Milton's Ultimate Hero

Milton’s Ultimate Hero

By Drew Hunt

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ISBN 9781611523812

Cover Photo Credit: Silent47 | Dreamstime.com

Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America. Queerteen Press is an imprint of JMS Books LLC.

* * * *

Milton’s Ultimate Hero

By Drew Hunt

“Hey, Milton, wait up!” JJ Brockwell called out.

Milton paused, the sea of milling students in the main hallway of Empire Preparatory flowing around him.

Given the morning he’d just had, Milton wasn’t interested in talking to anyone, even his hero, so he began walking again. He might just have time to finish the last few questions of his French homework if the homeroom was quiet enough. Okay, the work wasn’t due to be handed in until the end of the week, but he might as well do it sooner rather than later; it wasn’t as if he had a large circle of friends to distract him. Heck, he hardly had any friends at all.

“Milton!” JJ called out again, sounding closer.

Milton stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. If JJ wanted to speak with him, he could come to him. At that moment Milton didn’t care much about meeting anyone halfway.

“You gone deaf or something?” JJ asked when he’d caught up.

“I can hear you just fine,” Milton said quietly, talking to JJ’s shoes, which were polished to a high gloss, as always.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Milton didn’t answer.

“Did something happen at the comic book convention thing yesterday?”

Milton had gone to Javits Center the previous day with Steve, a friend of JJ’s. The guy was into Superman and Batman comics, whereas Milton preferred X-Men. But despite that difference, they’d had a great time visiting the booths and talking with the vendors as well as the other attendees.

“The Comic-Con was good, thanks.” Milton shrugged and started walking again.

“What the f…” JJ put a hand on Milton’s shoulder and turned him around. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Milton said, still addressing JJ’s shoes. “I’m nothing.”

“Huh?”

Milton wished he hadn’t added that last, because he knew his friend wouldn’t let something like that pass without comment.

“You ain’t nothing.” JJ rested large, strong hands on Milton’s narrow and sloping shoulders, giving him a slight shake. “What’s got you on such a downer? I thought you’d be pumped, what with spending the day with Steve all of yesterday and…everything.”

JJ and his girlfriend, Maggie, had tried to play matchmaker, almost pushing Steve onto Milton. In a way Milton had felt sorry for Steve, but the guy had been pretty sweet about it all, once he’d realized Milton wasn’t about to jump his bones and suck his face. Although, Milton had to admit, Steve had a really nice face, one he’d love to taste.

It hadn’t hurt that Steve had put on the Clark Kent costume he’d worn at Halloween—suit pants, white unbuttoned shirt over a Superman tee, and a sexy-as-shit curl over his forehead. Yeah, Milton had so wanted to climb the guy’s broad chest and lay a big wet kiss on those wonderfully strong, firm-looking lips and…

“Earth to Milton.”

“Uh, yesterday was good.” It had been better than good.

“So why are you moping around the halls looking like someone’s just kicked your puppy?” JJ’s infectious smile had the corners of Milton’s mouth turning up.

“Like I said, it’s nothing.” Milton didn’t want to talk about it; he wished JJ would let it go.

“Hi, guys,” Maggie said, coming up to the two of them and giving JJ a hug. Turning to Milton, she added, “Did you have a good time with Steve yesterday?”

Milton rolled his eyes. “Yes!” he said, more loudly than he intended.

A few of the kids nearby stopped their conversations and looked over at him. If there was one thing Milton hated, it was being the center of attention.

“Sorry,” he said more quietly. “I had a great time with Steve…yesterday.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maggie asked, looking concerned.

Milton slouched in resignation. He knew that, with Maggie and JJ acting as a team, they’d extract the truth out of him eventually, so he might as well save them the trouble of getting out the thumbscrews.

“This morning,” Milton sighed. “I was taking some books out of my locker, and a couple of assholes on the basketball team thought it’d be fun to stuff me into my locker.”

“Who!” Despite saying it softly, JJ still managed to put so much menace into the single word that it caused Milton to shudder.

“It’s okay. That wasn’t the—”

“No, Milton, it isn’t okay,” JJ interrupted. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. Hell, I thought they’d started to lay off you recently.”

“They have,” Milton said in frustration. “That wasn’t what got me upset.”

Maggie gave him a sympathetic smile. “Talk to us.”

“Steve, he saw it happen, and…” Milton closed his eyes.

“And?” JJ prompted.

“He kept on walking.”

“What?” JJ said loudly.

Milton opened his eyes and took a quick glance around. Yep, they were the star attraction once again.

Shuffling his feet, he said, “I guess it’s possible he might not have seen.” He knew that was a crock of shit—the two jocks hadn’t exactly been quiet in their taunts. “And even if he’d seen it, why should he have helped?” Milton shrugged. “I’m just a worthless geek, a fag,” he said, using two of the terms the jocks had thrown at him.

“The fuck!” JJ said under his breath, clenching his fists. “Mags, you stay with Milton…walk him to his homeroom. I’ll go find Steve.”

“No, don’t,” Milton protested.

Was there anything more pathetic than having a girl as his bodyguard? Plus he didn’t want JJ and Steve to fall out, they were best friends, fellow baseball jocks and… But his protests went unheard. JJ turned on his heel and went pushing through the crowd of milling kids; Milton could almost see steam coming out of his ears. Milton loved JJ for being so protective, but hated that his friend wanted to fight his battles, believing he was too weak to fight them himself.

And even if part of him was turned on by the whole white-knight thing, those feelings couldn’t go anywhere, since JJ was incurably straight. Steve, on the other hand…

“It’s okay.” Maggie put a hand on Milton’s arm. “JJ will deal with it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Milton imagined JJ marching up to Steve and busting his nose. “Oh, God.” Steve would never want anything more to do with him then.

“Let’s head to your homeroom,” Maggie said, patting Milton’s arm.

“I’d rather find Steve and…”

And what? Say everything was all right—it wasn’t. Say that he understood why Steve didn’t do anything? Truth was, he understood all too well why. Steve was a jock; he had a reputation to protect, and looking out for a geek wouldn’t exactly help keep that.

JJ manages both, a small voice in his mind announced.

But JJ is… Milton sighed.

Milton shook his head in resignation and trudged off to his homeroom.

What a morning!

* * * *

Steve had looked everywhere else, so he guessed Milton had to be in the library. God, what a fuckin’ coward you are, Morrison! he thought, mentally reliving yet again the incident in the hallway.

Why the hell didn’t I say something? I might have been able to talk those meatheads down without making it look as though I knew Milton. God, the look on his face. Steve shook his head.

“Milton?” he said, coming through the main library door and taking a look around. That’s when he saw the disapproving stare from the librarian. “Sorry, Ms. Philips,” Steve said more softly.

Milton wasn’t in the library, so Steve turned around and went back through the door, where he bumped into JJ.

“Have you seen Milton?” Steve asked, although from the thunderous look on his best friend’s face, Steve knew JJ had.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the mouth,” JJ said, flexing his impressive guns.

Reaching for humor, always his first line of defense, Steve said, “Because you think I’ve got a cute mouth?”

JJ’s expression didn’t change.

“Shit, man, I wish I could have a do-over of this morning,” Steve sighed, visualizing yet again the disappointed expression on Milton’s face. “It isn’t easy.”

“It isn’t easy for Milton, either.” At least JJ was sounding less pissed.

“Look, man, I’m sorry, okay?” Steve threw up his hands, knowing he was in the wrong and JJ was just so goddamned lucky, and smart, and hot, and…

“It isn’t me you need to be apologizing to, it’s—”

“Milton, I know. Jeez, this is a lot harder than I thought it’d be.” And here he was, failing on the second day of being true to himself.

They walked side by side down the hallway, although Steve could tell there was a distance between them, emotional more than physical, and he hated it. Part of him wanted to blame Milton, but the more rational side of his brain knew it was all his own fault.

Standing at the door to his homeroom, JJ’s being two doors down, Steve turned to his friend. “Will you help me?”

Other students were close by, so Steve had to talk in code. Yes, he hated himself for that. There was a lot he hated about himself recently.

“You know I will; you’re my best friend.”

Letting out a sigh, Steve asked, “Will you go out for lunch with me?” He couldn’t talk in this place, too many ears. “We could go to that Thai place you like. My treat.”

“I should eat with Milton today. You should join us.”

“What?” Steve looked around, but no one was paying him any attention. “I—”

“Bye, Steve.” JJ walked away.

Steve’s shoulders slumped; he trudged into his homeroom and took his usual seat. He rested his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes. God, what a morning.

* * * *

Milton was on his way to AP English with JJ, his minder/protector, walking next to him. English was the only class he shared with Steve. Milton knew he needed to talk to Steve, reassure him that, as far as Milton was concerned, they were still cool. He didn’t know if he dare use the term “friends” although Milton hoped they were.

They’d had such a great time the day before. Milton had gotten to see the playful and fun-loving side of the big guy, and he liked it…a lot. Steve’s face grew even more handsome when he smiled, and the two of them had done a lot of smiling that day.

“I can get to class on my own,” Milton said, trying not to let his frustration at JJ’s actions get to him.

“I’m going this direction anyway.” JJ shrugged and treated Milton to one of his winning smiles.

“Liar. You have AP Chemistry before lunch, you told me that the other week. And the chem lab is thataway.” Milton pointed in the opposite direction.

JJ had the good grace to look sheepish. Then his expression rallied. “Ah, but I’m such a good student the teacher lets me off if I’m a few minutes late.”

Milton shook his head and continued walking.

A few moments later Milton said, “It’s just up ahead, I’m sure I can manage from here.”

“Okay, sorry. I know I’m overdoing it; Maggie told me as much earlier.” JJ stopped walking. “See you at lunch?”

Milton waved his agreement and carried on walking. It seemed the talk he’d had with Maggie about how he needed to stand up for himself had gotten through, and she’d passed this on to JJ, who, when Milton turned in at the door of the classroom, was still looking in his direction. JJ smirked, shook his head, and turned to walk away.

Going into the classroom, Milton scanned the faces of the students and was surprised not to see Steve. They didn’t have assigned seating, so Milton chose a double desk near the front, hoping to catch Steve’s eye when he came in, or to grab a quick word with him after class. But Steve snuck into the classroom just before the warning bell and took a seat in the front row, not making eye contact with Milton.

The lesson seemed to go on and on. Milton felt guilty for not paying full attention, because Mr. Grayson was great and brought the subject alive.

“Mr. Morrison,” the teacher said at one point, “would you agree with the hypothesis that Jane Eyre was only able to capture Rochester because he’d been emasculated.”

“Huh?” Steve, who had been slumped in his chair for most of the lesson, sat up.

“A witty response, but not quite up to your usual standard,” Mr. Grayson smiled. “Anyone else care to discuss this?”

A girl on Milton’s row raised her hand and gave an answer that Milton didn’t hear. He was too focused on Steve, who had rested his head on top of his folded arms.

When the bell finally sounded, Milton made to get up and rush to Steve, but the baseball player had shot to his feet and was at the door before the bell had stopped ringing.

“A pity you did not employ your quick reactions during the class, Mr. Morrison.”

“Sorry, sir,” Steve said before exiting.

Milton sighed. He knew he wouldn’t get a chance to speak with the guy during lunch. Steve always sat with his fellow jocks, an area of the lunchroom that was unofficially off limits to the likes of Milton.

* * * *

By Wednesday afternoon Steve felt about as low as he could ever remember. Why didn’t JJ understand? Steve couldn’t let anyone know he was gay. He might get kicked off the baseball team. His folks would find out and start asking awkward questions. He knew they weren’t homophobic, but they were snobs, and that was even worse. As it was, they’d already mapped his life out, and being gay, living with another man, just wouldn’t figure in their carefully plotted script for their only son. After high school he’d go to Harvard like his father, then on to somewhere else—the plans kept changing—for his MBA. He’d get a job with his dad’s bank, and somewhere along the way they’d find the “perfect girl” for him, one who came from a “good family.”

