Rising Sap Ch. 02

Once he gets back to work, I turn towards Scotty and glare at him. "What was that?" I mutter.

"What?" he asks, innocently sipping on his drink and trying not to smile. "I'm your wingman."

I roll my eyes. "I don't need a wingman," I tell him. "I'm not interested." I bring my drink up to my lips and take a substantial gulp of the cold drink.

"Oh, come on," he says. "You need to get laid."

I nearly choke on my mule. "Excuse me?"

"You... need to... get laid," he says. "You're all tense and sad." I just roll my eyes as I sip on my drink. "And you're letting this all go to waste," he adds, gesturing to my body.

I can't help but laugh. "Am I, now?"

"Mhm. You're a hot daddy type. That's as popular as it gets," he says.

I grunt a bit. There it is again, Scotty vaguely referring to me as "daddy" and making my loins twitch. "Maybe focus on yourself," I tell him.

"My sex life is really boring," he says. "It's more fun talking about other people's."

"What about that boy you've been fooling around with?" I ask, glancing at him.

He makes a weird face: a mix between a grimace and an amused expression. "Um, no," he says with a laugh.

I snicker. "Why'd you say it like that?" I ask.

"Because boys are dumb," he says, swirling his Sex on the Beach around. "I'm only dating men from now on."

I chuckle. "Uh oh," I say, taking another large sip of my drink.

"What?"

"That just means trouble," I murmur.

"I'm not trouble," he says, but it's in such a sincerely-innocent voice that I burst out laughing.

"I was a boy once, monkey," I tell him. "It's always trouble." I reach over and take his drink to test it out, and when the flavors hit my mouth, I'm pleasantly surprised. "Huh. That *is* pretty good," I tell him.

"Told ya," he says, snatching it back from me before looking at me curiously. "So did you always like older guys?"

"Oh yeah," I say, reminiscing a bit. "Hated boys my own age and lusted after the older guys. And now..." I smile bashfully.

He's a smart boy, though. He fills in the blank. "Now you're the older guy lusting after the boys."

"Yup," I say, returning to nursing on my drink. However, when I bring my drink up for another sip, I realize I've downed the entire fucking thing already. Grunting, I make a gesture towards the bartender, and he catches on immediately, getting right to work with fixing me another drink.

Scotty grins. "Is that how it works? When I get older, everything will switch?"

I shrug. "Happened to me," I tell him.

He chews on his straw a bit as he looks at me. "So, for you, is it just anyone younger than you?" he asks. "Or... is it specifically, like, boys my age?"

I squint at him, knowing he's trying to rope me into something. "Or your little boyfriend's age."

His playfulness disappears and now he just looks mad at the mention of him, which is so fucking cute that I almost laugh. "You don't want him," he says. "He sucks."

"Trouble in paradise?" I tease. He doesn't talk about his friend too much, aside from making fun of his hair color choices and vaguely alluding to the fact that they're occasionally intimate.

He sighs, shrugging and looking at his drink. "He cheated on me." He looks at me sadly. "I found out this morning."

"Wait, what?" I ask, surprised. "I didn't know you guys were... actually together."

"Well, we weren't, but..." He looks slightly embarrassed. "I mean, I didn't want to be his boyfriend, but we both promised each other we'd at least be sexually exclusive. Friends with benefits and all that."

"Hm," I say, nodding a bit. "I mean, if you two agreed on that, he should keep his promise."

"Exactly," he says. "But he slept with some other boy because I wouldn't go further with him, and... kinda tried gaslighting me after I found out."

I squint a little. "He sounds like a dick," I comment.

"Yeah. He's fun when he's normal, but... he's kind of a jackass, yeah."

I watch Scotty sadly sip his drink through the straw. Just then, the bartender hits me with my second drink, and I trade him a bill with a substantial tip. "So you still haven't...?" I trail off, not wanting to sound crass and ask him if he's fucked or gotten fucked yet.

But he understands. "Nope. It's like what you said about trust."

I take another large sip of my drink, letting the alcohol get to me so that I can not so easily focus on the idea of taking Scotty's virginity. God, how sweet that would be...

"Is it so corny of me that I want it to be special?" he suddenly asks me.

I smile at him. "It's not corny at all, monkey."

He smiles back, looking slightly relieved before he laughs a little bit. "You're the only one who still calls me that nickname, you know," he says. "Even Dad stopped years and years ago."

