The bane of my existence when I was growing up was my older brother, Jared, and running close behind him were his two best friends, Matthew and Brian. Brian wasn't too bad, at least most of the time. But Jared and Matthew's motto was: ‘if it wasn't crazy, it wasn't worth doing'... which meant using me as the guinea pig. Between their antics and the stunts they thought up, I'm surprised I didn't die by hanging, drowning, or death-defying jumps. It was usually on account of Brian that I didn't; it seemed he usually saved me at the last possible second.

But I found little ways to get back at Jared. A couple of times I found some creepy-looking spider that I'd put in his sock and underwear drawer. Once I even put a few fire ants in his bed. My favorite revenge was using his toothbrush to clean the toilet, or using toilet water when he demanded I get him a glass of cold water, and if I happened to dribble a little in it, so be it. The day Brian caught me in the bathroom, I was sure I was a dead guy, but he winked at me and let me pass, with the glass of cold toilet water in hand.

Oh yes, those were the days.

The crazy antics seemed to finally settle down when I was eleven. They were sixteen and got into playing soccer and God forbid, girls. They spent numerous hours in our huge backyard practicing drills and goal shots. Matthew was a goalie, Jared was a midfielder, and Brian played forward and striker. So, Jared and Brian would run the ball down the length of our yard, trying to retain possession of it, dribbling it between their feet, passing to each other, one always trying to steal it away from the other, and Matthew was on the other end, attempting to block and stop Brian from making the goal. Me? I sat on the sidelines sketching them.

Occasionally on the weekends, they'd say they were going down to the river to catch fish for supper and didn't object to my tagging along. I soon realized that I was only allowed to tag along because Jared and Matthew were meeting up with the neighbor twins, Faith and Hope, who were fifteen. Apparently, they thought I would be the one to catch fish, so Mom wouldn't be any the wiser. Brian would sometimes lie beside me, a cap pulled low over his eyes blocking the sun, letting the pole dangle in the river while I sat beside him sketching. We never really talked much during those times; it was always pretty quiet. Brian sometimes joked how the girls' names meant that one had hope where Jared and Matthew were concerned, while the other had faith. The first time he said it, I scrunched up my face, causing him to laugh at me; it only took me a moment to catch on, and then I couldn't stop giggling once I figured it out. It never failed that the guys would come back smelling of sickening perfume and lipstick smeared on their faces and shirts, and more than a few times, I noticed their shirts were buttoned wrong.

Other times, Brian would join the guys, and they'd come back laughing loudly and smelling like they had been in my father's whiskey. Those times also held threats against my person if word got back to my father.

But the year I was thirteen still burns in my memory. It was May of 1983. I was lying on the living room floor sketching, when Jared, Matthew, and Brian came in, along with Faith and Hope. Jared kicked my foot and told me to get up, as they needed another girl.

I soon came to realize that the girls were there to help the boys practice dancing for the prom. My mom had originally shown the guys how to slow dance, but this was the last ‘rehearsal' before the actual dance. Since they were short a ‘girl', Jared expected me to fill in. I scoffed and muttered something about 'in his dreams', but his threat of telling my dad that I was the one who broke my mom's crystal vase, instead of our cat, Ginger, had me pulling myself off the floor and setting my sketch pad and charcoals aside.

One of the girls stuck an Elvis cassette into the player and grabbed Jared's hand, while the other grabbed Matthew's. I looked at Brian, not sure how this was supposed to work. I was pretty small at thirteen, and Brian was at least eight inches taller than me, meaning the top of my head barely hit his chest. He was a good sport, though. He held out his hand, putting one of mine around his waist, and he stuck his other one on my shoulder. It took a little bit to get into the swing of it, so to speak, but I didn't think we were half bad.

When the next song started, so did my nightmare. Elvis' voice started crooning, Can't Help Falling in Love, causing Brian to pull me a little closer. He was looking down at me with those gorgeous eyes of his and before I could even register it had happened, I realized I was getting hard. Brian abruptly shoved me away from him, saying he had to get home. My face flushed scarlet, and I turned and ran from the room.

