Chapter 6

My Monday began with an early-morning practice after yet another loss on Sunday night, and then I'd had a midterm exam and an essay due that was only half-done when I'd woken up. I finished them both, though I was too tired to think about what grade I was going to get. I was also pretty sure I’d nodded off a few times in class.

But then, in the evening, came Josh, and after our many dates in public he finally came back home with me. I was bursting with excitement as we entered my house and went up to my room. We wasted no time in getting into bed (I’d washed my sheets the day before for the first time since the semester started). He'd initially said that we'd take our shirts off but keep our pants on, though after an hour of us cuddling against each other he began to undo and remove my jeans, followed by his own. The boxers didn't last long either, and then it was just the two of us, stark naked under my sheets, kissing and fondling and giving the occasional tickle.

And, God, if I'd thought he'd looked good clothed, Josh was a fucking model in the nude. He wasn't super skinny, but lean and toned in all the right places: his chest showing some solid definition and his abs quite noticeable, though they meant little to me compared to his tight, firm ass and his long, erect cock, which had to be well over six inches (almost as long as mine).

What was supposed to end by nine o’clock went well past midnight, and even though we didn’t do any penetration—something we both agreed we should wait a little while for, since I didn’t want to break him in two—it was still one of the best nights I’d had in a long time, particularly when he tried to give me head and failed spectacularly. His adorable suckling and flailing around was almost better than if he’d been able to bring me to orgasm.

When he eventually realized how late it was he once again fled my presence in a hurry. I brought him downstairs and given him a final kiss goodbye, then collapsed on our worn leather couch. What a day. What a glorious day.

“I had no idea you had a thing for younger guys.” Ethan, my roommate and best friend, waddled into the living room carrying a baking bowl filled to the brim with Frosted Flakes and a ladle.

“I'm surprised you noticed I had a thing for guys in the first place,” I said. My body was stretched out on the couch, exhausted to the point that I was pretty sure I'd be spending the night there.

Ethan took a seat in the lounge chair, causing it to creak loudly, as it always did, under his weight. He dropped the ladle in the bowl and stirred it around. “I not only noticed, but I also fully approve. The more hot guys that go for other hot guys, the more girls there are for me.”

“That's the spirit.” I slowly rolled my head over and looked at him. “Wait, did you just call me hot?”

He pulled the ladle out of the bowl and poured the contents into his mouth. Amazingly, and from what had to be due to an incredible amount of practice, not a drop of milk or cereal landed outside his giant maw. “So 'ow 'ong 'have you guys bee' togeder?” he asked in between bites.

“Two and a half weeks?” I asked. I slowly brought my phone up to my face. Two-thirty in the morning. Ugh. “Yeah, hitting three weeks now.”

“Congrats.” Another dunk of the ladle. Another big gulp of milk and cereal. I leaned by head back and looked up at the darkened plaster ceiling.

I reached over to the ancient coffee table and grabbed my phone. That was awesome, I texted Josh. You’re so fucking cute… especially when you don’t have any clothes on.

Then I added one more message: Can’t wait 2 see you again.

I put my phone back on the table and rested my head against the plush leather armrest. My prediction was entirely right: I was not going to be sleeping in my bed this night.

***

“Next on our agenda: we’ve been asked to speak at the International Students Conference next month. I have the invitation here; it sounds like they’re really interested in our perspective and what we can offer LGBT students from outside the country.” Caitlyn held up a few sheets of paper as I once again looked at my phone. It’d been nearly three days since I’d heard from him. I’d sent three texts to follow the ones wishing him goodnight after he’d left my place on Monday. I’d tried calling, only to immediately get voicemail. Something was seriously wrong.

“Trent?” I snapped back to attention to find a slew of faces looking at me expectantly. Caitlyn smirked. “You with us?”

“Uh, yes.” Glance back at phone. Look back up at the other UGSM executives in this meeting. “Sorry, I was, uh, distracted.”

“Oh really?” Kyle said, raising an eyebrow in a way that only he could. “We hadn’t noticed. What game is it this time—hockey? Football? MMA?”

“Yeah, all of them,” I said dismissively.

Tess, sitting directly opposite of me, leaned in on her hands. “Everything okay?”

No. Not at all. “Yeah. Again, sorry. What were we talking about?”

“We're discussing one of us presenting at an International Students conference. You're pretty good at that. Would you want to do it?”

“I don't think he should.” It was Ashley speaking up now. She leaned back in her chair, hands rubbing her forehead and pushing her curly blonde hair back. Of course. She’d seemed to have had it in for me ever since I'd joined the club—it might have had something to do with the fact that she was a total radical who believed in the destruction of all government and authority (“The only way we'll ever truly be free!”), and I was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed conformist. My previous attempts to show her that we were on the same team had been rather unsuccessful. “I think we should have someone who's more, you know, representative of our community.”

Normally I would have taken issue with such a comment—who was she to say what made someone “representative” of the queer community?—but I was way too distracted to care. “Sure, whatever. I mean… I don't know.” Back at my phone. Still nothing. “I need to go.”

