As he did the night before, Mike quickly excused after dinner to return to his drawing of Rocco. He was starting to use a darker lead to start forming the beginnings of shadowing. His memory of Rocco’s face from today hadn’t left his mind. He started working on the face—slowly filling in shadows and leaving other areas alone where the light would fall.

  After half an hour, the face was beginning to look like more like a person, but it was far from distinguishable. He left the face alone and began working on the body and the guitar. The body was not difficult to shade because he was just shading the folds of baggy clothing.

  He still had no idea what kind of body Rocco had under those layers of fabric, so he had to make his best guess. He was starting to give Rocco more muscle than he probably had which was alright. Part of the art was to mix fantasy with reality.

  He really wanted to have this drawing done in time for the party on Saturday. He wanted to give his work of art to Rocco before the show. There was quite a bit of work to be done so Mike was doubtful he would be able to do that. Despite the condensed timeframe, Mike continued to work.

  “What are you doing, Mike?” Joe asked startling Mike. Mike was deep in his art and hadn’t realized Joe had been watching him for a few minutes. Mike lifted his pencil and looked up.

  “Drawing. How long have you been standing there?” Mike asked still a little shaken. Thank God he wasn’t shading when Joe spoke. That may have messed up the drawing.

  “Just a few minutes. You are deep in whatever you are working on,” Joe chuckled.

  “Yeah, that’s how I get,” Mike responded.

  “Can I see?” Joe was curious. He admired that Mike was so good at art. Joe had not shown the slightest interest in anything artistic. None of their parents had either. They had no idea where Mike got the talent.

  Mike was embarrassed to show him his drawing. “I’m not done.”

  “Let me see!” Joe said and started to walk toward Mike.

  “No! It’s not finished,” Mike pleaded.

  “Come on. If you don’t let me see, I’ll rip it away from you anyway,” Joe was almost where Mike was. He started to lean down and grab the sheet of paper.

  “Fine, here,” Mike didn’t want him touching his drawing and potentially smearing any of his work. Joe would mess it up and not really understand what he had done. Mike wanted this drawing perfect for Rocco. Mike turned his pad around to show Joe his unfinished drawing. Mike cautioned, “Just don’t touch it.”

  “It’s a guy on a skateboard with a guitar,” Joe stated unemotionally.

  “That’s what it is,” Mike said. “Just something from memory.”

  Joe looked at it for a moment. “It kinda looks like Rocco.”

  Mike felt a little panic run through his body. Had Joe figured him out? Mike wanted to play it cool, so he acted dumb. He turned the drawing around and gave it a look. “Hmm, yeah, you’re right. I guess it does look like Rocco,” Mike felt like he played that off very well.

  “You know, his band is playing Tiffany’s party Saturday,” Joe bought in on Mike’s act.

  “Oh yeah?” Once again Mike acted dumb. Of course, he knew this. He couldn’t wait to hear how he sounded.

  “You want to go to the party? I got invited so you can come with me,” Joe asked.

  “I heard you didn’t really need an invitation,” Mike said.

  “Well, yeah, that’s true, but you can still come with me,” Joe shrugged.

  “Sure,” Mike said. Mike was going one way or another.

  “Of course, I’m just giving you a ride there. I don’t want you hanging out with me all night. And, you may have to find a ride home,” Joe raised an eyebrow and gave him a sly smile.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Mike rolled his eyes. In case he got lucky is what he was insinuating. Given Joe’s popularity and looks, Mike could safely say he would be on his own once he got there. That was just fine with him. Mike wanted to spend all his time with Rocco—not with Joe’s boring meathead friends.

  As Mike drifted to sleep, random spots of color in his dark visual field slowly melted into images of Rocco—Rocco on his skateboard, Rocco on stage playing guitar, Rocco sitting in his desk behind him. In each image Rocco was shooting Mike his classic crooked half smile. It seemed to Mike that no matter what position Rocco’s body was in, the eyes and the smile faced him dead center. These were still images at first slowly morphing into the next. Image after image quickly began bleeding into the next until they coalesced into smooth motion. Rocco was on stage playing his guitar to an audience of only Mike. Mike stood before him mesmerized—paralyzed—unable to move as if his feet were embedded in concrete. As he continued to play, Rocco made his way down the stairs into the audience. An invisible crowd in the distance cheered feverishly. Mike could not make a single sound or movement. Then, Rocco rode in from the distance on a motorcycle. His music was still playing, and the crowd was cheering but it seemed as if it were coming from a distance far behind Mike.

