One More Year

"Okay, you ready?" Louis asked, shielding the notecard from me with his hand.

"To stop studying and enjoy my holidays?" I raised my eyebrows.

He smirked. "To face Sue if you're not as prepared as her for the physics moderation?"

"Okay, fine." I groaned. "What's the question?"

"State Newton's Second Law of motion."

"Fuck." I closed my eyes. "Um... The acceleration of an object is directly proportional to the force applied to that object, and inversely proportional to the object's mass."

"Uh, that's right, but it's 'net force', I think."

"Does that matter?" I grimaced.

He shrugged. "Do you want to get it wrong in the moderation session?"

"I don't care."

"Fine, but." He titled his head, and smiled mischievously. "Do you want to get it wrong in front of Sue?"

"Ugh. Fine." I laughed. "Net force, net force. I'll try to remember that."

Louis was hanging out at my house, since we'd planned a study group session - in the holidays - to start going over our work, so we were prepared for moderation. As the top performers, it seemed like we were all going to be included in the sessions for most of the subjects we took. We wanted to be ready. Sue and Angela had already prepared for physics, so Louis and I were playing catch up.

Despite it being school work, I'd really had a great time. He and I had set a relaxed pace, but we'd still managed to cover more than half of the physics syllabus by that afternoon. We were more or less done, and just casually going through some of the notecards we'd had trouble with. He was just going to hang around for a bit longer, and then I'd take him home.

I still hadn't told him what had really happened between me, Eric and Nick. Louis had just wanted to get straight to work, and he'd only briefly asked how 'coping with the two of them' had been, and the conversation had moved on. I assumed I'd never do something like that again, so I rationalised that it was probably fine to pretend like it never happened.

Still, I felt guilty about not telling him. When a message from Eric popped up on my phone, I felt a weird urge to hide it, even though it seemed completely innocuous.

[Hey]

[Can I ask you a favour?]

[You can say no]

______________[Depends on the favour]

[Can you take Nick home when you and Louis are done?]

[They live in the same neighbourhood]

I showed the messages to Louis.

He grimaced. "Sorry. That would be my fault. I told him I was here."

"It's fine." I shrugged. "Nick's actually not so bad."

"I know." Louis put the stack of notecards down. "He asked me if I was okay the night after my bailout, and then thanked me for being nice to him."

"He thanked me for being nice too."

"Such manners." He chuckled.

"I know. I was pretty surprised." Although weirder things had happened that night.

"I can't believe Eric's asking his ex-boyfriend to ferry around his current boyfriend, though." He frowned. "That's kind of ridiculous."

"Yeah, it is a little, isn't it?" I sighed. Also not the weirdest interaction between Eric's ex and his current boyfriend. "I'm probably going to have to, though."

"Yeah, that's fine. I can go home now too if he wants."

I looked back down at my phone.

[Please]

[He can't get an Uber]

______________[What? Why not?]

[His rating is too low]

______________[Seriously? What did he DO?]

[Hahah. No idea]

______________[You could get him one.]

[I could]

[But he hasn't thought of that yet]

[And I don't want him to tank MY rating :D]

______________[Fine. I'll take him.]

______________[Louis says he can go home now if Nick wants to.]

[That'd be great! Thanks]

I sighed, and looked up at Louis. "Okay, let's go then."

Louis grabbed his bag, and we headed out to my car. We pulled up at our destination a few minutes later. Eric and Nick were standing on the side-walk when we arrived, arms around each other. Things looked a bit tense, and they broke apart as we rolled up.

"Oh, crap." Nick said. "I forgot my bag inside. Sorry, just give me a second."

He ran back into the house.

"Thanks for doing this. He's got a church camp tomorrow, so he has to go home and pack."

"Church camp, huh?" I asked.

"Yep." Eric shrugged.

"Hopefully he manages it better than you." It basically fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Yeah." He blushed. "I'm going to go see if he needs help finding his bag." He ran back towards the house.

"Well that was oddly brutal," Louis said dryly.

"Sorry." I grimaced. "It just slipped out."

"It's fine." He gave me a cautious smile, and grabbed my shoulder. "It was fair. Just brutal."

Nick came running out the house. Just before he got in, he turned to look back at the house. But only for a second, and then he climbed into the back seat and swung the door shut. "Okay, I'm ready."

