"Hope wants to have sex with me," Tommy announced to Graeme on their early morning ride one day.

    "That was quick."  Graeme looked at him sideways and grinned.

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  "I don't know how I feel about this.  I really like her, but she...I don't know.  She thinks I'm better equipped to handler her...uh, feelings about losing her virginity because I...uh...you know.  Have done with a guy before."

    "Whoah," Graeme replied, his tone serious.  "Really?"

    "Yeah,"  Tommy said quietly.  He crossed his arms and sunk back into the passenger seat of the car, staring at the road straight ahead.  He knew he was blushing, so he changed the subject before Graeme could notice.  "Which is totally stupid, but she's all about going to the next level all of a sudden.  I don't know what's gotten into her."

    "She really likes you," Graeme murmured.  "And it's been a few years."

    Tommy frowned.  "What the hell?  Did I miss something somewhere?  I'm pretty sure it's only been a couple months."

    "And you're always with her.  You like her too.  What's the problem?"

    "I just...are you going to explain the whole years thing to me, or what?  I know it's got to be some kind of weird American thing isn't it?"

    Graeme sighed.  "I don't really want to get into the middle of this Tom, but I guess you deserve to have all the information, if she's not going to tell you."

    "I do." 

    "Her dad is in the military full-time, I told you," Graeme said.  "He might be reassigned...or something.  It's a tenuous situation anyway, he already works like, four hours away.  He's gonna want to take his family with him if he goes somewhere even further away.  I don't know why the hell they live off base anyway."

    "Shit," Tommy muttered.  "So she wants to do this because she might have to move?"

    Graeme nodded solemnly.  "And she likes you.  A lot."

    "Why the fuck didn't she tell me this?  I have to find out from you of all people!"  Tommy let his head fall against the window.   He liked Hope too, but was afraid to take that step only to have her leave.  On the other hand...

    "I'm going to do it," he said.  "I want to.  She wants to.  The end."

    "It's up to you." Graeme shrugged.

    "Yep." Tommy replied.

    The car lapsed into silence, until Graeme eventually spoke.

    "So, you've actually done it with a guy? On the receiving end, like?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  As he had predicted, there were questions.  It just took a lot longer for Graeme to broach the subject than he had anticipated.  "I've done both.  It's not a big deal."

    "Wow," Graeme said.  "What's that like?"

    "Why are you asking me that?"  Tommy turned to him and tried to get a read on his expression, but Graeme was lost in though and remained impassive.

    "I guess I'm just curious," he finally said.  His grin was wide then, and he laughed.  Tommy joined him, albeit a bit nervously.

    "So you really loved that guy, didn't you?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied, his voice soft.  "But we're not going to talk about him.  Got it?"

    "Okay,"  Graeme said agreeably as they pulled up to the school.  "But just so you know.  In case you ever want to..."

    "I know," he said.  "I know, Graeme.  Thank you." 

***

    Things progressed to the next level with Hope, and Tommy couldn't have been happier.  The gossip at school leveled out once word got around that he was dating her, even though Kathy did her very best to smear their names through the mud.  Graeme was a little annoyed that Hope was with Tommy at all times, but he eventually got over it.  He always had liked her company, and finding himself with more than one actual friend was a new and welcome novelty in his life.  His mother couldn't have been more pleased to see him bringing people to the house.

   Life would have remained blissfully uncomplicated for Tommy had Spring not eventually rolled around, and with Spring came sports try-outs.  Without any prompting from his parents, Tommy took it upon himself to take up his favorite non-music related hobby once again.  He hadn't played since he was thirteen, but there wasn't much to do in Mesquite, Nevada, and he found that he missed it.  He missed football.

   Football.  Soccer.  Soccer. Football.

  Tommy had torn out of his final class on the first day of try-outs in order to make it to the changing room before anybody else had a chance.  He was in his gym clothes in a flash and had been waiting out in the gym for spring soccer try-outs to start.  He was going to have to get used the "soccer" thing.  It sounded strange on his tongue and in his mind, but when he'd told his friends he was going to try for the football team they only greeted him with wide open stares of incredulity.  Graeme had laughed at him and clapped him on the back and wished him good luck obviously not believing that he had a chance, even once the cultural communication mishap had been cleared up and Tommy explained that he had meant soccer.

