Mark leaned in and kissed Tristan hard at first then he relaxed the pressure and Tristan began to kiss back. He grabbed at Tristan’s sides under the leather jacket, felt at his hips then pushed his hands up under his clothes, ran the tips of his fingers over flesh. Tristan tried to pull away but Mark kept at him until finally Tristan had to turn his head completely and crane his neck.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.
“It’s just,” Tristan stammered, “It’s cold in here.”
“Well we’re locked in here,” Mark said.
“Can’t you pick it? Then we can go back to your room.”
“I don’t know,” Mark said.
“We can’t stay here,” Tristan replied.
“Why not?”
“What if someone comes? The door locked behind us and what if security stops by and they find us?”
“I didn’t think about that,” Mark said.
Mark stepped back then to the door and pulled out his ID then began to pick the lock. Tristan watched as Mark worked on the lock and he reflected on all that he had done. The date had gone horribly but Mark was still interested then they were on the rooftop kissing, a stairwell, and then breaking back out.
“Here we go,” Mark said before turning the handle and opening the door.
Tristan stepped through the doorway and into the hallway. They walked from the crime scene with an easy, casual pace to the stairwell, down to the ground floor they stepped out into another hallway where they both saw a security guard waiting for the elevator doors to open. They looked to each other.
“Gentlemen,” the guard said.
Tristan turned and waved as he pushed his back against the door.
“Hi there,” Mark said.
The guard stepped into the elevator as the building door closed. They both began to laugh.
“Oh my God we got lucky,” Tristan said.
“That’s pretty crazy,” Mark replied. “That’s some coincidence.”
Mark charged to Tristan but caught him lightly in his grip. They stopped for a moment in the open space, inches apart they were both aware of the intimacy of the moment and the danger if they were caught kissing.
“What time is it?” Tristan asked. He suddenly thought of his parents and his curfew. He thought about high school and his previous boyfriend. They were nearly two years apart in age.
“Does it matter?”
Tristan shook his head.
“Let’s go back to my room,” Mark said.
“Is that okay?”
“You’re just another guy. We’ll say the bus stopped.”
“But you drove,” Tristan said.
“I got tired,” Mark said.
“And we had a few drinks,” Tristan added.
Mark adjusted Tristan’s leather jacket then stepped away and lead the way back to his dorm room apartment. Tristan fell in line at first then caught up and tried to keep pace as he thought about what he was doing. His phone buzzed letting him know he had a voicemail. He pulled it out and looked at it. There was a missed call from his mother just minutes ago when they were in the stairwell and lost reception.
“What is it?”
“Just my mother,” Tristan said.
“Do you have to go home?”
“No it’s fine, I just have to call her.” Tristan searched through the phonebook function and found his parents’ number then dialed. His mother picked up on the second ring.
“Hi mom,” he said.
“Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m just at a friend’s place. Is it okay if I spend the night?”
“You were supposed to call,” she said.
“I am,” he said.
“Ahead of time,” she replied, “stay out but I want you home tomorrow before dinner.”
“Okay mom, love you,” he said.
“I love you too,” she said.
He closed the phone and looked to Mark who laughed a little.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“The price you pay for still living at home,” Tristan said.
“It’s amazing that they still think of us as kids,” Mark replied.
They walked for a moment in silence.
“But who said you could spend the night?”
Mark smirked at his own comment.
“Maybe I have another date,” Tristan said.
“I hope not,” Mark said.
They got to the building and Mark led the way up the stairs but stopped Tristan at the door.
“Just play it cool,” Mark said.
“It’s fine,” Tristan said. “I’m just going to sleep on your floor.”
Mark unlocked the door and opened it to a quiet apartment. He stepped inside first and looked down the hallway then walked into the living room. It was easy to see that all of his roommates were either out or asleep.
Tristan stepped inside as well and was surprised by how warm the place was and how cold his body had gotten even with jeans and a leather jacket.
“Where are your roommates?”
“Probably out,” Mark said. He pointed to the clock on the stove in the kitchen. “It’s only after midnight so they are probably at a party. They’ll probably be stumbling home in the next hour or so.”
“You don’t drink?”
“Do you?”
“Not really, not much, always thought I’d make an ass out of myself.”
“Me too,” Mark said, “it’s one thing if you are just with a couple of friends but at a party it can get dangerous. Come on.”
Mark stepped back to the hallway and opened his bedroom door. He was suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t made his bed and that there were socks on the floor but most of his other clothes were in the hamper. Please don’t let there be any underwear out, he thought as he looked around the room. He didn’t see any. Tristan entered the room.
“Nice place,” he said.
“Don’t mind the mess. Here let me make the bed.”
“Do you have extra sheets? A pillow?”
“No, I uh, didn’t really think about it. But the place stays pretty warm.”
Mark set to making the bed and Tristan closed the door.
Once he had flattened the sheets and bed spread Mark stood up and turned in the small space holding out his hands.
“Here we are,” he said.
“Here we are,” Tristan echoed.
“Well,” Mark said. “Take off your coat and maybe we can sit and talk.”
Tristan took off his jacket.
“Just uh, put it on the back of the desk chair,” Mark said. “We can sit over here.” He pointed to the bed.
Tristan shrugged his shoulders and stepped to the bed.
“Just kick off your shoes,” Mark said.
Tristan slid out of his shoes and Mark did the same before they moved onto the bed and placed their backs to the wall with a couple of pillows. They sat in silence. The connection that had been made when they kissed, the connection as they stood outside, was broken. They were in a brightly lit room, a bedroom. Tristan looked to Mark. He wanted that connection back so he reached for Mark’s hand and took it in his own, laced their fingers together. Mark smiled.
“I’m so happy,” Mark said.
“Me too,” Tristan said.
“We shouldn’t be too loud. At least not until we are certain no one can hear.”
“The walls are thin?”
“Not really,” Mark replied. “It’s the one good thing about this place, but still.”
Tristan raised up their joined hands.
“Still,” he said.
“This is all new to me,” Mark said.
“Me too,” Tristan said.
They looked at each other. Tristan felt a challenging rush of blood through his body, an impulsive urge, a need to be fulfilled. He leaned to Mark and kissed him on the lips in a peck. Mark leaned into Tristan and kissed back then pulled his hand around as he rose up on his knees he reached for Tristan’s side again, this time it was easier to get under his shirt. He felt the hip bone there, the skin, some muscle. He pushed his hand against Tristan’s body and it slipped down under Tristan’s belt. Tristan pushed him back from their kiss.
“Take it slow,” he said.
“Okay,” Mark replied. “Can I at least take off your shirt?”
“Shh, people might be listening,” Tristan said.
Mark grabbed at the bottom of Tristan’s shirt and pulled it up past his nose as Tristan raised his arms until it was off and then Tristan reached out to Mark’s body and grabbed hold of his sides.
“Shirts and skins,” Mark said.
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Mark reached out to Tristan’s chest. His fingertips barely touched Tristan’s nipples and it was a thrilling moment for both of them. He pinched them and rubbed at them. He rubbed at Tristan’s chest.
“Is this too far?”
“This is just fine,” Tristan said.
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