Now That We're Grown: A Gay Romance Short Story

Now That We're Grown Part 11

Three months ran by us without more verbal attacks from Blake's supposed hacker. The construction and the funding moved forward with more momentum than any of us expected, while Blake became a semi-famous vlogger. I spent a lot of my spare time promoting Gavin's work.

On a quiet Wednesday, I walked through the finished areas of the gym while waiting for Gavin to get out of a meeting and join me for lunch. The basketball court, already striped and ready for a game, made me think of that day watching Gavin play with the veterans for the first time, and of the enthusiasm he always showed for his work and play.

"It's so ironic that you're building a gym," said the male voice behind me, near the entrance doorway. Something about the voice's depth sounded forced, like someone disguising his voice. "There's nothing healthy about your lifestyle."

I caught my breath and turned to face him. His hand shook as it pointed a small pistol at my face. Stocky, blond, and sunburned, tattoos on his neck—someone I once knew lurked within that trembling frame.

"I don't have any money." I choked the words out. "None of us do. It's all gone into this place, to help the veterans. You'd better get on out before one of them hurts you. Some of them still carry."

"I'm not afraid," he said, sweat running down his thin nose.

"Yes, you are." Those deep-set eyes, the V-shaped chin. How did I know him? "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"You don't even remember me, after all those years of going out of your way to ignore me. You always had Gavin, rolling along beside you, and you couldn't see how I felt, but I've learned to kill those evil feelings."

Those pictures of Blake's senior theater production: he was there. And he was also there in the school hallways and everywhere else, every time I turned around. He'd put on muscle and learned to sound macho, but the nelly little boy remained inside the gun-wielding man. "Jimmy, that's your name."

He pointed the gun at the ceiling, then back at me. "Jerry. Jerry! Not that you ever noticed. You were too consumed with your wheelchair boy to even care how I felt about you, or even be my friend. You probably wish you'd given me a chance, now that I've hacked into Blake's user accounts."

I swallowed. "You wrote that article?"

He grinned and nodded. "That's right."

"Why would you do that? We're trying to help people."

"You're infecting people with your lifestyle." He spat out the learned phrase and stepped back, as if to avoid contamination. "Blake's doing the same thing."

"Jerry, I'm pretty sure you're gay too, and maybe you're mixed up with some people who hate who you are. Maybe they taught you to hate yourself."

"No, I was mixed up before, but they became my support group. I've never even met any of them, but they helped me see that I don't have to be like you or lust after you. I can stop defective people from destroying our country."

My hands up, I stepped a little closer, despite a voice inside that said to cower and let him rail. "Jerry, the people you should be worried about are the ones who've tricked you into joining their crusade."

He pushed the gun's safety off, which I'd assumed he'd done before. "You're wrong. They care about me and want to save me from my lust. They're patriots."

A basketball whizzed across the room and knocked the gun from Jerry's hand. I hadn't heard Gavin's wheelchair, but he had thrown the ball several yards, from the exit doorway.

"Grab the gun!" he shouted. "I'll call for help."

Though I'd never held a gun, I snatched it up and aimed it at Jerry. "Don't move. My father's an Army sniper, and he trained me." The first part of that sort of resembled the truth. Dad carried a gun during his military service, but he never wanted them in the house or expected me to use one.

Flinching, Jerry raised his shaking hands. "Your father must be ashamed of you," he said.

"My parents march in the Pride parade with me, so guess again. Maybe you need to quit being ashamed of who you are."

Jerry made no reply, glaring instead at Gavin speaking into his cell phone.

We stood in silence for what seemed like forever until three police officers arrived, a woman and two men.

"Gun on the ground!" the female officer shouted to me, raising her own gun.

I dropped the pistol without hesitation. It clanged on the floor, and I worried it might go off. "Sorry."

"Your name Peter?" she asked me, while the others approached Jerry.

"Yeah," I said, my heart thumping even louder. "And that's Gavin, the one who called."

Gavin nodded his head. "I'm the boyfriend."

After the police left with Jerry, I dropped to my knees and hugged my man. His fingers ran through my hair until I stopped trembling.

"I kind of feel bad for Jerry and about how I ignored him, despite what he's done, but I owe Blake a thousand apologies for what I thought of him," I said, taking Gavin's hand and kissing it. "And I'll never find enough ways to thank you for saving me with your court skills."

He kissed me on the lips, longer than ever before. "I'm sure you'll manage with both."

"Do you know how much I love you?"

"Maybe, but I want to keep hearing you tell me."

I returned his kiss and hugged him again. Eric and several members of the construction crew stopped by to make sure we were okay, but I only noticed Gavin. Jerry was right about that point, but only that one.

This story will conclude soon.