Dating Straight

"Swallow," you order.

I swallow your cum.

"Why did you go back in there?" I ask with clenched fists.

"I asked for her phone number," you respond.

My stomach sinks. "Did she give it to you?" I ask.

You say nothing, shift the car into reverse, back out of the parking space, and drive. God, if I had to spend an entire day watching your arm shift that gear lever, it'd be the happiest day of my life.

"Where are we going next?" I ask.

"Your apartment," you respond. "I'm dropping you off."

My eyes narrow, arms fold across my chest, and I frown. "What about the date?" I ask.

"That was the date," you say, avert your twinkling eyes, and clamp your lips shut.

I squint at you, press my lips flat, and hold my arms tight. "What the fuck was this?" I blast. "You call this a fucking date?"

"Yeah, I do," you say with blunt edge. I notice the corner of your left eye glances toward the open tequila bottle. "I told you already. This would be a quick date. I have to get back. Can't waste my time fucking around the entire day."

"You're just trying to make fun of me," I lament and sigh. "Make light of me for being gay. Your prejudiced."

"No," you disagree and roll your eyes. You drive and say nothing. Your car. It's filled with the whooshing of full blast icy air-conditioning and detailed accounts of the brutal suppression of political dissidents.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" I inquest.

You hit the brake, turn the steering wheel hard, and change lanes quickly. God, that arm. "I have to study," you say.

"It's the summer," I respond before sighing incredulously. "Seriously? Stop lying."

You say nothing.

We arrive. "So, is this it?" I ask. "I sucked your dick and now you're just going to dump me at my apartment."

You pause, turn towards me, and look at me through your tortoise shell glasses with the usual smirk on your face. "I want nothing to do with you the rest of this week," I declare. "Way too busy for your gay bullshit. But if you want... I was thinking about asking you if you wanted to hang out at my apartment next Saturday. Would you like that cupcake?"

My eyes widen, a slow smile builds on my face, and I nod my head. "Ok," I say.

[Author's Note: Not sure if I'll do more chapters or leave it here. I'll see how people receive it; I suppose. If I do continue, I don't want to chart the cliché path of having Wayne realize he's gay or bisexual. I prefer the idea that he isn't sexually attracted to Andrew and has to be creative incorporating humiliation or involving women to get off with him. I can see though how some might find that frustrating or unrealistic though. Any ideas appreciated. Anyways. До свидания.]