Prom Night

Dear Readers,

My tremendous apologies for the long wait in getting Chapter 6 to you. After a few years filled with a few different edits (as I had to figure out exactly how I could work the story for where I wanted it to go), it's finally here! I'd like to thank all of you who have taken the time to follow my work over the years. I greatly appreciate the amazing patience all of you have shown me as I've slowly let this story develop. Thank you so much!

On the same note, I've received multiple inquiries asking if I intend to see the story through to finish. The answer is yes. I'm already almost finished with Chapter 7, and there will only be two more chapters to go after that before we reach the end! It's my intent to finish Prom Night this year, so please stay tuned!! Things are about to get interesting!

Once again, I greatly appreciate all of the support and encouragement; thank you so much again!! All of you are amazing!

—Steve

Prom Night: Chapter 6

I made certain I was up early the next morning. Somehow, avoiding my father made the whole ordeal bearable in my mind, like if I could just escape the conversation with him that I could avoid feeling different. The entire time on the drive to school, I mulled that feeling over, until I was mad at myself for it. It had nothing at all to do with my father's outlook on having a potentially gay son. He'd already expressed—in his fatherly way—that it was alright. That he loved me.

But the issue had everything to do with my outlook on my life, specifically the outlook on what being gay meant to me. In my mind, it made me a different person. Maybe that was because I simply wasn't ready to share it with others and be alright with them knowing, but it didn't change anything. In my heart, I knew I cared about James. But while I wasn't ashamed of the fact that I cared about him within my own mind, I knew I wasn't emotionally ready—for my own sanity at least—to be a man who was attracted to men.

I took a deep breath and tried to let my worries go, if only to try to convince myself that my father would leave the subject buried after last night. Then when I let it out, feeling deflated, I grabbed my backpack and headed across the parking lot.

I had just beat the third bus by a few minutes, and while I went across the slick lot, still damp from the thunderstorms the night before, I heard someone falling into step beside me. I looked over to see David, a little out of breath as if he'd run to catch up to me.

"Hey, didn't you hear me calling after you?" He asked.

"No," I said, "Sorry about that."

"It's all good, man. What are you doing here early for?"

"Couldn't sleep," I lied.

His face was blank, as if he knew I was lying, but he didn't call me out on it. Instead, he said, "Must've really sucked to get you here so soon."

I forced a smile, noticing the way his eyes seemed to light up a little when I did. "So, what are you here for?"

"Oh, you know. Morning detention, the usual."

I nodded as we made our way inside. "Whose class did you terrorize this time?"

David rolled his eyes playfully, and I could hear the slight smile edge his voice when he spoke. "Mr. Gonzalez."

"Oh, no." Mr. Gonzalez taught Spanish and was perhaps the only teacher at school who was an easy target for teenage ridicule. Despite the many references he'd made in class to having a wife, his effeminate nature and habit of wearing the occasional pink button down had landed him the gay label and the nickname "Queen Gonzalez" among the student body. If people think the cheetahs on

Animal Planet

are savage, they've clearly never set foot inside a high school classroom.

"It wasn't my fault," David said, "The queen was asking for it."

I didn't press David for details; truth be told, I didn't want to know. But my mind stuck on the verbiage he used. Is that what he'd think of me if he only knew what was going on? The more I tried not to think about the possibilities of that question, the more it seemed to resonate with me.

Taking my silence as the end of our conversation, David said, "Anyway, man, I have to split. Try not to fall asleep in class." And with a little grin, he walked away.

My first two classes of the day were a drag, which was okay. It allowed me the chance to continue sorting out the mess that was my mind. But by my third class, my brain was too crowded with thoughts and questions that I checked my phone for any kind of distraction I could find. That's when I found the text from my older brother, Todd.

Hey, could I ask you something?

it read.

I looked around the room, wary of whether I could get away with typing a response before my AP Biology teacher would notice. But as my eyes made their way about my surroundings—finding half of my classmates passing notes and another quarter absentmindedly doodling in their notebooks—I figured I might have a shot at getting away with it.