“Got a minute?” Maggie asked before Steve had a chance to bolt from the computer class they shared.

“Uh, I guess.” Steve shrugged.

Since the incident on Monday, relations between JJ and himself were strained, and Steve had assumed Maggie would follow her boyfriend’s lead. He should have known Maggie would set her own course.

“Want to grab a coffee or something at New Venus?”

“What about JJ?”

“He doesn’t like New Venus.” She smirked. “Anyway, I told him I was washing my hair after school so he would have to do without me for once.”

Steve smiled. Maggie sure had JJ wrapped around her little finger.

* * * *

“You’re unhappy,” Maggie said across the table from him.

Steve sipped at his mocha au lait before answering. “That obvious, is it?”

“To me. And JJ isn’t happy, either.”

“It’s easy for him. His dads understand, and he has so much credibility with the other students he could walk down the main hallway at school in a prom gown, belting out show tunes at the top of his lungs, and still everyone would think he was cool.”

Maggie laughed. “That wasn’t what I was meaning, but thanks for the interesting mental image. No, he’s unhappy because you’re unhappy, because his friendship with you isn’t…what it should be.”

“He told you that?” Steve picked up his cup but put it down again without drinking from it.

“Of course not, he’s a guy. But being a girl, I know.”

Maggie sucked on her straw. She liked diet root beer, but was particular about the brand. Steve well remembered going from café to bodega to drug store in search of Diet Barq’s Root Beer. In the end JJ had had to order a case online. Steve had thought at the time that this was what true love must be like. He wished he had someone whom he could scour the markets of Manhattan for.

“Milton just wants to be your friend. He doesn’t want you to march in pride parades wearing matching prom gowns and singing show tunes.”

Steve smiled at Maggie reusing his analogy. “I know. I’m just a coward, and I hate myself because of it.”

Maggie nodded, but stayed quiet.

“I hate that I didn’t help him Monday morning. Those guys are grade A assholes and I should have stepped in and done something.”

“But?”

“But I was scared. You don’t know what it’s like. For years I’ve hidden who I am.” Steve took another quick look around, just to check no one he knew was within hearing range.

“Helping Milton won’t label you as gay.”

Steve sighed. “I know. But I think I’ve left it too late now to fix. Milton hates me, he—”

“He doesn’t hate you. Trust me. He’s told me as much. He says he understands.” Maggie put up a hand to stop Steve from speaking. “Yes, he was hurt by what you did…or didn’t do, but he understands why you didn’t.”

That made Steve feel even worse. He bet Milton understood all too well why he didn’t come to the rescue. Hell, Steve was pretty sure Milton had been rejected and shunned and…all his life.

“He also said he was worried about you, wanted to know if you were okay, that you didn’t hate him.”

“Huh?”

Maggie nodded.

Steve was amazed. He felt sure Milton would hate him, would be sticking pins in Steve-shaped voodoo dolls or something.

“In fact that’s why I’m here now.” Up came Maggie’s hand. “No, Milton didn’t ask me to come, he would never do that. But for the past three days I’ve watched as three people I care about have been unhappy, and I’ve had enough. Boys…” She shook her head in resignation. “You’re all hopeless.”

“Okay, Madame Yenta, what do you suggest I do?”

Maggie took another suck on her straw. “You can start by getting me another of these. It isn’t Barq’s, but, eh.”

Steve smiled and attracted the attention of a passing waitress.

New drinks in front of them, Maggie began. “You and Milton had a good time at the Comic-Con, right?”

Steve nodded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. Milton had a dry wit that complemented his own more zany sense of humor. Some of the things Milton had said about the other attendees had had Steve in stitches. The guy had a really sharp eye for detail and a great sense of the ridiculous. But then Steve had concluded that’s what probably made him such a great cartoon artist.

“So you’re okay with Milton outside of school or where no one else knows you.”

Steve hung his head; Maggie had pretty much nailed it.

“Would you be okay being seen with Milton if JJ or I were with you?”

Steve had to think about that. “Maybe. I know, it’s totally shitty of me.”

Maggie neither agreed nor disagreed with that statement. “And maybe, when you see that the sky hasn’t fallen in when you’re seen hanging out with Milton, you might feel better about yourself. And who knows, you might feel able to go further.”

“Not as far as wearing a ball gown.”

Maggie shook her head. “No, we’ll leave that to JJ. He’s got the legs for it.”

The two of them cracked up at the mental image of seeing the cool jock in women’s formalwear.

“God, you’re great, JJ’s such a lucky guy to have you.”

Maggie smiled. “I know, that’s what I keep telling him. But he’s pretty special in his own way, too.”

Steve sighed. He didn’t want to go there. JJ was straight and there could never be anything more between them than friendship. And as the days went on, Steve grew more and more comfortable with that.

“But the first thing you need to do is give Milton one big-ass apology for behaving like—”

“A big ass,” Steve completed.

“And you’re obviously more comfortable about doing that away from school, and I think Milton would be, too.”

“But where? I mean, I don’t have his address or anything.”

Up came Maggie’s hand yet again before it dove into her purse and pulled out a notepad. “But I do.” She wrote something on a back page, ripped it out, and slid the paper over to Steve.

“Thanks.” He read the address. He didn’t know the neighborhood, only that it wasn’t in a particularly good part of Harlem. “I should take him something, you know, to show him how sorry I am.”

Maggie shook her head. “Just take your sincerity.”

“I was right to call you Yenta. But seriously, what should I take?”

Maggie shrugged, obviously out of ideas.

“What do you give JJ when you want to say you’re sorry?”

She smiled. “I’m never sorry for anything I do.”

“Yeah, right.” Steve grinned. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“You’re not going to see him tonight?”

Steve knew he’d need a little time to prepare himself. He’d need to be totally sincere in his apology, and just at the moment he was too nervous. “I’ll go tomorrow after school.”

Maggie smiled. “My work here is done. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

She drained her glass, making a very unladylike noise.

Outside on the sidewalk, Steve said, “Thanks, Maggie.” Just before breaking their hug he turned his head and kissed her cheek. Embarrassed, he added, “Please don’t tell JJ I kissed his girl.”

“Silly.” Maggie pulled Steve back into the hug and kissed his cheek. “Now we’re even. Look after yourself, okay?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll try.”

* * * *

“Another exciting Friday evening, eh, Bob?” Milton said, dropping a flake of food into the small aquarium.

The goldfish swam to the surface, gulped down the food, and kept on swimming.

“It’s all right for you,” Milton sighed, slumping onto his bed and picking up the library book he’d borrowed the day before. “No, best save it until tomorrow, or even Sunday.”

Milton knew that as soon as he began reading the last of Simon R. Green’s Nightside series he wouldn’t be able to put it down. So he was saving it until total boredom set in. Currently he was only mildly bored.

Looking up at the cracked and water-stained ceiling, Milton allowed his mind to drift. Within short order he began to construct his favorite fantasy—he and a certain asshole jock walking hand in hand along the streets of Chelsea. They’d look at all the cool stuff in the store windows, the clothes, food, hot guys. At some point his boyfriend would wrap an arm around Milton’s waist and pull him close. Instantly Milton would feel an overwhelming sense of belonging, togetherness, and security. He’d look up at his boyfriend, they’d kiss right there on the street and…

“Uh, Milton, honey?” his mom said, knocking at his bedroom door.

Milton rolled off the bed and went to his door, curious at the strange tone of his mom’s voice.

“There’s a, um, superhero at the door for you. He says it’s important.”

Had he fallen asleep, was this a dream? Or had his mom flipped? She worked really long hours at her two jobs—in fact, wasn’t it almost time for her to be leaving for the evening cleaning job she had at the Google building in Chelsea?

“Um, who is it?” Milton asked.

“It’s me,” a familiar voice said, coming around the bend in the hallway.

Milton gasped as he saw Steve. Not only was he surprised to see his latest fantasy crush in his apartment, but he was dressed in full Superman costume, complete with flowing red cape. I really must be dreaming. God, I hope I don’t wake up.

“Can I speak to you?” Turning to Milton’s mom, he added, “If that’s okay, Mrs. Katz.”

His mom smiled and shook her head. “It’s Ms. Graham. I changed my name back when I divorced Milton’s father. But, yes, it’s okay with me, if, uh,” she looked at Milton. “If it’s okay with you, hon.”

Milton nodded, still too stunned to speak.

“Thank you for coming…”

“Steve, Steve Morrison.” Steve held out his hand to Milton’s mom.

“Milton doesn’t get many friends visiting him,” she said, taking Steve’s hand.

“He isn’t a friend,” Milton said, suddenly finding his voice. But at seeing Steve’s face fall, he wished he’d remained mute.

“That’s one of the things I came to talk with you about,” Steve said, fingering the hem of his cape.

“I’ll leave you two, then. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, thanks, Mom. You just be careful, okay?”

His mom smiled and went into her bedroom to change.

Steve stood in the hallway, tall, sexy, and heroic.

“You better come in,” Milton said, stepping back and opening the door wide.

Milton became conscious of what Steve must think of his room. It was small, shabby, and cheaply furnished. Milton knew Steve was from a rich family. His closet was probably about the size of this room.

“Cozy,” Steve said, confirming Milton’s fears.

Changing the subject, Milton asked, “You didn’t walk the streets wearing that costume, did you?”

Steve smiled one of his crooked, knee-trembling smiles.

God, those lips.

“I wore a long overcoat and stuffed the cape inside it.”

“Oh.”

The two remained standing, an awkward silence falling between them.

It was broken when Milton’s mom called out from the hallway, “I’ll see you tomorrow, hon.”

“Okay, Mom. Goodnight.”

Milton heard the front door close and became conscious that he was now alone with Steve.

“Uh, like I said, I came to apologize.” Steve fingered the hem of his cape again. “Apologize for Monday morning. When I…”

It was on the tip of Milton’s tongue to say that it was all right, but it wasn’t. Milton had thought Steve was a friend, he’d certainly behaved like one Sunday at the Comic-Con. But back at school, Steve hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. Milton understood why, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

“I, uh…” Steve swallowed. “I was wrong. So, I…I came here to say I was sorry.”

“Yes.”

Milton didn’t know what else to say. Should he tell Steve what his rejection had meant? Milton wasn’t a vindictive person; there was little point in making Steve any more uncomfortable than he already was. He could see the guy was genuinely sorry. But would he do it again if the same circumstances were repeated?

“Milton?” Steve said when Milton didn’t say anything else.

“Yes,” Milton repeated.

“Uh, can I sit down?”

This spurred Milton into action. He was being a bad host; his mom had raised him better than that.

“Sure, take the chair.” Milton gestured to a faux-leather office chair, the cover of which was held together with duct tape.

“Thanks.” Steve sat awkwardly, not wanting to sit on his cape. “So, how’s it going?”

Milton sat on the side of his bed and shrugged. “Okay. Just doing the usual stuff for a Friday night, reading, maybe listen to some music later.”

Milton realized he must sound pathetic. Steve probably spent his Fridays out with friends or family, doing fun things like going to the movies, eating out, attending concerts. Milton couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything like that.

The two fell silent again. This was totally awkward, but Milton had little to no experience of having other guys in his bedroom, especially not ones wearing superhero costumes.

“It looks good on you…the costume.” Which translated as, you look totally hot as Superman.

“Thanks. I wanted to rent Northstar, but the clerk at the costume store said they didn’t have that one.”

Milton had admitted his favorite comic character was Northstar. He’d been the first X-men character to come out as gay and the first major comic book character to get married to another guy. Part of Milton was touched that Steve would try to go to all that effort.

