The Way You Say My Name Ch. 01

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“Probably because you are. Looks good on you, though.” He stood in the doorway, giving Jamie a good looking over. “Are you ready to go, or do we need to say goodbye to your aunt first?”

“I’m ready.”

“Good. Now, you wanna tell me why we have to be there so damn early? You were a little hazy on the phone.”

“I got a phone call warning me there was gonna be trouble tonight. I called Principle Morgan and he suggested an emergency meeting of the G.S.A. and the Student Council to decide how we want to handle it.”

“A phone call, huh? Who from?”

Jamie hesitated. “Dillon Carver.”

Ben whistled. “Carver, huh? Wonder what he’s up to?”

Jamie shrugged, trying his best to cover the confusion and longing inside him. “Who cares as long as we stop it before it starts. Besides, Dillon is on the student Council, so maybe he’ll enlighten us.” And Jamie would have an excuse to look at him outright without having to sneak glances when no one was looking.

Ben said. “If you say so.” He pointed to his car as Jamie pulled on his coat. “Your chariot awaits.”

Jamie closed the door but paused on his way to the car. “You sure you don’t mind going in early? I can get Aunt Sadie to drop me off.”

“Nah. It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He kept walking. “When are you gonna let me teach you how to drive?”

Jamie shuddered. “Ain’t gonna happen, my friend. I told you what happened when Aunt Sadie tried to teach me. I froze.”

“We can work on that.” The expression of horror on Jamie’s face was so comical, Ben laughed. “Alright, chicken, get in the car. But this conversation is far from over.”

Jamie just shook his head and got in.

#

As usual at these meetings, the Student Council members sat on one side of the oak conference table in Principle Morgan’s office and the G.S.A. officers sat on the other. Dillon, as Student Council vice president, sat next to Megan, the president. The other members of both groups wandered in a few at a time and started filling in the empty seats. Dan Morgan came in a few minutes later.

“I want to thank all of you for coming in early, and I assure you, we’ll make this as brief as possible.” His wavy brown hair didn’t so much as sway when he stood up to take his place behind the lectern at the head of the table. Dillon wondered for the hundredth time if the guy used hairspray. He watched as Morgan’s brown eyes took on a dull shine under the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t that Morgan was bad looking. He was actually kind of attractive in a between thirty-five and forty-ish sort of way. He filled out the black pants and gray turtleneck shirt he was wearing as well as any G.Q. model ever could. But there was something about him that struck Dillon as false, no matter how good he looked. Maybe it was the wooden smile he almost always wore. Or maybe it was that he tried just a little too hard to convince everyone that he was the poster boy for gay acceptance. Whatever it was, he gave Dillon a weird vibe.

Dillon’s gut tightened as Jamie ran in, Ben Lewis on his heels. He collapsed into a chair not far from Morgan and motioned for Ben to sit next to him. “Sorry we’re late.”

“No problem, James. We were just getting started.” Morgan leaned into the podium. “Before we start--yes, Dillon? Was there something you wanted to say? I saw your hand go up.”

“Yes, sir. If this is supposed to be a meeting of the G.S.A. and the Council, then what is he doing here?” He looked at Ben as if he were a squished bug on the bottom of his shoe.

Before Morgan could answer, Jamie said, “He has a name. Ben is my date, and he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Dillon felt the word date like a heart punch, but he’d be damned if he’d let it show. “I don’t care whose date he is, he shouldn’t be in here.”

Ben shrugged. “If you want me out, Carver, you can always come over here and throw me out.”

Dillon started to rise, but Megan grabbed at his hand. “No,” she whispered. “Remember the plan. Don’t blow it now.”

Principle Morgan cleared his throat. “I suggest we get back to the reason why we’re here in the first place. Since these are special circumstances, Mr. Lewis can stay. But I’m warning you both,” he looked back and forth between Dillon and Ben, “If I hear any more threats from either one of you, you’ll both be out of here and on your way to a three day in-school suspension. Am I clear?” They both nodded. When Morgan moved on to the business at hand, Ben shot Dillon a smug smile that made Dillon’s fingers itch. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to hit anyone so bad in his life.

