Last Chance

Two pretty dire months had passed since Devon had his encounter with his oldest friend, Jason. Devon found a job at what he would best describe as a "dying" Best Buy in its payroll/accounting department. After cashing out his 401k for which he'd been a responsible enough guy to start when he was just over 19 (and he even refused the urge to cashout during COVID when there was no penalty) he managed to cobble together enough cash to plant himself at an Extended Stay hotel for at least a month or two. Three or four more ahead of things, if he

really

lived frugal, which hadn't ever been his style.

He returned "home" one Thursday night carrying groceries (read: a bag of chips, salsa, pepperoni, and some light beer he hadn't messed with since he was in high school), pressed the keycard against the reader of his door and headed in. Right away, he crashed into the rather worn chair the room was furnished with. He had his PS5 hooked up to the TV though it was always such a pain to change out all of the proprietary hotel cable TV back to his PS5 that he didn't think he had it in him tonight. Instead...

"Fuck it. Let's get drunk."

Well, that's what it was. It's what is usually was. It's what it always was. Generally at a quietly lesser quality of what was the getting drunk part.

He popped a beer and gave one a good chug. Half of it was gone right away. These were 12 oz. cans, of course, and not 24 oz.s or anything crazy like that - he wasn't a

maniac,

after all... today, at least. With that, he leaned back, scratching at the stubble on his face and trying his best to ignore the horrible week he'd been having at work so far. Eventually he reached into his pocket and wrenched out his cell. He looked over the last few texts he'd sent to Shannon over the past few days and weeks, both over text and FB Messenger.

"Yeesh,"

he whispered to himself. "Yeah, I wouldn't respond to those either.

Fuuuck,

man. I'm an idiot. Suck a fucking idiot. I'm going to crawl into the fucking concrete now! I probably belong there because

FUCKKK!!!

" But he still looked over them intently. Couldn't be helped. Now, he couldn't tell if the actual texts were read by her or not because he was an Android user and she was an iPhone lady. The FB Messenger texts, however, while still showing unread, didn't convince him one bit. That was a whole different story! "You

saw

those. You

did."

He set his phone down on the armrest, still clutching it and banged a knuckle against his brow a little with his free hand. "Not your fault.

Not your fault."

It was then that his phone vibrated in his hand and lit up. Startled, he lifted it up and looked at it. He opened it with a mixture of terror and excitement.

It was a text. From Jason! Right away his features lit up and his eyes widened. Terror, it was! But still a modicum of excitement.

HI DEVON. LOOK, MAN..... IM SO SORRY HOW THAT WENT. SORRY SORY.

Devon found himself taken aback. He didn't know what to even think about that, how to process that. He began to type a response which would have been something to the extent of "NO NO, I'm sorry!" but his fingers flew off the phone when it said Jason was "typing." So he waited. On the screen it looked like Jason stopped when he, too, saw that Devon was typing. Devon smiled gingerly that Jason was a fellow Android user. Small victories. He'd take one, at this point.

The next text came from Jason:

LOOK, I WANNA TO MAKE IT UP TO U.

Devon was all ears. Or eyes, really, in this case. His heart started beating faster. He reached out and finished his beer.

"No,

no,"

he said to himself, while already walking towards the kitchen. "This calls for sterner stuff." He quickly found the fourth full bottle of Tito's he'd left there for special reserve. He brought it back to his chair and then picked the phone back up and found a new response already.

CAN I? IS THAT COOL?

Devon had no idea what to say back. What could he even say to that, after how that last encounter went down? After a quick exercise in humility, he found that might be the best path to traverse.

Devon wrote:

LOOK, BRO. I FEEL SO BAD ABOUT THAT NIGHT. I WAS PRETTY FADED. IT WAS ALL MY BAD. MBE I WAS COUGHT OFF GARD. IF THERES ANY CHANCE I CAN MAKE IT RIGHT *YOU* TELL ME. REAL SHIT.

He exhaled after sending. Then waited for the response with literal bated breath. It came in short order:

YOU HAVE NOTHING TO APOLLOGIZE FOR MAN. I WAS STUPID. I JUST REACTED Y'KNOW? CAN YOU FORIIVE ME?

A pause, and then another follow-up.

SORRY DEVON. MAY HAVE HAD A FEW DRINKS HERE. BUT I WNT YOU TO KNOW I AM SORRY.

Devon smiled, nodded, and chuckled a little.

Well, we're in the same boat then, at least! Sort of...

Devon fired off another response:

I'M DRINKING HERE TOO. NO WORRIES AT ALL MAN. FORGET ABOUT IT. YOU'RE MY BEST AND OLDEST FRIEND FOR REAL. I NEVER WANT TO LOSE THAT.

