Miguel and I had been friends since we were about fifteen. That summer we were both back home after our first year away at separate colleges. It was good to see each other again. We were both nineteen. Not much had changed. We were both the same, except maybe having gotten out in the world some, we were both a little more confident. I guess that was what made the difference. We had always shared a good between-guys chemistry. Although, like most boys, we had been kind of shy and cautious about letting our feelings of friendship show too much, and certainly we lacked the courage to ever explore them. After all, being straight, you were always afraid of somehow looking gay.
That summer, though, we were less concerned about that sort of stuff. When we got together, again there was that warm chemistry that was inviting and easy to be encouraging of. Even without our actually saying as much, it showed in our slightly self-conscious grins and the chummy way that we touched each other on the arm or shoulder. We could both tell that we wanted to be more open about stuff like that with one another, and we even felt kind of proud of how deliberate we were being about it. Discretely, of course. Both of our dads were divorced and straight arrow kind of guys.
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We knew that they might view two guys, especially their own sons, sharing their feelings as being undoubtedly gay.
When in fact, it had nothing to do with being gay or having any desire to be. Not in the conventional way. Yet, Miguel and I both knew that we were flirting with the teasing fun and enticement of being homosexually open with one another. And to us. . . that was okay.
That morning, over at his house, and with his dad already gone to work, it was sort of an opportunity to casually indulge in a bit a teasingly flirtatious companionship. I came over in a t-shirt and cut-offs, with my bare feet slipped into a pair of flip-flops. Miguel was dressed the same, only barefoot, as we stood in the kitchen, talking about what we might do that day. We had discussed maybe going hiking up in the near-by hills. Living in Arizona, we had done a lot of that together, and we were both interested in archeology and stuff. That was certainly and idea, even if the weather was starting to turn hot.
Miguel was standing at the sink, hand washing a few dishes, while we talked.
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We were considering things.
Coming to no particular conclusion about any of that, Miguel grinned and said, "It's like it always was. . . 'what should we do today?' kind of thing, uh?"
I laughed. "Yeah. Pretty much. "
Still grinning, he added, "But it sure is good getting back together. "
"Yeah," I agreed, knowing that it was.
I reached a hand out, putting it on his back. His grin turned into a smile, and I found myself smiling, too. We looked at each other, with my blue eyes meeting his deep brown eyes, the contact conveying that warm chemistry. Instead of feeling awkward about it, like maybe we shouldn't let it show to the degree that it did, it was nice not to bother being as disguised as we usually were.
In fact, acknowledging that we both liked it, felt great. For both of us being that open about it was a new experience that seemed worth having.
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As we stood there, doing what the moment seemed to naturally allow for, we both slowly leaned close, our slightly parted lips touching. The effort was gentle and involved. Yet, our lips were together. We were two guys kissing. It was just an expression of friendliness, although at the same time, for us, something that was totally different.
We drew back, both of us looking slightly embarrassed.
At the same time, however, thinking how wonderful that had been, feeling the softness of each others lips lightly pressing back against our own. Thinking that we could do that together as guys. That it was not something that had to be shared exclusively with just a female. Rather, that it had nothing to do with gender as such. Although it was so uniquely all-masculine that we were completely captivated by that aspect of it, as well.
"Wow. . . " I breathed, a Little unsure about the moment.
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About what it meant, if anything at all, but knowing that it meant something. I was just too surprised to put it all into perspective. Somewhat stupidly, but being entirely honest about it, I said, "That was interesting. "
Miguel was grinning self-consciously.
"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly. Not saying that he had misgivings about our having done that.
Not that I had any, either.
.
