I Saw You First

By Darien Cox

I wanted to give in to him. If only I could stop thinking about his brother...

Following a devastating childhood trauma, Jude Applegate has spent years picking up the pieces of his life and gluing them back together. Now, as an adult, his life is solid enough to begin taking some risks. So when an intriguing and handsome man asks him on a date, he says yes.
But then he’s forced to contend with the man’s brother, whose presence creates conflict, chaos, and confusion that threatens to upend the careful peace Jude’s spent years building.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darien Cox
• Release date: Jan 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370548774

Darien Cox

Author Darien Cox lives in New England and enjoys using romantic fiction to explore the intensity, insanity, humor, and chaos that accompanies cupid’s arrow. http://dariencox.com/

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I Saw You First

Darien Cox

I Saw You First

Copyright © 2019 by Darien Cox

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2019 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

First Edition January 2019

SMASHWORDS EDITION

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Prologue

The Luckiest Boy in the World

You wanna sleep over? Wally asked as the other kids were leaving the party. I already asked my mother.

My heart skipped as I watched Wally climb out of the swimming pool. Twisting to look behind me, I checked to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. But there was no one there. He was definitely addressing me. I was stunned to be singled out for this honor. Sleeping over at Wally Cook’s house? Me, Jude Applegate? This was blue ribbon stuff.

I wondered what I’d done to stand out in the crowd of other kids that afternoon. I was shy, so it wasn’t like I’d wowed Wally with my wit or sparkling personality. I wasn’t the best volleyball player by half. And I sure wasn’t the best looking. At least for a boy, I guess, since I was used to being teased I looked like a girl. But I suspected that had less to do with prettiness and more to do with my long hair. That, and my less than masculine physique.

No matter how much I ate, or how much firewood I chopped for my folks all year, I was still too skinny, my muscles small and unremarkable. And after a day in the pool, my auburn hair was probably tangled and stringy. Cutting my hair would ease the ‘har har, you look like a girl’ comments, but I hated the way my ears stuck out, so deemed it the lesser of two evils. Regardless, I doubted Wally found me visually appealing. Not that Wally Cook would notice another boy’s looks. Not the way I did.

But I was so humbled by the invitation, I didn’t really care how I’d managed to score it. I’d been thrilled enough to be invited to the party in the first place, since I’d only just managed to work my way into Wally’s friend group in the second half of the school year. I hadn’t thought it could get any better than when Wally called me on the phone once in a while just to talk...although I suspected he called all his friends when he got bored, not just me. I was certain none of his other friends were as thrilled by the calls as I was, however. Last time we’d talked so long it was after midnight when we finally hung up. But to be the only one asked to sleep over? All the jackasses from school would be jealous when they heard. None of them would admit it, but most vied for Wally’s attention. They wanted to spend more time at his huge house, swim in his pool, bask in his coolness. I wanted that too, maybe more than anyone.

But I was also nervous, because I’d recently begun to accept something about myself. I used to think other boys were faking it when they expressed revulsion at the idea of being queer for someone, that they must be hiding their true feelings, like me. But I was thirteen going on fourteen now, older and wiser. I didn’t trust internet searches because that was a good way to get found out, so I’d been reading a lot of books in the library about people like me, albeit privately, huddled in the corner with plenty of magazines to mask the material should someone walk by. I knew now that it was me who was different, so I no longer thought the other boys were faking it. They wanted to hang out with Wally because he was rich and popular and didn’t seem scared of anything. They wanted to be associated with Wally’s position in the middle school social hierarchy. But they didn’t have a crush on Wally Cook, the way I did.

It had to be a crush, because if I really thought about it, there was nothing particularly special about Wally beyond his good looks and magnetism. At least nothing he let show on the outside, though I was pretty sure some of Wally’s toughness was a façade. Every now and then I’d catch a sad expression on his face when he thought no one was looking, deep in his own thoughts. I was probably the only one who spotted this, because I was the only one discreetly staring at him all the time.