Steve looked down at the folded hands in his lap. “This is nice.”

It was awkward as hell. A total contrast to the constant joking around of the previous Sunday.

“Do you want a Coke or something?” Milton asked, filling the silence.

Steve shook his head. “Maybe later.”

“Okay.”

The two lapsed into silence once again.

“Wouldn’t you have felt uncomfortable, dressing as Northstar because he’s…” Milton wished he hadn’t started his question.

“Gay?”

Milton nodded. He’d pretty much worked out that Steve was gay, but wouldn’t have asked because clearly the guy was uncomfortable with his sexuality.

“I am gay.” Steve admitted, “You’re only the second person I’ve said that to.”

Milton bet the other person he’d told was JJ. And no doubt Maggie also knew. “I promise I won’t out you to anyone.”

“Thanks.” Steve’s eyes drifted to the bed next to Milton. “The Nightside series, cool.”

Milton wasn’t sure about that. He looked down at the cover. Didn’t reading books like that just confirm that he was a nerd?

“You read it yet?” Steve asked.

“Not yet.”

“You’ll enjoy it. Shame it’s the last in the series, though.”

This was getting weirder and weirder. Steve read those kinds of books? And Milton thought jocks only read baseball playbooks and the like, their lips moving as their fingers traced the words. No, that was unfair. Steve took AP English just like he did. And often got involved in classroom discussions, although he hadn’t done much of that over the past week. Milton had to admit he hadn’t, either. Mr. Grayson was probably wondering why two of his best students had suddenly decided to stay quiet in class.

“Being gay, it isn’t easy,” Steve said in the silence.

“No. Although it’s probably easier here in New York City.” Milton had read about teen suicides in the Bible belt. He shook his head at how helpless those kids must have felt to take their own lives.

“I’ve only ever kissed one guy.”

Milton was doubly surprised. First that Steve would tell him such a thing, and also that the guy had had so little experience. “Why? You’re hot.”

Steve grinned. Shit, had Milton really said that out loud?

“Sorry.”

Steve chuckled.

Not knowing where he got the courage from, Milton asked, “So, who was your first and only?”

Steve sighed. “You’ll laugh. It isn’t something I’m proud of, a case of mistaken identity or, should I say, mistaken interest.”

Milton’s courage was deserting him. Before it fled completely, he quietly said, “I won’t laugh. It can’t be any worse than my first time.” He sat forward, his and Steve’s knees almost touching.

Steve looked into his lap. “It was JJ,” he said quietly.

Milton couldn’t help himself; he let out a single, loud bark of laughter.

Steve shrank away. Instinctively, Milton reached out and put his hand on top of Steve’s. “No, you don’t understand. I wasn’t laughing at you. My first kiss was JJ, too.”

“What?” Steve looked at him, astonished.

Milton nodded and explained that he’d gotten upset when JJ and Maggie had bought him a replacement for his X-Men comic that had gotten torn by some basketball goons. He and JJ had gone into an empty classroom and… “JJ had said some really nice things and, even though I knew he was straight, I put a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. I think I shocked the shit out of him. And talking about shit, I half expected him to kick the shit out of me.”

Still chuckling, Steve said, “He’d never do that.”

Milton agreed. After a moment or two of silence, Milton asked, “So, tell me why you kissed him.”

“We were in the gym. JJ was on the weight bench, I was spotting for him. He was trying to tell me something, I thought he was coming out to me, so I leaned down and kissed him.”

“Oh, God,” Milton gasped. “What made you think he was coming out to you? I mean, he’s, like, super straight.”

“Well he was saying stuff like ‘I know you’ll understand’ and ‘I need your help because I’ve got this friend.’ I thought he was talking about himself. But he was meaning you.”

Milton tried not to flinch as he turned away. Steve’s words felt like a punch to the stomach.

How could JJ? Milton thought, sniffing back tears. He’d trusted the guy, thought he was a friend. And no doubt Maggie was in on it, too. Milton felt sick. He was back to having no friends.

“Maybe you should go.”

“No, Milton, it wasn’t like that. JJ’s a good guy. So’s Maggie. They were trying to help you…help me, too.”

Milton heard the chair squeak. Then he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, which he shrugged off. He curled up on his bed, clutching the pillow to his stomach.

Of course, it all made sense. Milton felt miserable. He knew Maggie had pushed Steve onto him. That breakfast at the diner. They’d arranged things so Steve would have to sit next to him. Then Maggie had suggested—none-too subtly—that the two of them should go to Comic-Con together. “Were they just using me?” Milton fought back tears.

“No. Stop it,” Steve said, giving Milton’s shoulder a light rub. “It wasn’t like that.”

Milton lost the battle with his emotions. “Why? Just when I thought I had some friends. And all along they were plotting behind my back. They had a gay friend, so they thought they’d find him someone who was also gay. They knew I liked jocks, because I’d made a fool of myself with JJ. Jeez. I made it so easy for them.”

Steve got onto the bed and spooned Milton from behind. A thick arm curled around him and Milton was pulled up against a strong, firm body. Milton tried to break free, but he was too tired, and Steve was too strong.

“No, Milton, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I’m your friend because I want to be, not because Maggie and JJ wanted me to be.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend Monday morning.”

“I know.” Steve paused. “I’m sorry.” His hug tightened. “Like I said, it isn’t easy for me. But that was no excuse for letting those meatheads push you around. God, I wish you could believe me when I say that I wish I’d have done things different.”

They continued to lie there, Milton calming down, finding unaccustomed comfort and security in another boy’s arms. Part of Milton wanted it to go on for ever, another part hated himself for being so needful. Soon Steve, once he’d convinced himself he’d apologized enough, would leave, and that would be the last Milton would see of him in any meaningful sense. Thinking he might as well grab what he could while he could, Milton twisted around in Steve’s arms.

The jock-turned-superhero cupped Milton’s face in his large hand. “Okay?”

Milton nodded, but felt far from okay.

Steve seemed to look deep into Milton’s soul. A part of Milton wondered…hoped Steve would lean in and kiss him. Their lips had to be only six inches apart.

“I’m here.” Steve ran a thumb along Milton’s lower lip. “I made friends with you because I wanted to. Not because JJ or Maggie told me to. It was my choice. And I’m glad I made that choice. You’re a great guy.” The thumb moved to swipe under Milton’s right eye.

“But JJ and Maggie. They…” Milton let out a breath.

“They thought they were doing the right thing. Come on, they’re straight, they did their best.”

Milton smiled, prompting Steve to do the same.

Kiss me! Milton silently pleaded.

Steve sighed and pulled Milton’s head to rest on his broad shoulder. “I’m an athlete. There are certain…expectations of athletes. And my mom has expectations, too. It isn’t easy being me.” He began to rub circles on Milton’s back. “Sorry. I know it isn’t easy for you, either. I’m not trying to make excuses.”

“I understand.” And Milton thought he really did.

“You okay with me holding you like this?”

Milton was very okay with it. “I am if you are.”

Steve worked his other arm under Milton’s side and pulled the smaller guy in even closer.

God, he has an awesome chest. And his arms are so strong. Milton ran his hands up Steve’s arms. And his shoulders are so broad.

“Maggie and JJ. They’re good people.”

“Uh huh.” But as far as Milton was concerned, the jury was still out.

“The two of them pretty much dragged me to that meeting at the diner. I thought I was okay just living life as I was, lonely but happy…well, relatively happy. But Maggie, she’s persistent—”

Milton couldn’t help his smile; she certainly was.

“And she’s right. I am lonely and I need friends. Sunday at the Javits Center was awesome. Thanks to you.” Steve gave Milton a bone-crushing hug.

Before Milton could react, Steve rolled away, but thankfully didn’t go far. He couldn’t, not on Milton’s narrow twin bed.

“Shit, I got my cape tangled. How do these caped crusaders sit or lie down anyway?”

Milton shook his head as he watched Steve untangle himself, amused at the big jock’s antics.

Once he’d pulled it clear, Steve cuddled back into Milton and draped the cape over the two of them.

“You okay with this?” Steve whispered into Milton’s hair.

Milton let out an involuntary shudder.

“Cold?”

Milton shook his head and gripped Steve tighter. It would be hell saying goodbye at the end of the evening, knowing this would probably be his one and only time to be in bed—okay, on a bed—with Steve.

In the street a fire truck blasted its horn and wailed its siren.

Milton closed his eyes and imagined Steve climbing out of the window and, after making sure Milton had a firm hold, launching the two of them into the night to rescue the people in the burning building. They would weave around the skyscrapers, then dip down low over the Hudson before shooting straight up into the sky to give Milton an aerial view of Manhattan.

“I’ve always felt like I was in JJ’s shadow. I mean, the guy is perfect. He’s handsome, beautiful even, he’s smart, popular, has—”

“Enough.” Milton nudged Steve’s shoulder. “You’re popular, intelligent.” Milton swallowed, getting up his nerve. “And you’re just as handsome and beautiful as he is.” Maybe even more.

Steve gave him another tight squeeze. “You’re good for a guy’s ego.”

Milton would have added that he was speaking the truth, but his momentary courage had deserted him. So instead he settled for a simple “You’re welcome.”

“You’re pretty special, too.”

Milton snorted. “I’m a runt.”

Steve rubbed the back of Milton’s neck. “You might not be able to bench press three hundred but you’re a powerhouse of emotional strength.”

Milton huffed.

“Come on, how many other guys could put up with the shit you do and still come out smiling?”

“Don’t have a choice. And I haven’t done that much smiling recently.”

“You were smiling every time I looked over at you Sunday.”

“So were you,” Milton said, remembering yet again Steve’s captivating smile.

“You make me smile.”

Milton let out a sigh. He needed to know something, but was afraid of the answer. “How long can you stay?”

“As long as you need.”

Milton drew comfort from Steve’s immediate response. He was too chicken to ask if Steve would visit again. He knew if he did, it would have to be under cover of darkness. Steve would never acknowledge their…whatever it was that they had, at school. Could Milton cope with a friendship based upon secrecy? Didn’t he deserve someone who would give all of himself, just like Milton would? On the other hand, being lonely all the time sucked.

Milton heard a growling sound from Steve’s stomach.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “Haven’t eaten much today. Been too nervous.”

“About what?”

“You.”

How could such a hot jock like Steve be afraid of someone like him? Milton found the big guy’s vulnerability endearing.

Rolling off the bed, Milton held out a hand. “Come on.”

Steve looked up at him with a questioning expression.

“I’m going to feed you.”

“Feed me, as in cook food for me?”

Milton smiled at Steve’s hopeful, puppy-dog expression. “Yes, as in real food, cooked on a stove.”

Steve stood. Using his pointer finger, Milton traced the S on Steve’s chest, the T-shirt doing little to hide the ridges of hard muscle.

Steve’s stomach growled again.

Milton remembered a conversation he’d had with Calvin—JJ’s other dad—about how the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Milton doubted he could capture Steve’s heart, but…no way would he send the guy home hungry. His mom would never forgive him.

* * * *

“But I thought you were Jewish,” Steve said, eyeing the package of bacon Milton had just taken out of the fridge.

“A lot of people make that mistake,” Milton said, smiling at Steve over his shoulder. “My dad’s Jewish, hence Katz, but my mom’s a gentile.”

“And being Jewish is passed down through the female line.” Steve smiled.

“Exactly. Now, sit on that stool.” Milton pointed. “Sitting there shouldn’t mess with your cape.”

“Maybe I should take it off.” Steve reached for his neck, but before he could unsnap the cape, Milton’s hands were there, staying him.

“Don’t you dare.”

Steve smiled. “Your wish is my command.”