Todd and I were closer than some siblings, but not quite close enough to keep in constant contact. I hadn't seen Todd since he was home for winter break from college, but he'd been nice enough to mail me the bottle of vodka I had stashed in the hotel room on prom night. I thought for a moment, wondering what he could want to ask. Then I typed back,

Sure.

I didn't pay attention to the time stamp at the top of Todd's message; maybe it'd come through during homeroom and I'd have to wait. But a pulsing vibration silenced my doubt as his reply came through:

Could you pick me up from John's tonight?

John, I knew, was his best friend from college who lived only forty minutes away in Greensburg. What didn't make sense was that Todd had his own car—a pickup truck—and usually drove home by himself.

Okay. What about your truck?

Todd:

John owes me a favor and is putting new pipes on it.

Gotcha,

I nodded as I typed and then caught myself. I looked up at the slides of the Krebs Cycle displayed before a classroom of bored eyes, careful to make just enough eye contact with the teacher so she thought I was following along. Then when she focused her attention on another student, I continued texting. Although I didn't understand why he'd want to put brand-new smokestacks on an '92 Dodge rust-bucket, I asked Todd what time and address, and he gave it to me.

Then when the deal was done, I scrawled James's name on the top of my notes. And I sat there, continuing to think about how—and if—my family would ever accept the two of us given our dynamic, until the bell rang.

***

Emotions are, perhaps, one of the most volatile concepts in the world

, James Monaco thought when he drove his Jeep Sahara in to work that morning.

And

, his mind continued,

they are one of the most irresistible of concepts to embrace

. He sipped his coffee, his mind reeling with examples like the love over Helen of Troy, the hate in John Wilkes Booth's heart when he blew Lincoln away, and the tears shed over Princess Diana after her tragic car accident. He couldn't even pay attention to the mellow beats of Van Morrison singing about being hungry for love.

They had given into their emotions last night, hadn't they? And now there was no going back, even if he wanted to. He didn't want to, James knew, but something about the lack of choice in the matter made him feel out of control. As though he'd truly given up his kingdom as a teacher and was now a nomad, following his heart instead of his head. The question was:

what happens from here?

He didn't know.

Nor, did he know how long it would last with Dom. But something about enjoying every moment of it was strangely calming about it, even if the part of him that needed order and control was screaming. The two forces dueled within him throughout his first few classes of the day, as the class where he would see the one student that James knew he'd never be able to resist grew closer.

During the change of class, he felt his chest tying and untying itself in knots. Fuck, he needed a smoke. But there was no time, so he did what he could and took a few discreet, deep breaths and took his place just outside the door to watch the students file in. But as the question of the unknown continued to lurk in his brain—wondering what would happen from here—James didn't think he could stand and watch any longer. So, he took his set of keys and made for the teacher's restroom down the hallway.

Thankfully, the single stall room was unoccupied, allowing him to splash some water on his face and face himself in the mirror. He gripped the sides of the sink with white knuckles, realizing then, as he looked himself over, that he was nervous. Not for the class, but for what would happen with Dominic. Sex aside, he was starting to really like the boy. And he knew that Dom liked him too; last night was proof enough of that, having taken the effort to put himself out there at the risk of possible rejection.

Caroline never would have done that, he knew. His blue eyes were clouded like those of a lost puppy, James saw. And at heart that he was just as lost as one. He'd always been the one to have his act together, or at least together enough to make it look as though he'd had it together when he really didn't. It was how he'd gotten decent grades as a kid and then throughout college, how he'd had good credit and a decent nest egg saved up even when his photography business had inconsistent traffic. But with a smile and a kiss, one of his students brought the wall down.

