Sound Of Music twirl as if he was the happiest ever, dancing on a hill.

“You look great in it, and it goes well with your cargo shorts.” I smoothed the t-shirt with both hands, sliding them down the Suffer album cover print with a boy on fire. Then I reached under, touching the warm skin of his hips and along the waistband of his pants.

“They’re my work gear and the best I could find in my closet for the occasion. And the Kobe shoes are black at least.” He spoke of a punk concert as if it was a wedding with special instructions for what to wear.

“Well, you look like a proper rocker now. And the eighties vibe of those shoes is awesome.”

“Do I need eyeliner?”

“No, you’re fine.” I chuckled and ushered him to the door. “I’m not wearing any today.”

“Okay.” He lifted his hand, and I put mine in his as if we were going to prom. I guess it was the closest we had. As we took the T’s Green Line to the Kenmore stop, that thought kept bouncing in my head. In many ways, I was glad Trent and I reconnected when I was living as my true self, but some days, I wondered if we’d remain friends if I’d stayed in Myrtle Falls. We definitely wouldn’t have gone to the prom together after my transition.

“Did you like prom?” I asked. “I missed so much after I left, now I want to know all the important moments in your life until now. Prom is always such a big deal.”

Trent pursed his lips, thinking. “It was okay.”

Not the reaction I’d expected. Something more positive or emotional maybe? “Who did you go with? Though I probably wouldn’t know many people from your highschool.”

“Most of our class from elementary school attended Truman High with me. You forget how small our town is.” He shook his head, but I was glad to see no distress in his features. “I went to prom with Mary Lindon.”

“The blonde who lived three houses over?” I recalled the girl always wearing flowery dresses, even when we’d ridden bikes outside.

“Yeah. She had chemistry with me and helped me prepare for tests. She was never mean to me when I was an awkward chubby kid.” He waved a hand when I wanted to protest, and continued. “So when I was hitting the gym daily, and girls saw me as a piece of meat, I asked her to prom instead. She was always very pretty, and for prom everyone went all-in, so she looked stunning in a peach dress. I wore a tux, got flowers and a corsage for her and all that.”

“That sounds magical. I’d love to see a pic of you in a tux.” I elbowed him playfully. “How did it go?”

“As expected.” He shrugged, his face revealing only mild excitement about the event. “We danced, had some of the horrid punch, then went to Chad’s house party and had sex. I loved it. Probably a bit too much. You know.” He grimaced. “But then we did it again, and she told me what to do so I could get better at it. We fucked the entire summer after that until she left to attend Georgia State in Atlanta.”

“Sounds like you had a great time. You haven’t considered staying in a long-distance relationship?”

“Nah. What we had wasn’t love. Although I didn’t know it back then.” He released a dry chuckle. “I knew she would leave, so it was an expected heartbreak. We taught each other a lot, getting sweaty in her room when her parents were at work. And after that, I had girls all over me. Bedroom gossip traveled fast, and I also put on more muscle working on Old Man’s Hogan’s farm, so that didn’t hurt either. But it was a bit weird. None of the girls ever stayed with me long. Like I was good for fucking, but not much else.”

“Are you kidding? They didn’t know what they lost. And I’m happy for it.” I hooked my arm through his. “Cause now I can drag you to concerts with me.” I kissed his cheek, wishing I could have been there for him even as a friend between those flings. “This is our stop.”

We got off at Kenmore and walked up Brookline Avenue towards Fenway Park, joining the crowd in blacks, greens, and similar Dropkick Murphys T-shirts to the one I had on.

Trent crunched a lollipop in his teeth and fished in his pocket for another.

“Are you okay?” I grazed the back of my hand against his.

He reached for my hand, then snatched it away, his eyes darting around. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I took his hand and squeezed. People can be dicks when it came to public displays of affection between non-heteronormative couples, but I’ve heard it all. As much as I’d wish to spare Trent the odd glances and comments, I refused to hide who we were, even if it meant offending some people’s sensibilities. Trent relaxed, as if my touch grounded him. “If you’re okay being out, I’m definitely on board with this.” I intertwined our fingers.