And then the wait. But it wouldn't be for long. Devon snuck a couple of shots of Tito's in anticipation just for good measure. Jason's response:

YOU WONT, BRO. BUT U KNOW WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED WAS KIND OF HOT.

Devon almost had down his shot when he spit it across the room almost as a spittake. What the fuck did he just write? He set down the shotglass and held the phone with both hands then.

There was no way in the world he was reading this correctly. But IF he was... goodness gracious, could he ignore it? Obviously he'd let slip he was drinking... should he ignore it as such?

Should

he? The truth comes out in drinking and all, they say (some say)... but apparently it turns out they say very different things to the people seeking treatment for alcohol addiction, so was that a wholly reliable way of thinking even to begin with? Devon had to deal with that once with a DUI he'd beaten when the cop never showed up to the trial he'd pushed it to against the advice of his public defender ("public pretender" is the more popular vernacular amongst his inner circle when he still had one).

Gah! I have no idea!!! What the

FUUUUCKKKK!!!

Devon thought to himself in frustration.

Suddenly, Devon realized he'd left Jason hanging for like 6 minutes without a response. And he realized how that probably left him feeling after sending such a message - ASSUMING it was sent in earnest. Before he could think about too much more in detail, a new response from Jason came:

WYD?

And fuck, what a response. A loaded question. Yet given his last message... it seemed reasonable to follow suit, no? That was the general rationale of Devon. As he sent:

TALKING TO MY BEST AND OLDEST FRIEND. WONDERING HOW SOON WE CAN HANG.

A response wasn't long in coming from Jason:

HOW BOUT NOW? I KNOW YOUR IN A BAD PLACE BUT I WANT YOU TO FEEL GOOD FOR ONCE. I GOT YOU.

Devon was at a loss. Could that mean what it obviously seemed to mean? Surely it did! His heart started thumping uncomfortably. He wasn't prone to anxiety attacks or anything of the like, but what was going through his chest and head seemed like what he'd basically understood was one. He seemed deathly afraid, suddenly. As to how to respond, or how to... well, really do anything at this point. He was about to send a "Safe" message then:

I APPRECIATE THAT, BRO. YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD MY BACK AND IM SORRY I MAYBE FUCKED THAT UP. ON EVERYTHING. THIS TIME WILL BE DIFFERENT.

But he didn't send that yet! Devon sat there, that message about to be sent to Jason. He stared at it a while. Nodded at it. Agreed with himself that it seemed sound within his conscience and whatever angels and devils may or may not be on his shoulders at this specific hour. Then he reached aside and poured himself one more Tito's shot. Took it. Shook it off, then looked at it again. He deleted the message entirely, backspaced it all.

Yeah, fuck it,

he thought to himself.

Why not?

Wrote a new one immediately:

LETS FUCK. YOUR COCK WAS HOT AGAINST MY ASS. WHAT WE DID WAS HOT. LETS DO MORE, YEAH? I'M DOWN AF

Devon smiled as his finger once again danced around over the "SEND." But not too long this time. Bam!

SENT!

It was off, then. Done deal. He then laughed out loud at his joy at this moment. Maybe Jason would come back with condemnation. Or confusion! Or worse, arguably... maybe nothing at all. Who knows? What is there to lose, was the general rationale of the spirited moment.

He leaned back then in his chair. He found himself rather content in his choice at that point, with his oldest and best friend. What's the worst that could happen, at this point? Cards have been shown. Even if Jason was just being a drunkard, surely worst case was just... nothing, then, right? So just more of the same. Nothing lost. Then the phone lit up, and then... Jason's text came through.

HOW LONG UNTIL UR HERE? U WITH THAT AMAZING ASSSSSS

Simultaneously while Devon read the message his cock was growing and hardening. How couldn't it? Also... his smile was widening. Neither matter could be helped, and it was all happening at the same time. It was as weird and new as it could ever be any other thing for Devon but it was what it was. He felt sweat appear on his brow as his earlier accelerated heartbeat returned.

Suddenly his thoughts drifted to more... well, depravity. Such thoughts he'd never even considered ever before. Sure, he'd beaten off to this or that porno of this variety or that. An occasional foray into lesbian porn for a good whack, or a good two or three dudes on one a chick, but yeah, occasionally a gay one for variety, but never seriously - and even in those instances surely it was just "a bad seed." In his mind at the time he'd masturbate it out and count it out as, "Hey, that was just a

bad

seed. The next one will be 'right." He had been a good boyfriend for Shannon for so long, after all... for all the good that did him, at the end of the day. Fuck that, right? All the while it had never even entered Devon's mind such a thing as what's going on could be a real thing, particularly with

JASON.

At this moment it seemed like a real thing. Or did it? If he decided to

push.

And maybe he didn't even need to.

Well? Now? Things were looking

up.

Maybe.

Maybe.

But he'd do anything for Jason, for certain.

To be continued....