I stood up and nearly ran out of the room, down the stairs and out of the student union building. I needed to breathe. Despite the size of the room, it had felt cramped and restrictive. Where the hell was Josh? Why wasn't he replying to me? Had something happened to him?

“Hey.” I turned around to see Caitlyn walking out of the building. “Are you all right?”

I shook my head. “I'm really not.” I took off running and didn't stop until I reached my house. Relax. Breathe. There has to be a decent explanation. Just give it a few days. You have other things to worry about anyway.

Other things. Hockey, tests, essays, lab reports. For the first time in my life, I was glad I had them.

***

But by the next Monday, as I stood with Caitlyn and watched all of Josh's social media accounts disappear in front of my eyes, there was nothing in the world that could have distracted me. Something had happened to him, and my mind could only guess how bad it was. For the first time in God knows how long, I genuinely felt scared—scared that someone I cared about was in danger. Scared that there was nothing I could do to help him.

“Trent,” Caitlyn said softly, grabbing my hand. “Did you guys part on good terms last time? Is there any reason he'd be trying to avoid you?”

“I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, shit, we nearly fucked.”

“Maybe that scared him? He thought things were going too fast?”

I shook my head. “We talked about meeting up in a few days. There was absolutely no hint that he didn't want to see me again. I'd bet my life on it.” I sat back down on my bed and rubbed my hands on my head. “I just… this doesn't make any sense.”

“Maybe he's moved. Maybe he's started a new life somewhere and he didn't want to tell you.”

“That's ridiculous. For his family to pack up their house and…” I looked back out the window. “That's it.”

“What's it?”

“His house. We can look up where he lives. I just need his dad’s name.” Damn it, what was his dad’s name? He'd mentioned it a few times. “Google ‘Driscoll construction manager’. See if any names come up from around here.”

A few clicks. “There's something in a news article. ‘Matthew Driscoll is a construction manager on the city hall restoration.’“

“Matthew. That's his name. Can you find out where he lives?”

A few more clicks. “Close to here!”

I jumped back behind her and read the address. Then I put it into my phone. “I'm going to check it out.”

“Wait—” I didn't stay to hear Caitlyn's protest. I was down the stairs and out the door in seconds.

I reached his street in a matter of minutes—this whole time, he had been so close to me—and casually walked down it, trying to look like I was just a normal student looking for a friend’s house. Another minute later and I was there. Despite the warm air and sunshine my body shivered.

There were no moving trucks or signs of a house in transition. Hell, there were no signs, period: nothing on the front lawn indicating that the place was for sale or had been sold. If Josh was gone, it wasn't because his family had moved away.

There weren’t any cars in the driveway and no lights on in the house, so I walked across the lawn to the large bay windows looking out on the street. They revealed a typical living room—two couches, a few chairs, a large TV mounted to the wall—but nothing about why this family’s youngest son had disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Hey! Can I help you?” I turned around to see a tall guy, maybe a few years older than me, walking up the driveway toward the house. Given his black hair and soft facial features, it wasn't hard to guess that this was Josh's older brother who'd just caught me looking into his house.

“Um, uh, I, uh, yeah.” I tried to force the initial panic out of my mind and come up with a half-decent lie. “I'm looking for Josh.”

His eyes briefly narrowed. “He's not here.”

“Okay. Where is he?”

He came right up to me and stared me down. He had to have been 6'3—a good three inches taller than me. “And who are you?”

I quickly decided not to give out my real name. Josh may have already told his parents about me, and I didn't want to get mixed up with his lies. “Uh, I’m Jordan. Josh and I were working on a project for our Economics course.”

“He never mentioned you.”

I shrugged. “I'm pretty boring.” I smiled, trying to win him over with my humor. It didn't work.

“Josh is going to a different school. You'll have to find a new partner.”

“Really? Where's he going now?”

“Iowa State.” He must have seen my jaw drop. He lowered his voice. “Did Josh tell you much about himself?”

Only when we weren't passionately making out, yes. “I dunno.” I figured playing dumb was the best way to go here. “Why?”

He looked around before continuing. “I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but since you knew him you may as well know. Josh has been fighting some significant mental health issues for a while, and last week he had another episode. We have an aunt and some cousins in Iowa, so we all decided it'd be best if he took some time to live there for a while. He's made the decision to cut off all contact with his friends here in order to allow himself to unwind. I'm sorry if that's made things more difficult for your assignment.” He stepped back and smiled, a bit too eagerly and a bit too widely.

I nodded a few times, though there was very little in me that believed him. Josh had never mentioned any mental health issues, nor having relatives in Iowa. And his brother’s explanation sounded… rehearsed. Something else was going on here.

But it wasn't like I could just accuse him of such. Instead, I thanked him and started to leave.

“Hey Jordan,” his brother called after me, “next time you're looking for someone, try not looking through their windows. It might give the wrong impression.”

I laughed, as I was pretty sure he was joking, but didn't look back. I had no intention of looking in his windows again. No, I was not convinced that Josh had willfully moved to Iowa (Iowa!?), but I needed more evidence. And such evidence wouldn't come from just looking into the house from the outside.

I was going to have to break in.