Free The Park at Sunrise by Lee Brazil Page B

thought it was all about you and Paul. Somehow, I thought it was all about you, me , and Paul. I guess I naively believed that without Paul, you and I would need each other even more."
    I couldn't speak, but my shock must have shown on my face. With an impatient sigh, Jason jumped from the bench. I automatically steadied myself, swaying slightly as the bench protested the sudden movement.
    He tossed the photo from the envelope into my lap. "I have it crated and ready to ship. Pick it up at my parents' house any time. I won't be there."
    I didn't look up. I didn't speak. I listened to his footsteps, muffled now by the snow that had fallen on the crunching leaves. As the colors changed and faded from the morning sky, I stared at the photo of the painting that had brought me here. Three men on a bench in a park at sunrise, three heads pressed together, three hands clasped. If one of the images was a little blurry, I couldn't tell if that was the artist's intent, the tears in my eyes, or the snow that fell on the photo.
     

Chapter Two

May twenty-six, two thousand, the day after graduation, was a day I remembered well. It was the last time we'd sat here at sunrise together at the end of a long night of celebratory graduation activities. We'd started with Paul's family taking us to lunch at the country club. We'd all sat in uncomfortable splendor, making stilted small talk while Paul's parents smiled their tiny, icy smiles of approval at us all. Jason and I were on our best behavior. We'd run tame in one another's homes since we'd met in kindergarten, and it hadn't taken us long to adapt our behavior with Paul's parents to a more sedate, discreet level. As far as the rigid and correct Mr. and Mrs. Archer St. John were concerned, we were still Paulie's best friends, the bohemian painter boy and the cute geek who played chess. Paul's parents had no idea that there was so much more involved now.
    From the country club, we'd rushed over to a backyard BBQ at Jason's parents' house, where we could be as openly affectionate with each other as we liked. A sense of impending disaster hung in the air, a something-wicked-this-way-comes aura that compelled us to cling together. We accepted congratulations, drank icy cold beers, and ate hot dogs and chili with Jason's parents and their friends before escaping to the studio above the garage.
    The studio had been first our playroom, then our clubhouse, then a studio when Jason began to show an interest in art. Always, it had been our preferred hangout. Jason's studio had been the scene of many an evening of debauchery and mayhem. We'd gotten drunk for the first time there, we'd smoked pot for the first time there, and we'd had sex for the first time there. A ratty old futon and a table next to the easel were the only furnishings. A CD player sat on the floor nearby, and the scent of oil paint and turpentine had seeped into the wood.
    Graduation day, we'd fallen together on that futon and held each other close for long moments. We exchanged kisses and caresses, whispers of reassurance and love. In this place we could pretend that our world wasn't changing more rapidly than we'd prepared for. In this place, we could just be...three men in love.
    I leaned against the door and watched as my friends, my lovers, hastily shed clothing and set the scene. Jason had Tom Petty pouring from the CD player in no time. I feasted my eyes on smooth white skin, taut, firmly muscled bodies, and hard, throbbing cocks as I slipped out of my own Dockers and dress shirt.
    As always when we were close, we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves. I sighed in pleasure. I lay back on the futon in the corner, salvaged from Jason's mom's renovation of the guest room years earlier, and watched Jason and Paul kiss hungrily.
    Cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, they approached me, intent on satisfaction. One hot, wet mouth latched on to a nipple, and the other covered mine. I reveled in the flavor of Paul's mouth as Jason sucked