24. THE RIGHT DIMENSION

/Charles/

“It's like a blanket falls over us, a blanket that covers the world around and makes us focus solely on what's underneath.
Pierre and I.
I realize I've gotten myself into a real mess when I feel myself getting hard and realize it wasn't supposed to be this way.
It wasn't supposed but that's what happens when I act on the spur of my enthusiasm then brought by what the fuck? I don't even remember.
What started this whole situation?
I was at home feeling pissed off, I looked at Instagram and saw a post from Max and I lost control. That's what.
I unfollowed him and now I'm here in bed with Pierre, at night, in some random hotel.
A really nice hotel, but whatever.
For some reason I don't understand, I felt happy. I officially declared war on Max and I felt so excited that I needed something I enjoyed doing or at least being with someone I liked to be with.
And Pierre was there.
Because Pierre is always there when I feel something.
Almost always.
Once or twice Max was there, but I always walked away because in the end I hate him, and even if he makes my hormones go wild, I'll never mess up with him.
Pierre is different. That's the problem.
It's him I have to run away from when I feel like this. Yet I look for moments like this, these are the ones that do me good. The ones when I feel good, when I feel like throwing myself into something strange, new, different. Something that simply makes me feel good, that gives me enthusiasm, vitality.
The longer I stay out of my fog, the better I'll be.
I'm happy, today I had a good time, I broke away from the norm, I changed plans, I did an improvisation, a bold move, and I had a good time, and tomorrow will definitely be beautiful at the beach together.
If I don't screw up tonight.
Please, Charles. Don't screw up.
Don't end up ruining everything, running away from him tomorrow and then being tense and weird every time you pass him on the track.
You know you'll see him for many years and even when we're no longer racing, I want to remain his friend, as I always have been.
Please, Charles, keep it in your underwear.
Even if it doesn't fit because it's hard and sticking out of boxers.
I go to the bathroom before climbing into his bed and rinse myself with the icy water, which gives me a considerable thermal shock. With relief, I see him withdraw and go back at his place, I sigh and roll my eyes.
He's just your childhood friend Pierre, not someone else who feels the same way as you, who likes boys and who attracts you when you go crazy.
Nothing happened now, everything was calm and peaceful, especially me and my hormones.
Why does the thought of sleeping with him make me feel like a teenager again?
But you know why.
Until you let off steam, it'll be like this; you know it'll always be like this. And it's not by doing nice, new, fun things you enjoy. Those aren't the things you need to do to let off steam; it's not your vitality you need to unleash.
It's your sexuality.
You've always repressed it and girls don't make you hot or cold. That's not the sex you want, the one that creeps into your brain.
It's sex with another handsome guy.
I go back to the bedroom, where there's only the small light above the bed, dimly illuminating the room, creating an intriguing atmosphere.
Too much.
Pierre is already lying under the sheets, as if we were cold and, in the middle of July in Liguria, it wasn't perfectly comfortable to be naked.
But he's wearing a T-shirt and a sheet that reaches halfway up his torso, covering the important things. His legs are bent and I can't see what matters.
I bite my lip, remembering that day he saw me sleeping naked. If I sleep dressed now, I'd be silly. I'd look weird and it would be weird to have scruples.
Especially if I have to sleep with sheets on when it's hot. I mean, there's air conditioning, but it's just the right temperature, so now that I'm worrying about how to fit in next to him, I feel like an idiot.
Fuck Charles.
Stop it or he'll ask you what the hell is wrong and I'm good at lying and pretending, but maybe with him and now, in this moment of crisis, not so much.
I take off my shirt without thinking because that's how I would normally sleep. I leave my boxers on and finally slip under the covers, plugging my phone into Caterina's charger, which is left on her nightstand, since she'll be using mine over there.
Why does my life have to be complicated?
Now turn around and talk to Pierre like you normally would.
- You remember? - Pierre suddenly says, probably feeling the same tension I do.
My eyes widen, leaving my phone on the nightstand.
Remember what?
When I slept naked and had an erection because I was dreaming of Max, and I actually slept naked because I masturbated while fantasizing about him, and you came in the morning to wake me up, and you got the hard erection?
Yes, I remember! Very good!
My dick remembers it again, too!
I don't know why the hell it's hard again now. Maybe it's because I could finally have my first damn gay sex experience with a handsome guy I'm attracted to, or maybe it's because I remembered the fantasy from that fucking night.
Shit!
I turn toward him turning off the light above the bed, the darkness becomes complete and it's better.