   Tommy hoped beyond hope that he did have a chance.  He knew he was good enough.  He only hoped that talent was the only thing that they'd be considering.

   After about a half hour, Tommy was greeted by a pack of students headed by Mark Briar.  They stopped in front of where Tommy was waiting on the bleachers and stared at him.  After a minute one of them stepped out from Mark's shadow.

  "Theater try-outs are in the Auditorium," he said in a mock-helpful tone of voice.  The others behind him snickered at the joke, except for Mark.  He stood with his arms crossed, glowering silently at the back of his teammate's head.

  "Amusing," Tommy replied. 

    "What?"  The boy said.  "I thought that's what you queers do?"

   "Again, very funny."  Tommy stood up with a scowl.

   Mark Briar stepped up then and held out an arm in front of his companion in order to keep him from lunging forward to further confront Tommy.

    "What?"  he said again.  "I'm just..."

    "Can it, Alan!"  Mark snapped.  "He deserves as much a chance to try out as anybody.  Leave him alone."

    Tommy opened his mouth to say thanks, but Mark almost imperceptibly shook his head negatively. 

    "C'mon guys," Mark commanded them.  None of his minions said anything to contradict him, though they all wore identical expressions of curious surprise as their captain led them to the other side of the room where he directed them in a drill as they waited for the coaches to arrive.

   ***

  Tommy had chosen a locker as far away from them as he could, and he waited until they had all trickled out of the room to take a shower.  He was pleased with how things had turned out despite the start.  They were too busy with drills, and Tommy was too good at them for anybody to bother with making fun of him.  It was hard to gauge, but the coach seemed pleased.  His chances for making the team were looking bright. 

    It was well after the day had ended that Tommy found himself marching out of the school building to wait for his father to pick him up.  He still had a good twenty minute wait in front of him, as his mother couldn't drive and his father was still at work.  Graeme had long since vacated the premises and wasn't answering his phone.  Tommy was surprised to find someone standing there as he emerged into the bright sunlight.

    It was Mark Briar, Captain of the Junior Varsity team, Tommy had come to find out.  Tommy grimaced and cast his eyes around for a place to stand at a far enough distance that they didn't have to converse, but there wasn't really; not without alerting Mark to the fact that he was being blatantly avoided.  He sighed and walked up to Mark, throwing his book bag on the concrete between them.  Mark glanced sideways at him, shuffled nervously in place and then coughed into his hand.

    "Uh..." he said after a moment.  "You did good today.  Is that like...a thing?"

    "A thing?"  Tommy glared at him.

    "You know, a...uh...an English thing?"

    "Yes, yes."  Tommy nodded, and his voice took on a mocking tone.  "Yes, all English people are good at football and when we're done with that we go home and have tea-parties and eat scones all day while watchin' the Beeb on the telly."

    "I was just asking, geez," Mark grumbled.

    Tommy stared curiously at him, and silently cursed himself and what seemed to be his perpetual state of apologies. 

    "I'm sorry," he finally said.  "I'm not used to people being nice to me.  The sarcasm is a defense mechanism."

    "Yeah," Mark replied.  His tone felt glum and he was staring at his feet as he continued the conversation.  "I know what you mean.  Sorry about bein' all...uh...stereotypin' and shit."

    "It's alright," Tommy said.  His curiosity was further piqued and he tried to catch Mark's eye despite the downward turn of his face, but still Mark did not look at him.

    "How long have you been playin'?" Mark asked the ground.

    Tommy smiled and found it amusing, but he answered the question.

    "Since I was eight or nine.  Mum got me signed up.  I think she wanted me to do something more...manly I suppose.  See how that turned out?"  Tommy laughed at his own joke, and Mark obliged him with his own nervous chuckle.

    "But it's fun," Tommy continued.  "I like it.  I'm good at it.  I thought I'd try-out, that's all."

