twenty-something

True North | A Story By Patrick Raymond
Part Four

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Ollie met Chris two years earlier. At the end of their first date, Chris walked Ollie home. "This is my stop," Ollie had announced. He hoped he sounded cute and playful, but he really felt reluctant for the night to end. They'd met that afternoon for coffee, which stretched into dinner (Ollie's treat), which segued into a long walk around the city. The two men gazed at each other as they stood outside of Ollie's dorm. Ollie's heart wasn't the only thing that swelled as he stared at the beautiful senior and fantasized about kissing him. He was desperately nervous, and afraid that he was reading the seemingly mutual flirtation wrong. Ollie blurted out a suggestion - "Let's do this again." - to which Chris quickly followed up - "How about Friday?" Ollie suddenly, awkward and automatically, extended his hand. "Friday works. Can't wait." He smiled as Chris shook his hand. He had a strong grip, and the physical contact sent shivers up Ollie's spine. They said good-bye and Ollie rushed upstairs to his room. As he craned his neck out his window to watch Chris walk away, he gushed to his roommate about his perfect first date.

That Friday, on their second date, after their first kiss, Chris confessed to Ollie that the handshake was completely adorable. Soon after, they fell in love.

Two months after the handshake, they made love for the first time. Ollie, practically a virgin in gay terms, finally felt that the time was right for them. Later that same night, Ollie talked to Chris about his father for the first time.

They lay together, spooning, talking. They talked about many things, little things, and Chris recalled a funny anecdote about his father that had both boys in stitches. After they stopped laughing, Chris breached the subject that Ollie desperately tried to avoid.

"What's your dad like?" he asked.

Ollie suddenly stiffened up. His grip around Chris loosened. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"My dad. He... died," he confessed.

Chris rolled over to face him. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't..."

Ollie managed a weak smile, more of grimace, to show Chris that he was alright. "It's OK. It's been a while now." Chris placed his hand on Ollie's chest and slowly brushed his fingertips over the light blanket of hair. "I was fifteen. Henry, my brother, was eight." He paused. "There was... a fire." He instantly felt regret. He clenched his eyes shut and tightened his body.

"I'm so sorry, Ollie. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I'm good. Really."

Chris ran his fingers through Ollie's hair and gazed in his eyes.

Very seriously, he said, "I love you."

Ollie smiled. "I love you too."

They hugged and held each other for a long while. Ollie had nearly drifted off to sleep when Chris spoke again.

"So... remember when I said that thing... um, to thank your dad for certain, um, 'genetic endowments'? I didn't mean to be offensive."

Ollie pulled back and looked at him, puzzled, for a moment. Then he cracked up. Chris followed suit.