Sure, he could be kind occasionally. He’d asked on the phone one night what my favorite candy was, and thereafter would discreetly slip a Peppermint Pattie into my palm sometimes as we passed in the hallway at school. And he smiled at me a lot, sometimes for no reason at all. But at the end of the day, the two of us had little in common. I loved books for instance, but Wally bragged that he didn’t like to read, and was known to steal teachers’ answer keys before tests and pass them around. I never needed to cheat because I’d always done the reading, but one time I accepted the answer key from Wally anyway, just so he wouldn’t think I was a nerd.

Wally’s confidence was impressive, but it often bordered on arrogance, and he could be mean. Never to me, so far, but I’d witnessed him tease the other boys in a way that went too far sometimes. They’d play along like he hadn’t hurt their feelings, but I caught Emmet Barker crying in the locker room one time. Emmet was so mad that I’d discovered him in such a state, he shoved me against a locker when I asked if he was all right. I knew it was Wally that upset him, but Emmet wouldn’t admit it, said his cat died. Emmet was from Gullport, like me, and I’d been to his house before. He didn’t have a cat.

But I wasn’t wasting much sympathy on Emmet Barker today, because at the party he’d pulled my hair, calling me ‘Julie’ and making fun of my skinny legs. Wally told him to knock it off, and this defense of me clearly infuriated Emmet. Despite the tears I’d seen in the locker room that day, Emmet continually muscled in front of others to be at Wally’s side, desperate to win the ‘best friend’ title, so I selfishly hoped he’d find out I’d stayed over at the Cook house tonight and be sick with envy. Though I supposed I wasn’t much better than Emmet, because I coveted the best friend title too.

I’d first told myself what I felt for Wally Cook was admiration, maybe a bit of hero worship because he was so bold, and I so meek. But after today, that excuse was nixed. Watching Wally’s tanned body as we played volleyball in the pool, his lean form already widening in the shoulders, on his way to becoming a man while I still looked like a little kid. Thinking he was even cuter all flushed from exercise with his dark hair wet and slicked back from his face. Getting lightheaded every time he smiled at me. I knew now it was something else I was feeling. Something the other boys would make fun of.

But that didn’t mean I was going to say no to a chance to spend the night. Just being in Wally’s presence was thrill enough, but at night? Something about the falling light softened everything in the summer, and the thought of being away from my parents, out after curfew with someone I liked more than a friend? It made me feel like anything was possible. Like I was the luckiest boy in the world.

Yo, Julien. Wally waved his hand in front of my face. You hear me? Can you sleep over?

Wally was one of the only people besides my teachers who called me Julien, likely because he was new to our school this year, and had heard my given name called out in homeroom attendance roll each morning. My family, and most of my old friends called me Jude, but I didn’t bother to correct Wally. He could have called me Frank or Bill or Fuckface and I probably still wouldn’t have corrected him, because at least he was talking to me.

To hide my stunned excitement at Wally’s invitation, I shrugged casually and made a show of squeezing pool water out of my hair. What about your dad?

Screw him, Mom said it’s fine.

Wally acted like he wasn’t afraid of his father, so I guessed he was just used to him. Because Mr. Cook definitely scared me a little. Throughout the raucous backyard pool party, an end of the schoolyear celebration combined with Wally’s fourteenth birthday bash, his father came out a few times to make sure we were all behaving ourselves. The man was handsome like his son, tall and suntanned with a swoop of dark hair and extra white teeth. Just like Wally, Mr. Cook’s hair had glimpses of golden sun streaks even though it was almost black. Like he was so handsome even the sun couldn’t take its eye off him. He wore a polo shirt with pleated shorts and had the look of a civilized, sophisticated businessman ready for a round of golf.

But Wally’s father shouted a lot, screaming at his son to keep the music down and to tell his damn friends to put their soda cans in the recycle bin, calling us ‘fucking savages’. When he’d nearly tripped over a football left on the lawn, Mr. Cook threw it roughly at Wally in retaliation, hitting him in the face. I could tell that it hurt, leaving him rubbing his cheek. But Wally said nothing to his father, simply shook it off and continued playing in the pool. A short, awkward silence had befallen the rest of us, however. I couldn’t imagine my own father shouting and swearing like that, especially in front of my friends. And I certainly couldn’t imagine my dad deliberately hurting me.