Milton blushed. Steve thought that was just the cutest look on the guy. He so wanted to kiss Milton, had wanted to when they’d been in Milton’s room. Heck, Steve had wanted to lay a smooch on him at the Javits Center Sunday.

Milton moved to the stove and pulled an iron skillet out of the oven. “Spanish omelet okay?”

“Great.” Steve’s stomach growled its agreement.

As Milton cooked, Steve took a look around the apartment’s kitchen. It was really small, maybe not much bigger than his pantry at home. But the room felt comfortable, well used and lived in. His kitchen, heck, his whole house, felt…sterile. His mom rarely cooked, and when she did, she fixed whatever was supposed to be the latest superfood. It generally tasted like crap.

“Here you go, I can make another if you’re still hungry afterward,” Milton said, placing a plate in front of him containing a perfectly folded large omelet, two slices of thick whole wheat toast, and some salad fixings. Next came silverware, and a large glass of orange juice. “Sorry, it’s more like a breakfast…Mom hasn’t been to the store yet.”

“It looks fantastic. Thank you.” Steve caught Milton’s wrist before he could move away. Positioning the smaller teen between his spread knees, Steve looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Milton smiled. “A superhero has to keep his strength up.” Milton blushed. “Crap, I forgot the salsa.”

Before Steve could stop him, Milton was at the fridge. He came back with a small bowl.

“Homemade?”

“But of course.” Milton smiled.

Steve spooned some of the salsa on top of the omelet, then cut into it. “Wow,” he said, chewing. “This is great.” He swallowed and took a gulp of orange juice. Milton was watching from over by the counter. “You not eating?”

“I’ll fix myself something later, I’m not very hungry.”

“There’s plenty here. Bring a plate over and we can share.”

Milton shook his head. “No, honestly. I had something with Mom not long before you arrived.”

Steve shrugged, not totally believing him. But if the guy said he wasn’t hungry, then…

“This is really great. You planning to be a chef after college?”

“Ha, yeah. Not even sure I’ll be going to college.”

Steve swallowed another mouthful and was about to ask why, but realized they probably couldn’t afford the tuition. But weren’t there scholarships Milton could apply for? And how did he afford to go to Empire Prep?

Approaching the subject delicately, Steve asked, “Have you spoken to the guidance counselor about college?”

Milton shrugged. “Yeah, some.”

Steve decided not to say any more. It was none of his business, anyway.

Milton turned to the sink and started to do dishes. A quick glance around showed Steve that the Katz’s didn’t have a dishwasher.

“Hey, I’ll do those in a minute,” Steve said after swallowing more juice.

“It’s fine.” Milton looked over his shoulder and gave Steve a smile that did something to Steve’s insides. “I know where everything goes. You just sit there and finish your meal.”

Steve continued to stare at Milton’s back, noticing once again how cute, round, and tight his ass looked. Steve’s plate of food was momentarily forgotten. This small guy who everyone at school either ignored—Steve winced, knowing he’d been one of them—or teased, had a heart of gold. Steve had seen glimpses of this Sunday, but now…

“Is it all right?” Milton asked, looking worried.

Steve shook his head to clear it. “It’s fine. Just pacing myself. You serve large portions.”

“Like I said, a superhero has to keep his strength up.”

Steve looked down at his plate. Despite the costume, he knew he was no superhero. His actions of Monday demonstrated that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I can reheat it in the morning for my breakf—”

“I meant I’m sorry for what happened Monday.”

Milton’s fingers touched Steve’s right cheek. “I know,” he said so softly, Steve wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t seen the guy’s lips form the words.

Steve wanted to leap up, pull Milton close and promise to protect him forever, but he knew he couldn’t make those kinds of promises. He hated his weakness and indecision. Milton deserved someone so much better than him.

“Do you want me to wrap this up so you can take it with you? I’d like you to stay longer, but it’s getting late, and this neighborhood isn’t the best, even for caped crusaders.” Milton smiled.

Steve looked up at the wall clock. It was well past ten. Sighing, Steve said he’d finish the omelet. “This thing,” he gestured at his costume, “doesn’t have pockets.”

As he finished his food, Milton made a pot of coffee. “It’s okay, it’s decaf.”

“Thanks.” Steve began to eat slower; despite the time, he didn’t want to leave Milton on his own. Heck, he didn’t want to leave Milton, period.

“There’s brownies if you want dessert,” Milton announced, taking Steve’s plate.

“Oh, I—”

“I made them myself yesterday, from scratch.”

Milton’s smile brought Steve to his feet. He cupped Milton’s face and stared into the guy’s blinking brown eyes. Steve had resisted the temptation all evening, but couldn’t stop himself any longer. He leaned down and was about to kiss Milton when they heard a phone ring in another room.

“Sorry, I better get that,” Milton said breathlessly, not breaking eye contact. “It might be my mom.”

Steve nodded and dropped his hands to his sides.

Milton left the room and seconds later the ringing stopped. Steve looked around. The room had suddenly gotten really warm. Spying a roll of paper towels on top of the fridge he walked over, tore off a couple of squares and wiped his face.

“Damn,” Milton said, coming back into the room. “It was a stupid telemarketer. You’d think they wouldn’t be allowed to call this late.”

“No,” Steve agreed, knowing the moment was lost. He sighed. “I suppose you’re right, it is late and I…” he shrugged, not wanting to say the words.

“I know.”

Neither of them made a move for the door.

“I’ve had a great evening…really enjoyed myself,” Steve said. “And once again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. And thank you. Thank you for coming. I’ve enjoyed it, too.” Milton bit his lip as if he was stopping himself from saying more.

“Well I…” Steve gestured at the kitchen door.

Milton nodded and walked out of the room, Steve following him to the front door, where he picked up his coat and began to put it on.

Once he’d pulled up the zipper and looked behind himself to make sure nothing was hanging down, Steve turned to Milton. “Well, I guess I should go.”

Milton bit his lip again, sighed, and simply said, “Yeah.” He reached for and turned the two locks. Facing Steve, the door still closed, Milton said, “Thank you for wearing the costume. You look really great in it.”

“Thanks.”

The two stood awkwardly, staring at each other, Steve wanting to say so much but too afraid to.

Milton shook his head, turned and opened the door. “Be safe.”

“I will, thanks.” Steve stepped into the outer hallway and turned to face Milton, who stood in the doorway looking uncertain, still biting his lip.

“Milton.”

“Steve.” They both said at the same time. They chuckled.

“You first,” Steve said.

Milton looked at the floor for a moment before meeting Steve’s eyes once again. “I was just going to thank you again for coming.”

Steve knew that wasn’t what Milton would have said. “Thanks.” He smiled. “Look, do you want to hang out with me Sunday?”

Milton’s face lit up.

“You could come with me to JJ’s and watch sports with us.”

Milton’s happy expression dimmed. “Uh, I don’t—”

“We hang out, too, it’s not all jock talk. His dads will be there and they’re really cool.” And Mr. B. is a complete stud. Steve silently added,

“It isn’t that.” Milton looked uncomfortable. “It’s just, I don’t know what I think about JJ and Maggie and how they, uh.” He picked at the pocket of his sweats.

Steve took hold of Milton’s hands. “Honestly, I’m not just saying this because JJ’s my best friend, but he really is a stand-up guy.”

Steve could see Milton was giving it serious thought.

Finally a smile broke out on Milton’s face. He nodded. “Okay.”

“Really?” Steve said loudly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “That’s great!” he added at a more normal volume. “I’ll come pick you up, say about noon? We’ll grab something to eat then go to JJ’s.”

“Great.” Milton’s smile increased.

They continued to stare at each other and Steve’s urge to kiss Milton returned. He was about to reach out to him but stopped when he heard the ding of the elevator down the hallway.

“Thanks again,” Milton said, still staring at him.

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Steve turned and started toward the elevator. Maybe he’d be able to catch it while it was still on Milton’s floor.

“Steve?” Milton called out.

Steve turned back to find Milton just behind him. The little guy wrapped his arms around Steve and, standing on tip toe, laid a soft but brief kiss on Steve’s lips that went straight to Steve’s groin.

“Been wanting to do that all evening, but was too afraid,” Milton admitted, starting to drop his arms.

No! Steve’s mind moaned. He couldn’t leave it there, he needed more. Steve wrapped Milton up in a tight hug and began to return the kiss…with interest, crushing the smaller body into his, feasting hungrily on Milton’s lips.

“Oh, God,” Milton said once their lips parted for Steve to draw breath.

“Yeah,” Steve panted.

They held their embrace until they heard a door being unlocked further down the hallway.

Breaking apart, they continued to stare at each other while the neighbor passed them and stood waiting for the elevator. Steve couldn’t remember if anyone had gotten off the last time it had stopped at Milton’s floor, but then his mind had been focused on other things.

“See you Sunday,” Steve said.

“Yeah.” Milton smiled and turned for his apartment.

* * * *

“Any of you guys want a can of soda?” Mr. Brockwell asked, coming into the kitchen.

“No, thanks, Dad,” JJ said.

Milton and Steve, who were sitting either side of JJ at the kitchen table, shook their heads. Despite Steve’s assurances, Milton still had reservations about JJ and his motives in trying to get him and Steve together.

However, Milton’s thoughts were derailed when Mr. Brockwell bent at the waist to retrieve a can from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. For an older guy, JJ’s dad was pretty hot. His abs were barely contained in an old Texas Rangers T-shirt, the arms of which had been ripped away, showing off the guy’s huge biceps. And if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Brockwell’s ass looked totally edible in his faded-blue cutoff sweats.

A quiet noise had Milton momentarily glancing up. Steve, too, had his gaze fixed on Mr. Brockwell’s behind.

“Guys,” JJ groaned quietly. “Quit checking out my dad’s ass!”

Steve snickered.

Mr. Brockwell withdrew his head from the fridge, shut the door, and looked up. “The halftime show should be over soon.” He pulled the tab on his Sprite and took a long swallow.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Steve said. “But I think I’ve changed my mind on that soda if it’s okay?”

Mr. Brockwell belched quietly, scratched his chest through his worn T-shirt, and shrugged. “No worries. Shoulda pulled more of them to the front. Hang on.”

The fridge door opened again and the amazing ass was back on display.

Milton heard JJ’s chair scrape against the tile and Steve let out a muffled “ouch.”

“Perv!” JJ growled softly.

Steve sent his friend a brilliant smile. Even though it wasn’t aimed his way, the smile still managed to melt Milton’s insides.

“Here you go, champ.” Mr. Brockwell placed the can on the table in front of Steve.

“Thanks.”

Milton’s and Steve’s eyes locked once again on Mr. Brockwell’s rock-hard glutes as he and they left the room.

Steve groaned.

“What?” JJ asked, snagging Steve’s can. He opened it, took a couple of huge gulps, and put it back in front of Steve.

“Those shorts. They should be, like, illegal or something.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Not you, too. Calvin’s had his tongue out all morning.”

Steve snickered, then took a drink from his can. “Hey, there’s only half of it left.”

“You didn’t really want it anyway.”

“True,” Steve sighed.

“Dad was painting the ceiling of the entry hall this morning, so put on some old clothes and Calvin persuaded him not to change.”

Steve nodded.

“You haven’t said much today,” JJ said, turning his attention to Milton.

“Yeah.” Milton let out an unsteady breath.

It was true, he’d spent much of the afternoon—if not most of the previous couple of days—worrying over what Steve had told him about JJ and Maggie’s possible motives for befriending him. Finally he plucked up enough courage to say something.

“Did you and Maggie just make friends with me so you could find Steve a friend?” He wanted to say “boyfriend,” but doubted Steve would think they were that.

“What?” JJ looked puzzled. “No.”

“Sorry, I…” Milton closed his eyes. He wished he hadn’t said anything now.