    "You're going to make the team."  Mark finally turned to look at him.  "Coach likes you.  I can tell."

    "Coach likes me?"  Tommy eyed him and Mark's gaze quickly reverted to his feet and he tensed up.

    "I mean...like, you know...the way you play...and stuff.  Not...uh...."

    "Stop it," Tommy interrupted him.  "That's not what I meant.  I didn't think he wanted me or anything.  I'm just surprised he thinks I'm that good.  I haven't played in a long time.  It was only a hobby."

    Mark relaxed and let out his breath.  They stood in uneasy silence.  It was destined to be the longest twenty minutes of Tommy's life.  He peered out over the horizon as if doing so would somehow bring his father faster, but it was not to be.  He cast his gaze around the parking lot spread out in front of them and it dawned on him.

    "What are you doing?"  He turned towards Mark once again.  Mark had taken the time Tommy had been spending staring off into space to look at him without being seen and Mark thought he had been caught even though he hadn't really been noticed.  Tommy's accusatory tone did nothing to ease the situation.

    "I...uh...I..."  Mark stammered at him and eventually just snapped his mouth shut and frowned.  Tommy noticed that his eyes were blue as he tried to look everywhere but at Tommy.

     Tommy didn't know Mark well enough to know if his nervous behavior was normal, but he had seen him on the field that day and he was the team captain.  His suspicions had definitely been raised, and he didn't like where they were leading him.

    "What are you doing here?"  Tommy asked carefully.

    Mark frowned.  He cradled his arms, stared down at the ground and shrugged.

    "What are you doing here?"  He repeated the question back at Tommy.

    "I'm waiting for my dad," Tommy said.  "Don't have a license, but you have a car."

    Mark's mouth popped open in surprise at the rather obvious revelation, but he quickly snapped it shut and looked guiltily down at the parking lot where his truck was parked and waiting for him.  He laughed nervously and glanced back at Tommy with an embarrassed shrug.

    "Were you..."  Tommy paused and frowned.  He pulled nervously at his hair and then pushed the sentence out of his mouth completely.

    "Were you waiting for me?"

    "No, I just...I..."  Mark sighed heavily and turned his face towards the sky, murmuring inaudibly to himself.  He then shook his head as if to clear it, faced Tommy and blurted out, "Do you need a ride?"

    "What?"

  The surprised and dismayed inflection in Tommy's voice was not lost on Mark. He smiled sheepishly and turned to point towards the football field.  "My girlfriend has flag-corp practice.  I'm just waiting for her, but if you need a ride..." 

    Tommy had briefly considered taking the offer once he'd gotten over the shock of it.  Mark had been nice to him, and it would have been nice to have an ally on the soccer team, especially if they were the team captain.  His suspicions, however, were not completely erased once Mark had revealed his girlfriend status.  It didn't explain him standing by the curb outside of the main entrance instead of waiting for her by the football field. 

    "My dad will be here soon."  Tommy replied.

    They resumed the awkward silence, and Mark made no move to abandon his post.  His father arrived at the allotted time and for that Tommy was grateful.  He did indeed feel like it had been the longest twenty minutes of his life.
   
****

    "The weirdest thing happened today,"  Tommy said to Hope as they sat in the food court at the mall later that evening.  He had spent time debating about whether or not he was going to tell her about it, and eventually decided that he might as well. 

    "What?  Was it soccer?  Did they...say things about you?"

    Tommy nodded slightly.  "Of course they did.  Always do.  Pointed me to the auditorium, called me 'queer', that sort of thing.  Don't care.  The weird thing is...you know Mark Briar?"

    "Yeah," she said, and, intent on coming to Tommy's defense, tacked on "Stupid Jock" as an afterthought.

    "Funny you should say that, because he's not," Tommy replied, and Hope blushed then stared down at her french fries.

    "What do you mean?"  She mumbled.  "I thought..."

