FALLING FOR STEREOTYPES

By Skylar Jaye

Joshua sat in his rental car in the parking lot of the only football stadium in town. It had been a forty-five-minute drive from Midland to the small West Texas town where he’d grown up. He’d planned on arriving last night but his plane had been delayed. So here he was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn on the plane—a fresh coat of deodorant the only thing keeping him from being utterly grossed out by himself.

Around him, families and friends chattered and laughed. They came and went as a steady stream—parking, unloading, and all heading to the south lot. Joshua watched them, stuck in uncertainty, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He could just put the car in reverse and leave before anyone saw him. He could head back to the airport, tell his parents his flight had been cancelled, and catch the next plane heading back to the New York.

The Independence Day Festival was the biggest community event in Spangled, Texas. Joshua hadn’t been in six years, ever since he left this small town for a full-ride at NYU and a bigger, better life. He could spot the top of the Ferris Wheel from the driver’s seat and wondered if they still lit it up like a flag once the sun set. He wondered if his parent’s booth was still next to the Mckinney’s, if they still argued over the best brand of beer and barbequing music.

The last time he’d been able to hug his mom was at his college graduation just over two years before. The occasional Skype call and Facebook post couldn’t really make up for seeing his parents in person. Joshua steeled his nerves and got out of the car. He’d run from this place for six years, but he was older now—no longer a pimple-faced kid struggling in isolation. He was no longer the only gay kid in a small town of small-minded people. He’d graduated magna cum laude, gotten a coveted position as junior editor for the New York Times, and had made himself a known member of the large, vibrant gay community in NYC. He was stronger than the bigoted society he’d run from.

It wasn’t the bigots that scared him now.

Joshua walked across the parking lot. The hot summer sun radiated off the asphalt below him. He wished he’d worn different shoes. The thin soles of his sandals really didn’t protect his feet. At least he didn’t have to worry about sunburns. Even though six years up north had kept him pale, he knew his skin would tan easily after a day under the Texas sky.

The entrance to the festival was marked by a huge banner attached to two flag poles on either side. At the top of the poles were familiar flags—American and Texan flying at the same height. Joshua stared at them for a moment and wondered if he even knew what New York’s state flag looked like.

The smell of barbeque and fried oil tickled his nose. Joshua’s stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since leaving New York. He grinned, excited despite himself. The sweet sticky stuff they called barbeque in New England just couldn’t compare to real Texan grilling. He headed down the lane, dodging excited kids running free. He almost looked around for their parents, but then he remembered when he’d been one of those kids. No one leashed their children here. It was hard to worry about stranger-danger when every other adult went to their church or volunteered at their school or hosted pool parties at the local park.

Joshua headed past the carnival, screams echoing from the various spinning rides and death traps, to the main vendor aisle. At the first booth an older lady with grey hair hanging loose under a wide-brim sun hat stopped him.

“Welcome, young man. Here to participate in the cook-off?” she asked.

Joshua stopped and stared for a moment. “Mrs. Birmingham?”

Mrs. Birmingham stared back. Joshua shifted, feeling a strange urge to blush. Of course his old third-grade teacher wouldn’t recognize him anymore.

“Joshua Jones!” Mrs. Birmingham shouted in delight. “Why, look at you!”

Joshua actually blushed then as Mrs. Birmingham pulled him into a hug. “Hi, Mrs. Birmingham. You look well. Still teaching?”

“Oh, no, I’m just a part-time sub now. Leaves me more time for fun stuff.” She winked.

Joshua nearly flinched at that, but of course Mrs. Birmingham meant school substitute not... the other kind of sub. He may be out, but no one aside from his section of the gay community knew his specific kinks.

“How’s Mr. Birmingham?” Joshua asked. “Is he still the Principal at Spangled Middle or has he retired too?”

“Jack passed last year.”

Joshua sucked in a breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry…”

Mrs. Birmingham shook her head. “He’s in that better place now, I’m sure of it.” She patted his arm. “Enough about me, your mom says you’re still living in New York. Settled down with a nice man yet?”

 Joshua flushed. “No, not yet.”

“Well, you’re still young. But when it happens, you call me up. My Abigail is a lovely wedding planner and I know your parents would be thrilled if you thought to have the ceremony in town. Anthony Erikson married Jess Miller in the town park just this past April and it was gorgeous.”

Joshua’s chest felt tight. Two of his friends had gotten married in Central Park last year and it had been so beautiful that Joshua had nearly cried. He let himself imagine it for a moment, a clear spring day with the wildflowers blooming and the open sky stretching around them. “Thanks,” he murmured, because he wasn’t sure how to express the impossibility of that dream. It was one thing for a gay couple to get married in Central Park, another thing for one to get married in the main park of a small Texas town.