He opened his eyes to see Steve scoot out of his chair. “Want me to leave?”

Milton shook his head and reached for Steve’s hand.

Steve squeezed Milton’s hand and put an arm over his shoulders. “Milt was worried that you and Maggie had an ulterior motive when you started hanging with him. I said you weren’t like that, but I know he needed to find that out for himself.”

Steve gave Milton’s shoulder a rub. Milton leaned into Steve’s side, unable to meet JJ’s gaze.

“No, man, no. We, Maggie and me, wanted to be your friend because we could see you were a cool dude.”

Milton snorted.

“Milton, look at me,” He felt a touch on his hand and raised his eyes to meet JJ’s.

“Maggie knew you from art class. I confess, before that incident with the basketball morons and your comic, I didn’t know you. But once I started spending time with you, I found out that there’s a really great guy hiding behind those walls you’ve put up.”

“I don’t know about that. The great guy I mean.” Milton knew all too well he’d erected barriers to keep others out and himself safe.

“I do,” JJ insisted.

“JJ and Maggie helped you come out of your shell, and they also helped me to embrace what I am. I’m gay.” Steve kneeled by Milton’s chair. “Before last weekend, no way could I have said what I did about Mr. B and his hot ass.”

“Gross,” JJ groaned.

“Shut up,” Steve fired back. “Your dad is smokin’ hot. You agree, Milt?” Steve’s arm moved to Milton’s waist.

Milton blushed. “Mr. Brockwell is kinda, uh, striking.”

“Shit, man, he’s, like, a mega hunk.”

“Oh, God,” JJ protested. “I’m leaving if you’re gonna keep on with this shit.”

“See, Milt, before, me and him could joke around about lots of stuff, but never about sex. But JJ and Maggie helped me to do that. And they helped you, too, I know they did.”

Milton nodded. “I’m sorry I doubted you, JJ. I should have listened to my instincts.”

“That’s okay,” JJ smiled.

“And my instincts,” Steve said, “are telling me to give you a big, soppy kiss.”

“That’s it, I’m outa here.” JJ stood and headed for the door. “I see enough guy-on-guy crap with my dads.”

Steve moved in and claimed his kiss. “Feel better now you asked him?”

Milton nodded. “Thanks…for being here with me.” He gave Steve a squeeze to emphasize his point.

“You’re welcome.” Steve claimed another kiss. “Come on, we’re missing the game. Wanna see the Packers get trampled into the dirt.”

“It’s okay, you go and watch it. I’ll sit here for a minute.” Milton had a hard on, but didn’t want Steve to see it. “And then I think I might go talk with Mr. Hamilton.”

JJ’s other dad had ducked out some time earlier, saying he needed to work on something in his office but had told Milton that if he got bored he was welcome to join him. Milton, who had been sitting on the couch next to Steve—the big jock’s arm loosely draped over him—hadn’t wanted to move.

“But you’re really okay now?” Steve touched Milton’s cheek.

Milton smiled and leaned into the caress. “I’m feeling a lot better now.”

* * * *

“Mr. Hamilton? Okay if I come in?” Milton asked, knocking on the partially open door of the man’s home office.

The last time Milton had visited the apartment, he and Mr. Hamilton had gotten on really well, and Milton hoped the older man could offer him some advice.

“Sure, bud, c’mon in,” Mr. Hamilton said, looking up from his laptop. “And it’s Calvin, remember?”

Milton nodded, smiled, and entered the room, softly closing the door behind him.

“Take a seat.” Calvin gestured to a futon that was folded up into a couch. “Just give me a minute to save this, and I’ll be with you.”

Milton sat and took in his surroundings. The room was surprisingly large—about twice the size of his bedroom. All the rooms in JJ’s apartment were generously sized. The high ceilings added to the sense of space, too. Milton had seen places where large apartments had been divided—the rooms were small but looked odd because of the high ceilings.

Over in one corner of the room were a treadmill and a machine Milton guessed helped with lifting weights. He supposed with an athlete in the family, plus a guy who obviously still worked out, they’d need some home gym equipment. Milton pictured JJ and his dad working out together in here, male bonding at its most primal. Milton’s dad had left when he’d still been in elementary school. Milton didn’t know all the details, except that another woman was involved. Milton got gifts and cards at Christmas and birthdays, plus the occasional phone call. His dad had offered to fly him out to California one summer, then his stepmom had given birth earlier than expected, and the offer was withdrawn. It had never been repeated. Milton guessed his dad, now he had a new family, didn’t want much to do with his old one. He knew from the occasional comments his mom had made that his dad had managed to get a judge to reduce his alimony payments, forcing her to get a second job.

Calvin closed the laptop’s lid and turned in his office chair to face Milton. “So, what’s up?”

Milton started to get cold feet about having this conversation. “If I’m disturbing you I can—” Milton started to rise.

“Not at all.” Calvin smiled and gestured for him to retake his seat.

They heard a roar from the other room, followed by clapping and good-natured shouts.

“I can only stand so much jock testosterone before making my escape.” Calvin smiled.

Milton grinned. “Yeah, but some of those football players have great bodies.” Or at least what he could see of them because of all the padding.

“True.” Calvin chuckled. “But then I live with Brock, and he has a pretty fine body.”

Milton blushed.

“Sorry, that isn’t the kind of thing I should be saying to an impressionable fifteen-year-old. Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Milton was touched that Calvin had remembered, or even knew about it in the first place. JJ must have told him. Yet again, Milton knew he had been wrong to misjudge the guy.

Calvin wasn’t the first to offer birthday wishes that day.

Milton and Steve had just exited the subway at 7th Avenue and 14th Street when Steve had said he wanted to check something out. They’d walked up to a second-floor comic shop, a place Milton had visited a few times, but most of the stuff was out of his price range.

Steve picked up a Batman comic, leafed through it and took it to the counter. From the friendly-looking exchange with the owner, Milton guessed Steve was a regular customer.

A wrapped package was slid across the counter; Steve looked briefly at it before nodding. He then swiped his credit card at the register, signed, and the clerk handed him a bag with his comic and the mystery package inside.

“You ready, Milt?” Steve called out.

Ever since picking him up that morning, Steve had used the name Milt. Milton had thought it odd at first, but soon grew to like it. Maybe it was a bit less dorky-sounding than “Milton.”

When they arrived at JJ’s, Steve gave Milton the package and asked him to try it on. “Hope I ordered the right size.”

“Of what?”

“You’ll find out when you open it. And happy birthday, sorry it’s so late.”

“Thanks. But you didn’t have to, I—”

“Go into the bathroom and try it on.” Steve made a shooing motion.

So Milton had gone into the bathroom and opened the bag to discover a Northstar T-shirt. He had no idea any had even been printed. However, he guessed the marketing people were making the most of Northstar marrying Kyle, his long-term boyfriend.

“Did you get any cool gifts,” Calvin was asking, “apart from the T-shirt?”

Milton mentioned the comic that JJ and Maggie had bought for him. If Calvin had already known about it, he didn’t let on. “Mom got me clothes for school, and dad sent a check, as usual.”

“Great. I never know what to get Brock for his birthday. Last time it was a western-style shirt and a meal out with JJ and me.”

Calvin smiled wistfully, Milton guessing that Mr. B. had looked great in the shirt; he’d had on a cowboy hat when he’d come home the last time Milton had visited. Milton had been mildly disappointed the man wasn’t wearing it today, but realized Mr. Brockwell wouldn’t be wearing a hat indoors. Milton had seen two matching hats in the entry hallway when he’d come in; he assumed the other belonged to JJ.

“So, you just want to hang out in here, or did you have something specific you wanted to talk about?”

Milton looked down at the interlaced fingers in his lap. Yeah, he had to talk about it with someone and Calvin was the only one he felt comfortable opening up to. “Steve.”

“Aha! How are you two getting along?”

“Good,” Milton said, then fell silent.

“And?” Calvin prompted.

Milton sighed. “He’s great.”

Calvin laughed. “I would agree with you there. I’ve known his family for quite a while, and Steve’s a wonderful young man, but I sense what I think is wonderful about him is a bit different to what you think is wonderful.”

Milton nodded. “I know I’ve only known him for a week, but…” He didn’t want to say for most of that week Steve had refused to even look Milton’s way.

Calvin gave him an encouraging smile, but stayed silent.

“He’s seventeen, I’m just fifteen. But the feelings I have for him are, uh, powerful.” Milton squeezed his hands together. This was embarrassing. “But like I said, we’re teenagers and I know relationships—if I even have a relationship with Steve—rarely last with people our age. And I’ve only known him for a week and…” Milton bit his lip; he knew he was rambling. He bet Calvin thought he was a total dork. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Calvin said quietly.

Milton shook his head. “I’ve read loads of stories about gay teenagers finding each other in high school and, well, they’re not real. I mean, you and Mr. Brockwell. You didn’t even like each other in high school.”

“Oh, Milton,” Calvin sighed. “Where to begin? If you don’t believe you and Steve will make it, then you won’t.”

“We won’t.” Milton shook his head, knowing there was no way it could ever happen.

“You might. Okay, the odds aren’t in favor of it, but if you both work at it, not easy for two gay kids I know, but you could make it work.”

“You and Mr. Brockwell…”

“…Are together now. And there are many differences between Brock and me compared with you and Steve. Back in high school Brock couldn’t even admit to himself that he was gay. Steve has. Okay,” Calvin put up a hand to stall Milton’s protest. “He isn’t exactly out. That might pose problems, and it might not. But getting back to Brock and me. We went to high school in Texas, not New York City. And it was a different time back then. Being gay is much more accepted now than it was then. Heck, gay men—and comic book characters—can marry in some states.”

“But they can’t in most states.”

Calvin shook his head. “You’re determined to look on the dark side, aren’t you?”

“It’s what I do best.”

Calvin grinned.

“And all this is pointless. Steve and I aren’t boyfriends…heck, we haven’t been on a single date. Like I said, sorry, I’ve said that before. Uh, but Steve and I have only known each other a week. It’s totally dumb that I should be thinking like this.”

“It isn’t dumb. You know that Steve likes you.”

“That’s a long way from him asking to marry me.”

“Yes, of course. But you seem to want to sabotage whatever you might have before you’ve even gone out on your first date.”

“Assuming he even asks me out on a date.”

Calvin harrumphed.

“I’m just being a realist. If I tell myself it won’t happen then—”

“You’ll make sure it won’t. But if you allow for the possibility, then who knows what might happen.”

“I’ll get hurt.”

“You could. And again, you might not. Life is a risk, Milton. There are no guarantees.”

“Yeah.” Milton fell silent.

Calvin had made some good points, ones Milton knew he would have to mull over. But it was easy for Calvin; he was an adult and had a hot guy for a partner.

He didn’t always, a voice reminded Milton. Remember he said he used to get his head pushed down the johns at school and other shit like that? Milton squirmed and twisted his hands in his lap.

“From what I’ve seen,” Calvin said, putting a hand on Milton’s knee, staying his movements, “Steve cares for you a good deal.” He motioned to Milton’s T-shirt. “Try and keep an open mind. Yes, it’s good to be careful, just…be open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Steve feels the same way about you that you feel about him. The only way you would know for sure is to ask him.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Milton felt dread wash over him.

Calvin nodded. “I know you’re not sure and you’re scared.”

Milton nodded.

“Trust me, I understand. Been there, done that.” He smiled. “Bought the T-shirt.”

Milton laughed.

“Let me take an educated guess at a few things. You probably don’t think you’re good enough for Steve, you think you’re too different from him, and you’re not as physically strong as him. How am I doing?”

“Batting a thousand so far.”