Morgan tapped on the podium. “Now that we have that settled, I must inform you of the distinct possibility that we may have trouble tonight.” Several of the students started speaking at once, but Morgan put up his hand for silence. “We don’t know anything for certain, but there’s a good possibility that our gay and lesbian students may be targeted. That’s why I’ve called the sheriff and asked him to send some men over to patrol tonight.” A murmur of complaints rose, but again Morgan threw up his hand. “I’m sorry if this cramps your style, but we have to send a message that bigotry of any kind will not be tolerated here at Plunkett.” He turned to Jamie. “James, I want you to be especially careful. If these guys are upset about the fact that the dance is being hosted by the G.S.A., you’re the most natural target.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. I’ve got Jamie’s back. He’s in good hands with me. And I won’t let him out of my sight. I’m gonna be all over him.” There was so much sexual innuendo in what Ben said, several girls giggled, Jamie blushed, and Dillon gnashed his teeth until his gums hurt.

Morgan tugged at his collar. “Yes. . .well, I appreciate that, Ben, but we’ll let the sheriff’s men do their job.” He looked down at his watch before readdressing the room. “If there’s nothing further, you’re free to go. I want you all to enjoy yourselves, but please be careful, and remember to report anything suspicious.”

The room emptied shortly thereafter. Dillon and Megan were on the side opposite the door, so they were among the last to leave. Dillon was forced to watch as Ben took Jamie‘s hand and led him out. He felt Megan rubbing his arm through the flannel shirt he wore over his black t-shirt, in a gesture he was sure meant to soothe, but he was beyond comfort. The one thing he wanted more than anything else in the universe belonged to someone else. What in the hell was he supposed to do now?

#

The darkened gym vibrated with one rock ballad after another while crepe paper hearts littered the floor. Not even the sight of no less than four men in police uniform had killed the romantic mood, if the throng of couples making out all across the dance floor were any indication. Ben pointed to a private spot on the edge of the dance floor. He gave Jamie a mock bow. “Can I have this dance?”

Jamie swallowed, hard. “I’ve never, uh. . .danced, before. Not really, anyway. I’m not sure I know how.”

Ben shook his head. “Anybody can slow dance, J.” He held out his arms. “Just lean into me and follow my lead.”

Jamie’s mind was a swirl of confusion. He couldn’t understand this change in Ben. For two years, all his advances were playful, only half-serious. Tonight was different. From the minute they walked into Principal Morgan’s office, Ben started treating him like private property. He was about to ask him about it when Ben said, “Come on, J. You know you can trust me. It’s just a dance.”

Jamie gave up and walked towards him. Ben circled his arms around Jamie’s waist and began to rock his hips with the music, leaving Jamie to follow. Ben laughed. “See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Nah. It’s kinda nice, actually.” And it was. It had been two years since another guy had touched him, other than the occasional handshake or slap on the back. Dillon had been the first, and the only. And even with Dillon, the touching had been limited. Dillon’s main focus had been to get off, to gain pleasure only for himself. Dillon had never even kissed him. Jamie had been the giver in everything from oral sex to jacking off. The only time Dillon ever touched him in an intimate way was to prepare him for sex, and then it was minimal. Dillon topped him, got what he was after, and was done, leaving Jamie to take care of himself if Dillon got off before he did. God, he’d been such an idiot.

Ben peered down into Jamie’s eyes. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Just about what a jerk I was two years ago.”

“You mean with Carver?”

“Yeah.”

Ben’s hand made circles back and forth over the small of Jamie’s back. “You got that backwards, J. Carver was the jerk, not you. The guy didn’t deserve you.” His voice fell to a whisper, barely audible above the roar of the music. “I wish to God I’d met you first.”

