![\"Shirt](\"http:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1188\/2022\/11\/Manning-59A1A475-6560-4DD1-A0FA-75E687B256E4-232x300.jpeg\")
by Luke Manning<\/p>\nby Luke Manning<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
J. Thomas Meador<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 After Lewis and I had sex we made pillow talk in the shower. He was in town for a conference, but I didn’t want him going back to his hotel looking like rough trade from the wrong side of the tracks. I was being hospitable, while also filling the void of a lonely Thursday night.<\/span>\u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYou lived in town long?\u201d He said, sliding his soapy fingers through mine, massaging each digit in a way I’d never felt.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cMoved here after high school,\u201d I said. \u201cA million years ago.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhere was school?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cTiny place in Tennessee. You never heard of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He chuckled. \u201cTry me. I grew up in Tennessee.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I smirked a bit, lathering his chest. \u201cOkay. How ’bout a place called Telford?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Then he really smirked, and it reminded me why I\u2019d been so charmed with his ManPower profile. \u201cI know it. I went to school in Johnson City.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSeriously? We were neighbors.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWe were rivals,\u201d he corrected.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSmall world.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I looked at his soapy crotch. \u201cNot that small.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Afterwards, I asked Lewis to stay for a drink. It’s not normally my thing after a random meet-up, but we had something in common. We dressed in t-shirts and boxers, and he had to borrow a pair of mine because his was used to wipe a hand clean in bed. In the kitchen I opened a cabinet.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhat kind of man are you?\u201d I asked. Lewis gave me a funny look. I gestured at his options. \u201cVodka, bourbon, or gin? I think I got beer in the fridge.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He chose gin. Homemade soda water out of an expensive maker. He was clearly after my heart. While I made his drink he glanced around my apartment. Outside, the sky blinked with distant lightning.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYou got a nice place,\u201d he said, talking about the hand-me-downs I’d acquired as my family dwindled. Lamps and end tables collected from various relatives when they moved into assisted living. A hundred year-old rocking chair positioned decoratively in a corner.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cThanks,\u201d I said, and handed him his drink. \u201cYou wanna watch the storm on the fire escape?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He gave me a sly wink. \u201cSexy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 We walked through my collection, past photos of young people I only knew when they were too old to stand up straight, around a coffee table repainted by each new owner, and behind the couch that once belonged in my great aunt’s sitting room where no one was allowed to sit. I opened the window and took his hand while we twisted our way onto the fire escape.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cDamn. This view is something else.\u201d Lights from downtown reflected on his face, soft and warm. The occasional flash of lightning made his eyes twinkle.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cThanks for coming over,\u201d I said, looking at the same lights for the millionth time.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYeah. It was fun.\u201d Then he sipped his drink. I suddenly had to giggle. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cNothing. It’s \u2026 I don’t know. We grew up pretty close by. Surprised we didn’t run into each other at some point.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He raised his glass. \u201cOnly took twenty years.\u201d I clinked my glass to his. Thunder rumbled in the distance.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYeah,\u201d I said. \u201cJust makes me wonder \u2026\u201d I hesitated, but finally said, \u201cWhere were you when I was in high school?\u201d Twenty years of ups and downs, a Rolodex of one-night stands, makes you ask questions like that.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Lewis shrugged \u201cBack then? Chasing girls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cOh, you were one of <\/span>those<\/span><\/i> boys?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWeren’t you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cNot really. But I had a few crushes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhat was her name?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I couldn’t remember, but then I could. \u201cCourtney Harris.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Lewis’ eyes were suddenly wide. His expression was a brick wall.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhat?\u201d I said.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cI know Courtney.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I leaned closer. \u201cNo shit. Really?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cLong blonde hair? Massive tits?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cBingo,\u201d I sighed. He laughed.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWe dated the summer she graduated.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I knew the exact date. The summer I moved. \u201cSo,\u201d I said, \u201cyou <\/span>were<\/span><\/i> one of those boys.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He shrugged, taking a sip. \u201cIf you liked her so much why didn’t you date her?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cShe found out I kissed a boy at a party. On a dare.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cAnd?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cAnd she said she couldn’t be with a guy who’d kissed another guy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cThat’s stupid. It was a dare.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I shrugged. \u201cWhat’s worse, being called chicken shit, or being called gay?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cGood point,\u201d he said. \u201cSo never with a girl?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cNope. Not after Courtney told the other girls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cThat was harsh.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cYeah.\u201d We drank again. I read his face. When we had sex Lewis kept his eyes closed, wore a satisfied smile, and let his tongue poke out to the left. Now he looked like his profile picture. Freckled. Green-eyed. A little scar on his chin. The boy next door you keep secret from Mom.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 A cloud flashed orange and yellow and I had to ask. \u201cSo what happened?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSay again?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cWhy’d you two break up?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cSchool. I moved to Arizona. God, she cried.\u201d He gestured at the opened window, into the apartment and presumably at his phone in my bedroom. \u201cI follow her online, if you want to say Hi.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I shook my head. \u201cHow was the sex?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He tried to drink, but he laughed it back into the glass. \u201cJesus. She really did you wrong. You’re obsessed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cLike they say, Hell hath no fury…\u201d I made my point by extending a pinky finger. \u201cSo? How was it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 He sighed, thinking back to a time when I’m certain he had frosted tips in his hair. \u201cIt was \u2026 successful. Leave it at that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cAnd had you been with guys yet?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Lewis pursed his lips. \u201cWhy do you want to know?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cStill figuring out what kind of man you are.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cI’m a man who keeps secrets,\u201d he whispered.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I pointed my thumb towards the apartment. \u201cToo bad Courtney couldn’t.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 There was a pause as the sky rumbled and Lewis processed me. \u201cIt really bothers you, doesn’t it?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 I didn’t answer.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 We were quiet for a moment, letting the sixth floor breeze finish drying our hair. Eventually, Lewis leaned closer and said with a whisper, \u201cTwenty years ago my secret was that I was thinking about guys.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cFunny,\u201d I whispered back. \u201cTwenty years ago, we could’ve been each others secret.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0 Lewis reached for my hand on the metal railing and slipped his fingers between mine. It was the same moment that the clouds opened and the heavens wept for all the time we’d lost.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n J Thomas Meador<\/strong> (He\/Him) comes from a family of fibbers, liars, actors, and professional storytellers. His own stories have appeared in such places as Dirty Chai, Gravel, Flash Fiction Magazine, the Sheepshead Review, Harpur Palate, and New Plains Review. He lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, and can also be found at www.jthomasmeador.com.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Luke Manning<\/b> is a Digital Illustrator and Fine Artist from Baltimore City, Maryland. His art tells an intimate story on relation with one\u2019s own body and sensuality. His work also details an exploration on interpersonal relationships and themes on sexuality and identity.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Luke Manning Where Were You When I Was In High School? J. Thomas Meador \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 After Lewis and I had sex we made pillow talk Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4323,"featured_media":0,"parent":1301,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2784"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4323"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2784"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2784\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3195,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2784\/revisions\/3195"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1301"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2784"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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