    "Well, he may be stupid for all I know.  I haven't really met him before today, but he did defend me in front of them.  He was nice to me.  Practice was good after that; he even said I'm probably going to make the team, which is cool.  I just wasn't expecting it, and that's why it was weird."

    "Cool!"  She moved her gaze to look at him and smiled.  "I'm glad it worked out.  I have to admit, I was afraid they were going to be total jerks to you."

    "I can handle myself," he said.  "And they weren't...totally.  People can surprise you sometimes, Hope.  Besides, it was fun.  I've missed the game."

    "Good, I'm glad it worked out," she replied and reached across the table to hold his hand.

    He smiled ruefully at her and gave her hand a squeeze.  She seemed to take that as the reassurance he was hoping she would.  She thought he was okay.  He only wished he was.

****

    As the weeks wore on, Tommy begrudgingly earned the respect of his new teammates.  They still didn't like him though, and a few were outright hostile.  He was glad to have chosen his locker away from them, because he didn't feel like he really belonged, nor was he accepted.  Despite being good, he was still an outsider, and there wasn't really anything he could do to change that.  He didn't pause to consider that his outsider status might have had something to do with keeping everybody at an arms-length.  There was only one person he was close to, despite his best efforts, and it wasn't even Hope Candella.  Graeme Alexander was his biggest cheerleader, and his seemingly instant best friend.  Even being mopey and depressing on occasion did nothing to deter Graeme from him.  The Nevadan was always there with a megawatt smile and a big hug.  It was unnerving.  At first Tommy had thought nothing of that first drive to school and Graeme crawling on top of him instead of just asking him to unlock the other door, but it was becoming apparent that Graeme was just a touchy person.  Graeme always greeted him with a hug and when they walked he left no space between them if he didn't insist on throwing his arm around Tommy's shoulder.  The only time he didn't was when Hope was there.  It was perplexing to him, but he grew comfortable with it soon enough.  It was just Graeme, and there weren't any sexual undertones behind the affectionate gestures.  Tommy wondered how Kathy could have sown so many seeds of dissent throughout the student body that it left a wonderfully open person like Graeme sitting alone at lunch without any friends.  So, after an initial period of unease, whenever Graeme threw his arms open, Tommy fell into them, and Hope would laugh and complain that Graeme was stealing her boyfreind.  They hadn't progressed to the point where Tommy was willing to spill his guts about what had happened with Richard, or his feelings about his parents, but it just felt right knowing that he could and no matter what he said, Graeme would be there for him with a smile and a hug.

    Despite cutting himself off from the team, soccer was going well.  Being new, he mostly sat on the bench during games to make way for the players with more experience, but it was becoming less and less the case as it was apparent that Tommy was actually very good at the game.  Besides that, his father had started coming to games.  It was a new thing for Tommy, and to see him in the stands cheering made him almost forget that he was supposed to hate the man.  There was no doubt about it, Steven was trying.  Tommy hadn't been, but somehow found that he had made Steven proud anyway.  It was a new feeling, and he liked it.  It made him that much more reluctant to come out to his father.

    And there was Hope.  Steven Sinclair had no reason to suspect, and Tommy wasn't about to give him one. 

    If it wasn't for Richard refusing to speak to him on a weekly basis, according to Nigel,  things would have been perfect for Tommy.  He, Graeme, and Hope got along like the Three Musketeers and there wasn't a day that  when by when they didn't see each other.  Of course, there was a day that came along that blew that contented routine away, and it started with a request for a study partner.

    Tommy would have been lying if he said that he didn't have his suspicions about the captain of the junior varsity soccer team.  Mark always seemed to have his eyes glued to him, and it made Tommy uneasy.  He didn't mention it to anybody though, not even Graeme or Hope.  If there was a secret to be had, Tommy was happy to leave Mark to it.  The last thing he wanted was to be party to anybody else's secrets.  He had enough of them with his father, and he didn't need any more.  He was happy with the smile and nod Mark gave him whenever they passed in the hallways between classes.  He was happy to let Mark keep the more vocal of the bigots on the team off his back, and most of all he was happy on his side of the locker room where he didn't have to deal with any of them.  They existed as his teammates on the field and nothing more.