Calvin smiled and shook his head. “But you don’t know what Steve is thinking. He probably believes he isn’t good enough for you, not smart enough, not…heck I don’t know. But dollars to doughnuts, I’m willing to bet he’s just as unsure as you.”

“What should I do?”

“Give it time. Goodness knows, you have plenty of that ahead of you. If it’s meant to be, and if you two are open to the possibility, then it will happen.”

“When he graduates he’ll be going off to an Ivy League college and I—”

“…could get a full-ride academic scholarship to go to college alongside him.”

“To Harvard or Princeton or…?”

Calvin shrugged. “Why not? Don’t you think you’re good enough? I bet you’re in all AP classes and have a four point GPA.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“No buts, Milton. You want something, you have to work for it. Is Steve worth fighting for?”

Milton smiled. He was, definitely. “Thank you.”

“All part of the service.” Calvin stretched his arms then glanced at his wristwatch. “Gosh, look at the time. I’d better start supper, the game will be over soon and three hungry sports fans will need feeding.”

“Can I help?” Milton got to his feet. He’d enjoyed helping prepare a meal the last time he’d visited.

Calvin smiled. “Of course. Operation Hearts and Minds begins now. Let the battle commence.”

* * * *

Monday morning at school wasn’t as terrifying as Steve had feared. He certainly felt he had something with Milton, but exactly what he wasn’t sure. Being with Milton was so comfortable; they just…fit, and Steve didn’t mean when they hugged, although he was forced to admit it felt pretty darn good when they did.

Steve experienced a moment of panic when he saw Milton in the main hallway before homeroom. But the guy had merely nodded and carried on walking. Steve was relieved that Milton hadn’t acknowledged him more than that, but seconds later relief turned to shame. Instinctively, Milton must have known of his discomfort. That wasn’t right. Milton had as much right to say “hi” to a friend as anyone else. He was about to go after Milton to talk with him when JJ showed up.

Things had been tense between Steve and his best friend—and Steve knew it was all his fault.

“Hey, bud,” JJ said, lightly punching Steve’s upper arm.

“Hey,” Steve returned cautiously.

The ice had thawed considerably the day before when Steve had taken Milton to JJ’s for the traditional Sunday sports afternoon. Steve was hoping he was still in his best friend’s good books.

“You seen Maggie?” JJ asked, scanning the crowd.

“Uh uh.”

Turning his attention back to Steve, JJ asked, “Milton get home okay yesterday?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Steve nodded and felt his face heat.

Steve had insisted on accompanying Milton back home, even though it was out of his way. The little guy had put up a protest, but Steve had known it was only half-hearted, so they’d ridden the subway to Harlem and walked the couple of blocks to Milton’s building.

“Gotta say, Milton can sure cook,” JJ said.

Once he and Milton had reached the lobby Steve had received a sweet kiss of thanks, which Steve had returned…twice.

“And there were leftovers. Me and Dad fought over who got them.” JJ hitched his book bag higher on his shoulder.

Steve nodded, although it took him a second to process what JJ had said. Once he had, he experienced another moment of panic. The previous night Steve had realized he would be expected to sit next to Milton in the lunchroom. Not doing so would hurt the little guy, and Steve was determined not to do that again. JJ was known to be friends with Milton, and everyone who was anyone knew Steve was best friends with JJ so Steve had figured, if the three of them ate lunch together, no one would say anything.

But his plan had just been blown out of the water. Or had it?

“So, uh, who won the battle?” Steve asked, aiming for nonchalance.

“Dad. He’s stronger than me and, like he told me, he pays my allowance,” JJ smiled.

“Uh, yeah.” Steve tried not to let his relief show. “So you’ll be free to eat with me and Milt in the lunchroom?” He was careful to ask quietly, taking a quick look around to see that no one was close enough to hear.

“Nah, I thought I’d eat with the team today.”

“Oh.”

“’Cause I thought you’d want to be alone with your guy.”

Steve looked around again. “I, uh…”

JJ smirked. “It’s okay, bud, I’ll hold your hand, metaphorically speaking.”

Steve let out a breath. “Thanks. I know I’m being a dumbass about this, but…”

JJ nodded. “Yes, you are, but I understand, and so does Milton. In fact he asked me yesterday if I could have lunch with him for the next few days, hoping you’d feel comfortable enough to join us.”

“He did?” Steve felt conflicted: relieved Milton knew and understood, proud that his guy was looking out for him, and sad that there had to be such subterfuge in the first place.

“Hi, guys,” Maggie said, pulling JJ into a one-armed hug.

Previously, when Maggie and JJ had shown affection to each other, Steve had been uncomfortable, wishing he were in Maggie’s place. Now…he didn’t know. It certainly didn’t hurt as much. And Milton sure was a lot softer to hug and kiss than JJ.

“You boys have a good time yesterday?” she asked, running a hand through JJ’s blond hair.

“Yes, thanks,” Steve said, and meant it.

It had been great hanging out with his best friend again. And Milton being there, too, was like the cherry on top, even though Milton had spent the second half of the game in Calvin’s office. Part of Steve had wondered-hoped-worried that he’d been the chief topic of conversation. When he’d asked Milton about it later, Milton had smiled.

“You were mentioned.” He kissed Steve’s cheek, then added, “Briefly.”

* * * *

“Damn!” Milton stared at the shirt button in his palm.

“What is it, hon?” his mother called from the kitchen where she was giving his suit pants a final pressing.

“Can you sew on a button for me? It just came off in my hand.”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

“God, why did I let Steve talk me into this?” Milton asked, looking down at the open cuff.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. And you agreed to go to the winter semi-formal, or whatever it’s called these days, because that’s what couples do.” His mom said, coming into his room, the pants draped over her arm. “Come here, let me have a look.”

Milton held out the button and showed her where it had come from. “Should I take it off, maybe put on a different shirt?” It was a new shirt, one his mom had bought especially for the dance.

“It’s okay. I can sew it back on.” She laid the pants on the bed and left the room. “Start putting the pants on, you haven’t got much time.”

Milton rolled his eyes. Steve wasn’t due to pick him up for another half hour. He knew he’d be hanging around the apartment for ages, trying not to get his suit creased or dirty. But his mom had insisted he start getting ready early, “just in case.” She had a thing about not being late for anything and not keeping people waiting.

“There. Cinderella can now go to the ball,” she said, biting off the thread to the newly reattached button.

“Mom!”

“This is important, Milton. It’s your first dance.”

Milton had told her several times he and Steve were going stag, so it was no big deal, but she refused to listen. He and Steve weren’t a couple, officially.

Pointing at the pants, she said, “I took them in the best I could. You should still wear suspenders, though.”

“Thanks, Mom, you’re the greatest.” He kissed her cheek.

Maggie had helped Milton find a suit at a vintage shop. It was a little big, but his mother had said she could make the necessary alterations.

She smiled and touched his cheek. “You’ll be just fine.”

Milton nodded. Despite what he’d said about it being no big deal, he was nervous.

“Go on, finish getting ready. I want to take your picture.”

“Mom!” He knew it would get worse when Steve showed up and she’d want pictures of them together.

Life, Milton reflected as he sat on his bed to pull on his pants, was pretty good. He went to a good school and had a roof over his head and a mom who was supportive of his sexuality. Just as importantly, for the first time he could remember he had friends as well as a boyfriend. Okay, despite being together for six weeks, neither he nor Steve had used the “B” word.

But boyfriends or not, the two of them spent much of their free time together, often at Milton’s or JJ’s apartments. Only once did he go to Steve’s place, and that was really tense. Steve’s dad was easy-going, but his mom was cold.

If they weren’t at someone’s apartment, the four teens hung out at bookstores, record stores, the comic shop, and once a clothing store. However, the guys had grown bored because Maggie insisted on trying on almost everything in her size. JJ snickered when all she’d ended up buying was a T-shirt for a band no one, including Maggie, had heard of.

They sometimes hung out at a diner, Milton preferring the one where he and Steve had first talked.

Now and again—and these were Milton’s absolute favorites—the two of them went somewhere by themselves. Once Steve took Milton to an upscale restaurant. The maître d’ addressed Steve by name, making Milton assume Steve had been there several times before, presumably with his parents. The food was wonderful, but the best part of the evening was how attentive Steve was. They even held hands on top of the table.

“To us,” Steve said, raising his glass of grape juice.

“To us,” Milton repeated, clinking their glasses and staring at his handsome boyfriend in the flickering candlelight.

Steve insisted on getting the check. He always insisted on paying for everything, but did so without making a fuss, ensuring Milton didn’t feel uncomfortable.

It was this caring side that Milton could never have guessed at. Outwardly, Steve was large and looked, well, dopey. But looks were deceiving. The man—for that was how Milton saw him—was intelligent, witty, and kind. He was also a cuddler, and with all those muscles, Milton had plenty to cuddle up to.

It was almost Christmas and choosing just the right gift for Steve was difficult, if not impossible. Nothing worked. The guy had lots of clothes—Milton had been right, his closet was huge—Steve had a large CD collection and a kick-ass entertainment center to play them on.

Finally Milton asked Maggie for advice. Her face lit up; the girl just loved to shop. Her suggestion came as a surprise, however.

“Your comic strip, the one you drew in art class.”

“I can’t just give him that,” Milton protested.

“Sure you can. And if you write SM on the superhero’s chest, then…” She sighed. “He’ll love it.”

“I don’t know.”

Milton had thought about adding Steve’s initials to his superhero’s costume but had rejected it as little better than drawing love hearts on school desks or carving them onto tree trunks. But Steve really had become his idea of a hero. Although that was an uncomfortable image, because JJ had been—still was—a hero to him. What did that make Steve then? His superhero? Steve had become much more than a fictionalized and idealized cartoon character. Ultimate hero? Milton wondered.

“You could get a nice frame for it, and of course you have to sign it. Hey, a Milton Katz original might be worth a lot of money once you’re famous,” Maggie said.

“Yeah, right.”

Milton sighed, still sitting on the bed with his suit pants still around his ankles. I’m so lucky. God knows what he sees in me.

“Did you find those suspenders?” his mom called out from the hallway. “Steve will be here soon, and you still have to put your jacket and shoes on.”

“The suspenders are on the shelf in my closet.” Next to the framed and signed comic strip. Milton’s suit jacket was hanging on the closet door, and his newly-shined shoes were by his bed.

The first couple of days back at school after Steve had invited Milton to spend Sunday at JJ’s were tense but, to give Steve his due, he manned up and, even though Milton saw how nervous he was, Steve didn’t hide the fact that the two of them were friends.

There was a tricky situation that first Thursday just before lunch. Steve and Milton were walking down the hallway discussing their new English assignment, Catcher in the Rye, when a guy Milton didn’t know frowned at Steve.

“Hey, Morrison, didn’t know you hung around with fags.”

Milton started to edge away, he didn’t want Steve to have to defend him—or, more accurately, didn’t want to hear Steve say he and Milton weren’t friends—but Steve’s words froze Milton in place.

“Jealous, Peterson? You want to ask me out?”

Peterson’s mouth fell open, and it took him a couple of seconds to form a response. But whatever he said was drowned out by the laughter of his friends.

“Come on, Milt, time for lunch.” Steve put a hand to the middle of Milton’s back and applied gentle pressure.

Milton was amazed, overwhelmed, and incredibly happy.

Later that evening, safely in his room, Milton thanked Steve…profusely. That was when Milton discovered just how much of a man Steve was.

“Milton, stop daydreaming and finish getting ready!” his mom said from the kitchen.

“Yes, mom!” Milton did up his pants and found the suspenders.

He was about to slide into his shoes when he heard, “Use a shoehorn. I don’t want you to break down the backs of your new shoes.”

Shoehorn? Milton silently asked himself, looking around his room.

“There’s one in my bedroom. Hang on, I’ll get it.”