“Yeah, I am. This helps a lot.” He exhaled and stoked my knuckles with his thumb.

“Safewords are not only for sex, you know. You can use one in a situation you want to get out of. If you feel uncomfortable today at any moment when you’re with me, just say—” I pursed my lips. Red wouldn’t work so well in a public setting. “What’s your least favorite lollipop flavor?”

“Depends on the brand, but the lime ones are usually quite shit.”

“Then lime is your safeword, okay?” I squeezed Trent’s fingers and got a smile in return.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that.” He lifted our linked hands and kissed my knuckles. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for coming with me today. I love concerts, but I hate going alone.”

We turned onto Lansdowne Street and from there saw the theater-like sign of the MGM Music Hall. I showed our tickets at the entrance and we walked through the interior filled with wooden fixtures and red accents.

“It’s so pretty here,” Trent said as we took our seats at the second level in the middle.

“It used to be called Fenway Theater back in the day.” I spread my arms wide to indicate the red folding chairs and the crimson curtain on both sides of the stage. I nudged Trent’s side. “Look at the people in casual wear. See, you had nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, you were right,” he said with reluctance. “Some people are wearing jerseys, but there are like five of them.”

I waved my hand in dismissal. “You look great, and we’re here to enjoy the concert. Unless you won’t, then we’ll leave. Just let me know.”

“Oh, I’ll have fun.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you love the music, I will love you enjoying it.”

Fuck me. I kissed his cheek, then his lips. Three big words threatened to spill again. “Thank you,” I said instead, like a fucking chickenshit.

The opening act was a band that went on tour with Dropkick Murphys. They had a similar vibe but their music was more leaning towards folk with melodious lyrics.

By the end of it, we went to grab beers and returned in time for the band change. As usual, The Foggy Dew by Sinead O’Connor & The Chieftains played from the speakers as the intro, calming everyone down with the singer’s beautiful voice. Then, the bagpiper walked across the stage first playing Cadence To Arms as the rest of Dropkick Murphys entered one by one.

The band consisted of two electric guitars, an acoustic, bass, and vocals. The drums sat in the middle at the back, and a whole station of smaller instruments stood next to a guy with bagpipes.

Trent let go of my hand and waved when prompted by Ken, the lead vocalist, during the next several songs.

Everyone lost their collective shit and sang along when the band played For Boston, then went straight into The Boys Are Back.

Soon enough, Trent was singing the catchy chorus with the rest of the fans belting out the words.

“You didn’t tell me you’re such a Dropkick Murphys fan, you know the lyrics.” I elbowed him.

“Well, I wasn’t. But I wanted to be prepared, so I listened to them over the last week.”

He was too cute for words. “And?”

“I like Going Out in Style and Rose Tattoo the most. I don’t remember the titles to the rest.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t want to embarrass you by standing here like a dumbass.”

“Oh, Cupcake. You wouldn’t.” I side-hugged him, wanting to climb on his lap and kiss the fuck out of him.

How on Earth did I find this man? Or did he find me?

Again.

We were so different, every time we were apart, I wondered how we could ever be together. But when he stood next to me, it all somehow worked. We clicked on some weird level that defied interests, gender norms, and societal expectations.

Initially, I thought it would be a friends-with-benefits kind of sitch for both of us, but I was now wondering if Trent wasn’t in my heart to stay. Not just as a friend, but as everything I ever wanted in a partner.

But then I think of him going back home and telling his family about me. His friends.

Crippling fear gripped me, and I grabbed his hand.

“Are you okay?” Trent yelled over the music.

“Great.” I showed him a thumbs up like an idiot.

Fuck. He’d have to leave me sooner or later. If not in the next year, then three. Did I want to have him until he left and live with the constant fear and expectation that he’d break up with me? Or should I let him go gently now and remain friends?

Probably the latter. But it would be hard as fuck to do. I would enjoy this time with him a bit more. We were having too much fun. Besides, I promised to show him more in the bedroom and I was a man of my word.

Shoving doom and gloom aside, I jumped up and down to my favorite songs, belted out lyrics and sweated like a pig, while holding Trent’s hand.