“Well, then, I’m guessing you’re headed to your parents’ booth.” Mrs. Birmingham put a small clipboard in his hands. “Here’s a cook-off sheet. Keep an open mind about the other competitors, your mom’s sauce ain’t the best in town anymore.”

His heart was still in his throat, but he swallowed past it. “Blasphemy,” he managed to say. “She’s won every year since Dad switched to beef instead of pork ribs.”

“Not in the last few years she hasn’t,” Mrs. Birmingham said. “But I’ll let you see for yourself. Go now, have fun. And be sure to drop by with your completed sheet later!”

Joshua smiled in thanks and turned away with the small clipboard. Several dozen booths were labeled on the paper, all numbered, and a space indicated where he’d judge their barbeque out of five stars. He tucked the clipboard under his arm and headed down the aisle to his parents’ booth.

Joseph and Linda Jones sat in lawn chairs behind a low table full of barbeque beef ribs. They had a fan set up on top of an ice cooler that Joshua knew from experience was full of Bud Light. His dad wore a faded Dallas Cowboy’s shirt and his mom a floral blouse. They both wore khaki shorts—it was too damn hot for anything else.

“Hey, Mom, Dad,” Joshua said as he ducked around the table into the booth.

“Joshua!” His mom jumped up and gave him a tight hug. She had more grey hairs since he last saw her, tanned skin pulled tight around her eyes and mouth, but her hair was perfectly curled and her makeup was as artful as always.

“Son,” his dad greeted, pulling him in for another hug. “We were beginning to worry.”

Joshua hadn’t bothered texting updates, knowing how country time went. They wouldn’t have been really worried until he’d failed to show up for the fireworks that night. “Plane was delayed so I came straight here. Wasn’t sure if the spare key was still in the same spot.”

“Of course it is,” his mom said. “But I’m glad you came right away. The booths close down in an hour so they can count the votes. Here, I saved an end piece for you.”

Joshua grinned and took the proffered plate. He dug his teeth into the juicy tang of his parents’ famous beef ribs. “Mrs. Birmingham told me you got booted out of first place,” he said around a bite.

“We sure did.” His dad shrugged. “Was expecting it to happen. The young have to take charge eventually or a place grows stagnant.”

“Is that what it means to win a silly little contest?” his mom asked.

“So, who is it?” Joshua asked. “Which upstart stole your prestige?” He swallowed down the last of the rib. His stomach flipped, unsure about the greasy food on top of the nervous energy he couldn’t seem to let go of.

“Hmm.” His mom gave him a long look. “Why don’t you go see for yourself? Two booths down and across the lane.”

Joshua shrugged. “I don’t care that much, if you’d rather catch up…”

“We’ll have the week with you. Go, enjoy the festival. Who knows, you might run into some old friends.” His dad shooed him out of the booth. Laughing, Joshua went. He wondered what his parents were hiding—who could the new barbeque champion be? It had to be someone he knew, considering those looks. Was it one of his old classmates? Someone from the journalism club or the yearbook committee?

Joshua headed down the aisle. There was a small crowd in front of the booth in question. He waited at the back as everyone got their food—drumsticks covered in a dark brown sauce. He could smell the tang from here and his mouth watered. Finally, the crowd dispersed and he was able to make his way to the front.

The man behind the table really was about his age, though he was taller and his shoulders were significantly wider. He had blond hair cut military-short and when he looked up Joshua recognized the slightly crooked nose and beautiful honey brown eyes.

“Wright,” Joshua said, practically exhaling the surname.

Michael “Mikey” Wright stared back at him. “Jones,” he replied. "I... didn't know you were in town."

Joshua grabbed a small paper plate with one of the delicious-smelling drumsticks. "I'm just staying the week," he said.

"Oh, right. Still up in New York?"

Joshua nodded. "I'm kind of surprised you know. Didn't think you'd care to remember me."

He looked up from his plate just in time to see Mikey flinch. It was an interesting reaction, to the say the least. Because for all four years of high school, Mikey had been the bane of Joshua's life. It was a stereotype—the star quarterback who couldn't help but pick on the only gay kid in school. Joshua hadn't been able to avoid him, being the president of the journalism club and in charge of the school newspaper. Not that he'd always wanted to avoid Mikey anyway.

Because, even six years later, the straight line of Mikey's shoulders and the way his biceps bulged out of his short sleeve tee sent a shiver straight down to Joshua's groin.

He took a bite of the drumstick to avoid giving any sign of his reaction. He'd managed to hide his sexual attraction to Mikey for all four years of high school—surely it'd be easier now that he was an adult? Even though it was frustrating that his stupid crush hadn't quite gone away, he was old enough to rationalize it. After all, Mikey had opened the way for a lot of his kinks.