Was this how the other half lived, or was it specific to the Cook family? Either way it was jarring and scary. I’d never spent time with rich people before, not the kind of rich Wally’s family was. Maybe they were just different. Wally was certainly different than any kid I’d ever met. He swore and talked back to teachers, smoked cigarettes behind the gym, and knew more about sex and grownup stuff than most kids. When Wally Cook started going to our school last year, it caused quite a stir. Everyone wanted to be friends with the new kid, drawn by his magnetism, cocky attitude, and rumored wealth. While Eastern Heights Regional served not only Gullport kids like me, but a combination of students bussed in from nearby coastal towns, we didn’t get many kids from Landing, like Wally. Landing was a wealthy town, and the rich kids usually went to private school.

Wally told us private school was boring, and that he’d chosen to attend the local middle school against his parents’ wishes. I couldn’t imagine what could be more boring than Eastern Heights, but Wally claimed there were fewer rules in public school, and the kids were more willing to break them, which he found appealing.

As my father drove me over for the party earlier that day, I learned fast that Wally’s wealth was more than a rumor. I’d been to Landing a couple times before, but not since I was little, so I’d stared out the window as we drove through the beachside town, noting the establishments boasting the Cook name.

Cook’s Boat Shop. Cook’s General Store. Cook’s Bar and Grill. And high on a hill was a gleaming white structure that looked like a small castle, a sign with an arrow announcing The Cook Family Inn. That made me chuckle, as the name suggested a quaint, family-run bed and breakfast rather than the enormous fancy hotel overlooking the sea.

My own family was in the hospitality business too, but on a far simpler level. We ran Beaver Tail Motel and Cabins back in Gullport, and my little sister Lindy and I had a comfortable life. We weren’t poor, but the Cooks would probably see us as such. Beaver Tail was just motel, but it was a nice one, and we got plenty of regular business from out-of-towners who wanted to get away from it all. And it wasn’t just tourists—the Gullport locals came by to spend the day at Beaver Tail in the summer, since we had a large salt pond with a beach right out back, and our property extended to include a maze of woodsy hiking trails.

We had kayaks and canoes and fishing gear for guests to use in the summer, but we were also open year-round, with cross-country skiing in the winter. While it wasn’t a grand castle hotel like the Cook’s place, it still required constant attention, so we rarely traveled as a family for our own vacations. I wondered now if this had made me naïve or sheltered, since Wally Cook was my own age but acted so much older. He’d been all over the world for his family vacations and had grand stories of all the exotic places he’d caused trouble in. I’d barely ever left Gullport.

But if I was honest with myself, I’d never really felt like I was missing anything. I had acres of woods to call my back yard, and the salt pond was a whole lot bigger than any swimming pool—even Wally Cook’s. So while I was impressed by Wally’s wealth, I felt no envy. The town of Landing was nice, but I didn’t think I’d want to live here. I liked my own town just fine. Gullport wasn’t far from Landing but was so different with its forests and cliffs and wide-open spaces. Spread out over a peninsula at the edge of the east coast, it was scrubby and swampy and woodsy, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. I even loved the rotten egg smell of the salt marshes.

Are you sure your dad won’t mind if I stay over? I asked Wally. He seemed mad earlier.

He ain’t mad, he’s just always like that. Wally gave me that arrogant look that made him seem older, chin tilted upward, dark brows lowered. His hair was drying, sparse sun streaks in rich dark brown, nipples hardening against his tanned skin as the sun sank and an evening breeze kicked up. I wished my hair was thick and dark like Wally’s. I even envied his underarm hair, black and silky, unlike my own barely visible blondish tufts. Don’t worry about my dad, he said as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Mom said yes so screw him.

I’ll have to call my parents.

Wally shrugged. So call them.