He was a little sullen the whole way, which would have been nice, because Louis and I were able to fill most of the awkward silence. But Nick kept sporadically interjecting with something that didn't really fit into the conversation, or called us weird every time we made a joke he didn't get. It felt like a much longer trip than usual.

When we got to his house, Louis mouthed 'Good luck' to me and practically sprinted indoors. Nick climbed into the front seat, and immediately launched into an unrelenting tirade about his irritation with Eric.

"He's always fucking arguing with me, you know?" he said, for about the hundredth time since we'd dropped off Louis. "Like, he has to disagree with me about everything. This is the best kind of ice cream, the one you like is garbage. This music is the best, everything else is trash. This movie is great, that movie you love is terrible, and I can't believe you even like it. It's so fucking stupid. He ever do that with you?"

"Yep. He always gave me grief about having a PlayStation instead of an Xbox. Didn't like the bands I listened to. Thought I had terrible taste in movies. That sort of thing." I shrugged and laughed. "You're not supposed to actually engage him on that. Just make fun of him, and move on."

He scowled. "Whatever. I hate shit like that. I guess he thinks he's being cute, but it's just fucking annoying."

"Sure."

"We're here, by the way. It's that house over there. On the corner."

I pulled into the driveway.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me. "You should come in. I'll show you my studio."

"Um, okay." I couldn't think of any good excuses why I shouldn't, and I had told him - after that night - that I would.

I followed him inside, and he shut the front door gently, and held his finger to his lips. We were in a beautiful hallway with lots of white walls, marble tiles and gold-painted metal. There was a nook in the wall with what looked like a shrine to some sort of saint. It wasn't really the sort of place I was expecting Nick to live in. Modern, but with elements of the traditional. I'd pictured something wilder, and more bohemian. We heard footsteps approaching.

"Nick, darling, is that you?" A woman came bustling around the corner. She had the same mediterranean complexion as Nick, and the same sculpted nose. "Oh, hello."

"Mom, this is Jay."

"Ah yes, from the school. Thank you for giving Nick a ride home. Those theatre people are so unreliable."

"Oh, no problem." I was slightly perplexed. Theatre people? "I was headed out this way anyway."

"Who's this?" A portly man stepped around the corner behind her, and came up to shake my hand. "Are you another one of these theatre people, like that boy, Eric?"

Ah, THEATRE PEOPLE. Right. I supposed that was a good excuse for Nick, he was probably always working on one production or another, because of how in demand his sets usually were. That probably worked as a great excuse when he wanted to see Eric. But the phrase 'theatre people' sounded like some old-timey euphemism for gays.

"No." I managed, with some effort, not to laugh. "No, I go to Elohim as well."

"Jay is the Maths boy, he's always winning those awards," Mrs. Georgiou said. Maths boy. That was one way of putting it.

"He was in the group that won the science fair. You know, with Angela." Nick rubbed his arm.

"Ah, yes!" his dad said. "I remember that. It was very good. Is that Angela your girlfriend?"

"Dad." Nick looked horrified.

I laughed nervously. "No, we're just friends."

"Amazing girl. You should marry her." Mr. Georgiou smiled. "You would have very smart babies. Good-looking, too."

"Dad!"

"You're embarrassing him in front of his friend." Mrs. Georgiou playfully slapped her husband on the back of the head, and he chuckled affectionately. "You two head up. I'll make something nice for dinner."

"Oh, I'm very sorry," I said. "I can't stay for long."

"Mom, I'm just showing Jay my studio, okay? Don't drag him into dinner."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." She smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you, Jay."

"You too, Mrs. Georgiou. Mr. Georgiou."

"It's Marina, darling. And Costas." She laughed, pointing at her husband. "Mr. and Mrs. Georgio are this one's sour old parents."

I smiled, and Nick quickly shuffled me out of the room. We headed to the upper floor, where he led us up a narrow set of wooden steps with a trapdoor at the top. He pushed it open, and held it as I followed him into the attic, gently lowering it back into place behind me.

"Sorry about that. They're so fucking cringe sometimes I could just drop dead."

I chuckled. "No, it's fine. It was pretty funny. Angela and I would have amazing kids."

"Gross." He wrinkled his nose.

I just shrugged, and he smiled at me. He grabbed a heavy looking box and slid it over the trap door. I raised my eyebrows at the implications of him sealing us in here, but didn't say anything.

