His laptop was propped up on a stool, and he had Point Break on. Both of us had seen it a thousand times, but after my weirdly sexual training session with Riddick, I was looking at everything a little differently.
Like… if I kept getting boners around Riddick, did that mean I was gay now?
I looked at young Keanu Reeves and tried to decipher whether or not I thought he was hot. He was definitely good-looking, but I wasn’t getting the same pulse in my dick that I did around Riddick.
Turtle slurped on his joint again, and I cocked my head to the side, wondering if I would get turned on by him basically giving his spliff a blow job, but… nothing.
I felt the same way I always did while hanging out with my best friend—who, if I was being honest, was also objectively hot—but it wasn’t doing anything for me.
I felt a little relieved, as I wasn’t in the mood to try to sleep with another rager and not be able to beat off, but it also just made me feel more confused.
If I was attracted to Riddick… shouldn’t I be attracted to all hot guys?
I guess I wasn’t attracted to all hot girls… Was I bisexual?
Ugh. My head hurts.
“Yo! Earth to the Finn Man! I asked you a question!”
I snapped out of my potentially gay—or bisexual—awakening and muttered an unattractive ‘uhhhhhh’ until Turtle took pity on me and repeated his question.
“How was training?”
I knew I couldn’t tell Turtle I was training with Riddick to ride Leviathans, but I had to tell him that I was training to up my game in general. He already knew I planned to ride those waves, and if I didn’t give him some excuse, he was going to wonder why I wasn’t shredding the pipelines on the main beach with him every day.
I shrugged. “It was good. Kicked my own ass with swim sprints.”
Turtle nodded, finally lighting up the joint he’d just thoroughly pleasured with his mouth.
“Gnarly.”
“Yeah.”
We fell into an amicable silence, Turtle puffing away while we watched Keanu and Patrick Swayze do some seriously unrealistic surf stunts.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I finally burst out, turning to face my friend. He looked at me with hooded, red eyes, his usual goofy smile curling on his face.
“Always, brother.”
I didn’t hesitate. If I could talk to anyone about something like this, it would be Turtle.
“You ever pop a boner over a dude?”
My question didn’t really phase him. He just took a big toke and screwed his face up in thought as if he were trying to wrack his brain for an occasion where he might have.
“No, I don’t think so,” he finally replied, and disappointment brewed in my gut.
“But there was this one time where I got a major stiffy watching a show with Tom Selleck in it,” he said abruptly, taking another inhale of his joint.
This caught my attention.
“Really!?” I asked, trying not to sound as excited as I was to hear that I wasn’t the only one popping boners over older men.
“Hell ya, bro. It was that show he used to star in… what’s it called…” he trailed off, smoking and thinking again.
I waited for him to get there. This was how he earned his nickname, after all. He was quick like lightning in the water but slow as a turtle on land.Especiallywhen he was getting high. I didn’t mind, though. I liked that he took the time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It was something I never seemed to manage to do.
“Magnum P.I.!” He snapped his fingers in excitement as the name came to him. “He was always wearing these little shorts and showing off his chest hair. I dunno, man, something about that did it for Turtle Jr., if you’re catching my wave, bro,” he said, gesturing lazily to his crotch.
