The Summer Romance - Part 1

Hi folks! 

I hope you all had a wonderful Valentine's Day full of everything you read in my stories! If not, who cares? I sat at home with my dogs, drank some wine and wrote this story! On a more exciting note, I also decided to start getting a bit of exercise in in the morning, so I went for a walk earlier on and ended up having sex with my neighbour. Sometimes the stories write themselves! 

Anyway, enough of my ramblings. I've renamed The Summer We Met to The Summer Romance, because the plot for this just hit me like a sexy, romantic train last night, so sit back, relax and enjoy the romance, sex and sun! 

All characters are 18+

His name was Brandon Marriot, and throughout my years of school, I never knew whether to love him or hate him. I guess I did both, but the only reason I hated him was because I was so painfully jealous of him that it physically hurt.

I loved him for a whole heap of reasons. I loved him because he was beautiful in the eyes of every single person who ever met him. I loved him because his confidence was unlike anything I had ever known before. I loved him because even though he knew how jealous I was, he loved me back.

Brandon Marriot was my best friend. He was my childhood pal. My protector from bullies. My shoulder to cry on. My confidant, my partner in crime, my everything. We went through all the trials and tribulations of childhood, puberty, teenage years and eventually adulthood. He stuck by me every step of the way, even when our social circles changed and he became the popular one, and I became the loser.

He was never embarrassed by me. Even though I was the short kid with the glasses and the stutter. He never hid our friendship, nor did he ever stand back and allow his friends to be cruel to me. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Brandon, I’m not sure I would have ever made it through high school.

I would have forgiven him for abandoning me. He was a six foot three wrestler, and easily the hottest guy in school. Girls literally fought for his attention, and I’m sure I did little for his ‘street cred’. Despite it all, he insisted that we walked to and from school together. He demanded that I sat next to him at lunch. He refused to go to parties unless I, too, was invited, and so all of that would lead most people to wonder how on earth I could have hated someone like Brandon.

The truth was, I didn’t hate him at all. Not in the conventional sense, anyway. I think my love for him was so strong that it felt like hate. Perhaps I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. What I did hate, was the fact that our friendship would never be anything more. He was indeed, my best friend, and I, his, but that was the extent of our relationship, and boy, I hated every bit of that.

He knew I was gay. I never even had to tell him, he just knew. When he told me that he knew, I broke down. We were fifteen, and at that stage in life when the word faggot was used in every sentence. I remember how truly devastated I was when I realised he knew, and how I expected our friendship to burn because of it. The only thing that ever changed was that Brandon stopped using the word faggot and apologised profusely for ever having said it in the first place.

Naturally, as the years went by, I found myself fantasising endlessly about my best friend. I imagined scenarios where he fell in love with me, and finally understood how much I had longed for him. I imagined other scenarios, too, though they were reserved for the dead of night, under the bedsheets and in the darkness. Alas, Brandon wasn’t gay, and my fantasies were just that, fantasies.

When high school ended, I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that the nightmare had finally come to an end, or be distraught that the days of walking to and from school with Brandon were over. Once again, my heart was torn, just like it always was when it involved him.

“Come over tonight” he told me as we sauntered home that sunny Friday evening, “I don’t want you sitting at home upset on a Friday”.

Brandon wrapped his strong arm over my shoulder, and I melted into the feeling like I always did. I had no idea how I was ever going to survive without him, and I dreaded to even think about it.

His house was like a small mansion. His parents had great jobs, and he was an only child, so they spoiled him endlessly. It wasn’t even one of those situations where they worked so much they never saw him. They were always home, and the three of them had a great relationship. Literally nothing about that boy was unfortunate.

I cycled over that evening and his mom let me in with a huge smile on her face. Just like their son, Brandon’s parents had always been super kind to me. I felt more at home in their house, than I did in my own.

“He’s upstairs” she said, ushering me up, “you boys just let us know when you’re hungry”.

“Thank you” I smiled, and walked to Brandon’s bedroom like I’d done a million times before.

Of course, his bedroom was huge, and kitted out with the best of everything. He had every games console imaginable. He had the biggest bed I’d ever seen. He had two television, one large gaming PC. He had a freaking sofa in his room, for Christ’s sake. I sat down on it and waited for him.

“I’ll be out now, Liam” he called from his en suite shower.

I loved spending time in his house, but knowing that those days were drawing to an end gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. What would happen in September, when he’d move away and make new friends? What would happen when he’d forget about me, and we’d probably only ever see each other once or twice a year? I stopped thinking about it when I felt tears in my eyes.

“I want to get a tattoo” his voice sounded, and I looked over to find him standing in the doorway with nothing more than a small towel around his muscular waist.

I’d seen him shirtless many times before. I’d even seen him in his underwear a few times, but there was nothing quite like staring at Brandon Marriot as beads of water rolled down his chiselled body. He had everything you could ever want. He had forming pecs. A soft, yet firm six pack developing. He had those muscle lines that ran down toward the treasure pit that was hidden beneath the towel, but which I could still make out from the bump.