The taste of chicken exploded in his mouth, enhanced by the honey barbeque blend surrounding it. Joshua groaned over the bite, in love despite himself. He finished off the tiny drumstick in two more bite and then sucked on the pieces stuck to the bone.

"Fine," he said. "This is better than my parents'. I can see why you won."

He looked up and stilled at the way Mikey's pupils were blown wide. His fingers twitched by his sides, like he wanted to grab something. Joshua wondered if he was still as aggravating to the other man as he apparently had been as a kid.

Joshua swallowed the last bit of chicken and threw the plate and bone away. He held up a hand in an awkward goodbye.

"Wait, Jones!"

Joshua turned back. "Yes?"

Mikey looked down, his fingers still twitching. "The booths close up in thirty, or so. Would you... can I talk with you, after?"

Joshua considered the larger man for a minute. There was something strange about the slope of his shoulders—something weird about seeing such a confident person look so nervous. "Sure," he murmured. "I'm going to finish going around and judging the barbeque, then I'll come back."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it."

The earnestness of his statement nearly caused a blush to rise to Joshua's cheeks. He fled before Mikey had a chance to say anything else.

Half-an-hour later, he'd turned his score sheet back to Mrs. Birmingham and wandered over to his parents' booth to help them store the remaining ribs in their cooler and take down the little pavilion tent. "Need help lugging it to the car?" He asked, though he knew he was stalling.

"We're fine," his dad said. "Go have fun. There's still a little while before the fireworks start."

It was starting to get dark, the sun dipping toward the flat horizon. Joshua meandered up the aisle to Mikey's booth. The man had already packed everything up, but he sat on his cooler like he was waiting for someone—waiting for him.

"Hey," Mikey said, smiling as he caught sight of Joshua. "I forgot I'd have to take all this to my truck. You mind hanging around a few more minutes?"

"I'll help you," Joshua offered instead. Whatever it was Mikey wanted to say, he'd rather hear it sooner than agonize over it any longer. Mikey's demeanor wasn't that of someone who was about to deliver an insult, but he was still slouched and it made Joshua nervous.

"Thanks." Mikey picked up the tent bag and the table, leaving the cooler for Joshua.

Joshua couldn't help but admire Mikey's straining muscles. He’d certainly been muscular and attractive in high school, but those memories were nothing compared to now. He was a full-fledged Southern boy stereotype and Joshua hated how much he loved it.

He wheeled the cooler across the path and out to the parking lot. Mikey was parked close to the front—he would have come early to set up. His black Ford truck was new, or at least newer than the old Dodge he drove back in high school. Joshua hauled the cooler into the bed and then sat back to enjoy the view as Mikey did the same for the tent and table.

Mikey leaned against the side of his truck once he'd finished and considered Joshua. Joshua found he couldn't meet the intensity in that honey brown gaze and he dropped his eyes to the asphalt.

"Hey," Mikey said, his tone low. "I want to apologize."

Joshua blinked, startled enough to look back up. "Apologize?"

Mikey met his eyes with that intense look and this time he held it. "What I did back in high school, pushing you around, yelling at you... I was a bully. So, yeah, I need to apologize. I'm sorry I hurt you, Jones. It was all on me."

"What?"

Mikey cleared his throat. "I know you've probably avoided coming back here. You're braver than me for doing it at all. But I just wanted you to know that no one hates you for being who you are. Especially not me, okay? You never did anything wrong and you didn't deserve any of the bullying, from me or anyone else."

Bullying, huh?

Joshua's clearest memory from high school was right after their football team had won at home against the school from the town over. It was hard to practice against other teams, with their being so much distance between the small towns, so official games always tended to be a crapshoot. Winning was made more exciting by the fact that no one knew if they were anywhere near good enough to do so until the game was upon them.

Joshua had run to the locker rooms after the game, determined to get a quote for Monday's weekly school paper before all the players went off to party. By the time he was able to get there, though, only Mikey Wright was left. The quarterback looked like he'd just gotten out of the showers, a towel still wrapped around his neck.

"Wright," Joshua said. "I was hoping to run into you."

"Hoping to sneak a peek of me in the showers?" Mikey grimaced and stood.

"No, I just want to hear your thoughts–"

Mikey surged forward and slammed Joshua against the smelly lockers behind him. His back arched against the impact and he gasped.

"You don't want to hear my thoughts," Mikey growled into Joshua's ear.

The hairs on the back of Joshua's neck rose and he had to bite his lip to hold back a groan. Mikey was tall and already way too built for a sixteen-year-old. His hands pressed hard against Joshua's arms, tight enough that Joshua would feel it tomorrow. Being held like that, feeling Mikey hot against him, made Joshua's heart race.

"Just one comment," he whispered. "How did it feel to get that last pass?"

Mikey huffed and pulled back.

Joshua got his statement, and enough jerk off material to last him the rest of the year.