    It was a Thursday like any other, and the game had gone well. It was another Virgin Valley High School win, and though Tommy had only played for a short time, he was pleased.  He was beginning to think that the soccer team was one of his more brilliant ideas.

    He stopped by his own cheering section on the way to the locker room.  His father clapped him on the back and told him what a good job he'd done.  His mother smiled sweetly and kissed him on the cheek and told him she was proud of him.  Hope and Graeme then commandeered his attentions.  They stood arm in arm, their usual stance when they attended the games.

    "I still can't believe you're so good at this," Hope said.  "You don't strike me as a jock."

    "What does that even mean?" Tommy laughed and hugged her and kissed her. 

    "Stop it!"  She squealed and laughed and tried to push him away.

    "What, Baby?"  Tommy lunged at her again.

    She laughed and made a token effort to fend off his advances.

    "You're all sweaty and gross!"  She giggled as he showered her with kisses.

    "You're both gross," Graeme declared with a roll of his eyes.  "Go on, Sinclair."  He nodded towards the school building .  "Go shower with the boys."

    "Oh, shut-up," Tommy laughed at him.  "I'll just...yeah.  A shower is needed.  I barely have done anything today, and I'm soaked with sweat.  Fucking scorching in this bloody place."

    "Stop complaining."  Graeme laughed and clapped him on the back. 

    Tommy thanked him for the support and retired to the locker room.  He was only there long enough to unlock his locker and throw a towel over the door before Mark Briar appeared, shuffling behind him in the perpetual state of agitation that only seemed to inhabit him when he was around Tommy.  On the field he was cool and in control, and that was how he had earned the respect of his team and the title as their captain.  Mark worked harder than anybody to be good at the game.  Tommy was there every day, he had seen it, and it was that nervousness that made Tommy the most suspicious.

    Tommy hadn't yet begun to undresses.  He tended to hide until the rest of the team had finished and left the room for the day.  It was beginning to wear on his nerves, always being the last one out, and he knew there was no reason for his own reluctance aside from a baseless fear of  his teammates suddenly turning on him just for being there.  Having Mark show up, just staring at him, waiting, and fidgeting nervously was enough to break his resolve not to make anybody else uncomfortable in his presence.  He was tired of it anyway.

   He stood from the bench, smirked at Mark, and peeled his jersey off as slowly as possible.  Mark watched him with a concentrating scowl on his face.  Tommy shrugged, pulled off the rest of his clothes in a much quicker manner, then wrapped the towel around his waist.  Mark had stopped fidgeting at that point and instead was just staring at him.

    "Mark?" Tommy said.

    Mark shook his head, and snapped himself out of his daze. 

    "Yeah, uh...good game," he said, and resumed fidgeting.

    Tommy wracked his brain trying to think of anything he'd done that day on the field that was worthy of any praise but was unable to think of anything.   They said nothing and stood there in awkward silence until Tommy finally spoke again.

    "Can I help you?"

    "You know, I was wondering.  You're good at English, right?"  His words came out in a mad rush as they often did when he was alone with Tommy.

    "Seeing as I'm English and I've been taught the proper way, yeah," Tommy replied.  He hoped to put Mark more at ease by joking with him.  They both had remembered what Mark had said about Tommy's nationality the first day after try-outs, and it seemed to work.  Mark laughed, and smiled, and finally managed to sheepishly look directly into Tommy's eyes.

    "I've been having a shitty time," he admitted.    "I think I'm retarded."

    "You aren't," Tommy assured him.

    Mark gave him a disbelieving look and lapsed into silence again.  He was thinking, and Tommy knew he was in for another quickly blurted request.  He waited patiently for it to come, and it eventually did.

    "Well, what I was wondering was...could you.  You know, if you're not too busy...  Help me out, maybe?  We've been reading this Shakespeare crap, and I don't fuckin' get it.  I have to pass or I'll get kicked off the team.  I'm failing, Tom."