“Right here” he continued, and pointed to his chest, “do you think it would look good?”

I think anything would look good on you! Is what I wanted to say, but I shrugged instead and gave a faint nod.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, walking into the room and nudging me playfully with his foot, “have you forgotten that we’re literally finished high school?”

I smiled. “Nah” I said, finally managing to drag my eyes away from his perfect body, “I just… I don’t know, I guess I’ll just miss it”.

He looked at me like I’d gone insane.

“You’ll miss it?”

“Yeah” I lied, because it wasn’t school that I was going to miss. It was him.

“You’re insane” he laughed, and pushed my head. God, even that was hot. “Anyway, my folks are taking me to Italy this summer. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I heard them talking about it last night”.

My heart shattered again. I beamed at him, because it was the polite thing to do, and smacked his large, solid arm.

“Nice, man!” I grinned, battling tears, “that’s going to be amazing!”.

He gave me a side eyed snigger and shook his head. “Three months listening to my old man singing karaoke badly? Three months of my mom drinking too many margaritas and joining him? Yeah, amazing”.

I laughed with him, but my insides were squirming. This would likely be the last time I’d see him. When he’d return, he’d go straight off to college. At that moment, all I wanted to do was run home and cry into my pillow.

“What language do they speak over there?” He asked, turning on the television.

“Spanish” I replied sarcastically, until I realised that he believed me. “Italian, dumbass”.

It seemed to make sense in his head, and I couldn’t help but grin. Even when I was hurting, Brandon had a way to make me laugh.

Talk soon turned to high school again. We reminisced for a while, which consisted mostly of Brandon recalling various wrestling wins, the multiple trophies that he’d won, and all of the achievements he’d had throughout the years. Despite that, he never bragged.

“Oh come on” he said, turning on his side, propping his head up with his hand and smiling at me, “you’re telling me there isn’t even one good memory?”

I had lots of good memories, but they all involved him. I shrugged.

“How about that time you won that award for best attendance?” He asked, seriously, and I scoffed.

“Oh yeah, biggest geek award”.

He scowled.

“You’re not a geek” Brandon told me, “you’re just smarter than all those morons. You’re smarter than anybody I know”.

I wasn’t used to compliments, even though Brandon complimented me all the time. I never knew how to take them, so I felt my cheeks go red like they always did.

“Hungry?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t hungry, I just needed a minute to get my head around the fact that I was about to lose my best friend. He jumped up, pulled his boxer briefs on beneath his towel, and threw his towel in my face.

“Don’t get a stiffy now” he teased, and hurried from the room.

I left the towel over my head and inhaled the clean, fresh scent of him. Perhaps he knew me too well, because as soon as my lungs filled with the sweet aroma, I began to swell. I pressed the damp part to my face and ran my tongue along the fibres. Yes, I was aware of how very weird I was being, but I didn’t care anymore. What did I have to lose now? He was leaving, and I was staying here.

A few minutes later, I folded the towel and placed it back on the bed. Brandon appeared a little while later.

“Pizza’s ordered” he said, adjusting his underwear, where his large bulge sat, teasing me.

“Great”

“I meant what I said, you know” he continued, turning on the PlayStation, “you’re not a geek”.

“Thanks” I mumbled back, as he sat on the bed and put his foot on the armrest right next to me.

“You know something, Liam?” He laughed, “your problem is that you’ve got no confidence”.

“Way to state the obvious” I scoffed back.

“Well” he sighed, turning around toward the television, laying back on his bed and crossing his beautiful feet. “I guess we have all summer to fix that”.

His words didn’t register for a moment. I picked up the controller and stared at the screen, and then cocked a brow.

“Huh?”

He looked at me like I was the one not making sense.

“Summer” he said, “I’m gonna’ teach you how to be the most confident motherfucker on the planet”.

“But… But you’re going to Italy?”

His look of confusion increased, and slowly, I was beginning to think I was losing my mind.

“Uh… Yeah?” he said, “and so are you”.

I let out a laugh. He was fucking with me now, so I shook my head and turned my attention back to the television.

“You hardly think I’m going to leave you here alone to be a soppy little bitch all summer, do you?” He smiled, and there was something about his tone that made me think that he really wasn’t joking.

“Dude, you know my mom’s broke”. And he did know, so did his whole family, which was why half the clothes in my closet belonged to Brandon at one point.

“Damn, maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were” he laughed, and reached over, grabbed me by the collar and dragged me so close to him that for the briefest of seconds, I thought he was going to kiss me.

I froze. My eyes wide and looking deep into his ones. The only time anybody ever grabbed me like this was when they were about to punch me, yet I knew that wasn’t what he was doing.

“You’re coming to Italy, dipshit” he said, a grin forming, “you don’t need money, you just need to say yes”.

He released me, but I wished that he hadn’t. I sat back, gawping at him like he’d just spoken Italian.

“So, what’s it going to be?” He asked.

My heart sped up. My eyes remained wide, and with a rush of excitement I nodded.

“Yes”.