So, bullying, huh?

He shook his head. Sure, it hadn't been right of Mikey to push him around just because he was gay, but he hadn't gone out of his way to avoid it. Maybe even the opposite, at times.

“I was worried about coming back,” Joshua said into the silence. “But not because of you.”

“The town really has changed,” Mikey told him, all earnest. It was enough to make Joshua feel guilty for his teenage fantasies. “No one’s going to call you names or kick you out of church. The worst they’ll do is misunderstand.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Joshua looked over at the setting sun, a gorgeous orange sunset stretching across the wide sky. “Thing is, that’s exactly what I was worried about. Cause even ten years ago, when I first came out, the worst I got were well-wishers who were worried I’d miss out on a chance for a family, letting myself go down that path”

“And me.”

Joshua snorted. “No, really, the worst I got was the adults who told me I had a choice and I chose wrong. You never said that. You never even implied that I somehow chose to be gay. You just seemed to hate that I was.”

Mikey slowly reached forward. Joshua watched, confused, as Mikey picked up one of his hands and held it between two of his own. Even now, long after Joshua had finally gotten his overdue growth spurt, Mikey’s hands were larger than his. His dainty fingers disappeared in the middle of Mikey’s rough palms.

“I did hate that,” Mikey said. “And I did hate your choice—not being gay, even then I knew that wasn’t a choice. If it was, I wouldn’t have chosen it for myself. But I hated that you were so open about it, that you didn’t hide it, because I was so ashamed of myself.”

“I– what?” Joshua twitched his fingers against Mikey’s warm hands.

“I came out three years ago,” Mikey murmured. “After I’d been in therapy for a couple years. I had a lot of control issues as a kid. Still do, to be honest, but the thought of people knowing my perversions was a trigger for me. It doesn’t excuse what I did to you but–”

“No, stop.” Joshua pulled his hand back and Mikey let him. “You’re saying you pushed me around because you were also gay?”

“Well, not entirely, but… yeah, basically.” There was an honest-to-God blush on Mikey’s cheeks.

Joshua gaped.

“Christ, I know that sounds awful.” Mikey pulled back and ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “I just… I was such an idiot. I should have never taken my problems out on you. When I think about how much I hurt you–”

A sudden, terrible stirring of guilt came over Joshua. It was one thing to allow Mikey the misconception that he’d been a truly and awful bully when he’d been a former homophobe. It was an entirely different thing to allow a fellow gay to hate on himself.

“Wright– Mikey, stop,” Joshua said. He stepped forward, coming just inside intimate distance. “You never hurt me.”

“You don’t need to lie–”

“You. Never. Hurt. Me. I liked it, okay?”

Mikey stared at him. Joshua felt himself blush. His gaze quickly found the asphalt below them.

“Joshua,” Mikey murmured. Joshua shivered, affected by the sound of his first name spoken in that distinctive drawl.

“Look, you have to know how attractive you are,” Joshua said quickly. “And I… didn’t mind being pushed around by you. I know it sounds fucked up, but I just don’t want you to go on thinking you scarred me for life or something.”

“Huh.”

Joshua looked up. Mikey’s faced had smoothed out in contemplation.

“Yeah,” Joshua said. “Sorry if that makes things awkward.”

A small smile crept up the sides of Mikey’s mouth. “Nah,” he said. “It’s not what I expected and I’m still not proud of myself, but I’m glad I didn’t hurt you too bad.”

“I told you, you didn’t hurt me at all.”

Mikey shrugged. “Even if you like someone manhandling you, it’s not okay if you didn’t consent beforehand.”

Joshua choked on his own spit. That kind of language was straight out of a safe kink practices handbook. He would have never expected to hear it in a place like Spangled, from a guy like Mikey.

Mikey laughed as Joshua cleared his throat and took a couple steadying breaths.

“Well, now that we’ve worked that out,” Mikey said, smiling wide now, “wanna walk the festival with me?”

Joshua blushed again, because there was no mistaking the suggestive flirtation of that request. “Sure.”

Mikey led them around, his eyes never straying far from Joshua as if double-checking that he was following alright. Joshua felt flushed at the attention, not quite sure how to react to the change in energy between them.

Then again, it was nice to feel like he was the center of someone’s attention. Especially someone as attractive as Mikey.

They rode a couple of rides, though Joshua flat out refused to go on the Tornado, a spinning death wheel he’d been traumatized on as a kid. In every line and on every path there were people who greeted Mikey—often with exclamations that they loved his chicken and hoped he won the contest again this year. Slightly more surprising was how many people Joshua realized he recognized, and who recognized him in return. They gave him hugs and back slaps, easy smiles and “welcome back”s. It made Joshua’s stomach swoop and fall as though he’d consented to strapping into the Tornado after all.