Once we're in the same position on our sides, looking at each other, our eyes adjust after a while; his shines and lingers on my arms and my bare chest, the sheet on my waist. In this strategic position, it's hard to see that I'm getting hard again. It'll pass sooner or later if I ignore it. It has to pass.
- What? - I ask because it's better to talk than to maintain this heavy, embarrassing, terrible silence.
For us not to talk it would be serious.
- How many times we slept in the same bed as kids when we went on vacation together... 
Suddenly, when he says that, I calm down.
It's true, we slept together as kids and there was no malice or embarrassment.
- We stayed up all night talking about races and drivers. - I say with a smile that helps me calm my nerves. He does the same and when I see his face light up in a sweet smile, we move imperceptibly closer without even realizing it.
- You were already obsessed with Lewis! - I remind him, so as not to let the silence return.
- Over time my obsession has gotten much worse! - he promptly mocks, putting a hand over his mouth in an unmasculine manner.
I laugh more relaxed and spontaneously and end up instinctively leaning closer to him again. Our faces are separated by a few centimeters. We feel our warm breaths smelling of toothpaste.
There's this precise moment when my head tells me to remember something crazy and keep laughing, but my mouth starts to open on its own, against everything reasonable and right in me.
- If Lewis were in my place right now, what would you do?
God, I don't know why I'm asking. It's just that maybe, deep down, for once, I want to see if he could push the limits like I do when I freak out and lose control.
Because if he does, it means we're truly in the same situation. For now these are just my intuitions, but I need concrete proof because then... but I don't finish the thought because Pierre responds to the idea I offer him in his typical way.
Which is to say, impulsively.
He stretches out for these few centimeters and closes the remaining distance by placing his lips on mine.
He touches them, intertwines and remains locked onto me without deepening. He doesn't open his lips, he doesn't stick his tongue out, he doesn't do anything else. Then he pulls back and as soon as he does and sees it's me, his eyes widen and he covers his face with his hands, letting out an incomprehensible cry that makes me smile.
- Sorry... - I distinguish. The rest must be, ‘I don't know what came over me, but you know you shouldn't tell me certain things about him and we had drunk a little this evening and...’ Something similar, definitely.
But I take him gently in my arms and hold him close, pulling him against me as I roll onto my back.
Pierre lets himself be done, climbs up and lets his head rest on my chest while I hold in my arms and kiss his forehead.
- It’s all right, it's you and me... - I repeat exactly the same words he said to me that time.
I understand them only now.
It's you and me and I think we'll end up together, because maybe that's our dimension, not friendship. What do you say?
But as long as we both have doubts and last-minute regrets, we have to stay so.
It's the best thing for sure.
- There are no problems between us, and there never will be. Don't worry. - I whisper again, stroking his back.
I feel good, absurdly good. He was the one who moved on and confirmed that he really likes me, even though his god was involved, for whom I know he feels real attraction.
But he wouldn't do that with anyone else. He did it with me.
I know that one day we'll move on, and it will be spontaneous and without even thinking about it too much. When that happens, it’ll be great.

I open my eyes because I feel like I'm being watched and I'm a light sleeper, so it doesn't take much to wake me up. Plus, when the room isn't pitch black, my sleep is even lighter.
The first thing I notice, still with my brain half gone, is that I'm alone in bed, but I remember very well going to bed with Pierre.
Well, without doing anything except a chaste kiss.
Thinking about it a mischievous smile plays on my lips. I think I like being courted by someone I consider special, or maybe even someone I like.
In short, I'm courted by thousands of people I don't care about. I appreciate their interest, but even if it weren't, it would be the same. What excites me is when I realize I'm liked by someone close to me, someone I know well, or maybe someone I even like.
Which category should I put Pierre in?
Among those I like or among the relevant people?
Wait, what was that TV show I never had time to follow and in the end abandoned?
My parents used to watch it... Person of Interest!
That's Pierre!
My person of interest. I don't know what gender he is, but he's definitely special compared to the others and I know he likes me, if nothing else as a guy. That really excites me.
I'm not pestering him or pushing him to try, but if he gets lost in admiring and appreciating me, even through spontaneous comments, fish-eyed faces like the one he had when I opened my eyes and caught him staring at me from outside on the terrace, or maybe tender kisses or caresses... well, that's fine.
Is that all there, or do I really like him?
I yawn and turn around stretching, letting the sheet fall to my waist, making me look naked again like that morning and I hear a noise from outside. When I look back, I see Pierre picking up the chair he must have fallen into, so I can't help but laugh, amused and pleased.
I definitely like it when he's dying for me, as he seems to do at times.
I pretend nothing's happening so as not to embarrass him and check my phone to see what time it is. It's quite early for my standard, I read the incoming messages and reply to the most important ones, while my head sends his lips back to mine.