"Do you like my studio?" He gestured around the attic grandly.

I turned to face the rest of the room. "Yeah, it's amazing."

It really was. The end I was looking at had row after row of large canvas paintings, stacked against each other and leaning against the wall. Crammed underneath them were big patterned wooden screens that I recognised as pieces of his design projects, or backdrops from our school musicals.

On the other side of the room, there were all sorts of things - a dress manikin, a sewing machine, a basket full of fabric. In the corner there was a futon, decorated with golden cushions and fake fur throws.

Nick was quirky and sometimes a bit unpleasant, but no one could say that he wasn't fantastically creative, and incredibly talented. This room was sort of a monument to the great things he could pull out of nowhere.

"Come on," he said, "I want to show you something."

He led me over to the rows of canvasses, and shifted a few around, before pulling one out. It looked like it was just spattered in paint, until I saw that it wasn't the real canvas, it was just a sheet that had been tightly wrapped around it.

He carried it across to the other side of the room, wedging it between the wall and the futon.

"Have a seat."

I settled myself amidst the bedding, while he fiddled at the back of the canvas. He got the sheet loose, and with a dramatic flourish, he let it drop, revealing the real painting.

It was a life-sized nude, lying on a bed, facing towards us. The figure had a raging erection. It was done in a sort of impressionist style, a bit sloppy around the edges, but the face was unmistakable.

"It's Eric," I said simply.

"It is." He settled next to me on the futon, resting his hand on my shoulder and sounding pleased. "Do you like it?"

"It's hot." Despite its flaws, it definitely had a seductive feel, and he'd absolutely nailed Eric's stare. It was almost unsettling. "You've made his dick far too big though. That one looks massive."

"It feels that size." He said softly, right in my ear, making my hairs stand on end. "When he's fucking me."

It was pretty clear what Nick wanted, at that point. If the blocked-off trapdoor hadn't been enough of a hint, showing me a big, naked painting of Eric made it undeniable what he had in mind. For some reason, knowing what he was doing wasn't protecting me from its effects. I could feel myself getting hard. And reckless. I looked over at him. He was so close.

"He's not nearly as good at it as you are, though." He exhaled softly, looking directly into my eyes. "And I really want you to fuck me again."

Our faces snapped together, and our tongues violently wrestled back and forth in our mouths. I pushed him back down onto the futon, feeling a strange sense of deja vu as I began to run my hands over Nick's body under the seductive gaze of painting-Eric.

He lifted my shirt over my head, and I pulled off my jeans while he started to wriggle out of his clothing. I stood in front of him in my underwear, and he got up to kneel in front of me in his. His right hand reached out and grabbed my waistband to tug it down, while his left went down the front of his briefs and began rubbing.

He grasped my cock firmly, and guided it into his mouth. I gasped as he took me in, and he worked his head back and forth, making a series of wet, squelching noises. He stopped suddenly, and tilted his head back, looking up at me. "Please. Fuck me."

"Are you sure it's okay?" My brain wasn't fully operational any more - I guess the blood was needed elsewhere - but still I thought I should make sure. "With Eric?

"It's fine. We're open. You know that." He sounded frustrated, but he let out a small laugh. "Besides, look how turned on he is."

I looked up at the painting and smirked. Nick pulled his underwear off and flung it at my head. It hit my face and dropped to the floor, and I laughed, but I'd caught a faint whiff of his musky scent. He crawled slowly across the futon, exposing every angle of his ass to me along the way. I pulled off my own underwear and climbed behind him, as he fiddled with a box. He pulled out a condom and lube, and passed them back to me.

I rolled the condom on. Nick had positioned himself on a pillow facing the painting, his ass pointed up towards me and his legs spread, leaving his hole exposed. I liberally applied lube, first on my dick, then into him. I worked in a finger, causing him to gasp. Then a second, and then a third.

I moved my hand in and out, slowly, until he grunted in frustration. "Will you just fuck me already?"

I quickly extracted my hand, and got myself in position. I lined up my dick and - perhaps too aggressively - plunged the whole length in, our bodies colliding with a soft thud.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and pain.

I leaned over until my mouth was right by his ear. "You wanted this." I ground my hips up against him for emphasis.

"Yes." He panted. "And more."