They walked into the aisle full of carnival games: the balloon pop dart throw, the beer bottle ring toss, and the same candy apple bobbing barrel that had been set up since Joshua’s parents were kids. The old barrel still smelled of the barn it was stored in most of the year, but children still swarmed the stand and submerged their heads into the water like every year.

“Wanna try one?” Mikey asked.

“I bet I can beat you at the ring toss,” Joshua challenged.

“You’re on.”

Joshua reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet for a couple bucks, but Mikey stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “I got it,” he said.

“Ah, thanks,” Joshua murmured. He felt strangely giddy and he reminded himself not to read too much into the offer. Even if Mikey did linger before removing his hand from Joshua’s wrist. Joshua’s skin tingled with the remaining warmth of the touch and he had to stop himself from rubbing the spot.

As they moved closer to the booth, Joshua noticed that the person manning it was another familiar face. Dennis Chavez had been a linebacker on the football team and a good friend of Mikey. Joshua remembered those sneers and sly comments, how Dennis would look down his nose at Joshua any time he came up for an interview.

Joshua paused just outside the radius of the booth, uncertain, but Mikey continued forward. “Hey, man,” he said, sliding his palm across Dennis’s offered hand and ending it with a fist bump. “How’s the newest Chavez?”

“A bundle of joy,” Dennis said, sarcasm clear in his tone but with a grin on his face. “She wakes us up at three am every night. Lily’s worried she may be colicky.”

“Ah, hope not, that would suck.”

Dennis nodded. Joshua inched closer then froze again as Dennis’s gaze landed on him.

“Oh, is that Joshua Jones?”

“Sure is.” Mikey turned back and herded Joshua closer with a large hand in the middle of his back. Joshua swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled his polite ‘I’m a professional’ look.

“Nice to see you, Dennis,” Joshua lied through his teeth.

Dennis laughed. “Is it really?” He shook his head. “Ah, but it’s good to see you. You look fit. Less scrawny then you used to be.”

Joshua wasn’t sure how to react to that—getting a compliment from Dennis Chavez of all people. As he struggled to figure out how to respond, Mikey paid Dennis and collected the plastic rings.

“You wanna toss first?” Mikey offered.

Joshua forced himself to let the earlier comment go and nodded. He accepted three of the rings from Mikey and lined himself up. The targets were wine bottles—from the vineyard fifty miles down the road which was the only place their school went for field trips. Something about learning the different jobs available on a farm and appreciating local Texan produce. Of course they only got grape juice to drink at the end, but Joshua still had fond memories of the trip.

The sun had dipped almost completely below the horizon, so they were forced to see the wine bottles by a few lanterns Dennis had set up. Around them, most of the carnival games were closing up. Joshua took a deep breath and aimed.

First toss landed bounced off the rightmost bottle. Joshua grimaced. Mikey clapped him on the back, “That was a warm up,” he said. “Come on, Jones.”

Joshua stuck his tongue out at Mikey. The motion struck him as odd halfway through—that’s something he’d do with his friends, not with… whatever Mikey was. But Mikey laughed good-naturedly and Joshua had to fight down another blush.

He took his time with the second toss, making sure to wait until the wind died down, and it hit solidly in the cluster of bottles, over the head of one labeled 20 points. He didn’t wait on the third one, copying the exact sensation of the last while his body remembered it. It bounced off the 20-point bottle, but landed on the one to the left worth 10.

“30 points,” Dennis said. “Not bad.”

Joshua stepped back and let Mikey have his turn. Mikey face stilled into that look of intense concentration and Joshua licked his lips. He froze a moment later and checked to see if Dennis had noticed. Dennis was looking at him, but he didn’t scowl—he winked.

Joshua turned back to Mikey quickly, heart beating.

Mikey’s tosses all flew with perfect accuracy, because of course they did, and one after another they rang around the neck of the centermost bottle—50 points each. Dennis crowed with each successful toss and Joshua shook his head.

“I guess I shouldn’t have tried to best you at anything even remotely related to athletics,” he admitted.

Mikey grinned. “What do we get, Denny?”

“For your boy here,” he gave Joshua another wink, “one of our consolation prizes. Want a sticker or a sucker?”

Joshua snorted despite himself. “I’m good, keep ‘em for the kids.”

“Much appreciated. Mikey, man, you get one of the grand prizes.” He gestured to the stuffed animals hanging from the left wall. “Pick your poison.”

“What do you think?” Mikey asked Joshua.

Joshua looked at the options. There was a variety of cute and creepy stuffed toys, but his eyes gravitated to the stuffed javelina. The little boar-creature was one of his favorite animals and it was one that most of his friends up north didn’t even know existed.

“Figures you like them cute and dangerous,” Dennis muttered as he got the javelina down.