I mentioned Lewis, I encouraged him, I knew he'd do something. He'd had a bit to drink and he's not one who can handle much, but after we talked for a long time before we went to bed, I didn't think still had effect.
Honestly, I don't think it was the residual alcohol fumes.
I arch my back, lying on my side facing outward of the bed. I know he's looking at the curves I offer him, I know the sheet is sliding further down, twisting around my hips and the dimples of my butt are showing because the comfy boxers I'm wearing have gotten caught in the sheet and have slipped down slightly. Just enough to make me look more and more naked down there.
I bite my lip, curled in a sly smile, as I try to figure out what's going on down there and I notice with amazement that everything's fine.
I don't think I dreamed of having sex with Pierre like I did with Max that time.
I'm a little surprised, but then I shrug and tell myself it's simply better this way, I can handle the situation. Evidently I've returned to normal. Or evidently it was as I thought before.
It's the idea of being liked by someone important that excites me, but it stays there.
Finally, I decide to get out of bed remaining as I am, checking myself again. Everything's fine. No flag-raising. Okay, better this way.
I come out in my boxers, throwing myself, still yawning, onto one of the comfortable chairs on the terrace overlooking the sea, where we'll be going soon. I turn toward the other French window that leads to the second bedroom. They gave us two rooms adjoining the terrace; there are also separate ones, but this solution was fine for us.
- They’re still asleep. - I note without the slightest intention of going to wake them up in a romantic or sensual way like two good, and above all true, couples should.
Pierre certainly doesn't think about it for obvious reasons. It shouldn't be the same for me, but I feel exactly the same way.
I don't know what I really want in my private life right now.
Thinking about it I get serious, looking back at the sea, which today, during the day, is clearly visible.
The color is the same as Max's eyes.
I don't know what I want to do with men, whether to look for one with whom I can have a normal relationship, as secretly as possible, but something that could perhaps become serious and attractive, or just indulge a few whims and let off steam sexually and that's it.
It depends on what I want to do with this conversation about myself, given that I have to do something and it would be better for me to decide soon. Based on that I'll decide what to do with girls. I'm not even obligated to have a cover girl if I don't want to, even though I know it's convenient anyway.
But right now even a fake relationship, so to speak, requires time and energy and I don't think I have them, especially not the desire. Then Giada will end up asking me why we don't have sex anymore and at that point I'll also have to tell her that I'm simply not attracted to her anymore.
But it'll be easy, I'll use Ferrari as an excuse.
I look at Pierre who is strangely silently gazing out to sea, like me. It's a little chilly, but it's only mild and the heat is already starting to make itself felt along with the salty air.
It's almost like being at the beach already and it's beautiful.
I think Pierre is thinking about last night's kiss, maybe he wants to understand if it'll weigh on us, but I don't want that to happen.
He fell asleep on top of me and slept on top of me the whole time, but he didn't bother me. This morning he woke up first and who knows how long he spent watching me sleep. It's disturbing, but sooner or later he'll have to come to terms with himself and make a decision.
Although I understand him, I feel the same confusion.
I think we like each other somehow, but it's not clear how and above all, we don't want to ruin our friendship.
No, it's not easy, and it's best not to talk about it. Not now that I'm well and back to my epic perfect control. I can handle again and that's what I intend to do as long as I can. Today will be a good day. Pleasant but above all, normal.”

/Max/

"I'm drinking my lovely gin tonic through a straw, half-sitting on the deckchair on the boat under the hot sun, as it should be.
Someone's playing some pop-electronic music on the speaker which I don't mind. It has a good rhythm and even though I don't understand anything about music and never listen to it alone, it pumps me up and fills me with a certain enthusiasm.
It might also be thanks to my lovely gin tonic, but today I'm fine. Luckily, since I'm with Daniel and some other mutual friends.
He was a little disappointed when I told him the others were coming too, but he didn't complain openly.
I asked him if he was okay with it and of course he said yes. I hate to take advantage of it because I know he'd preferred to be alone with me, but since I know I’ve a shitty mouth that won't shut up, I make sure I'm not alone with him.
I promised him we'd celebrate together and I couldn't go back on it, so in the end the compromise is a boat and a ride on the jet skis with the others.
As soon as the one in control of the music goes to play our toys, Daniel jumps up and takes control of the playlist playing some rock that makes me laugh. While I do so, he throws me some ice that bounces on my stomach, which isn't very tanned despite my serious commitment to the sun.
The sun and I are friends if we don't bother each other.