I began to slowly thrust in and out of him, working myself up to a good rhythm. He started to writhe and squirm, trying to suppress his moans. From what I could see of his face, he looked thrilled, and delirious. He kept letting out odd little gasps that almost sounded like laughter.

It was so easy not to think. To just give myself over to it. Nick didn't seem to care about anything more than the sex, and he didn't have weird boundaries like Jamie. I could twist his head around and kiss him while I fucked him. I could just do what felt good, even if I might not feel great about it later. In the moment, it felt like a worthwhile trade.

All I cared about were the sensations running through my body. The feel of my skin against his, and the way his muscles moved underneath my hands. The way his hole had a vice grip on my dick.

Then there was the painting of Eric. It was almost unsettling, but mostly just hot. There was something to the idea of him just being a concept. No personality and issues to go with the rest of it - just the look. If only it could be that simple. My eyes lingered on it as I kept fucking Nick.

"Hold on. I want to do something." He wriggled his way out from underneath me, and stood up, bracing himself against it. "Come on."

I followed him there, and started to fuck him, standing upright. It was a little awkward, since I had to bend my knees slightly to match our heights, but it wasn't long before his whole body tensed, and he began to shoot ropes of cum onto Eric's painted face.

He quickly slipped away from me, and pulled the condom off. He began to kiss me and tug at my dick, while I ran my hand down his back. It was enough, and I started to shoot my load too. I felt a vague sense of amusement as he used his hand to direct the ropes of my cum to join his on the painting.

Panting, I let my knees buckle, and I sort of collapsed in slow motion onto the futon. Nick walked over the window, opened it up and lit a cigarette. I grabbed one of the pillows and put it under my head, and contemplated the newly modified painting of Eric.

"I think I like it better that way." He grinned at me.

"It certainly builds a narrative." I laughed.

"Yeah." He looked down at me. "I should paint you."

"Not quite like that." I smirked.

He shook his head. "Not what I meant."

"Yeah, I know."

He scratched his head. "You should probably leave soon. You said you couldn't stay long, and my parents will probably start bugging us if you're here for too much longer."

"I'll get dressed and go in a second."

I really wanted to be out of there, anyway. I wasn't in the mood to be around him any more, once I'd cum. I felt vaguely dirty, and disappointed in myself. Like I needed a pep talk from a responsible influence. I took a deep breath, got dressed, and left. He barely said a word the whole time.

His parents shouted a farewell to me as he let me out the front door. The drive home was awful. I couldn't really turn the music loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Nick wasn't as bad as I'd thought, but I still didn't like him. Not really. I no longer knew what the hell I was even doing. At least I got along with Jamie. And I'd been drunk that night at Eric's house.

But I didn't have much of an excuse - other than being horny and stupid - for what I'd just done. I should have stopped him from even sealing the trapdoor. Or not gone into his house in the first place. I tried to shower until I felt better, but it didn't really work. I went to bed early that night.

***

When I woke up the next morning, however, I was already feeling less guilty. I kept going back and forth on whether there was actually anything wrong with what I was doing with the two of them. They were a couple, who wanted to have casual sex with other guys - with no attachments. I was just that other guy.

And there was nothing wrong with enjoying sex. We were being safe, so it was fine. That's at least what I was telling myself. Not that it helped much. I was in a chaotic mood when Eric messaged me, and I answered way too quickly.

[Hey]

______________ [Hey.]

[Wyd?]

______________ [Nothing.]

[Me neither]

[I'm so bored]

[Come visit me]

______________ [I can't.]

[You said you're not doing anything]

______________ [Okay, fine, I don't want to.]

[Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease]

[I'm bored]

[And lonely]

[And it's Saturday]

[Be a good friend]

______________ [Ugh. FINE]

I really wasn't doing anything, but other than that I had no explanation for why I'd agreed. He'd clearly caught me in a phase of my reasoning where I was okay with what I'd been doing lately, so heading over - inviting what I knew I could happen - seemed logical.

I nearly turned around a few times on my way there, but by the time I'd got to Eric's house, I'd convinced myself to just see him, and see what happened. I messaged him to let him know I was there, but wasn't the one who opened the door. Caitlyn stood in the entrance, a dark scowl on her face.

"Hey Jay," she said, sounding anything but delighted to see me. "I see Eric's managed to scare away every person from North Grove, so now he's working his way through our school for friends."