Mikey smacked Dennis on the shoulder loud enough that Joshua could hear it and took the little boar. “Here,” he said, handing it to Joshua.

“I don’t… it’s your prize, Mikey.”

“I want you to have it.”

Joshua clutched the javelina to his chest, feeling like a teenage girl on her first date. When he dared to look at Dennis again, he saw the man smiling easy. It was like he was having some bizarre fantasy dream, except by the slight nervousness he could still see in the corner of Mikey’s eyes. If it was a dream, he’d never give confident, dominant Mikey any human nerves. The fact that he had them was endearing.

“Thanks,” Joshua mumbled into the slightly-prickly fake fur of the javelina.

“I’m gonna pack up real quick and go find the misses,” Dennis said. “You boys don’t have too much fun you hear.” He paused and a familiar shit-eating grin appeared on his face. Joshua tensed. “Though at least Joshua can’t get pregnant.”

“Shut up, dick,” Mikey said through a little laugh.

Joshua took a deep breath and tried to settle his pounding heart—because that kind of good-natured teasing was so unexpected it made him want in a terrible way.

Mikey herded Joshua away from the booth and down the path. Most everyone was heading toward the field with blankets and beers so they could set up. Joshua checked the time. “30 minutes until the fireworks start,” he said.

“Plenty of time to find a good spot.”

“Yeah.”

They walked close. Joshua held the stuffed javelina in his right arm, his left hanging loose. Every once in a while the back of his hand brushed against Mikey’s and warm tingles spread up his arm.

“So what are you doing up in the Big Apple?” Mikey asked.

“I’m a junior editor with the New York Times.”

“Oh. Sounds legit.” Mikey pulled away a little. Joshua looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Much more than you can find here.”

“Yeah, well… it’s just a bunch of Yankees harping about each other to be honest.” Joshua shrugged. “And it doesn’t even really pay that much. Certainly not compared to rent in the city.”

Mikey glanced down at Joshua. “Is that so?”

Joshua shrugged, conflicted with push and pull. He still felt dream-like, making him a little braver than he would normally be. He left his hand brush more deliberately against Mikey’s. Mikey took the hint and wrapped his large fingers around Joshua’s, holding them tight.

“What about you?” Joshua asked, his voice lower than normal. He resisted the urge to clear his throat. “What do you do now?”

“He works for me.” Joshua turned as Lewis, the old mechanic, sauntered up. The man’s dark brown skin was wrinkled even more than when Joshua had left Spangled, but he walked as spry as ever. “So, you finally come back, boy?” Lewis asked. “Good. I hate hearing Michael wondering what you’re doing and how you are up in the frozen north. I swear, if I have to hear him pining while working on a set of tires because, ‘Oh, I was such an asshole in high school, did you know my buds and I punctured Joshua Jones’s tires once, no wonder he left’–”

“Lewis,” Mikey groaned.

“Hey, I told you before, boy, I don’t care who you date so long as you keep fixing my cars.” He pointed a wizened finger at Joshua. “So you better not go distracting him too much, hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” Joshua said.

Mikey groaned again and pulled Joshua away from the old mechanic. They walked in silence. Out of the corner of his eyes, Joshua saw Mikey open and close his mouth several times. Finally, Joshua took pity on the man.

“What I was trying to tell you earlier, before you came out to me, was how awful this is.”

“What, that the town’s so invested in your sex life?” Mikey laughed, half-nervous, half-honest.

Joshua didn’t. “Yeah, exactly. Because six years ago I convinced myself that the only people who’d accept me were up North. That Texans were all socially-conservative bigots and I’d never be free to be myself here.”

“Now you sounded like a Yankee—judging us before you even take the chance to get to know us.”

Joshua did laugh then. “Yeah, I guess I do.” He looked up at the deep purple sky above him and took a long breath in. “I miss it. The sky, the food, the people. Jesus knows I hate the weather up there. I hate my commute. I don’t like my job, especially the pretentious assholes that work there. I miss reporting the football games, when everyone and their mother would give me an interview even if I was the weird gay kid. See, I convinced myself that I could deal with all the stuff I hate about New York because the people at least understood and accepted me.”

“It’s not as isolating as it could be,” Mikey said, “being the only gay person in town. I’m not really even the only one. Tina’s daughter came out recently. And it’s not the same but everyone’s been real supportive of Taylor’s transition. He finally got chest surgery last month and it felt like the whole town was in the waiting room ready to congratulate him.” He paused. “It’s different, I think, being an adult. You know how it is, I make my life and for all that everyone’s a busybody, no one disparages an adult for their life choices here, not really.”

“It’s funny, for all that New Yorkers say they respect each other’s privacy and distance, they’ll spend all day telling you why you’re wrong for thinking a certain way.” Joshua hugged his javelina closer to his chest. “It’s not that I’ve hated my time there, but I missed so much about Texas. I was just trying to tell myself that I’d hate moving back. That I was more than what I left behind.”

