Matt believed (based on William Tyler Jennings’s lilting voice) that he was about to meet one of the expected other gays in the room. He cursed his luck that this guy would be one of them. Matt’s only framework for picturing a fellow gay was gleaned from TV: cartoonishly effeminate or Paul Lynde sassy, either way having leached out any testosterone.
Matt studied the body that went with William Tyler Jennings’s voice. The guy was about 3 inches shorter than he, so 5’10”. No ass. No chest. Just a popsicle stick with a big head. On the plus side, he had a pretty face, with dark, soulful eyes, a nice jawline, and soft, pouty lips.
Debbie made the introductions, nodding to each in turn: “Matt, William. William, Matt.”
William Tyler Jennings extended his hand, palm down, like some starlet offering it to be kissed.
Matt played along reluctantly. He returned William’s gesture with a curt bow. Hoped no one was watching. “Nice to meet you, Bill.”
Debbie howled. “Get a load of this guy! ‘Bill,’ hesays! He’s a real pistol, that’s for sure!”
“That remains to be seen,” William said archly. His eyes darted to Matt’s crotch. “But he certainly needs to sign up for Drama Club, don’t you agree?”
Debbie nodded.
“That’s decided then.” William swept out an arm and guided Matt away. “See you later, Debbie!” he called over his shoulder.
Matt was not interested in Drama Club, even less so in William Tyler Jennings, but did not want to make a scene. William was attracting enough attention on his own—and not the good kind. This was a guy for whom a hundred Dallas Cheerleaders posters would do nothing to bolster hetero credentials.
William steered him towards the Drama Club table.
As they passed mop-top’s table, which Matt now saw was for intramural sports, he stole a glance, still unable to glimpse the guy’s ass.
“He’s straight,” William hissed. “You can window shop all you want, but that Ken doll is looking for Barbie.”
Matt’s knees almost buckled. He had assumed his straight act was impeccable.
What had given him away? How had William seen through him so readily?
A cold knot of fear and anxiety settled in Matt’s chest. Less than five minutes earlier, he’d been so eager to meet the other gays in this room. Here he was in the company of one of them and already regretting it.
They arrived at the Drama Club table, which was currently free of milling, curious students.
Matt set down the cup of punch.
William handed him a Drama Club flyer. “Pretend like you’re reading it, considering joining the club,” he whispered. “Nod if you understand.”
Matt nodded.
“Good. Now listen closely. In a minute, you’re going to ask me a couple of questions about the club. Loudly. We want that part to be overheard. After I answer, give me a polite brush off, something like you’ll ‘think about it.’ Then walk away. Go visit the Ken doll. His name’s Chad, by the way. But then leave. Get in your car and meet me at Johnnie’s Charcoal Broiler in thirty minutes. Got it?”
Matt nodded, pretending to be studying the brochure. “Why would I want to do that?” he asked softly.
William batted his long eyelashes. “Because, dahling, you need my help to survive around here. Because you’re dying to kiss boys, and I’m going to teach you how. Because, while you and I will briefly be lovers, we will also become friends. Oh, and finally, my name’s ‘William.’ Don’t ever call me ‘Bill’ again.”
Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell No One
Saturday, August 5, 1995
Later that evening William guided Matt to a dirt side road on the northeast outskirts of Oklahoma City, having explained that one should never risk hookups within Bliss city limits, since, if Bliss police caught you, they would report it to MCU.
Hookup? Matt’s mind locked on that word and replayed it in a loop while they drove to the edge of civilization, or what counted for such in Oklahoma.
Matt turned onto a rutted drive that might once have led to a farmhouse. He parked his Jeep Cherokee, lowered the windows, and shut off the engine—all at William’s direction. William, beside him in the passenger seat, was clearly in charge of whatever was about to happen.
It was a sultry, late summer evening with the faintest whisper of a breeze. The setting sun shot ribbons of purple, orange, and red across the sky. Crickets and cicadas screeched, desperate to mate.
Matt understood how they felt.
