Where are you now? As I'm swimming through the stereo I'm writing you a symphony of sound Where are you now? As I rearrange the songs again This mix could burn a hole in anyone But it was you I was thinking of... - The Mixed Tape, Jack’s Mannequin I should have known we would end up here. It’s two in the morning and the passing train is drowning out the song coming from his jeep’s stereo. We always seem to find ourselves in this place. The train station is our haven, our calm in the storm. I lean into his body. I tell myself that It’s due to the copious amount of weed we’ve indulged in. I tell myself that my high has made me desperate for a place to rest my head, to still the spinning of my surroundings. That’s what I tell myself, but I know that I’m really leaning into him for the opportunity to feel his lean body against mine, even if our skin is separated by multiple layers of clothing. He called me hours ago asking me to smoke with him, to keep him company while he surrendered to insomnia. He should know by now that the answer would be yes, it’s always yes. These late night meetings have become the mainstay of my sanity since he showed up in town. He came into my life just three months ago, and since then there has been a piece of him in every second of every one of my days. I find myself thinking about how lucky I am that his finger landed on the name of my town as he closed his eyes, letting fate determine his next destination, and pointed to a random spot on the flimsy gas station map. I was working the breakfast shift at our local small-town diner the morning I met him. He sauntered through the door while he pulled off his sunglasses and took a seat at the counter in front of me. I remember the way everyone followed his movement with their eyes as he made his way over to me. Our town rarely sees any fresh meat. Everyone wondered about the hot new guy in town. As I looked into his eyes I found myself wanting to know his story too. I wanted to know everything about the man I was certain I would fall for if given the chance. He told me his name, Brian, and that he was going to be taking up residence in our fine community. I poured his coffee and offered him the real estate listings from the newspaper. I was surprised that he continued to chat with me as he skimmed the listings for his new home. I discovered that he was older than me, 30 to my 16, but that didn’t throw me off. Something about him was ageless, and it wasn’t just his deceptively youthful appearance. Much to my dismay, I also discovered that he would be the new Literature teacher at my high school. If anything, these facts just made him more alluring. He didn’t look like a teacher. He wore designer boots with tight jeans and a track jacket that fit snugly against his perfect chest. His chestnut hair was somewhat shaggy and fell into his eyes, much like my blonde bangs did on a regular basis. His perfectly chiseled jaw was covered with a sexy stubble that I longed to feel against my neck. He looked like a guy who would own an independent record store, not provide an education to the troubled youth of our sleepy town. He waited for me to get off work so that I could show him around. We talked about everything and nothing. We discovered we had a love for the same music, film, and literature. I felt like someone finally understood me. I had spent my entire life being the odd man out and I had finally found someone that existed on my wavelength. Too bad he had to be in a position of authority over me, although that could be hot...but i digress. He told me he didn’t care about my age, he just wanted to hang out with me. Over the next week I helped him pick the perfect apartment, with dark wood floors and stainless steel appliances. We moved his things into the two bedroom space and wandered around around the town for hours taking in the starry sky and the christmas lights that decorated the trees along our main street. My parents were drunks and hardly even knew i existed, so they never noticed my frequent absences from home. Brian was constantly asking me to keep him company during those ghostly hours when everyone else is asleep and it feels like the world doesn’t exist outside of the confines of his vehicle. We lounged around his apartment most of the time, but every night we spent the beginning of our time together getting high in his Jeep as we counted the cars on the trains that passed through the station. It was the beginning of summer then, but now it’s turning to fall and the crispness of the air reminds us that school is starting in a few days and then our lives are going to get a little more complicated. We haven’t even so much as held hands yet, but I can feel that tension in the air between us. Despite our agreement that we should ignore the fact that we are both gay and gorgeous, and keep our relationship strictly platonic, there is an unspoken attraction that pulls us towards each other as a social standard keeps our need for a deeper connection at bay. I lean into him more now, letting my forehead rest against his chest as I twist my body around in the passenger seat to get comfortable. He releases his hold on the carb of the glass pipe, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he holds his breath to let it penetrate his being. Shortly after, the smoke lazily dances out of his mouth, making the windows of the car fog up as the smoke diffuses through our surroundings. The rise and fall of his chest speeds the beating of his heart and gives me something to concentrate on as my mind wanders into that THC induced state of mind where you manage to think of everything and absolutely nothing in particular at the same time...