Playing for Keeps

Chapter 1: Thad The pub is crowded and dimly lit. Probably a good thing. That way no one will realize just how young they all are. But this is Europe, Thad Archer thinks as he stares into the glass of dark soda sitting on the bar in front of him. It tastes more like rum than Coke, even though he told Mark not to get him anything alcoholic. He isn’t old enough to drink. None of them are, not even Mark. Of course, what’s legal in the States isn’t the same as what’s legal across the pond. Thad heard that one today and it still makes him grin to remember it. Across the pond. As if the flight from New York to Munich hadn’t taken all blessed day. Still, Thad can’t be sure Mark isn’t lying when he says the legal drinking age in England is eighteen. No one asked for ID when they entered the pub or even asked Mark how old he was when he ordered drinks all around. With his prep school haircut and hairless baby face, Mark gets carded all the time back home. But this is Europe, Thad reminds himself, taking a tentative sip from his glass. Home, yeah. That sounds good right about now. As he sets down the drink, he looks at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Upbeat techno music thunders around him, so loud he can’t make out the song itself, just the driving rhythm pounding through him like furious waves, over and over until he reels from the lights, the sounds, the people. The place is packed, but despite the crowd, Thad has no trouble picking out their group. College kids from the States stand out pretty much anywhere they go in Europe, particularly when they’ve never been anywhere outside their own country before. No matter how much they try to blend in, they fail miserably. In Munich, Rome, Paris—it’s been the same at every stop. They’re too clean-cut, too all American, too Abercrombie and Fitch, too something. New T-shirts, Levi jeans, and geeky dance moves give them away. Even here—no, especially here, in this pub, or bar, or dance club, whatever the Brits call it. Somehow, Thad doesn’t think his parents had this place in mind when they agreed to help pay for him to go to Europe for two weeks with Richmond State’s marching band ensemble. * * * * Until tonight, the band director had managed to keep them on a strict schedule. A week ago, they flew into Munich, armed with an itinerary designed to keep them busy. There’s free time allotted for them to visit the cities on their own, but since most of the band members have never traveled internationally, most of the kids don’t deviate from the course. There seems to be a different museum to visit each day, and concerts in the evenings. The first time Thad read the schedule, the word concert sent a thrill through him. He’s eighteen, yes, but has never been to a rock concert. Still hasn’t—turns out the shows they’ve seen are all orchestras playing classical music. After the third one, he opted to stay back at the hotel instead. There are thirty people in their entourage, all told—ten chaperones, six riflemen, the rest members of the marching band. Thad plays clarinet, and even though he’s only a freshman at the college, he holds second chair. In high school he played saxophone, and in the small town where he grew up, he’d been a damn good player. But Richmond State is a large school in a large city, and the first day he arrived for band class, his heart fell at the row of saxophonists tuning up. There weren’t too many clarinets, so he switched—it’s similar enough to sax, in his opinion. Maybe not as sexy, but hey, second chair, right? As if he’d ever be able to use his status in the band to land a date. Correct that—as if he’d ever be able to actually land a date. He isn’t unattractive. At least, he doesn’t think he is. In the mirror, he sees a young, shy guy staring back, and if he doesn’t look too closely, he can pretend his dark eyes aren’t scared shitless. This time last year, he looked forward to college as a chance to get away from the nosy, closeted community he’d grown up in where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Where he’d hidden all his life, pretending to be what was expected of him, pretending to be what his parents wanted. A good student, check. A member of the church choir, check. Active in the school band and sports, check. Straight. Check, check, check. He’d had girlfriends back home, but never anything serious. Girls who were friends, he likes to say, but in the quiet of his mind where no one will hear him and ask what he means by it. He had friends who were boys, too. Boy friends, but they were always two distinct words. In such a small town, he never dared to try and weave them into one. College is supposed to be different, but after six months, all Thad’s done is look. His gaze shifts in the mirror, swirling across the blur of faces in the crowd until it settles on Jamie McIntosh. Jamie. God. * * * * Jamie’s a freshman, too, same as Thad. He lives down the other end of the hallway from Thad on the same floor of the same dorm. Quick to laugh, he has careless hair he can’t seem to tame and an infectious smile he shares with Thad every time their paths cross, be it at band practice or in the dorm. He said hi first, three days after Thad moved onto campus. It was the Sunday before classes started and Thad was in the bathroom, using the urinal and praying he could finish peeing before anyone else came in. After growing up an only child, sharing a hallway with twenty other guys was a bit