"I hope you're not outgrowing it," I tell him.

"A little," he says, but he's smiling sweetly. "But I'd only let you use it, anyway."

I find that strangely... touching. Was that on purpose? "Doesn't embarrass you, does it?" I ask.

"Well, not when it's just us," he says. "But I hate my ears."

"What?!" I say, a little more loudly than I intended. The drinks are starting to get to me. "They're adorable!"

Scotty blushes but smiles. "Least you think so. Quentin always made fun of them."

"I'm gonna smack this boy," I say, and he laughs. "How could he not appreciate them?" I ask as I reach out to give his left ear a stroke and a gentle tug.

"I don't think he appreciates me in general, so there's that," he says bitterly. Then he sighs. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever date."

That's one of his qualms about growing up: he hasn't had a real boyfriend yet, or even dated casually. He's been waiting to find someone he has that "spark" with. "You'll find someone," I say. "You kinda just have to... let it happen organically. Don't go looking for it."

"Why not?"

"When people go looking for it, they tend to... settle quickly, because they want it so bad."

He nods in understanding. "Yeah, that makes sense." He takes a long sip of his drink, peering up at me. "Have you dated a lot of guys?"

I wince a bit. "Not really, honestly."

"So you're speaking from experience with the 'don't go looking' advice?" he says with a slightly sassy tone.

I smirk at him. "I should smack you, too."

He giggles a bit, sliding closer to me. "Seriously, though... What have your relationships been like? You never talk about them."

"'Cause I'm bad at relationships, kiddo," I tell him.

"What makes you say that?"

It's a lot. Being the only gay person I knew growing up made me latch on to any guy that expressed interest in me. I rushed into things, settled too fast. Plus, I was insecure -- more so than I am today. "I've just found it... difficult to be myself in relationships," I tell Scotty. "I was like you. I romanticized romance."

Scotty nods, looking at me in a calculating way, like he's analyzing me. "I bet you were a good boyfriend, though."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

"I'm serious," he insists. "You're a provider. You just need someone to balance that out."

"Doubt that'll happen," I murmur, taking a swig of my drink. Oof. That one went straight to my head.

"Enough with the hopeless schtick," he says, slapping my arm.

"You were just doing it too seconds ago," I challenge.

"We're talking about you now," he says with a smirk. "Trust me. You'll find it."

"What makes you so sure?"

He smiles and holds his hand up, starting to count off the reasons. "C'mon, Uncle Ant. You're charming. You're sweet. You're generous. You're artistic *and* analytical. You're grounded but still like to daydream. You're emotional but still tough. You're the most caring guy I know." Then he grins a little more mischievously. "You're hot *and* you have a big dick, which is rare."

I blush. "Scotty--"

"Point is, you've got layers," he says. "You've got all the good qualities people look for in a man."

I feel flustered by his words, and I busy myself with sipping my drink to mitigate the sudden rise in temperature. But I feel so... I don't know. Seen? Appreciated? I feel like a little kid who got complimented by the boy he's been crushing on for weeks. And I know he can tell my reaction because, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him smiling at me in that knowing way of his.

"I'm gonna say something weird," Scotty chirps.

I glance at him with my eyebrows raised. "Oh boy."

"You were a big reason I knew I was gay."

I furrow my brow. "What?"

"I... kinda had a huge crush on you when I was younger."

"You serious?" I ask, my mouth forming a half-grin.

"Dead serious." I just laugh, and he blushes but chuckles too. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just..." I lean back against the chair a bit. "Of all men that could have made you realize that, I'm just surprised it was me."

He just gives me a patient look. "Am I gonna have to list out those things again?"

I laugh again, and for a moment, I can't stop. I don't know what it is, either. I'm not even amused. I think I'm just in disbelief. Why can't it be easy to have Scotty?

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say. "You're just... really fluffing up my ego here."

Now he laughs. "It's overdue," he says, giving my arm a little stroke.

"You're a good kid, you know."

He smiles as he sips his drink all cutely. "Don't try to deflect attention," he says.

"I'm not," I tell him. "You're just... You're just a good kid, who's too good to me."

He rests his head against my shoulder for a moment. "Well, I like you," he says.

I feel warm and tingly all over. Every interaction with Scotty feels like The Moment, the one where I could just tilt his chin up and kiss him, where fireworks would go off in the background and fanfare wouldn't die out until we consummated our love properly. It's so tempting in moments like these, but I resist. How terrible would it be if it completely backfired? What if I lost him for good? Would that be better, or worse?