“You psychic?”

“No, hon, I just know what it takes to get a man ready to go out on a date.”

“Mom! It’s not a date.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

Five minutes later she was fussing at an imaginary piece of lint on his shoulder when the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be Steve,” his mom said. “Are you nervous?” Only his mom could manage two obvious things in the same statement.

Oh really, I thought it might be the UPS guy. And yeah, I want to throw up, Milton thought as his stomach churned. Out loud, he said, “It’s all good, Mom.”

Just before getting the door she touched his cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

* * * *

“You aren’t wearing your tuxedo? We had it specially made, seems a pity to—”

“Mom, it’s a semi-formal dance.” Steve had told his mother this, several times, but she wasn’t listening…as usual. “This suit, which was also made for me, will work just fine.”

Steve checked himself in the mirror on his closet door. Was he broader in the shoulders since he’d last put on this dark-blue suit?

“I suppose, but you should always look smart at these things. You’re representing the family.”

“Yes, Mom.” There was little point in arguing with her when she was on a roll. “I think I look pretty smart in this, don’t you?”

She ran a hand across his shoulder. “Yes, dear, of course. But maybe you need a new business suit. This jacket might be a bit on the small side. Your tux probably fits better.”

Steve ground his teeth, but stayed silent as he pulled a tie off the rack.

“You are not wearing that…that…thing. We’ll be a laughingstock.” Her finger pointed accusingly at the red tie.

“What’s wrong with it?” Steve wrapped it around his neck. He liked the Superman motif that was repeated all the way down the tie. Milton had bought it for him the previous week.

“It’s…polyester, it’s cheap, garish, and… Oh, Harold, tell him,” his mother said, appealing to her husband who had just come down the hallway.

“Tell him what?” Mr. Morrison said, poking his head through the door.

“Tell Steven he cannot wear that…that tie.”

“Looks good to me, son. Different.”

“The Morrisons are not different,” his mother said, whirling on her husband. “I don’t know why I asked you, anyway. You men always stick together.”

Steve grinned to himself as he finished knotting the tie. If she knew I was wearing a Superman tee under this shirt, she’d have a fit.

“What time did you say you ordered the limo for?” his dad asked.

Mrs. Morrison sniffed.

“Six-thirty. Now, what’s next.” He snapped his fingers. “Shoes!”

“I don’t know why you wanted to rent a limousine. It’s only a semi-formal,” his mother said, sitting on the foot of Steve’s bed, obviously determined to continue the discussion.

Steve stuck his head in his closet and bent to retrieve his best dress shoes from the rack. Stepping back into the light he eyed them critically. Maybe he should have given them a polish, but there wasn’t time now.

“Oh, Steven, you’re not going to wear those!” Mrs. Morrison shook her head.

Steve started to count to ten. Why did the ladies steering committee have to cancel their meeting tonight?

“It’s okay, son, I’ll give them a quick polish while you finish getting ready,” his dad said, taking the shoes.

“Thanks, Dad.” Steve patted his pants pockets. “Keys, wallet—”

“Clean handkerchief?” his mother enquired.

“Yes, Mom, got that.” He preferred tissues, but it was easier to go with the flow with the less important stuff.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t have taken Angela, she did ask you.”

Steve sighed. He’d been waiting for this, and was surprised his mom had left it so late before bringing it out. Angela Farrell was his mom’s idea of the perfect partner-wife-baby incubator.

“Don’t sigh at me like that.”

“No, Mom.” Steve snuck a quick look at his wristwatch. The limo should be there any second. He’d asked the company to tell the driver to call him when… “My cell!” He dove for his nightstand. Glancing at the screen, he was relieved to see the battery was still half full. He should have put it on charge earlier.

“Angela is a nice girl. You could do a lot worse.”

“Yes, if I were straight. But I’m gay.” How many times had they had this discussion?

His mom sniffed.

Steve knew what was coming next.

“What about Peter Rosenthall, then? He’s from a good family, I’m on the Friends of Central Park with his mother and…”

Yep, right on cue, Steve thought, pocketing his phone. “Peter doesn’t go to our school, so I wouldn’t have been able to invite him.” Even if I’d have wanted to, he silently added.

Peter Rosenthall was a momma’s boy, unable to wipe his own nose without prior written permission from his mother; if Steve thought his own mother was controlling, she had nothing on Mrs. Rosenthal.

“Think that’s everything,” Steve said, finishing another mental checklist.

“I just think that you could have chosen better than…that boy.”

One, two, three… “That boy is Milton, someone I think a great deal of. He’s kind, gentle, funny, and…” Steve didn’t know why he was bothering, because he knew his mother wasn’t listening.

“We’re only thinking of you, dear. You shouldn’t tie yourself down, you’re still young.”

You wouldn’t object if I were tied to Angela Farrell, Steve said to himself, refusing to get into an argument. Not tonight.

“And Morton of course, he…”

Steve growled. His mother knew the guy’s name, she just refused to use it.

“…must move in very different social circles to us.”

“We’re both going to the same social event tonight.” Steve checked his hair one last time, glad he’d had the chance to get it styled the day before.

“Christmas, for example. I doubt he would be able to afford the airfare to Aspen, let alone the cost of skis, and clothing and… I’m thinking of him. He would be embarrassed to have to admit he couldn’t vacation with us.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not going to Aspen this year, then.” Steve left his room and headed for the kitchen, his father, and—hopefully—his shined shoes.

“Of course you’re coming,” his mother said, following him down the hallway. “We’ve already made the reservations.”

Steve had already told his folks he wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them. Initially, his mother had greeted the news with disbelief. This had soon turned to hostility, and now was in its third phase…denial. Steve had asked JJ’s dads if he could bunk down on the futon in Calvin’s office over the holiday. They’d agreed, once they’d spoken with Steve’s father.

“Here you go, son.” Mr. Morrison handed the shoes over. “Might not pass inspection with the army, but I think I’ve done a creditable job, if I do say so myself.”

“Thanks, Dad. You’re a lifesaver.” Steve dropped the shoes on the floor and slid into them. They were pinching; hopefully they’d loosen up during the evening.

“Make sure you clean up this mess before you come into the parlor,” Mrs. Morrison scanned her eyes around the kitchen with a disapproving expression. It looked fine to Steve.

Mr. Morrison rolled his eyes at his son. “Have a great evening.”

Steve smiled. “Plan to.”

Just then Steve’s cell rang. It was the driver; he was a couple of minutes away.

“Night, Mom.” Steve kissed her on the cheek as he left the kitchen. “Don’t wait up, I might be late.”

Though it might have pained her to say it, she said, “Have a good time, and be careful.”

“I will.” Steve grabbed his overcoat from the hall closet and buttoned it up in the elevator ride down to the lobby.

* * * *

Milton had always thought Steve looked great in whatever he wore—his school uniform, the Superman costume—but in a business suit, he was…drool-worthy. The smartly-dressed man standing in Milton’s doorway exuded power, strength, and authority. Milton was surprised at how arousing the image was.

“Hi.” Milton could have kicked himself for his lame opening.

Steve smiled one of his dazzling smiles. “Hi, yourself.”

“Milton, let the poor guy come inside,” his mother said when Milton had continued to stare at his date…not date.

“Sorry.” Milton opened the door wider and Steve stepped in. “Love the tie.” Steve was such a goofball at times, it was one of the many things Milton lo…liked about him.

“Thanks, Mom about had a shit fit, uh, sorry, Ms. Graham.”

“That’s okay,” Milton’s mom smiled. “The tie is certainly…colorful.”

Milton finally noticed the bouquet of white chrysanthemums Steve was holding in his right hand.

“They’re for your mom.”

“For me?” Milton’s mom gushed. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time a young man bought me flowers. I’ll just go find a vase for them.” She bustled off to the kitchen.

Milton tried to maintain his smile. He was being sappy. Why would Steve have bought him—another guy—flowers.

Steve’s left hand came from behind his back, holding a large bouquet of blue and yellow iris mixed with yellow roses. “And these are for you.” His smile grew even wider.

“Oh.” Milton blushed, unable to find the words to express how amazing and romantic the gesture was. He didn’t have to remember the last time a young man had bought him flowers, it had never happened. “Thank you. They’re wonderful.”

You’re welcome.”

“Oh,” Milton’s mom said, coming into the hallway. “I’ll have to find another vase. Goodness.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Do you have a boutonnière?” Steve asked.

“Uh, no.” It had slipped Milton’s mind, unused as he was to dressing for dances.

Back came Steve’s smile. “I asked Maggie, our fashion expert, what color tie you’d be wearing, so I made sure to pick something that would match.” He reached into an inner coat pocket and produced a yellow rose tied with a blue ribbon.

“Thank you,” Milton said, grateful for Steve—and Maggie’s—thoughtfulness.

“There, perfect,” Steve said, stepping back once he’d pinned the flower to Milton’s lapel.

“Now, boys, stand together so I can get a few photographs.” Milton’s mother was brandishing her camera.

“Mom!” Milton groaned.

Steve moved to Milton’s left side and took his hand.

“Smile,” his mom called out.

Milton did, feeling awkward.

“We need to get going,” Steve said after the third photograph had been taken.

“Okay, boys, have a good time. And be safe,” Milton’s mom said, handing Milton his overcoat. “You’ll need this…it’s really cold outside tonight.”

“Yes, Mom.” Milton kissed her cheek and then whispered, “thanks, for everything”

“You’re welcome, hon,” she whispered back.

“Hope I wasn’t too early,” Steve said as they rode down in the elevator.

“You were right on time,” Milton said, sneaking another look at his…guy. He was so handsome, so masculine, a real man.

Before any self-doubts or negative thoughts formed about why someone like Steve would want to go to a dance with a nobody like him, the elevator doors opened on the lobby.

Steve took Milton’s hand and led him across the tiled floor, through the glass door, and out onto the stoop. Milton was surprised by the gesture. He and Steve hadn’t really shown any affection in public before; Milton had assumed Steve wasn’t ready.

They were descending the steps when Milton noticed a shiny silver-colored limo parked at the curb. “Must be a celebrity visiting.”

The uniformed driver got out and opened the limo’s back door.

“You are the celebrity,” Steve said, squeezing Milton’s hand. “Thanks, Jerry,” he nodded to the driver.

“You’re welcome, sir,” the man said, touching his cap.

Milton froze in place, his feet rooted to the sidewalk.

“Milt?” Steve asked, turning to face him.

“I…” Milton swallowed. This couldn’t be happening. The most he’d ever dreamed about was walking down a street with a guy, holding hands and, although he and Steve hadn’t really done that, this…the flowers, the limo, the driver, it…

“This is okay, isn’t it?” Steve looked worried.

Milton found a smile from somewhere. “Oh, yes, yes.”

Steve returned the smile and Milton climbed into the back of the huge vehicle.

* * * *

Steve watched as Milton’s gaze swept the inside of the limo. The guy sat like a statue, Steve guessing he was too afraid to touch anything.

“Would you like a drink?” Steve asked, gesturing to the mini-fridge. He’d checked it out on the ride over; it had a pretty good selection of water—both still and sparkling—as well as a number of sodas and fruit juices.

“Huh?”

“Would you like something to drink before we get to the dance?”

“Oh, yes, thanks.”

Steve told Milton what there was.

“Um, sparkling water is fine.”

Steve reached into the cabinet and withdrew a couple of crystal glasses. Opening the mini-fridge, he got out the ice and the fizzy water.

“Wow, a fridge inside a car, it’s just like in the movies,” Milton said quietly.

“This is the life, huh?” Steve said, looking at Milton over his shoulder.

Milton smiled and nodded.

Steve handed Milton his glass. “Sorry it isn’t Champagne or anything.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know if I’d like Champagne.”

