Dope

By Jacob Alexander

Genre: Gay New Adult Romance
Length: Novella
Age: 18+

Caleb's first taste of adulthood is bitter. He's facing a crumbling relationship with his best friend and the pressures of college. His new roommate, Luke, may or may not be gay, but he's definitely into drugs, and Caleb is terrified by his growing feels for the possible drug addict.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Briteka Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513053110

Book preview

Chapter 1

The feeling of horror starts in my abdomen and then blasts through my body, chilling my veins and causing a noticeable shiver.

What the hell, Caleb? What is this shit? Justin asks. His voice is loud and angry.

I bite my lower lip and stare at the crack reaching up the white wall and spreading across the ceiling. Mom has been pestering Dad to fix the crack for nearly a year, and he has promised to do so, but real life has gotten in the way, as it always does. I run my eyes along the crack and beg for it to give me a voice, the strength to speak, but it denies my demands, and I am left mute, standing and silent while my best friend looks up from the black leather chair, his hand on the mouse and his eyes glued to me.

Dude, are you a fag or something? he asks. I close my eyes, and the crack splitting the facade is still visible in my mind.

I had been stupid. I hadn’t been thinking.

It had been an honest mistake.

I’m usually careful with my browsing history. My parents don’t snoop, but accidents happen, and I always make sure to delete the gay porn sites after I’m done doing my business.

Except this time I didn’t.

Justin’s appearance had been unannounced, not that that was out of the ordinary, but when he knocked on my door and entered my room, I simply shut my monitor off, zipped up my fly beneath the desk, turned and smiled.

We messed around for a good hour, playing Xbox and talking shit, and the memory of the men fornicating behind the black screen of my monitor faded and was completely forgotten when Justin sat down at the desk, switched on the screen and was greeted by the still image of two penises.

Answer me, bro. What the hell is this?

I can see the anger gathering inside of Justin, can see it pooling in his eyes and hear it dripping from his voice. He has a short temper, but it’s rarely pointed at me, and all I can do is stare at the crack while his furious winds blow.

I hear his fist hit the table and feel the ferocious reverberation roll through my body. His anger is growing, and I know it will erupt soon if I don’t say something, anything, to make it all seem fine.

I don’t know what that is, Justin. Really. Must be a virus or something. My eyes don’t leave the crack, and I can hear the lie in my voice, a soft spider weaving a web through the accents, and I know Justin doesn’t believe me, and I know nothing will ever be the same.

Bullshit. He stands, and I flinch, even though he’s all the way on the other side of the room. Bullshit.

We’ve lived next door to each other for 18 years and have been best friends for 13, and I can feel those years slipping away, becoming the past, and I am fearful for the present and blind to the future.

I can feel the water glassing my eyes, and I blink it away and beg myself not to cry, not to be some bitch pussy, and the thought just fuels the leaking, and I can feel a warm tear roll down my flesh. Just leave it alone, okay? Just leave it alone. This doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s not like I want to bang you, Justin. Jesus. I feel vulnerable now, open to the air, and I cross my arms across my chest and try to protect my heart.

So it’s true, huh? All those times we’ve slept in the same bed together. All those times you’ve seen my dick. Fuck that, Caleb. Fuck that. Were you checking me out the entire time? He takes a step towards me, and my eyes finally break contact with the crack, and the world is much uglier, much more imperfect than the imperfection in the facade, and I’m greeted with terrible reality.

I hug myself tighter.

Justin’s a good looking dude. Always has been. Short brown hair tops a short, stocky body, and his face is square and strong. A lot of women want him, always have, but I never did. It was never like that with him. We were friends and only friends, and that’s how I always saw him.

Is that what you think? That I just want every dude I see? It doesn’t work that way.

His face softens for the briefest of moments, and he appears to be digesting my words, turning them over in his head and looking for truth, but then the anger flashes again, and I close my eyes and see the crack. How the fuck am I supposed to know? I don’t know what fags do. This isn’t right, Caleb. It’s not fucking right.

I feel the wind of his movements, and I know he’s going to hit me. I open my eyes to blunt the force, but all I see is his back going out the door, and I can say nothing to stop him, and there are no words to describe my shame, and when he’s gone, the sick realization that I would rather he hit me rises, and I close my eyes tight and let the tears roll.

Chapter 2

The bed provides no comfort, but I cannot leave its embrace.

The midsummer heat is noticeable even in the air conditioning of my room, but I still drape a sheet over my body, a silly white shield against the dangers I feel growing close.

I have spent the entire day hoping for Justin to text me and tell me everything is fine, that he doesn’t care that I am gay, that it doesn’t matter, and every hour of silence fills me with depressing anticipation.

It does matter that I am gay.

At least to Justin.

I can feel our friendship crumbling. It makes me dizzy and unsure, and I know I have to make things right before I leave for college, before our lives break apart fully and we drift away, forgetting about all the good times. I know I need to repair things, but I cannot leave this bed, and I cannot leave my own head.

And what if he runs his mouth? What if he tells my secret?

What will my parents do if they find out?

I love my parents, and we have a good relationship. I never get into trouble, and they aren’t very strict, but I do not know how they will feel if they find out I am gay.

We never really talk about such things.

There’s a noose around my neck, and I can feel it tightening with every hour Justin remains silent. It is squeezing the life out of me, and I can’t find the will to rip it off, to break free, and I can do nothing but allow it to kill me slowly, to drain my life. This deep depression is foreign to me, and I try to scratch my way out of it, to escape its tightening grasp, but I am weak and unskilled, and I am beating against walls too strong, and I am tired and bloody.

You’re being a little bitch. Get it together. Get out of this damn bed and do something. Go for a jog. Watch TV. Masturbate. Do something.

The words become a mantra, and I focus on them as though they are the answer, as though they are the givers of energy and happiness. I close my eyes and chant my mantra, but the words do not hold power, and I punch the bed and sob.

I reach for my phone and tap Justin’s name, and the text bubbles greet my eyes. I type words and delete them three times before placing the phone back on the nightstand.

I’m too much of a pussy to text him.

I love Justin but not in a gay way. I run the numbers in my head and come to the conclusion that we’ve spent more than half our lives in each other’s presence. We are brothers, but I’ve screwed it all up, teared it all apart, and I wish I had the balls to fix it.

I pick up the phone again and then set it back down.

We had the gay talk once, me and him, and we were both in my bed, cuddled beneath the blanket, and I was incredibly uncomfortable when he said, I just found out my uncle’s a fag.

What, really? I managed to stammer out.

Yeah, can you believe that shit? Mom just told Dad. Apparently she’s been keeping it from him. I’m not allowed to go over there any more.

What? Why? I asked and regretted it as soon as the words were released into the air.

Why? he said in disbelief. Because he’ll touch me.

I knew he had to be joking, and I wanted to laugh, but when I turned and looked at his face, the seriousness was evident, and the disgust was chiseled into every pore. I don’t think it works that way, Justin.

Yes it does. All these priests fuckin’ these little boys. If they can’t keep it in their pants, then what chance do ordinary fags have?

His words pummeled my heart and choked any response before it could be given. His family had always been strict, his parents Christian pillars of a Christian community, but I always thought Justin would be different, more open.

Or perhaps I didn’t, since I never told him my secret.

The text alert on my phone sounds, and my heart jumps. This is it. Here it is. I grab my phone quickly and open my texts, and my heart sinks when I read the words.

Justin told me what happened. Imma B right there.

Chapter 3

I hear the doorbell chime its tune, and I sink deeper