    Tommy pondered that for only a moment before deciding that if that was all Mark wanted help with, then he was glad to provide it.  The Captain had been nice to him from the start and kept the peace within the team at all times.  Tommy took a moment to chastise him for calling Shakespeare crap and agreed to help.

    "When and where?"  Tommy asked.  "Library..."

    "Nah."  Mark should his head.  "I was wondering maybe...if you don't mind...your house?  You don't want to come to my...no. Uh..."

    "Right."  Tommy said carefully, trying not to wonder what on Earth was going on at Mark's house that he couldn't go there, and also wondering why Mark wouldn't want to be seen at school studying with him. 
    
    "Well, you can ride with me and Graeme Tomorrow after," Tommy said.

    "I don't know why you hang out with that dweeb," he said.

    "Whatever."  Tommy rolled his eyes at Mark and turned to walk away.  "I have to take a shower.  I'll talk to you tomorrow."

        ***

  Tommy was stupid, and he knew it.  He could have diffused the situation by setting up shop in the middle of his kitchen, but he hadn't.  He had invited Mark up to his room, where they sat huddled over his desk.  Tommy was reading and explaining the prose from the book Mark had provided, and he knew that Mark wasn't paying any attention to the words coming out of his mouth.  His notepad remained blank, and though Tommy's eyes remained glued to the pages before him, he could see in his peripheral vision that Mark was only shuffling around his papers and peering all around the room.

   It was frustrating that he had offered help and Mark wasn't taking it, and Tommy was at least going to try to get the afternoon back on track despite the tenuous situation that he had placed himself in.

    "Alright, Mark?"  He glanced sharply up at his study buddy.  Mark dropped his pencil and a look of obvious guilt colored his face.

    "Yeah, I uh...can't concentrate," he said.

    "I know!"  Tommy slammed his hand on the desk.  He turned to face a startled Mark.  "Want to tell me why?"

    "You're mad."  He stared at Tommy, finally realizing.  He frowned, furrowing his brow.  "I'm sorry, I just...  It's you.  You're not so bad, you know.  I mean, you're okay..."

    "For a woofter is what you mean?"  Tommy replied.

    "Yeah," he replied.  "It's like you're normal."

    "I am normal."  Tommy rolled his eyes.  He stood up and glared down at Mark.  It was time for confessions.

    "You don't really need a tutor do you?"

    "Oh, I do!"  He nodded vigorously.

    Mark stood up to then, and was giving Tommy a familiar look.  It was the same way Brian Humboldt had looked at him before they had kissed for the first time.  Tommy didn't like it one bit.  He did have a girlfriend, and he wasn't going to give in to whatever Mark was going to serve up to him.  He was determined not to let the day unfold like some badly scripted fantasy.  In an effort to thwart any advances on Mark's part, Tommy retreated to the opposite end of the room.

    "Why are you really here?"  He asked, with his arms crossed and a glare on his face.  Despite his resolve, staring at Mark who looked confused and sad yet determined was making Tommy regret his decision to stand up.  Mark was an attractive boy, and he was standing there with his confession inches from his lips; a confession meant for Tommy.  It was flattering and terrifying at the same time.  Tommy decided it would be in his best interest to sit down and and wait out Mark's next verbal onslaught.  He tossed his gaze around, and the only place available was on his bed.  He sat and folded his arms across his lap and waited.

    "I don't want to be like this," Mark finally said.

    Tommy groaned inwardly.  He realized that Mark had orchestrated the entire afternoon to get Tommy alone in his room.  It had all been planned out, and he had fallen for it, yet Mark couldn't even say the word.

    "Be like what?"  Tommy asked after a moment.  Despite wanting to, he was unable to tear his eyes away from Mark's intent gaze.

    "Be like you."

    Tommy closed his eyes and sighed.  He didn't even want to be him in that moment.

    "There's nothing wrong with being gay."  Tommy said.

    "Yes, there fucking is," Mark's gaze turned into a glare then.  "There is.  It's not right.  It's against everything.  The bible..."

    "Is a storybook," Tommy replied. 

    "Don't say that," Mark said.

    "I can say what I like."

