Free Clay's Way by Blair Mastbaum Page B

out in front, eating.  As we wait at a stoplight, a girl that sort of looks like Tammy pulls out of   Pali   Bottle Shoppe, a liquor store where it’s easy to buy alcohol for underage kids. 
                    Clay puts his hand on my shoulder and I flinch.    “Calm down, dude.”
                    I settle back into the seat.
                    He doesn’t move his hand off my shoulder.
                    My hand starts to shake.  I have to think about breathing, so I don’t hyperventilate.  I can’t move, even an inch, or his hand might slip away.  I brace myself as we turn again and go over a bumpy section of road where the pipes underneath are being replaced.
                    He moves his hand off my shoulder.
                    I want to grab it and put it back. 
                    He traces over my collarbone with his finger and scrapes along my chest and stomach, down to my lap, where my hipbone sticks out.  He doesn’t look at me, but he slows down and turns a corner more carefully.
    I try to situate myself so I can look casual and calm, but it’s hard.  My foot’s tapping the floor like crazy and I can’t stop it.  It’s expressing all the panic and lust and anxiety and joy in my whole body. 
    He moves his hand to the top of my leg and rubs down to my knee, with pressure and forcefulness.
                    My dick grows in Steve’s shorts and almost pokes straight out the fly.
                    He’s   gonna   feel it if he goes any closer with his hand.  He moves his hand over to the center of my lap and takes my   boner   in his hand through my shorts.
                    A high-pitched ring takes over in my ears and instantly, it feels two hundred degrees in the truck.  I want look at him, but it’s too risky.  I’m afraid he’ll have a horrible frown on his face or maybe he’s teasing me to see if I’ll go along with it, then ditch me.  I have to see.  I look over at him, through my eyelashes. 
                    He looks back, not embarrassed.  He has my   boner   in his hand and he’s looking at me.  This is insane.
                    I almost can’t handle this.  I’m   gonna   pass out. 
                    His face looks charged and strong, flushed almost pink.  His eyes look watery and deep, like a Native American’s.  I can see a vein in his neck pumping blood through in pulses.  He looks so alive.  It’s like we’re meeting each other for the first time.
                    Everything outside the truck windows turns into meaningless blurs.  
                    I can’t believe he can still drive.  “Hi.” I say, without thinking.
                    “Hey,” he says back--with a hint of fear on his lips.
                    I grasp his wrist. 
                    “Fuck!”  He rips his hand away from my crotch.
                    I did something wrong.    What did I do wrong?
                    He looks in his side view mirror.  “I think your mom’s behind us.”
                    I turn my head around to see. “Shit.” 
                    She waves to me with a mean look on her face.  She’s taking away my freedom, just when I finally felt some, at the highpoint of my life.  It must be some sort of motherly instinct to destroy her kid’s life.
                    Clay pulls over in front of my house. 
                    I want to say,   I love you, I need you, I want you   but I don’t know how he’d take it.  I want to make sure we can do this again.  I have to plan a meeting site, or save money to rent a hotel room.    Something.  
    I can’t go on if there’s no chance of this ever happening again.