“There’s more than what you think you left behind, here.”

Joshua smiled. “I’m starting to see that.”

Inside the football stadium, Mikey pulled Joshua away from where most of the families were setting their blankets on the field. They walked up the bleachers instead, weaving around the metal benches until they made it up to the top box. This high up, the people below were miniatures without distinguishable features and Joshua finally felt like they had some form of privacy.

Mikey sat down on one of the unforgiving metal benches. He patted the space next to him. Joshua obeyed the unspoken command easily, setting his stuffed javelina down first then slotting in next to Mikey.

They sat in silence. Joshua watched more families file onto the field. He was hyper-aware of Mikey, of every rise and fall of the man’s chest and small movement of his fingers as he lightly drummed them against his knee.

“Do you think you’d ever move back?” Mikey asked.

Joshua stared over at Mikey, wondering at the slightly dilation of Mikey’s pupils. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think… if I had a good reason, yes.”

Mikey stared at him. Joshua looked back until he couldn’t anymore, because he was submissive at heart and Mikey’s gaze was too intense. As he glanced away, he saw Mikey smile out of the corner of his eyes.

“I always thought you were pretty, you know,” Mikey said. “But you sure grew up lovely.”

“Mikey.”

“Joshua.” Mikey’s tone was lower, demanding. Joshua forced his gaze back up. “I want to kiss you.”

Fuck. Joshua almost shuddered, because he wanted. He wanted so badly. Even just by the way Mikey said those words, that he stated a fact without asking a question—because it was so hard to tell a true Dominant ‘no’ and it almost seemed like Mikey was aware of that.

“I don’t want to be a stereotype,” Joshua whispered. “The only two gay kids in town getting together.”

“Don’t let a silly thing like that hold you back.”

Joshua looked at Mikey’s lips, then down at his large hands. They were still now, perfectly still. Joshua wondered how they’d feel holding him down, if it’d be as delicious as he remembered.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Joshua blushed, because Mikey was teasing him now. There never had been a question for him to answer after all. “I’d like you to kiss me.”

“What if I want to do more than kiss you?”

Joshua really did shudder then. “I’d like that too.”

“Oh, babe.” Mikey let out a shaky sigh. “Come on, Joshua, you have to negotiate with me. You can’t just give me an all-access pass.”

“You’ve always had my all-access pass,” Joshua said honestly, but he took the reprimand lightly. “I use the red-yellow-green light system, if you know it.”

“Sure, don’t know someone in the scene that doesn’t.”

Joshua twisted his fingers together. “How… I wouldn’t have thought there’d be much of a scene here.”

“Not in Spangled, but El Paso’s hopping if you know the right people. Amy Gracin introduced me around.”

“Amy?” Joshua blanched. “I would have never expected that she’d… you know.”

“Trust me, I do. But I give her a pair of those stupid fuzzy handcuffs every year for her birthday as a thank you anyway. My therapist won’t say it outright, but I think the scene saved me from doing something stupid enough to end my ass in jail. Well, a couple good Doms in the scene anyway. They showed me the ropes–”

“Literally?” Joshua asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.

Mikey winked. “Well enough. But then anyone who’s worked a summer on one of the ranches around here already knows how to tie a good knot.”

Joshua laughed. “True.”

“Most important, they taught me to be safe.”

“And sane, and consensual,” Joshua said. “I can tell. If you scene long enough as a sub, especially if you’re on the twink end of the spectrum like myself, then you learn to tell when someone’s going to play it safe.”

Mikey watched him steadily. Joshua ducked his head again, suddenly realizing he’d interrupted the man twice. He wasn’t trouble-maker by any stretch. He only acted bratty when he didn’t trust someone to know what he needed.

“I have too many things I want to do to you,” Mikey murmured. “Do you use your yellow light liberally?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Then, do I have permission to take you down?”

Joshua nodded, head still ducked. “Please.”

Mikey reached forward with a heavy hand and clapped the back of Joshua’s neck. Joshua let himself go loose, though it was far too soon for him to start feeling his subspace yet. He half-expected to be forced to his knees, but Mikey guided him down to the lie down on the bench. He settled on top of Joshua, though he was hardly resting any of his weight, and leaned forward to take Joshua’s wrists between his hands and stretch them over his head.

“Color?”

“Green,” Joshua said, though he was more confused than aroused.

“Do you need to struggle?” Mikey asked.

Joshua frowned. He didn’t really feel restrained. He tugged at his arms, but Mikey’s grip tightened just shy of punishing. He felt his cock stir, truly interested now. He relaxed his arms and tried to slip out from underneath Mikey’s body. Mikey bent his knees, placing more of weight, and Joshua felt the pressure directly on top of his cock. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering closed.