intimidating. The bathroom door opened and Thad jumped. “Hey, man,” the kid said with a casual wave. He ran the hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “I’m Jamie, room 403. What number are you?” “What?” Thad choked. He started to turn toward Jamie, then remembered his unzipped pants and hurriedly hunched his shoulder to the wall, blocking the view. As if Jamie might be interested in stealing a peek. “Thad. Other end of the hall. Four-something.” His mind refused to work. In the quick glimpse he had of Jamie, his heart stuttered and his c**k stiffened in his hand. Almost perversely, his bladder finally decided to let loose at the same time. “We’re all four-something,” Jamie said with a laugh, right behind Thad now. God, you’re hot, Thad thought. His d**k twitched and he prayed Jamie didn’t have to take a piss. The last thing he wanted was to be seen sporting wood in the bathroom of a boys’ dormitory. “Four-eighteen,” Thad said. That sounded right. Part of him wanted to holler, Stop talking to me! while the rest of him never wanted the conversation to end. “You’re Peter’s roomie?” Jamie asked. Finished peeing, Thad flushed the urinal and tucked himself in his pants before turning to the sink. Jamie leaned against the counter, watching him. Watching. Hell. Thad hugged the wall as he approached to wash his hands. “Peter, yeah. You know him?” “He’s in my band class,” Jamie explained. “I play drums. He said his roommate played, too…?” Thad scrubbed his hands furiously to avoid staring at the sexy guy beside him. After a long moment, he realized Jamie was waiting for an answer. “Um, yeah. Clarinet? It’s, um…” Jamie grinned. “I’ve heard of it. Are you marching, also?” Thad could only nod. Marching, yes, right back to his room and locking the door to jerk off as he imagined this meeting ending with the two of them in his bed. * * * * Yeah, Jamie. Thad swallows the rest of his soda as he watches the way his friend moves on the dance floor. Here Thad is just another pair of eyes, anonymous in the crowd. There’s no chance Jamie will look over and guess the sordid thoughts racing through Thad’s mind. Jamie’s dark, wayward curls wink in the light reflected from the disco balls, and his body moves like seaweed in water, that graceful. One moment his shirt pulls taut across his thin chest; the next, his jeans hug his butt. If Thad closes his eyes, Jamie still dances in his mind. It makes his heart ache. I love him, he thinks. Jamie dances in the mirror, lost in the mindless rhythm of the club, blissfully unaware of the turmoil his moves cause in Thad’s loins. It’s that simple, I love him, I want him, I need him. As a friend, yes, but God, as so much more. And what in the world am I supposed to do about it? The answer is clear—nothing. His parents don’t know he’s gay. No one back home does. Thad thought college would be freer, more liberating, but so far he hasn’t gathered up the courage to come out to anyone. The six months he’s lived down the hall from Jamie have been delightful torture. Friendship grew between them but nothing else, and no matter how Thad tries to imagine making a move toward something more, he can’t. He doesn’t want to lose what little he already has. Besides, what would his friends say? Peter Davis, his roommate? The other guys on the hall? Peter’s brother Seth, who plays trombone, or Mark, the drum major? Or anyone in the band? No. He can’t take the chance. Even here, thousands of miles away from his real life, he doesn’t dare reinvent himself. He takes another sip of his soda and winces at the taste. He wants to go home now. * * * * The pub visit had been Mark’s idea. Mark Thompson was a junior who’d been with the band since the first day he stepped on campus. He’d worked his way through the instruments, mastering each, until the director appointed him drum major. He was her favorite student, the star pupil, and could do no wrong in Mrs. Canada’s eyes. On their itinerary for tonight was a scheduled performance by the London Symphony Orchestra. All the students were expected to attend—the cost of the show constituted much of the fee they’d paid for the trip. But the pub was down the street from their hotel, and earlier in the day, Mark convinced Seth they should ditch the concert and party instead. Mark made the suggestion at lunch. Seth jumped at the chance. “I want to check out these British birds,” he said with a laugh. Then, sobering up, he looked across the table to his brother. Peter sat between Thad and Jamie, friends with both. “They still call them that, don’t they?” Peter shrugged, but Mark let out a heavy sigh, as if just remembering he and Seth weren’t alone. “s**t, man. You guys are going to tell.” “We won’t,” Peter started. Jamie cut him off. “Not if you take us, too.” “I don’t really want to go to a pub,” Peter groused. Jamie elbowed him playfully. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Thad’ll go, won’t you? Thad?” He leaned forward to look past Peter. Thad felt his cheeks heat up as all four guys looked his way. Truthfully, he kind of wanted to see the London Symphony Orchestra play—it was only one of the most famous symphony bands in the world. A pub sounded like the last place he’d want to be. But if Jamie was going, well, Thad could always try to find a video of the performance online. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll go.” Mark clapped his hands together. “All right then. We got ourselves the makings of a party.”