He'd been fine last night; after Dom left, his high remained while he went to bed and embraced the sex dreams that came to him. It was in the morning, when the gray haze of dawn crept above the horizon, that things got funny around the edges. Caroline called him, asking if they could meet later after work to discuss the wedding. He didn't have the heart to tell her about Dom or about the night before, that he'd really been having a tryst in the dark with another male when she called and he missed it and didn't see the notification till Dom left. How could he tell her there was someone else, especially knowing that she was in such close contact with his parents?

He didn't know.

But what James did know for certain was that, regardless of how mismatched they were, Caroline deserved the truth. He knew she deserved the respect of a face to face talk, to know that not only was it over but that she was never the reason why he was leaving. She would do with that information what she would, there would be no stopping her. But Caroline deserved the chance to have closure and to find a man who wanted the same things out of life that she did.

Because...wasn't that what life was about? Finding happiness? James breathed deep, still wishing he had a cigarette, but felt a little calmer. It would be difficult in the future to have that discussion, but in his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how questionable the state of things would be with Dominic after he graduated. College, James knew from experience, often changed people—usually for the better. By that logic, wasn't it not that far of a stretch to imagine that Dominic might find someone closer to his own age with which he'd rather be?

Stop it. You're thinking too far ahead.

His mind screamed at himself.

Take it for the moment, enjoy it for what it is.

And as soon as the voice inside of him rationalized it, James knew it was right.

It's only life, after all. No one ever gets out alive.

The bell rang. He had to get back to his room and teach the class. James took a moment to take a few more deep breaths to calm himself down, then tried smoothing some of his hair with his fingers to make himself more presentable.

And more attractive

, he reasoned. Then he left the bathroom and entered his classroom.

If he'd been expecting anything less than chaos, he was pleasantly surprised. Aside from a few talkative students, the order of his classroom remained intact. This was good; it was, after all, the teacher who could not maintain order who lost control of the class—as well as the lesson. He went through his usual pre-lesson rituals, including a history joke he'd seen in a teaching handbook:

What was the fruit that launched a thousand ships? Melon of Troy.

It was almost like a typical day at the instructor's wheel—until it was time to collect homework.

"Keith, three sentences you scrawled right after the bell rang doesn't constitute a reflection. You have to do better than this if you want to pass this class," James admonished. Keith James—a troublemaker by reputation for his tendency to do less than the bare minimum and habit of disappearing off school grounds during bathroom breaks—was trying to argue that he deserved credit for his latest half-fast effort.

"Come on, Mr. M, I spent hours on it." Keith smoothed the crinkled notebook paper to make it look more presentable. "And look, it's like half a page."

James's gaze leveled him. "I will concede that you used half a page to write three sentences. Turn in the reflection tomorrow, and I'll consider partial credit."

The boy huffed under his long blonde curls and wadded up the paper. He grumbled to himself, but he didn't try to meet his instructor's gaze.

James moved on, the next person in the path to collect homework from being none other than Dominic. His eyes glimpsed the boy over the edge of his gradebook, and his breath almost hitched in his throat. Dom was staring right back at him; but instead of the challenging gaze that had greeted him the class before their argument, Dom's eyes glimmered. As much as it stoked the fires of nervous energy within him, the corners of James's mouth arced into a smirk. The young man was truly something else.

Still, duty called, and a classroom was no place for a love affair. He swallowed the glow in him and tightened his expression as he scrutinized the checked spreadsheet of the gradebook, his fingers locking the others' collected work against the plastic backing of it. Then he came closer.

"Do you have your reflection?" He swallowed again, trying not to meet the boy's eyes. But after a second of silence in waiting for Dom to respond, his eyes glanced at him again and found his expression as warm as ever.

"Sorry, I guess I forgot about it..." Dom started to smile, then seemed to catch himself. And in a smaller voice, he added, "...sir."

James's expression narrowed on him, nodding.

"I...guess I got wrapped up too much in other stuff." Dom trailed, seemingly trying to make himself appear sincere. But the more he spoke, the nervousness in James grew.

James bit his lip.