I just exhale deeply as I swirl the remains of my drink, and Scotty seems to detect something. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say instinctively before I decide that telling Scotty the reason I wanted to come out in the first place might help keep the conversation away from sappy topics. "Actually," I say, clearing my throat, "Can I pick your brain for a second?"

"Of course," he says, and at detecting the more serious tone in my voice, he sits up straight and gives me his undivided attention.

"My, um... My mother's life insurance cleared," I tell him.

He looks confused but intrigued. "What does that mean?" he asks. "You're getting money?"

"Yeah," I say, nodding. Then, I murmur, "A lot."

"Really?" He leans in a bit, almost whispering. "How much?"

"Almost a mil and a half."

Scotty's eyes go wide before he laughs. "Holy shit, Uncle Ant! That's great!" I give him a half smile, but he can read me better than I anticipated. "This is a good thing, right?" he says, asking for confirmation.

"I guess," I say before finishing the rest of my drink with a sigh. "It feels... weird."

"Weird how?" he asks inquisitively before offering a suggestion. "Like... dirty?"

"Kinda," I say with a nod. "It just doesn't feel right. She died and I get money."

"Do you not want it?" he asks.

"I don't know. Part of me wants to give it away."

"Don't do that," he says, holding my arm. "Your mom set that up for a reason. You should do something nice with it. You deserve it." Then, he reaches up and strokes my scruffy jaw with the backs of his fingers so gingerly that I melt. "You took care of her for so long, Uncle Ant. You can take care of yourself, now."

Instantly, I feel my eyes tearing up, and he smiles before grabbing a napkin to dab at my cheeks. Scotty has a way of making me feel so weak and vulnerable. It's like my walls are useless against him; he just glides right through. I don't cry often, but that's twice today that Scotty has brought me to tears. Little bastard.

I sniffle and wait for him to finish cleaning up. "Think the bartender will still wanna fuck me now?" I joke, and Scotty just laughs.

We stay for a while to allow Scotty to finish his drink, chatting a little bit about the money. It's nice to bounce ideas and options back and forth, but in the end, I can't really make a decision one way or another. For now, at least, Scotty gets me to promise that I'll at least put the check in my savings. This way, if I choose to use it, I'll have it, and if I choose to get rid of it, I can just withdraw it. It's nice to talk about other things, though -- lighter things. In fact, for a while, we scope out the bar and make up little stories about the customers. While we split a plate of nachos, we speak of long-lost lovers reunited, sworn enemies, loners with crazy fetishes, undercover royalty... It feels good to do something silly for a bit.

It gets late pretty quickly, though, and before we head home, we decide to walk off the alcohol. It's a brisk night, and for a minute, the cool, early-springtime air feels good on my skin. Frankly, I hadn't realized how hot it was in that bar, so the "breath of fresh air" idiom is pretty applicable here. We walk side by side, my hands in my pockets, choosing a direction at random and just seeing where the night takes us.

At first, as we walk down the street, we walk in silence. But soon, Scotty asks a question. "So... Let's say you decide to keep the money," he starts to say. "Does that mean you're gonna move out?"

I smile a bit. "Probably."

"Oh," he says, and when I look over and down at him, I realize he looks sad. "I wish you'd stay."

"I think I'm already overstaying my welcome, monkey," I tell him.

He sighs, looking up at me. He even fully stops walking. "Why do you always do that?"

I stop and turn to look at him, noticing he looks a bit frustrated with me. "Do what?"

"Make excuses," he says. "Don't you want to stay?"

I swallow thickly. "I didn't say that," I tell him.

"Will you, then?" he asks.

I exhale, removing one hand from my pocket to run my fingers through my hair. I hate when he puts me in a position to disappoint him. I don't like disappointing him, but what other options do I have? "Scotty..." I start to say, but I'm not even sure what I want to articulate. I just trail off, sighing again.

Then, Scotty breaks the silence. "What can I do to convince you to stay?" he asks.

"Why do you want me to stay so bad?" I fire back, and it comes out in a harsher tone than I intended. But he's right. I can get snippy when I'm on the verge of further embarrassment, but this has an added element of frustration to it. I just want to grab him and shake him and tell him that this is just how I am. I don't like to intrude, or take up too much space, or have people go completely out of their way to accommodate me.