I didn't see Brian until the following week when he and Matthew came over in their tuxes to pick up Jared. Matthew drove a Grand Marquis, and so they opted to use his car since it was the biggest one of the bunch. Unfortunately, my face went crimson once again upon seeing Brian. Jared asked me if I thought they all looked devastatingly handsome. I mumbled, "Sure," and got up and headed down the hall to the bathroom, practically tripping in my raggy, too-big pants in my haste to get away.

That was eight years ago, and the very last time I ever saw Brian.

*

I was working at my weekend job at a bar not far from Pratt Institute where I was enrolled as a junior. The night had been fairly quiet so far, but then the doors opened, and a large boisterous crowd of people came falling in. The boss leaned over and whispered, "Keep an eye on them; they look like trouble."

You think?

The group went about pushing tables together and pulling extra chairs over. I was just about to head over there to take their order, when a couple of the guys came up to the counter. They were both wearing black jeans, black leather jackets, and had on dark sunglasses.

The lighter-haired guy said, "We need seven beers, four double shots of whiskey, and one cocktail."

"Um, it depends on what kind you're thinking of." We really didn't cater much to fancy drinks.

"That's okay. Another double whiskey, then."

At this point, the tall dark-haired guy standing next to him leaned on the counter, and said, "So, Justin, how are you doing?"

"Excuse me? How do you know my name? Do I know you?" My mind went into overdrive. This guy looked hot, and I couldn't remember meeting someone like him at school.

"Yeah, you do. Or you used to. Do you still go down to the river to sketch?" Then he pulled his sunglasses off and I saw those incredible golden-green eyes that I had spent thousands of hours dreaming about as a teenager. Eyes that I would know anywhere.

"Brian? Oh my God! It is you! What are you doing here?"

"Bachelor party."

"You're getting married?" I could hear the pitch of my voice rise.

"Hell no! He's," he says, pointing his thumb at the guy standing next to him, "getting married tomorrow, and I'm the unlucky bastard standing up for him. Tonight's his bachelor party. So, how are you doing? How's that brother of yours? I haven't seen him for a long time."

"Jared's doing good." Jared was actually stationed in Florida enrolled in the nuclear program with the Navy.

"Yeah, I know. You can't talk about what all he's doing... you might have to kill me if you give away his trade secrets, right?"

I chuckle. "Something like that. But listen, I better get your order. More people are coming in. I need to get to work."

The bar got busy, and it wasn't until the group got up to leave that I saw Brian stop at the counter. I was happy he stopped before leaving. I hadn't had a chance to talk to him.

"Hey, Justin. We're heading out now. Tomorrow I'm going to be busy all day with the wedding, but I was wondering if maybe on Sunday you'd like to meet up for a late afternoon lunch before I head back? We could catch up."

"Ah, sure, Brian. That would be great. There's a little place called Joe's Diner just down the street. I could meet you there... say... 3:00?"

"Great. I better get going. See you then." With a backward wave of his hand, he was out the door and disappeared into the dark night.

*

Saturday came and went. I did homework and laundry, then worked that night, which was good, as it kept me from thinking too much about meeting up with Brian today. I walk into the diner about ten minutes early to see Brian already sitting in a booth drinking coffee, so I slide in on the other side.

If I thought he looked nice Friday night... Well today, he looks positively scrumptious.

"You look none the worse for wear after a wild weekend, Brian. How do you manage?"

"Good Irish genes, I guess."

"Ah. So, where are you at these days, Brian?"

"Actually, I live in Manhattan. I'm an ad exec in an ad agency there. I even have my own corner office."

"Cool." I'm watching Brian closely, and I'm already starting to feel the butterflies in my stomach again. I watch as his tongue occasionally teases the corner of his mouth after taking a sip of coffee.

"Justin? Hey, you with me?" Brian says, while snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I shake myself out of my observation of Brian and stupidly say, "Huh?"

"I asked what you're doing these days."

"Oh. Pratt Institute. Art major."

"Wow. I always thought you were pretty talented, and I'm happy that you were able to pursue your dream."

"Well, scholarships really help, but thanks."