Right; "other stuff" ... like your History teacher's cock deep in your ass

, the instructor's mind screamed.

"Uh...sorry." Dom looked down at the top of his desk.

They had to do better than this if their secret was going to be kept private. What happened at school had to happen at school, and whatever they did behind closed doors had to remain there. As much as James felt himself wanting to bend for his younger lover in understanding—since it was James who had been inside him less than twenty-four hours ago—the façade of the professional instructor had to remain intact. It was the only way to maintain the order of the class, be fair to the other students, and above all else keep their affair a secret. He summoned every bit of professionalism he could muster and replied, "Then looks like you're in the same boat as Keith; submit it tomorrow and we'll see."

He didn't like the feeling it left him with as he continued on in his trek around the room, leaving Dom there in silence, but what could he do? He cared for the younger man, and although that weighed heavily on how he wanted to handle the situations...he was still a teacher. That meant having to value Dom's education—including the fairness in how it was achieved—more than his intimate connection to him.

The rest of class, luckily, went smoother. Despite some obvious moments where James felt like he was being mentally undressed by the younger student, he was at least able to get through his lesson presentation without stuttering too bad. All he had to do was focus his attention elsewhere. He could do that; he was, after all, a professional.

Right? Sure.

The bell rang. And just what was he doing? James wished he knew. His thoughts had been derailed again—thinking about Dominic—and this time he hadn't even been looking at him. He stared at his class, aware that any control he might have had was gone. They stared back, and for a moment, it was just an awkward silence.

Think. For the love of God, think man! You're a fucking professional.

His brain snapped at him. And as if he had been struck by lightning, he suddenly found his words again. Realizing he had been in the midst of giving out his homework assignment for the day. Quickly, James rushed through the rest of the assignment directions, nodded, and turned away in silent dismissal. Feeling like an idiot school kid. He bit his lip and mentally kicked himself as he listened to his students slowly file out of the room, thankful he would have a prep period to regroup.

And then it was over—silence again.

Except he knew it wasn't. Although he hadn't turned back to face the rows of desks, James Monaco could sense that he was not alone. Slowly, he turned around to face Dominic.

The younger man was still seated at his desk, a slight smile on his lips. As tense as James felt, the sight of it made him melt into a smile of his own. He snickered, shaking his head, and for a while their gazes stared off in the general direction of each other. Listening to the steady flow of students pass by in the hallway and stealing glances at each other that made both of them melt a little more. Then, as soon as it had started, it was over. The bell rang, and the hallway quieted.

"You're late for your next class."

"My last teacher asked me to stay after class." Dominic sat back in his chair.

James bit his lip, trying not to grin wider as he slowly made his way down the row towards him. "That so? He sounds like a real prick."

In a lower voice, Dominic replied. "He has a super prick."

This was dangerous territory for both of them. The student's response alone was enough to make him tense up a little. James shot a look to the door, wondering if anyone was in the hallway. Knowing he should have shut it, but he had feared it would have raised questions. A cardinal rule as an educator was never to close the door when you were alone in the room with a student. It not only eliminated witnesses; it also raised questions as to why a professional might do that.

He turned back to his student.

"Sorry," Dominic muttered. His gaze was fixed on James's face—his smile replaced with hesitation.

In spite of his fear, James melted a little more. He wanted to say something—anything—but didn't know what. Finally, he let his heart speak instead of his head—slowly and lowly. "You're something else, Dom." He trailed off before continuing. "Last night was..."

Dominic watched him approach. What insecurity there was drained from his expression and was replaced by joy. "Wow," Dominic finished for him.

"Wow," James agreed. His breath was hitching—what was happening to him? He felt warmer, and all at once, he sensed a slight vibration in his kneecaps. James couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt such a crush. He had certainly never felt this with Caroline. And, without a doubt, he had never felt this about any man before—of any age. He had showered countless times with boys in high school after gym class; never once had he felt the need to do the things to them he had been doing with Dom.