I made the call and my parents reluctantly agreed, though it embarrassed me when my mom insisted on speaking with Mrs. Cook first. My folks were a bit overprotective, and while I certainly wasn’t smothered, they cared enough to want to know all the details if I was going to be away from home. It shouldn’t have embarrassed me, but Wally acted like he was completely independent, and the fact that he had parents at all was just an annoying detail that didn’t directly affect his life. I didn’t want him to think I was a baby by comparison. I already felt behind in terms of maturity. More innocent. Less worldly.

But finally, it was done. I would be spending the night in Wally’s room. It made me feel sick with nerves, but at the same time I wanted to be behind closed doors with the other boy now, and not because of my crush. The family made me uncomfortable. A housekeeper scurried about cleaning up, while Wally’s two older teenage brothers, Harrison and Glenn, lingered in the large kitchen, their voices loud and jarring. They weren’t as good looking as Wally, a bit blockier with less refined facial features. The brothers ignored my presence as they strode to the fridge, threatening Wally with death if he told their dad they were stealing beers.

Finally, blessedly, Wally said, Let’s go upstairs and I followed him to the second floor where his bedroom was.

Wally’s bed was even bigger than my parents’. I couldn’t imagine my folks springing for a king-sized bed for just me. I still had the same lumpy twin mattress I’d had since I was nine. Wally rested back against the pillows, flipping through a comic book. Nearby, a cot had been set up for me, complete with pajamas laid out. A housekeeper came in and set towels on the pillow. Some towels for you, hon, she said to me.

Thank you.

Thanks, Maggie, Wally said without looking up. You’re the best.

The housekeeper, a thirty-something woman with sandy hair tied back in a bun, gave Wally a passing glance but said nothing, nodding at me before retreating and closing the door behind her. I thought I saw something sour in the housekeeper’s expression when her eyes fell on Wally but couldn’t imagine why. He seemed like a decent enough kid despite a few personality flaws, and he’d been polite to her.

Doesn’t she like you? I asked.

Wally looked up, frowning. Who?

Maggie. She gave you a funny look.

Wally’s face pinched in a grimace and he shrugged. She usually works at our hotel. Only comes here once in a while when we need extra help. I play jokes on her sometimes but she’s too uptight to appreciate my sense of humor.

Oh. I moved the towels and sat on the cot, feeling awkward.

Over on the big bed, Wally chuckled. Man, check this out. He turned his open comic book to show me. And that’s when I realized it wasn’t a comic book Wally was perusing—he simply had a comic book placed outside a porn magazine as camouflage. A large-breasted, naked woman dominated the page, lip curled into a pout, thighs spread, fingers pulling her bubblegum-pink vagina open.

I forced a chuckle. Wow.

Grinning, Wally resumed flipping through the pages, legs stretched out in front of him. He was still shirtless in his shorts, and I tried not to stare at his tanned chest and belly. You can come sit over here if you want, he said.

Okay. I stood and glanced down at the pajamas on the cot, wondering if I should change into them. Like Wally, I was still in only my shorts. The idea of sitting half-naked in bed with Wally...it stirred my penis to a hard little branch, terrifying me.

Wally glanced up from his magazine. Do you want to look at this with me or not?

Yeah, was just thinking about changing, I’m a little cold.

Here. Absentmindedly, Wally pulled the blankets down and shimmied beneath them. He patted the mattress beside him. Come get under.

Oh. Crap. Fearing any further hesitation would give me away, I quickly walked over and slipped under the blanket. I stayed near the edge of the bed until Wally glanced at me. Scoot over so you can see.

I shuffled over next to Wally. Leaning back against the puffy pillows, I tried to relax and pretend to be interested in the magazine.

Oh man, look at that furry one, Wally said, having flipped the page and discovered yet another naked vagina.

I snorted. Yeah. Pretty furry.

Wally flipped a couple pages, leaning closer so I could view the glossy nudes. You jerk off?

My mouth went dry and I giggled nervously. I guess.

Wally looked at me, his pretty brown eyes narrowed. You guess?

I mean...yeah. I have.

Laughing, Wally nudged me with his shoulder, then flipped another page. Of course you have. I started when I was eleven.

Yeah. I chuckled.

