Sidecar
Amy Lane
Top 10 Best Quotes
“I’ve loved him since I’ve known him, Mrs. Daniels. He just finally stopped fighting.”
“That’s the definition of bisexual, Casey—pretty girls and pretty boys, it’s like an all-you-can-fuck buffet!”
“we’ll talk about another. Are we okay?” “I’m not old enough for this!” Dev said, his voice sharp. “I’m not old enough to end up here. I’m not old enough to test for AIDS, I’m not, I’m not—” “The hell you’re not!” Joe hissed, because the boy’s voice was rising and breaking. “You’re old enough to have sex, you’re old enough to think about this. Yeah, I know—you used to be able to fuck and all you had to worry about was crabs or knocking a girl up. We can’t do that anymore, and we can’t go back. If you can’t look yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m gonna get laid tonight, and I need some fucking condoms’, you’re not old enough to do it. But once you start putting your peter some place besides your pants, you’ve got to cowboy up, do you hear me?”
“But then, life with Casey would tend to be that way for Joe—moments of gorgeous, shining faith and moments of agonizing, painful doubt. Joe was young in his way too. It would take him years before he recognized the ebb and flow of true love.”
“The moment started moving, thick and painful, sweet like honey, and Casey closed the door to his car and walked around it, spotting Joe in the window. For a moment he waved and smiled, as natural as the two of them had been over the past six years, and then he stopped. He looked directly at Joe, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what was different, what was wrong, and Joe was simply caught in the moment, a fly caught in honey, and Casey sighted him and looked him in the eyes… And knew him. Joe flushed, feeling young and vulnerable, and the smile that played at the corners of Casey’s mouth was… was not saintly in the least. His eyes were narrow, and one corner of his mouth was higher than the other; his easy slouch straightened up, and he moved sinuously, arrogantly, like one of the cats who knew that rat in the chicken feed was his for the taking. Joe just sat there, still caught, not sure what to do with this sight of Casey as adult, and beautiful, making his blood sing under his skin, making him shiver, making him ache, just by smiling in the sun.”
“That was… oh, God, Joe. That was… I honestly didn’t know what the fuss was all about. God. We can do that again, right? Please tell me we can do that again!” Joe’s lips curved up into a slow smile. “Give me fifteen minutes and a washcloth and we can probably do it again tonight. Good enough for you?” Casey smiled back, unbelievably sexy in the dark of the room. “Yeah, old man—I’ll be impressed as hell if that’s all it takes. But I wouldn’t object.” Joe pushed Casey’s sweaty hair from his eyes. “I love you, kid. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to make you happy.” Casey’s grin turned serious. “I love you too, Joe. You know that, right?” “I do,” Joe said softly. “I do. And I believe it with everything, or we wouldn’t be here.” The grin returned, but it was luminous and brighter this time. “Good.”
“She’s happy for me because she knows I love you. If that love’s changed, well, she knows me. She knows it’s still love.” “But what does ‘I know’ mean?” Joe sighed. “Are you really going to make me state the obvious?” His brown eyes were mild, and accepting, and sad. Casey felt his mouth wobble, which went with the chin quiver, which went with the fact that all of his muscles seemed to be wrapped around his throat. “Say it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you say it so it’s not between us ever again.” Of course it wasn’t that easy. But for the moment, he’d pretend. “Fine,” Joe said, resting his face on his knees. His hair fell behind him, and not for the first time since Casey had seen this big, burly biker on a foothill back road, Casey saw past the mustache and the soul patch, saw beyond the hair, and saw a relatively young man, probably as vulnerable in his gentleness as Casey had been in his youth. “It means that you don’t have a functioning uterus, so we’re probably not going to have children.” Yeah. This was not going away, whether they talked it to death right now or not. Casey suddenly felt that loss almost as keenly as Joe. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes burning with real, sudden, unanticipated pain. “That you fell in love with me? That you made it stick until I loved you back the same way? Don’t be.”
“My dad started shouting,” he said, hearing the sharpness, the anger, in the background all over again. “He told her to ask me if I was still a fag.” Casey swallowed and looked at Joe helplessly. “I mean, I turned down a date with Dev to make this phone call, right? He’s… he’s getting damned good at the hand job… thought we might progress from there… and she’s asking me if I’m still ‘one of them’ and I’m thinking, ‘One of what? A boy? A high school student? What the hell am I one of?’ and I say, ‘I still like boys, Mom,’ and suddenly Dad’s got the phone and he’s shouting at me that I didn’t get to come home, ever, if I was still a sissy little—”
“Make me hope,” Casey begged. “I can wait—I’m not sixteen anymore—but make me hope.” Joe closed his eyes, feeling totally vulnerable, but there had never, ever been a time when he could refuse to make Casey happy. He didn’t kiss by halves. He seized Casey’s small face in his big hands and shoved his fingers through that straight sandy-blond hair, and liked the texture so much he did it again. Casey’s narrow, streetwise eyes grew wide and shiny and his flat mouth puffed up because his teeth worried it in anticipation. Then Joe framed his face, holding him just so, tilted his head, and lowered his mouth with force and decision. Casey groaned and opened his mouth at the first touch of lips, and Joe took command. He liked kissing that was hard, with lots of tongue, and he started by tasting the inside of Casey’s mouth and forcing his tongue to engage. Casey got the hang of it in a moment and brought his own hand up to the nape of Joe’s neck, digging his fingers into Joe’s neat braid and hanging on for dear life. Ahhh… kissing Casey this way was glorious. He kissed back hard, rapacious, demanding more and more and harder.”
“Joe and Casey locked eyes one more time, and Joe was half-defiant—You wanted this!—and half-pleading—Save me! Casey’s beseeching look back told Joe all he needed to know. “Why sure, Mrs. Cahill. Whatever I can do to, uhm, deepen my commitment, right?” He turned and smiled at her, knowing that he had a nice one, with well-cared-for teeth and generous lips under his mustache and soul patch. She was so close he could smell her cosmetics. “For one thing, you could call me Sandy.” Joe licked his lips. “Well, Sandy,how ’bout we go into the other room and talk while Casey goes and does his homework.” He looked up at Casey and rolled his eyes, while Casey mouthed “Thank you!” with almost desperate gratitude. Sure, the little bastard would thank him now! Where was he going to be when Joe had to ’fess up to Sharon, whom he had almost convinced to stay the night? But it didn’t matter. He had a condom in his pocket, and Mrs. “Call me Sandy!” the social worker was rubbing his thighs, and he had a job to do. Joe had to go take one for the team.”
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Book Keywords:
relationships, love