  The cycle approached with Rocco revving the engine as flames shot out of the exhaust. Rocco was wearing a helmet with a reflective visor so that Mike could see himself staring at Rocco. Rocco was wearing a silver reflective jumpsuit. The cycle stopped in front of Mike. Rocco held out his hand for Mike to hop on the bike. Mike gladly complied. He straddled the seat behind Rocco and put his arms around Rocco’s torso as they sped off into the dark night. Rocco’s midsection was hard and muscled. They were going nowhere—the road behind and ahead was dark. Mike could only make out a distant skyline which they never seemed to approach. Mike leaned closer and put his head on Rocco’s back. He could feel the slight dampness of warm humidity emanating from Rocco’s body. He had a slight scent of a mixture of musk, sweat, and his characteristic dark earthy scent. They rode for what seemed like an eternity—going nowhere fast. Mike did not care where they were or how long they rode. All he cared about was that he had his arms and legs wrapped around Rocco and he felt safe and secure right where he was. This is where Mike belonged—now and forever. As suddenly as when Rocco approached on his motorcycle, Mike found that they were stopped somewhere in a desert in the middle of the night. There was nothing around them but the stars, the moon, and the warm sand. Mike had found himself facing Rocco.

  “Mike, it’s time to wake up,” Rocco said.

  “Why?” Mike asked.

  “You have to go to school,” Rocco spoke but his mother’s voice was coming out of his mouth.

  Then, just like that, Mike woke up from his dream. It was already morning and time to get up. As his vision sharpened, he saw his mother standing at his door. Mike came to his senses and quickly pulled his comforter over himself. He was in an embarrassing situation from the dream. He blushed but realized his mother had not seen any of this. She had opened the door just enough for Mike to hear her. Her back was turned towards him.

  “Okay, Mom,” Mike said.

  “Get up, get out of the bed,” she spoke.

  “Okay, Okay, I’m getting up,” Mike said hurriedly just to get her to leave. He really could not move due to the physical effects of his dream.

  “Okay then,” His mom said and closed the door.

  Now that she was gone, Mike sat up in his bed. He was flushed and still excited. As he started to get out of bed, he noticed he had had nocturnal emission. These were not new for him, but he never had one of these dreaming about another guy in such a way. He gathered up his sheets and put them in his dirty laundry pile. It had soaked through the sheets onto the mattress. Mike covered the puddle with his pajama top and walked into the bathroom. Luckily, both his parents worked so it would be dry by the time he got home this afternoon.

  Mike yawned and started the shower to get ready for the day. As he washed the night away, his mind began to wonder. He had never had such feelings for another guy. This was a completely new experience for him. He sometimes wondered what it was like to kiss another guy. However, he had never been so obsessed with another guy like he was with Rocco. Was it possible to only be gay for one person? There was something about Rocco that made him want to give himself to him completely.

  He had heard that there are some people that were attracted to both guys and girls—bisexual. That didn’t feel that fit him though. It was just Rocco. There was something irresistible about Rocco that no other guy, or girl for that matter, had sparked in him. He felt an incredibly strong connection to Rocco in just the short time he knew him. It felt deeper than “like”. This couldn’t be love but he had never been in love. He didn’t really know how that felt.

  Mike also came to another realization. He was not the slightest bit repulsed by any of these feelings for Rocco. It all felt so natural—like this is how it was supposed to be. From what Mike knew, Rocco was already kinda gay—at least he already suffered the ridicule so he might as well be out. Mike felt confident that Rocco could keep a secret especially if Mike asked him to.

  As he finished brushing his teeth, he looked at himself in the mirror with a new resolve. He would let the universe put himself and Rocco together and see where it went. He was going to allow things to happen as they were supposed. He was not going to fight it. He was going to try to pursue the feelings he was having about Rocco. He would allow himself to be Rocco’s secret boyfriend if that’s how things worked out. Mike smiled at himself confident that he had made the right decision.