But he just looks at me sadly, his eyes large and alert. "Isn't it obvious?"

Time feels like it stops right here. I'm even cognizant of how corny that sounds in my head, but that's the only way I can describe how still everything feels. It's like nothing else around us is alive. It's just me and Scotty, staring at each other. I wonder if his heart is pounding like mine is, right in my ears. I wonder if his breathing is getting more labored, even though he looks as calm as ever. His eyes... They look so tender, and they're drawing me in. I find myself searching for any sort of hesitation, anything that would give me pause -- but I only find encouragement.

I break. I reach out, grab a fistful of his jacket in the front, and pull him towards me. He lets out a little yelp in surprise before I snake an arm around his waist. My other hand rests on the back of his head to keep him secure as I lean in and plant my lips on his. And God, what a feeling it is. It's the strangest mix of relief and invigoration. Finally, I have my lips on the boy I've wanted for so long, the boy I love and cherish, someone I feel things for that I've never felt for anyone prior. Scotty's the one. This kiss feels too right for that not to be the case. It's like this kiss is evidence that soulmates are real. They're real, and I've found mine.

Scotty's hands rest on my chest as he starts to kiss back, and I can't resist moaning when he reciprocates. Yes, Scotty. Thank you. He moves his lips back against mine, tilting his head so that the kiss can deepen. I pull him even closer to me, wishing we could just become one body. Frankly, I'm irritated by all these clothes separating us. I want nothing but skin on skin, lips on lips, hands wandering. But at least our mouths are in contact. I feel light. I feel like I'm on cloud nine, delirious with joy. I'm kissing Scotty. I'm fucking kissing Scotty.

When the kiss breaks, Scotty pants softly, and I have to blink a few times for my vision to stop being blurry. Then, both of us laugh, flustered, blushing, still standing entwined... and in the middle of the fucking street, no less. This is very brash of me, but I reached my tipping point. Scotty can't look at me like that when I'm in such a vulnerable state.

"Wow," he says, almost giggling.

"Yeah," I say with a slight laugh, licking my lips.

"I didn't really expect that," he murmurs.

He didn't? What else was he implying with his "Isn't it obvious?" question? I only ponder this for a second, because when I look down at him, I see his eyes flicker to my lips. Suddenly, he's leaning back in to kiss me and give me a sweeter, shorter, more gentle smooch. His lips are warm and welcoming on such a crisp night. God, I could stay like this for hours.

He pulls back from the kiss and then drops down to his feet, and only then do I realize that he was on his tippy toes. As if he couldn't get cuter...

"We should go home," he suggests, his cheeks rosy and his smile unusually bashful.

"Okay," I tell him, unable to stop smiling. I feel so satisfied right now. If God himself were to strike me down right now, I would feel fulfilled.

Scotty hooks his arm into mine as we walk back to the car, and because I'm definitely too drunk to safely drive, I let him take the wheel. I'm just smiling to myself like a goon the entire drive. I can barely keep up with the conversation Scotty's trying to make because I'm so focused on the sensation of his lips, the feel of him pressing into me, the blush in his cheeks when we pulled back... It feels like I just starred in the movie of my dreams. God, I'm like a kid again getting all flustered and giddy like this, but I can't help myself. Scotty makes me this way.

By the time we get back, it's late enough for Eric and Yasmine to be asleep. We quietly enter the house and lock up behind us before heading upstairs. I think about taking a shower, but I'm pretty beat. All I want to do right now is climb into bed and let sleep take me.

"I'm gonna go lie down," I murmur, running my fingers through my hair before reaching out to grab the door handle to my bedroom.

But Scotty stops me. "No you're not," he says, quickly grabbing my hand and tugging him further down the hallway -- towards his bedroom.

"Scotty, wait..."

"You're not leaving me hanging now, Uncle Ant," he tells me. I swallow thickly but let this boy lead me down the hall, right across from his parents' room and into his bedroom. He tugs me inside and then quickly shuts the door behind us -- and, for an added measure, locks it. I look around, taking in the sight of his meticulously put together room. Everything has its place, and the space is clean and tidy but still very obviously belonging to a teenager. He somehow manages to balance organization without losing personality, with his art pieces and plants and snazzy duvet.

But I'm not here to critique his room. I'm here to... what, exactly?

When I look at Scotty, he's got a soft smile on his face, and it makes me nervously excited. "What?" I ask.