Today is much better; I've shaken off the negative effect of my father, and luckily we have mutual friends, Daniel and I, and we all hang out together without any problems.
I know I need to talk to him, but I don't want to.
He knows it too, he's not an idiot, but he's careful not to force that conversation.
I think we're almost there.
Daniel, after getting more ice that he sucks and finally feeling fulfilled for the music he likes, sits down on the deckchair next to me and, with a quick check on the others still in the water or on their ski water, he leans toward me and give me the ice cube he had placed between his lips.
I take it and hold in my mouth, then Daniel takes the one he had thrown at me and which I had let slip over my dark blue trunks. With a mischievous smile, he retrieves it and begins to caress me with it, moving down my thighs.
I shiver as the icy cube passes by, contrasting with the heat of the scorching sun. When he slips it under the leg of my shorts finding my groin, I instinctively bite the ice cube into my mouth, which makes a loud crunch making Daniel grimace, staring at me as if I were crazy.
We look at each other through our dark glasses; he's annoyed that I bite the ice and it's not my thing, but it's not like I did it on purpose!
- You piece of shit, what are you putting that in there? - I complain, without really scolding him.
He looks at me with feigned surprise.
- Oh, does that bother you?
He takes the cube back, but when I respond with a grimace and a childish tone: - Yes, it bothers me THERE! - he quickly unties the waistband of my swimsuit and slides it inside me, leaving the ice there. After that, he starts to run away.
He tries, because despite the shock that's turning my dick into a newborn's, I, without thinking, stick my hand completely into my glass of gin tonic, grab as much ice as I can, put the glass down and just as he's running away, I grab his swimsuit from behind, pull it and shove the ice cubes inside.
One of them is definitely going for it, his unmanly scream rising above the din coming from the powerful speaker. I try to put another one, but Daniel, struggling, pulls down his swimsuit and naked as a worm, manages to free himself first from my hand and then from the ice. After that, while he insults me and laughs like a maniac, he runs to the edge of the boat and, with a nimble movement, dives into the water, luckily away from our friends' jet skis, which could have run him over.
As he sinks, the air bubbles rise with the sunglasses the idiot was wearing. I stay on board, holding his swimsuit, but I'm in no hurry to catch up with him. I retrieve my lovely gin tonic, or what's left of it, and finish sipping it while watching him amused and happy.
It's easy to think so now; we haven't talked about it yet, but I think we'll be able to stay that way even afterward.
Now there's no sexual connection between us anymore, we basically don't have sex anymore and neither of us is looking for the other in that way anymore, for fear of yet another colossal failure, but we're still good together as long as we don't force ourselves to be lovers.
As friends we work great and I'm happy about that, so I think it’ll definitely take some getting used to, but we'll find our place.
I just have to figure out when and how to do it, but yes. I think everything will be okay in the end.
I was terrified of losing him as a person and a friend, but when he resurfaces after a long time of being down, waving me the middle finger with both hands and laughing in his wonderful, sunny way, I'm certain we'll be able to be just as good as we are now. It'll just be saying it and admitting it out loud that's the hard part, but then we'll go back to being like this because we're already just two great friends and that's what I want.
- Do you want it? - I say twirling his swimsuit on my finger. He tilts his head, feigning indifference.
- Oh, if you want I can stay naked the rest of the day. What's my problem?
Crazy as he is, he might as well do it, so I put down my glasses and now-empty glass, then without any crazy acrobatics, I climb over the side of the boat and dive in with his swimsuit. When I reach him, I pull it over his head almost completely covering his face, leaving only his mouth uncovered, and I give him a quick kiss after glancing at the others who are far away from here.
A few last tests.
Even if I’m sure, I have to be even more so. That I won't do anything stupid by leaving him.
Sure that there's absolutely nothing wrong.
From this side of the boat, no one can see us and he wraps his arms around me; still wearing his swimsuit like an idiot, opens his lips and comes towards me with his tongue. We entwine and kiss hugging each other in the sea, and it's beautiful again, for a moment, but when he reaches down under my swimsuit searching for my ass, I realize we're not there anymore and instinctively I slip away, pretending to play and be an asshole. So I swim away leaving him there alone, struggling with his swimsuit and hurling a series of insults at me.
We laugh again and I feel better.
Again, the awareness I had just experienced before kissing him.
This is our dimension.
I don't know why everything changed or how, but I know it happened and that's a fact. That's all that matters. This is reality now and we just have to accept it.
I love you, Daniel. I always will.
But unfortunately, there's nothing else left. But you'll see that we'll still be good together. That we'll still be happy and always laugh like this. I promise you.
I'll do my best to make it that way. We'll get through this.”