    And it was done.  Now that it was out of his mouth, Mark seemed to have no trouble communicating.  The nervousness was gone.

    "Look, I don't even know why I fuckin' came here today," he growled.

    "You came because you don't understand Shakespeare, and I can help you with that.  What I can't help you with is a self-identity crisis."

    "I needed to tell somebody!" He wailed, an outburst that surprised Tommy.  "Obviously I chose the wrong person!"

    "You can't even say it," Tommy interrupted him.  "If you're disgusted with yourself that much, what do you expect me to do about it?"

    Tommy immediately wanted to apologize for lashing out.  He had been with someone before who was afraid, and that person had betrayed him by denying himself.  That had hurt, and Tommy was lashing out because of it.  He didn't want to care, because caring would only lead to more hurt.  He didn't though.  He only bit his bottom lip and frowned.

    Mark was just confused and upset that the person he trusted had rejected him.  He stumbled awkwardly from his chair and shoved his books haphazardly into his back pack.  He didn't bother to zip it all the way and when he tried to make his grand exit the whole thing fell apart.  The weight of the books caused his bag to unzip and his papers fell into a gigantic heap in the middle of Tommy's room.

    Tommy jumped up from the bed to help as Mark knelt down to pick up his things.  They reached for the same book and their hands touched.  Their eyes met.  The next thing Tommy knew, they were both standing, Mark's hands gripping his midsection and their lips tentatively pressed together.  It had been a long time.  Tommy hadn't kissed a boy since Richard, and he liked it, so he reached up and wrapped his arms around Mark's shoulders, deepening the kiss and pulling their bodies together.  Mark wasn't prepared for it.  He lost his balance and they tumbled backwards onto the bed.  Mark was heavy against him, not mindful of his weight, Tommy groaned a little and arched against him anyway as Mark kissed him.  

    It only took a few moments for the guilt in the back of his mind to come slamming into the forefront however, and it started with one little word.  Hope.

    Tommy managed to wrangle his hormones and push Mark away as far as he could extend his arms.  Mark's eyes were wide as if he couldn't believe his own actions, but he made no effort to move away.

    "I can't do this, Mark."  Tommy said.

    "Why?"  he asked.  "You want to."

    Mark punctuated his statement by grabbing at Tommy's cock through his jeans, and it was with that action that Tommy could no longer hold mark away from him.  His arms folded and he grasped at Mark's hair as the kissing began all over again.  Tommy pushed Mark away again.  The last thing he wanted to do was cheat on his girlfriend: the one he had shared that bed with on more than one occasion.  That effort had finally managed to do the trick and Mark was flung to the side and off the bed entirely.  He landed with a thud and a howl of dismay.

    "Get the fuck out!"  Tommy sat up and scowled over the side of the bed at Mark who was looking surprised and annoyed.  "I have a fucking girlfriend!"

    "So do I!"  Mark stood up and shouted back.  "So what?  We're both...you know...so why can't you do me a favor?"

    It would have be one thing had Mark actually cared, and Tommy thought he might have, it was another thing to hear straight from Mark's lips that all he wanted from him was some sort of sexual favor.  Tommy would have been lying if he said that admission didn't hurt.  It made him angry and made him feel even more guilty, for he knew he had been doing the same thing with Brian Humboldt.  There was no good to come out of it.

    "Sorry,"  Tommy snarled.  "I don't work that way.  I'm not, 'well, you know...', I have a girlfriend, who I happen to care about very much, and I'm not going to do any favors for you."

    "Nobody will know," he pleaded.

    "I will,"  Tommy said, and pointed towards the doorway.  "Get the fuck out."

    Mark looked angry, but he didn't say anything.  He didn't threaten, and he didn't make any accusations.  He just left, and his things remained strewn about Tommy's room.  Tommy sat there staring at the mess, his mind reeling from what had just happened.  It hadn't been entirely unexpected but still had been shocking.  Tommy sighed, lay back on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.  He was still flushed, hot from his short encounter with Mark, so he picked up the telephone and dialed Hope's number.