Our arms brushed together, and I noted the contrast between our skin tones. Despite spending hours outside helping my parents at the motel grounds, my arm was merely pink next to Wally’s tanned one. I’d inherited my father’s fair skin and auburn hair, and knew I’d never achieve that golden color. I pondered again if I was just jealous of Wally. Perhaps it wasn’t attraction, but more of an intense envy. Maybe I simply wanted to be Wally Cook.

But that thought went out the window when Wally reached under the blanket and adjusted his own crotch, shooting me a mischievous grin and making my blood heat. I have to do it every night, he said. Jerk off, I mean. If I don’t I have dreams and wake up with wet sheets.

Yeah, I said, trying to control my breathing.

A guy I used to know at boarding school said if you use Ben Gay numbing cream on your palm, it feels like someone else’s hand is jerking you off. You ever hear that?

No way! I laughed. It would burn.

Yeah! Wally cackled, head falling back on the pillow. Imagine having to explain that to the doctor.

Or your mom.

Right. Wally laughed harder, slapping his hand on my thigh over the blanket. Have you ever had someone else do it?

Thinking I must have heard him wrong, I squeaked out, What?

Ever had someone else do it for you? He rubbed himself over his shorts. You know. Like a girl or something. Ever have someone else touch it?

Oh. I let out a shuddering breath. I um...no. Was I supposed to have had such an experience at age thirteen? Was I behind the times?

Me either, Wally said, and I relaxed. But my relaxation was short lived, as Wally followed with, Do you want to try it?

My face caught fire. What?

You jerk me off and I jerk you off. It’s not gay or anything.

I know, I said, though I didn’t know. It sounded pretty gay to me.

You want to? Wally drew back the blanket and grinned down at my groin, which was embarrassingly tented by my erection. Yeah, looks like you want to.

It’s the magazine, I said defensively.

Wally shrugged. I know.

Sometimes it just happens for no reason, I continued. I knew I should stop talking, but fear was a panicked rabbit inside my chest, ready to flee, terrified my attraction to the other boy would be exposed.

Stretching back, Wally set the magazine aside. I watched, hypnotized as he opened his Velcro fly and shimmied his shorts down, enough to show the white tan line below his hips and a thatch of pubic hair. Then he reached down, and suddenly there it was. Unable to look away, I stared, heart pounding as Wally took hold of his exposed erection. It looked different than mine, thicker with a slight curve. Will you touch it for me? Wally asked. I’ll do the same for you.

Um...okay. With shaking fingers, I reached over and tentatively rested my hand on it. Wally’s penis was fever hot, the skin surprisingly soft, and I inhaled sharply when it twitched up into my palm.

And that’s when the bedroom door opened and Glenn Cook, Wally’s older brother, stepped into the room. "Wally you little shit did you take my...what the fuck are you doing?"

I lurched away from Wally so fast I rolled off the bed and thumped painfully onto the floor. Wally sprang to his feet and backed up into the corner of the room. His tanned face paled as his fingers made quick work of his shorts, tucking himself back in place.

As for his older brother Glenn, he stared open-mouthed, horror and revulsion evident on his blocky face.

He made me, Wally said, pointing at me. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t let him touch it.

"What? I climbed to my feet, heart hammering. I did not!"

Glenn’s face scrunched and he pointed at me. "Him? You’re telling me you were afraid of this little hippie fuck, Wally?"

He’s from Gullport. You know what kids from Gullport are like! He said he’d kill me when we got back to school! He’s probably got a knife in his locker!

As horrified as I was by Wally’s words, I was almost more stunned by his demeanor. For the very first time, I was seeing Wally Cook—the kid not scared of anything—looking utterly and completely terrified. And I didn’t think he was faking it. His lips trembled, and he was breathing too fast. I knew it was not me he was afraid of. But paired with his accusation, the reaction persuaded Glenn.

In four long strides, Wally’s older brother closed in on me, gripping me around the neck and shoving me into the wall. Little fucking perv! You threaten my brother?

No! I squirmed, and the meaty hand tightened on my throat. Wally, tell the truth!

I am telling the truth. Wally shot a glare of pure disgust my way, so convincing it felt like he’d gut-punched me. "You said if I didn’t let you touch my