Jamie started to speak, but Ben put one long finger against Jamie’s lips. “Shh. I know you don’t feel that way about me, and it’s okay. At least let me show you what you’re missing.” And before Jamie could protest, Ben lowered his head and covered Jamie’s mouth with his own.

#

Dillon watched in something akin to horror as Ben rammed his tongue down Jamie’s throat. If he’d had any doubts about their relationship before, he sure as hell didn’t now. Losing Jamie to Lewis might be no less than he deserved for being such a selfish bastard, but he’d be damned if he’d go down without a fight. He and Megan were dancing not fifteen feet away from where the other couple stood, but when Ben started making out with Jamie, Dillon stopped and just stared, his whole body rigid. Megan turned around to see what was going on and put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God.” She turned back to Dillon. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy as hell.”

“Dillon--”

He moved back. “I can’t do this. I’m not gonna stand here and do nothing while Lewis takes him away from me, Megan. I’ve waited too damn long to give up now.” He watched as Jamie pulled away from Ben and stepped off the dance floor, heading towards the men’s bathroom. He started forward, but Megan put her hand on his arm.

“What are you gonna do?”

Dillon ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to talk to him, Meggie. If I wait any longer, it’s gonna be too late. It may be already, as far as that goes, but I have to try.” He broke away from her grasp and headed in the direction Jamie had gone. He thought he heard her mumble something like “so much for the plan,” but right now he could care less about any plan. All he knew for sure was that he had to talk to Jamie, and he had to do it now.

He opened the bathroom door and found Jamie bent over one of the sinks, splashing water on his face. The pants Jamie was wearing molded to his body, making Dillon want more than anything else at that minute to brush up against him, to feel the soft curves for himself. He forced that thought out of his mind. He had to take it slow. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Jamie away.

Dillon moved as quietly as possible to where Jamie stood and pulled a paper towel off the roll. The clicking of the dispenser caused Jamie to pop up in a sudden motion that sent water trailing down his neck. Dillon took advantage of Jamie’s surprise and used the paper towel to sponge the water off his face. He followed one small bead down into the hollow of Jamie’s throat, causing himself to harden and Jamie to swallow.

“Dillon, what . . . what are you doing?”

“Your face was wet. I was wiping it off.”

Jamie snatched the paper towel out of Dillon’s hand and backed away. “I can do it myself.” He moved back even further. “What do you want?” He looked around as if he was making sure they were alone. Dillon doubted that he was happy about the fact that they were. “Did you follow me in here?”

Dillon didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, but he wasn’t about to lie to him. “Yeah.” Jamie looked so alarmed Dillon put up his hand. “I didn’t come in here to cause trouble, Jamie. I just wanted to talk.”

“James.”

“Huh?”

“My name is James. Only my friends and family call me Jamie. As I remember it, you chose not to be in either category.”

Damn. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this. Forcing himself to take it slow, he said, “I just want to talk to you James. Please.”

“Why would you want to talk to me? It’s not like we’re friends. Like I said, you made that choice.”

As openings go, it wasn’t much, but it was a start. “You’re right. I did make that choice, and it’s one I regret. We might not be close now, but we used to be. I was hoping we could be again.”

“Why?” Jamie’s voice was shaking, but even after two years, Dillon could tell that he was weakening. “Why, after all this time, do you want to talk to me? I tried for weeks after you dumped me to get you to even speak to me, but you pretended like I didn’t exist. You got your mother to lie and say you weren’t home when I called, and you ignored me in the halls like I was some freakin’ stranger instead of the guy who--” He took a deep breath. “I can’t see any reason why you’d want to talk now.”

The door swung open. “I can tell you why, J. It’s obvious that ole Dillon here has a hard on and he’s looking for an easy way to get off. He figures you were good for a quick fuck once, so why not give your ass another shot?”

Dillon’s jaw tightened. “What were you doing, Lewis? Listening at the door?”

“Actually, I came in here to take a leak. I pushed the door open just enough to hear what you were saying. Amazing how well the sound of bullshit carries.”