“Go ahead and struggle. I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

Joshua tried to wrench his arms back. He kicked his legs up. Mikey just calmly lay his torso on top of Joshua’s and rode it out. The grooves of the metal bench kept Joshua in place as he wiggled and wrenched his body this way and that.

It didn’t take him long to stop. His breaths were coming heavier now, his cock fully erect underneath Mikey’s weight, and he couldn’t make his eyes open.

Only then did Mikey lean down and kiss him. But it wasn’t a prom peck, or a shy first date smooch—it was a takeover. Mikey claimed his mouth. He sucked on his tongue, biting at his lips. Joshua moaned against the assault and Mikey swallowed his noises greedily.

“Keep your arms where they are,” Mikey commanded as he pulled back. Joshua couldn’t think of doing anything but obeying.

Then Mikey’s hands were all of him, fingers pressing heavy against his sensitive skin. Joshua squirmed as Mikey lifted his shirt up. For a moment he felt the full weight of Mikey’s body press against him again.

“Green!” he gasped out, wanting more of that sensation. “Green, green, green.”

Mikey’s hands paused, then he shifted. Joshua shuddered as suddenly his whole body was pressed down against the bench. He loved the feeling of compression and he felt his cock begin leaking precome.

“Oh, look at you,” Mikey murmured. Then he palmed Joshua’s cock, rubbing it roughly through his denim. Joshua tried to buck up into it, but he was still held down by the pressure of Mikey’s body weight. He whined instead.

“Beautiful,” Mikey said. “So fucking beautiful, I want to do filthy things to you, Joshua Jones.”

“Green,” Joshua said, softer.

Mikey shifted again, settling over top of Joshua. Joshua squirmed, and then squirmed in a different way as he felt the bulge of Mikey’s cock settling over his. Their jeans created a barrier and a delicious piece of friction all at once. He loved the burn as Mikey rutted against him, rubbing them off like they were teenagers in the locker room.

Joshua got lost in the sensation after a while. It was just shy of painful, the pressure just shy of suffocating—so much so that he didn’t even realize he was coming until he was.

Mikey kissed him again, rough and perfect. Joshua laid beneath him, shuddering, as Mikey continued to rut against him. He reveled in the pain of Mikey pushing against his sensitive cock, falling deeper and deeper into the sensation.

Then Mikey came and for a delicious second he lost control of his muscles, the entirety of his body weight crushing Joshua against the cold metal bleacher bench. For that delicious second, Mikey was a barrier against the rest of the world, an immovable object holding him and protecting him. Joshua shuddered one last time, then his body relaxed into total stillness and he let himself float into that perfect feeling.

When Joshua slowly regained his sense of awareness, he found himself lying on Mikey’s chest. Mikey was leaning back so that his torso covered the space leading up to the next bleacher, his shoulders resting on the metal seats in the row above them. Joshua curled up tighter against him, trusting Mikey to hold him and not let him fall in that weird space below.

“Back with me?” Mikey asked.

Joshua nodded against Mikey’s chest.

Mikey rubbed little circle in Joshua’s back—only, Joshua realized, he’d been doing that the entire time. “Thank you for that. You were beautiful.”

Joshua tried to find his words, but they still drifted away from him so he settled for kissing Mikey’s chest instead. Mikey chuckled and the vibration tickled Joshua’s cheek.

“You missed the pledge and the national anthem,” Mikey murmured. “The first firework should be going up any minute now. I was a little worried it’d jolt you out of your high.”

Joshua looked up at the sky. He saw a small speck and then, with a boom that echoed his own beating heart, the first red, white, and blue firework exploded.

“I’m here the rest of the week,” Joshua said finally as more fireworks dotted the skies.

“Then you go back?”

Joshua lifted himself up so he could look down at the people dotting the football field below. He imagined himself down there, Mikey’s arm around his shoulder. He imagined Mikey’s buds coming up with beers in hand, teasing them both about when they were going to tie the knot and stop living in sin by romping around without being married.

He turned to look at Mikey. Mikey’s eyes were fixed on him, not the fireworks, and it was such a cliché thing that Joshua nearly laughed. “You can’t tell me that I’m more beautiful than the sky right now,” he said.

“No,” Mikey admitted. He reached with his free hand and gently pressed his thumb to Joshua’s bottom lip. “But I’m hoping you’ll be more permanent.”

Joshua kissed the finger and lay back down against Mikey’s chest.

“I’m kind of hoping that too,” he said as the finale set off above them.

He wasn’t sure if Mikey heard over the noise, but then Mikey’s arms wrapped tightly around him. The final sparklers rained down over the expansive Texan horizon and for the first time in years, Joshua felt like he was home.