Carl chuckled and put his guitar aside, laying it carefully on the patio before turning to Devon. “What if you came with me? To Los Angeles?”
“Ha! Right!”
“I’m serious. Why not?”
“Because, well, we’re just fucking for the weekend?”
Their first conversation in the entryway came flooding back to Devon’s mind, and Carl’s worry that if they got to know each other he would have hope for more. Despite the weekend thus far playing out much more like Carl’s original vision, maybe Devon had let hope grow in Carl too, by accident.
Hopeless hope.
“Right, that’s true, but what if we fuck for longer than that?” Carl asked, reaching out and taking Devon’s hand. “What if you took next semester off and came out to L.A. and had a big adventure with me. You know I’m good for some amazing sex, and who knows what else you might find out there with me? What if you find something you love? Something that you can envision yourself doing long-term?”
“What? Like acting?”
Carl touched Devon’s stubbly chin and grinned. “Well, you’re gorgeous enough for that, but if the acting bug hasn’t bitten you yet, I doubt it’s going to. No, but maybe something else. There are all kinds of careers in the world, but most of the time we don’t know about them. Like did you know I could get a gig on a cruise ship as a musician? Go all over the world. And you could get a job as a waiter, since you have experience, and we could see so many places all while earning a living. That’s just one example. There are so many options, Devon. It doesn’t have to be O’Charley’s and college, and sex with guys that isn’t half as good as sex with me.”
“So cocky for a virgin,” Devon said, his heart pounding and his hands shaking a little, because Carl was making him think. Likereallythink. For the first time ever. About what life might exist outside of their part of the country, and all that Devon had ever known of the world.
“Just imagine—the weather in Los Angeles in January is much better than here. We could drive across the country together—we’ll take the southern route because, you know, so much snow otherwise—and we’d see sites, fuck in hotel rooms, explore. We’d get to know each other, too. Real fast. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it? And hot? I’ve always thought fucking in some dumb roadside motel room has a kind of gross appeal, you know? Like grungy hot.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course.”
“How long have you been thinking about this?”
Carl smiled. “Just a few hours, but it’s a great idea, isn’t it? Just because it’s a new one, doesn’t mean it’s a bad one.”
No stuttering. Steady, flowing, easy speech. No ice prince in sight. No fake persona to keep the stuttering at bay, either. Carl was comfortable with Devon in a way he never had been before, obviously, and equally obvious was the understanding that Carl meant every word.
“Like, really? Drop out of school?”
“Maybe not for good. I mean, we might hate each other in the end. Moving across country. Living in a new city. I say just take a semester off, a sabbatical, and come out there with me. See how it goes. You can always come back and pick up where you left off if it doesn’t work out. But if it does work out—there are community colleges and schools out there. Other job opportunities. Like I said, the options are limitless and open.”
“But how will we afford to live there?” Devon asked, having bought into the fantasy long enough to spot the biggest, most obvious problem.
“Only child, sole benefactor of a trust left to me by my grandfather, plus I do plan to work you know. So could you. It’ll be a small apartment, but it’ll be doable.”
“You are wild,” Devon said.
“How so?”
“This is—you’re so—” Devon gestured at Carl, indicating the entirety of him. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“I don’t know. I need to think about it.”
“Okay,” Carl said, picking up the guitar again. “Think about it. But don’t think too long. If you’re coming out there with me, I’ll save my new-found sex skills just for you. But if you’re not, then I’ll probably start looking as soon as I get to L.A., you know. I mean, wouldn’t want to get rusty at what I’ve just learned. Practice makes perfect and all that.”
“That’s not how sex works.”
Carl smirked and shrugged. “Nevertheless, I’m going to see if other guys make me come like you do. Maybe I’m just really good at having orgasms and it’s got nothing to do with your dick or our chemistry at all. Maybe any guy can make me scream like that.”
Devon gritted his teeth. Carl was teasing him, obviously, but also there was no way Devon wanted to even think about Carl writhing around on some other guy’s cock. Not now, not next week, not next month.
Which was absurd. This was a deflowerment. He was punching Carl’s v-card six ways to Sunday and that was it.
