Chase
The campfire flickers,casting light into the deep forests surrounding us. There’s a full moon tonight, bright enough that I can almost see into the shadows of the wilderness. This is one of my favorite camping sites, a place I’ve been with Sully a million times. A spring gurgles out to feed the creek, and this time of year, the huckleberries grow fat and sweet.
Still, I don’t think it’s ever looked quite as nice as it looks with Cubby here. That might be cheesy to think, but it’s true.
It would be a perfect night, except I hadn’t quite prepared myself for the fact that he was planning to film up here.
Cubby stands at the edge of the woods while Meg records him from a few feet away. He’s got the hood of his sweatshirt up and the drawstrings pulled tight around his face, and he points his flashlight up at his expression.
“One time,” Cubby says in a spooky voice, “I picked up a guy at a bar, and when he brought me home, he tried to use lemon-scented hand sanitizer to lube-y my booty.”
Cubby screams in horror while Meg waves the camera around dramatically. Beside me, Sully chuckles. “Shit,” he says, then gives me a funny smile. “Can you believe it?”
I laugh along, although I don’t know if I fully get it. “Shit,” I agree.
Cubby squats down by some bushes, changing his angle while he glances around like he’s about commit robbery. “The night of my college graduation, I hooked up with a random Grindr dude, and he fell asleep”—he gulps—“with his tongue”—he wiggles the flashlight—“buried in my ass.”
Cubby screams and falls to the dirt, earning another laugh from everyone. Without missing a beat, still sprawled on the ground, he shines the light on his face and continues.
“Another man once told me I couldn’t suck his balls because doing that was too gay. I kicked him out for saying it, then later realized he stole my signed picture of Lady Gaga.” He throws his hands back dramatically. “And let’s not get started on the guy who took the phraseeat my assway, way too literally.”
My pulse spikes. “Okay,” I say to Sully, standing abruptly. “Just going to grab a beer.”
He raises an eyebrow. I know he can tell I’m flustered, but he does me the courtesy of accepting my excuse. “Sure.”
I walk off toward the beers, which are chilling in the cooler. If I were a better man, I’d be able to sit there with Sully, laughing at Cubby’s performance. He’s truly talented, and I can tell Meg is too. He’s calling these videos his hookup horror stories, and I imagine they’ll be a hit.
Which is great. I want his vlog to be a success. And it’s flat-out wrong of me to have opinions about what he’s done in the past, but damn if hearing about his sex life in such detail isn’t giving me some feelings.
Something is definitely fucked up in my head if I’m jealous of his worst sex stories.
I crack open a beer, take a big gulp, and look out over the forest. The laughter continues at the campsite for a few minutes while I gather my senses, and by the time I get to the fire, they’re wrapping up filming, thank god.
“Looking good!” I flash Cubby a smile, not wanting him to have to take on my baggage. “Those are going to turn out great, huh?”
“Funny guy,” Sully agrees with a slow nod. “And talented too.”
Cubby grins and takes a bow. “Thanks!” He unties his hood and throws it back. “I just need about fifty thousand more of you to make up my audience base, and I’ll be all set.”
Meg goes to sit by the fire and plays with her camera, while Cubby and I take seats in two camping chairs, side by side.
“Wish I had something like that to watch when I was coming out,” Sully says. “I got my cues from porn. Had no idea what I was doing.”
“Hopefully, you didn’t try hand sanitizer as lube,” Meg mumbles, then makes a face. “Yuck.”
Cubby laughs. “But if you did, no shame! I’m sure I’ve done plenty of weird and ill-advised things myself over the years.” He glances over at me. “Don’t worry, by the way. You’ve done nothing to warrant a horror story.”
I shift my weight in the chair. “Thanks?”
Sully chuckles. “Lucky his ass has had me coaching from the background.”
“And me providing the up close and personal touches,” Cubby adds brightly. His foot inches across the dirt to press against mine. “For a straight man, especially, you’ve been hitting homeruns.”
Meg laughs. “Homeruns?”
“It’s straight lingo,” Cubby jokes. “Means he made me come.”
I choke on my beer, then throw my arm over my mouth.