“Yeah, well, James and I were having a private conversation. There are at least four other bathrooms in this gym. Why don’t you go find one?”

“I don’t think so.” Ben turned to Jamie. “You okay, kid?”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ben held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

Jamie edged around Dillon and followed Lewis out. The smart thing would have been to let them leave and try talking to Jamie when Lewis wasn’t around, but Dillon couldn’t afford to wait. He exited the bathroom, right on Jamie’s heels.

“What are you, Lewis? His bodyguard?”

They’d reached the edge of the dance floor, and even with the music blaring, the raised voices were starting to attract attention. Dillon saw Megan coming over and cursed himself. He hadn’t wanted to bring her into this, but it was too late now.

Ben turned, his face wreathed in anger. “Yeah, well, somebody’s got to be. Haven’t you hurt him enough?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt him. All I wanted to do was talk.”

Jamie tugged on the sleeve of Ben’s leather jacket. “It’s okay, Ben. Let’s just get out of here.”

Ben didn’t budge. “No, it’s not okay, J. Guys like Carver think they can just walk all over us. Who’s gonna care what happens to a bunch of fags?”

Megan walked up behind Dillon. “Dillon, maybe we should go.”

Ben sneered. “Why don’t you listen to your little girlfriend, Carver? For a breeder, she makes good sense.”

Dillon stepped in front of Megan, shielding her from Ben’s view. “Leave her out of this, Lewis. Whatever’s going on here is between me and you.”

“Yeah? That’s funny, because I could have sworn you were trying to make it between you and J.” His expression went from go-to-hell sneer to evil grin in two seconds flat. “Maybe making it is your problem to begin with, Carver.”

Dillon stepped forward, heedless of Megan’s attempts to pull him back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe the reason you’re so hot to ‘talk’ to my boy here is because the little lady wouldn’t let you into her panties and you’re looking to get it somewhere else.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lewis.”

“What’s the matter, Carver? Did you catch yourself a frigid bitch who won’t put out?”

Dillon had no memory of moving from point A to point B. All he remembered was the satisfying feel of teeth hitting flesh as he belted Lewis in the mouth. He’d have a row of cuts to his knuckles, but he could care less. No way was he gonna let that son-of-a-bitch talk about Megan like that.

Lewis pitched his body forward and sent them both tumbling to the ground. He and Dillon rolled, punches flying from both sides. Dillon wasn’t sure who got in the most licks, and he might be sore as hell in the morning, but it felt so good to give Lewis even half of the beating he’d been dying to give him for weeks. He’d just landed a solid smack to Lewis’s jaw when he felt himself being hauled to his feet. He looked across and saw Nathan Nash holding Lewis with his arms pinned behind his back. Ben was putting up a good fight, but Nate was obviously a lot stronger than he looked. Wait. If Nate was holding Lewis, then that meant . . .

Dillon titled his head to the side and stared up into the flashing blue eyes of Sheriff Brandon Nash. Brandon’s dark hair was standing on end from the struggle, and the look on his face was a mixture of anger and pure annoyance. “Does anybody want to tell me what in the hell is going on here?”

Everyone started talking at once. Megan was hollering, “That cretin insulted my honor,” while Jamie was going on and on about being “ambushed” in the bathroom. Dillon did his best to stammer out a defense, all the while being held tight with his back against a chest that closely resembled a brick wall. It was Ben that finally put the nail in all their coffins, though. Still struggling to break free of Nate’s hold, he said, “I know my rights, and I don’t have to tell you a damn thing without my lawyer present. And if your little wife here doesn’t get the fuck off me, I’ll file assault charges against every last one of you.”

Brandon might have been willing to let it go if Ben hadn’t opened his mouth, but Dillon had no doubt that the insult against Nate was the last straw. With an audible sigh, Brandon said, “So much for the idea of sneaking in a few dances with my husband. Let’s take this down to the station. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.”

{To Be Continued}

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