The mental image of his mother telling him Milton wouldn’t be comfortable with the type of life they led swam into his mind. He shook his head to clear it.

“It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He’d managed to sneak half a glass of Champagne at a cousin’s wedding the previous year. It had been okay, but he still didn’t know what all the fuss was about.

Clinking their glasses together, Steve said, “Here’s to a great evening.”

Milton nodded then took a sip from his water.

As the limo turned onto West Side Highway, Steve put his free arm around the back of Milton’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Relax, you’re supposed to be having fun.”

“Sorry.” Milton looked into Steve’s face, a mixture of emotions shining in the big brown eyes. “I’m having a really great time, honestly. It’s just so…overwhelming.”

“Take a deep breath. All this,” Steve swept his hand around the limo, “is nothing less than you deserve.” He leaned in and stole a quick kiss.

They settled back and enjoyed the ride, the two of them discussing some of the things they saw as they passed them, the pre-Christmas traffic causing the limo to proceed slowly as they got closer to downtown.

The holiday shoppers reminded Steve that he still hadn’t found anything for Milton. His first instinct was to shower the guy with expensive gifts, but the more rational side of him knew that would make Milton uncomfortable. Steve decided he’d try to pull Maggie aside at the dance and ask for her advice—the woman was an expert in all things shopping.

Just as they turned onto 14th Street, Steve told Milton he needed to make a quick call. Pulling out his cell, he scrolled down to JJ’s number.

It rang a couple of times before being picked up. “We’re a few blocks away, so haul your cowboy ass out onto the street.”

Beside him, Milton chuckled.

“I’ll be there,” JJ said.

“See you in a few.” Steve hung up and pocketed his phone.

“You came up to my apartment to get me, so how come you’re making JJ wait in the street?”

Steve smiled. “You’re my boyfriend…JJ isn’t.”

Milton opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was so cute.

“I’d like to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me.” Steve had never used the term before, he’d wanted to, but the timing had never been right.

Milton blinked rapidly for a few seconds, swallowed a mouthful of water, set his glass down and practically launched himself into Steve’s lap.

“I guess that’s a ‘yes,’ then.” Steve hugged Milton tight and stole a deep kiss.

Behind him the door opened. “You two haven’t wasted any time,” JJ said. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Milton started to climb off Steve’s lap.

“You are,” Steve fired back, tightening his grip around Milton’s waist. “But I’ll forgive you.”

“Gee, thanks.” JJ climbed in, Jerry closed the door and they were soon underway again.

Steve looked over at his best friend, who was smiling at them. JJ was dressed in a smart black suit, beneath which was a powder-blue shirt with pearl snaps and black bolo tie with turquoise concho.

“Where’s your hat, cowboy?” Steve asked.

“Didn’t think it was appropriate for tonight.”

They were soon at Maggie’s. Steve had intended to have the limo wait at the curb while JJ went up to get her, but she was standing in the lobby of her building when they drew up.

“Hi, guys,” she said, climbing in and sitting next to JJ. “Cold tonight.” She shivered.

“You look great,” JJ said before claiming a kiss and snuggling his girl up to him.

“Thanks, so do you, but where’s your hat?”

Milton, who was still on Steve’s lap, laughed. “Just what we asked.”

* * * *

The Highline Ballroom was off the hook. Empire Prep had rented a large room for their semi-formal and, if Steve’s untrained eye was any judge, most of the student body was there.

Steve stood off to the side, glass of orange soda in hand, assessing the crowd. It was pretty warm inside the ballroom and so most of the male students, Steve included, had discarded their jackets and ties.

Steve had had a few dances, JJ, teasing him that the girls had had to do the asking. Steve hadn’t felt right about asking a girl to dance, not with his newly-declared boyfriend sitting next to him.

One of Steve’s dance partners had been Angela Farrell, the girl his mom had had her sights on. She looked very pretty in her black prom dress. When he’d complimented her on it, Angela had said it was a Diane von Fürstenburg. He’d never heard of the designer, but had nodded sagely. After the song had ended, Angela had wanted to talk further, but Steve had used the excuse that the music was too loud. In truth, he was uncomfortable, feeling he was leading her on.

Despite the progress he’d made in accepting who he was, Steve hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage to ask Milton to dance with him, not even a fast one. However, if it bothered Milton, he hadn’t shown it. The guy had taken several turns on the dance floor, usually in groups that included JJ and Maggie.

Whenever Steve wasn’t dancing, he was watching Milton. He told himself he was protecting the guy, it was unlikely anyone would start something here, but Steve wasn’t about to take any chances.

The DJ, D.J. Mojo, someone Maggie assured Steve was pretty hot in the New York club scene, changed the song to something with a techno beat. Steve raised his glass to take a sip but discovered it was empty. Looking to his right, Steve saw the line at the bar was fairly short, so headed over for a couple of refills.

On turning around, new drinks in hand, Steve’s eyes immediately began to scan the room for Milton. He found him at their table, sitting next to Angela. From the way their heads were tilted close together they were talking. The pit of Steve’s stomach dropped as he made his way over to them, trying not to spill the drinks in his haste.

“Got you another!” Steve shouted close to Milton’s ear. To emphasize his words he pointed to the glass.

Milton smiled and nodded to indicate he’d heard, before going back to his conversation with Angela. Steve sat and sipped at his drink, wishing he knew how to lip read. However, from the nods, smiles, and looks in his direction, the conversation seemed to be going okay.

Eventually Angela stood, patted Milton on his shoulder, waved at Steve, and departed.

“You okay?” Steve asked Milton, moving closer.

Milton took a long pull on his soda. “Yeah, more than I thought I would be.” He nodded and smiled.

Steve was dying to know what Angela had wanted, but felt Milton would tell him if it was important. After D.J. Mojo had changed the song to something vaguely country and Milton still hadn’t opened up, Steve’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Angela didn’t upset you or anything?” he leaned in and asked.

Milton shook his head and smiled. “She was giving me her blessing.”

“Huh?” Steve must have misheard. “Did you say ‘blessing’?”

Milton nodded. “She said that you were a really great guy and that I was, too, for getting you.” He blushed.

Steve’s fear levels increased. He’d known he’d been more open about his friendship with Milton at school, but no one could have guessed they were a couple.

Milton tapped Steve on the shoulder and leaned closer. “She said it’s the way you’re always looking at me. Protective and possessive.”

Steve’s eyes widened. Had he done that? Sure, he’d kept a lookout for trouble—JJ had done pretty much the same thing—but certainly no one could have thought JJ and Milton were an item.

That’s ’cause he’s got Maggie, a voice in his head managed to whisper above Kylie Minogue.

Milton leaned in again. “Any idea where the bathrooms are?”

Steve looked around. The huge space was decked out with tinsel and other holiday-type decorations. It was difficult to determine the colors because of the colored, flashing lights and the strobe that swung constantly around. Steve caught sight of a lit sign over a door on the other side of the room. It was too far away to read, but it seemed as likely a place as any to find a restroom.

“I need to go, too,” Steve said, getting to his feet. He didn’t need the bathroom, but he was feeling extra-protective.

* * * *

Later in the evening, the tunes seemed to get even faster, or was it that Steve was feeling tired? He’d had several more dances, and after okaying it with Milton, had asked a few girls to dance with him, although for the most part he’d danced with a group. Once that group had involved Milton, but there’d been no touching and little eye contact.

Steve needed the bathroom again. He checked where Milton was; he was with a group of guys, JJ being one of them. So Steve decided to leave him be and go to the restroom alone.

After standing in a long line for the urinals, Steve did his thing, flushed and washed and dried his hands. He exited the bathroom and immediately caught Maggie’s eye; she was waiting to use the ladies.

The music was so loud, Steve figured it was unlikely they’d be overheard, so he asked her if she had any ideas about a suitable Christmas gift for Milton.

“Your used jockstrap. Make sure it’s unwashed.” She giggled.

Steve stared at her. Had she managed to get hold of some alcohol?”

“Seriously, I don’t know,” she shouted in his ear, “but I’ll give it some thought. Though there’s one gift you could give him tonight.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“You can dance with him.”

The panicked look on Steve’s face had Maggie shaking her head. She turned him around to face the dance floor. Steve followed where she was pointing. In his ear she said, “If JJ can dance with him, then you can.”

Even though it was a fast song, JJ and Milton were definitely dancing together, each having their hands on the others hips.

“No one cares,” Maggie went on. “Just look at how many guys are dancing with each other.”

Steve turned back to face Maggie.

“Go on, do the right thing. Be yourself.”

Steve had made so much progress in being himself the past few weeks; the journey hadn’t been as terrifying as he’d feared. He’d come out to his family and his close circle of friends, and the sky hadn’t fallen in. Okay, his mom had kicked up a fuss, but then she fussed about everything. So why shouldn’t he dance with Milt?

Steve turned to face the room and felt a slight push on his back. Looking over his shoulder he saw Maggie making a shooing motion. He smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

As he started across the dance floor, the music changed to Lady Gaga’s Born This Way. Was the universe trying to tell him something?

Finally reaching JJ, Steve tapped him on the shoulder. When he had his friend’s attention, Steve made a “move aside” gesture.

JJ’s look of surprise quickly changed to a smile as he stepped aside.

Steve faced Milton, pointed to himself, then at Milton, who widened his eyes in surprise. Steve nodded and Milton smiled his agreement.

D.J. Mojo faded out Lady Gaga and announced, “And now for something for you romantics.”

A slow song began to play, the lights stopped flashing and became stationary, spotlighting the dance floor. Several couples and groups left the floor.

Steve wondered if Maggie had had a word with the DJ, asking him to play a slow number. He glanced quickly over to the bathrooms, but Maggie was still there. She gave him a thumbs up again. His gaze returned to Milton, who was biting his lip.

Steve swallowed. He could do this. He could do anything for Milton. Smiling, he eased Milton toward him and began to slow dance.

This funny, kind, intelligent guy pressed against him as they swayed to the music felt so right. Milton completed him.

The song ended all too soon. They stopped dancing, but didn’t separate. Steve looked down into the trusting brown eyes of his boyfriend. The crowd, the music, and the lights faded into the background as Steve continued to stare into Milton’s soul.

“I love you,” Steve said.

Milton’s face registered shock, disbelief, and ultimately seemed to settle on confusion.

“Milton?” Steve asked, wondering if he’d made a mistake.

“What?”

“I said.” Steve put his mouth close to Milton’s right ear. “I love you, Milton Katz.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“That okay?” Steve began to worry, had he gone too far? Had he misread the signs, didn’t Milton feel the same way?

Milton’s face lit up with a shit-eating grin. “It’s very okay. Thank you.” Milton hesitated. “I love you, too, Steven Morrison.”

Steve’s heart started beating again. “Good.” He grinned. “Now that’s settled, let’s dance.”

The upbeat music washed over Steve, mirroring the happiness in his heart. He felt more alive and energized than he could ever remember. He was free and no longer wanted to hide who he was.

“I’m king of the world.” Steve yelled, pulling Milton into a bear hug and spinning him around.

THE END

ABOUT DREW HUNT

Having read all the decent free fiction on the net Drew could find, he set out to try his hand at writing something himself. Fed up reading about characters who were super-wealthy, impossibly handsome, and incredibly well-endowed, Drew determined to make his characters real and believable.

Drew lives a quiet life in the north of England with his cat. Someday he hopes to meet the kind of man he writes about. If you’re that man, or even if you’re not, Drew would like to hear from you—drew@drew-hunt.co.uk. Visit him online at drew-hunt.co.uk.

ABOUT QUEERTEEN PRESS

Queerteen Press is the young adult imprint of JMS Books LLC, a small press specializing in queer fiction, non-fiction, and poetry owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. Visit us at queerteen-press.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!