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Last Girls: Chapter Four


  10:05:00 pm, by Nic Wilson   , 512 words  
Categories: Last Girls

Last Girls: Chapter Four

Alan shoved Denny back. ?Jesus, man,? he said. ?That is the reason we're on this trip,? he said.
Denny frowned, and zipped up the door on the tent. ?I'm sorry, I just-?
Alan cupped his cheek. ?Hey, it's okay. You just, you caught me off guard. Surprised. And it's not like that is the only reason we want to be circumspect.?
Denny sighed heavily. He knew that Alan wasn't concerned over his reputation, that he was using his own insecurity to pressure him. But that Alan knew how he felt, that he remembered it it was one more secret they were keeping for each other. They had always been close as brothers- closer, since they both had brothers they couldn't stand- but it wasn't just their relationship, it was everything they had shared, over a whole lifetime. His mom had always told her that his father was her best friend- that that was the ideal to strive for. And Alan was his, and now, Alan was his, too.
But his mother had also told him something else, that fags were an abomination, that they'd burn in hell. Maybe it was because he was scrawny, that he wasn't athletic or into the kinds of manly things that Angel seemed to reflexively love, but his family had always made it a point to tell him that fags would burn in hell. And he didn't believe that. There was no way to square a loving god with that sentiment, and he'd lived long and hard enough to question there being any god at all, but hell was the least of his concerns. It was his family, most everyone in their community. If he had to go to hell, he'd made peace with that, but the withering looks of his relatives had always terrified him, and now that they were right about all of what they spent his entire childhood insinuating... he couldn't handle that. It would ruin him. Not financially, though he would probably lose the job he had doing maintenance at his family's church, both to their building and their website. But personally.
?How are you feeling?? Alan asked.
?Like shit,? Denny said, before realizing it wasn't a personal query; he wasn't talking to Alan who he'd given a bro-job to, he was talking to Alan the EMT. ?Oh, um, about the crash, no, I'm fine. Little pain in the pelvis, where the seatbelt cut in. And I think Lark kicked me in the throat and the crotch when we went crashing down that hill. But it's nothing serious. Nothing that won't heal.?
?How are you with everything else?? Alan asked.
?Confused. Upset. Scared. Exhilarated. Worried that I'm doing exactly what I've wanted for way longer than I've known, but that it's more than you want, or faster you want, and either way that might scare you off.?
?Hey,? Alan said, stroking his cheek. ?I'm right where I want to be.? Denny knew it was a lie, but it was the lie he wanted to hear, so he tried to make himself believe it.

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Nicolas Wilson is a writer and journalist. An archive featuring hundreds of short stories, comics and essays can be found here.


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