Brian reaches across the table and touches the small scar I have on my right temple. It's pretty faint now. It was caused by one of Jared's suggestions that I drive their homemade go-kart down a muddy incline, causing me to fly out, going face-first into the mud, and unfortunately, a rock.

"It's hardly visible anymore. I was so pissed at Jared that day." Brian shakes his head. "I told him you could have really hurt yourself. The stupid shit just laughed."

"Yeah, well. Big brothers and all that. Although that wasn't quite as bad as when we were playing cowboys, and they decided to hang me from a tree. If it hadn't been for you climbing the tree and cutting me down, I wouldn't have been alive to drive the go-kart." I laugh at the absurdity of that.

"That's true. Or how about when they pushed you out of the small boat to - and I quote: 'get rid of the dead weight' - and your legs got tangled in the heavy weeds."

"Oh God, that's right... I must have been about six then. You dove in and managed to cut me loose and pull me up. But just think, I got all those cute little stuffed animals from you every time I almost met death, so it wasn't all bad. I'm not sure if I ever thanked you for them, so thank you. It always helped make me feel a little better. Would you believe me if I told you I still had all of them? Gus Bear is still my favorite, though. Best of all, I was given a reprieve from any other crazy stunts Jared and Matthew could think up for a while.

"So, what's going on with you these days? I don't see a ring yet. Any plans on getting married?"

Brian huffs a laugh. "Not likely."

"Why not?" I know my forehead is probably scrunched as I wonder why the laugh.

Brian looks at me intently, before quietly saying, "Let's just say guys like me don't get married, at least not in the sense my buddy did yesterday."

Guys like me... oh! I notice Brian's look. I can tell he's waiting for my reaction. I look down at his long fingers and the way they curl around his mug, up to his mouth, and then settle on his eyes. I guess it's time for me to come clean.

"Yeah, me either," I whisper.

"Really? Hmm, well, in that case, I think it would be nice for us to get to know each other a little better, Justin."

I invite Brian back to my place. I'm a little embarrassed for him to see my shabby apartment. It isn't much. But to me, it's better than living on campus, and it's neat and clean.

We visit for a couple of hours, have a few drinks, and talk about days long past, before Brian finally brings up that embarrassing moment in my life.

"Do you remember when we were practicing dancing in your living room?"

I cover my face with my hands, already feeling the heat and knowing it's reddening. Brian gently takes hold of my hands and pulls them from my face.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you by bringing it up. I brought it up because I think I need to explain my actions that day. I felt your reaction, and realized you were affecting me the same way. I was confused and wanted to get out of there before it became obvious. Justin, I had never slept with a girl, unlike Jared and Matthew. You can't imagine the thoughts running through my mind at the time. I'm sorry for giving you the wrong impression."

Brian brings his hand up and cups the right side of my face. His thumb caresses my cheek, before he leans in and then hesitatingly, kisses me. He pulls back, and I can read the question in those beautiful eyes.

"Brian, I've never..." I trail off. Not sure what he even meant.

"Justin, I like you. I think I liked you way back when. But you know how confusing it was? Me being attracted to and liking my best friend's little brother... in a way that I shouldn't have? It scared the crap out of me. You were a darn cute little kid, and you've grown into this more-than-gorgeous man. I'd like to get to know you better; that's if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm interested!" I chuckle softly.

"If I come down next weekend, do you think we could spend some time together?" Brian asks, rising from the sofa.

"I think that can be arranged. I really would like to see you again. I always did think you were pretty special. Who knows, without you around, I don't think I would have even made it to the age of eleven," I say, chuckling once again.

We walk to the door, and Brian says, "It was good to see you again, Justin, and I finally got to do something I wanted to do a very long time ago," and he leans down to kiss me once more before turning to leave.

As he opens the door, I reach out and grab his wrist. When he turns to look at me with his eyebrow raised, I say, "Next weekend? Why wait? If you're interested, the bedroom is this way."

"You sure?" Brian asks, sounding hesitant, yet hopeful.

You bet! "Yeah, I'm sure."

He closes and locks the door, and I slide my hand down into his and lead him into my bedroom, where we begin the first night of the rest of our lives.

~ THE END ~