Travis - Part 1 by Lavro

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Travis - Part 1

The music was too loud, and the bar was sticky. Good thing his arms were covered by his long blue and orange flannel sleeves. Not that a mess bothered him. Travis tilted his glass back, swallowing the last of his warm beer. It was his third. No, his fourth. He couldn’t remember. The glass nocked the brim of his ballcap, releasing a lock of hair that fell dangling past his eye. It was practically muscle memory: Travis lifted his trucker hat and pushed his dirty blonde hair back, closing the hat on it, tucked behind his ears, loose, handsome curls covering his neck and hovering above the collar of his flannel shirt.

Even always being trapped under his hat, his hair was soft. He was careful to hide his conditioner bottle and argan oil when the guys came over. He’d never hear the end of it if they knew. At home, alone in him room, he could just barely tie his growing hair back into a small knot if he let the back hang loose. He liked the look but was far from courageous enough to appear in front of his friends or his family like that. The hat would have to suffice.

As he nodded to the bartender for another beer, he noticed someone was looking at him from the corner of his eye, only a few seats down. The young man smiled shyly once he had been noticed, but Travis didn’t smile back. Somewhere, a glass fell and broke. Travis looked away as a cold beer was plopped in front of him by the bartender. The head was thicker than it should have been. He picked it up anyway, taking another deep gulp. He noticed the man had moved a seat closer.

"Can I help you?" Travis asked, studying him.

"You’re over here all alone," he answered politely with an attractive voice. "I thought you might want company."

He looked over the guy. Unlike Travis who had a chinstrap beard, his face was smooth with snake-bite piercings below his bottom lip. His jawbone was angular, evident, and sharp, complimenting his thin build. Black eyebrows with shaved lines in them hovered above icy blue eyes. The sides of his head were shaved to prickly stubble, the top of his hair spiked and messy, dyed a muted pink with dark roots, but the longer back was his natural black. Absolutely no part of this man seemed to fit with Travis, who sat perched on his barstool in dirty boots and blue jeans.

"Are you a queer or something?" Travis asked, somewhat slurred.

"I guess that depends. Are you going to hurt me if I am?"

"What?" Travis finally smiled at that. Chuckled even. "No. I’m just trying to pick up what you’re putting down."

"I’m Blair."

"Yeah, that’s a pretty fruity name." He laughed again. "Travis."

"Alright, Travis," he replied rolling his eyes. "I’ll leave you alone if you’re going to be rude." He made to move further away.

"Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I’m not used to…"

"What?"

"You know… I’m not from around here."

"But you came to this bar and we’re talking." Blair noticed Travis retreating within himself at that remark. "Where are you from?"

"Oh, I live about an hour outside of town." Travis gestured waving his hand in a generic direction.

"Country boy," Blair gave him a naughty grin, but Travis wasn’t looking at him. "I wouldn’t have guessed. Have you ever been-?"

"No." Travis took another large gulp of beer, his pulse rising. "I, uh, like your style though. It’s unique."

"It’s just me," Blair’s tongue ran along the metal inside his lips, by habit. "And you look like anyone who drives a tractor."

"I don’t drive a tractor!" Travis protested amusingly.

"A truck then?" Blair raised his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah, I do drive a truck. You got me there."

"You’re not driving it home tonight, are you?"

"Not if I don’t have to," Travis couldn’t believe he had said that out loud.

"I live just a few blocks away."

"We’ll see," Travis answered skeptically.

The two continued their drinking and talking, the strange tension slowly melting away. Travis came here not knowing what he would find. Despite all difference, he found something about Blair to be very attractive. He wasn’t like anyone he knew or associated with, and yet was funny and relatable. There was a glimmer of wit in his eye as he spoke in a wry and flirtatious manner, allowing Travis to lower his guard. Soon, Blair was right next to him. Their drinks were empty. Their tabs were paid. The night called them together.

***

Sharp sunrays bolted across the low fields as Travis drove home in the early hours of the morning. He would have been dreading the judgement of his father if his mind was not so fixed on his long evening with Blair. Any feelings of wrongdoing, guilt, or shame were gone. Whatever that was, it felt right. Even when Blair became a little forceful. A little commanding. Travis liked to be bossed around, he realized to his surprise. And when Blair pulled his hair… god. Luckily, they got a few hours of sleep before he had to drive back and get to work. It was the late planting season, and days were growing longer and hotter. Travis reflected on Blair’s last words to him. "See you same time, next week." They didn’t exchange numbers though.

Arriving at home, he drove past the old barn, onto the long gravel driveway, pulling up to the house where he lived with his father. Walking into the house unprepared to explain himself, Travis saw his dad exactly where he expected to; He was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread across it, taking a sip of black coffee that steamed up his glasses. He took them off aggressively when Travis walked in.

"Where the hell you been, boy? We should be getting out the door now and you’re just walking in!" His hand went to the top of his bald head, a genetic factor that kept Travis paranoid.

"I know. I’m sorry. I’ll hurry up." Travis picked up his tired pace, running in to the bathroom.

"We have a lot of work to do son. Can’t have any slacking off this time of year! And the fellas will be out here tomorrow, bright and early." He yelled so that Travis could hear him through the closed door.

The lights flickered on, and Travis took off his hat. Minus a few locks that fell loose, he had proper hat hair, held in place in a way that almost looked slicked back. He turned on the sink and splashed his face with cold water. He ran his wet hands thorough his hair. As usual, his fingers pulled back his hair at his temples, always noticing the slight recession of his hairline that he kept hidden. It was no more than the average guy experiences, but it was enough to make him self conscious. Especially seeing several of his long hairs fall to the sink when his hat came off. He combed his hair back, releasing more hairs before putting his hat back on and running out the door.

He had a quick moment for breakfast that was consumed by the voice of his father’s chastisement. Travis had hoped that by twenty-five years old he would be given a bit more wiggle room. The pair went about mending fences, plowing, feeding the goats and cattle, and he took a truck bed full of garbage from the barn to the dump. His flannel had come off in the heat, revealing a dirty tank top and strong arms underneath. Tiring, endless work though made easier with thoughts of Blair. Long after the beaming sun had crossed the zenith and slid nearer to the distant hills, their labor was done. Everything was ready for the additional hands, most of which were Travis’s friends, who were coming the following day.

"Bright and early, and I mean it son," Travis was further harangued. "And tomorrow is gonna be hot hot. So, you’ll need real rest if you’re gonna be of any use."

"I’m not going anywhere tonight, Dad," Travis said, wishing he were lying, wishing he was going to see Blair again.

Once inside, the deep indigo sky crept in through the open windows along with the music of singing insects. Travis could finally take a shower. He removed his hat, tank top, and pants, unsettling his damp hair with his hands so it fell loose and wavy, covering his ears and dangling at his cheekbones. Standing in the mirror, he looked at his toned chest and farmers tan, his scruffy chin strap. He recalled the night before, after their more intense activities, lying in bed while Blair twirled at his hair.

"You ever shave your face? I think you would look really hot." Blair told him.

"I haven’t had a smooth face since I could grow a beard. I guess I could try it."

Travis felt compelled by Blair’s desire for him to shave his beard, although it made him nervous. His resolve was to do it though, even if he looked dumb, and even if the guys would tease him the next day. He had an electric trimmer that he would use to line it up and shave his mustache. It was black, heavier than it looked, with a sharp T-blade. With his resolve set, he powered the trimmer on knowing it would cut to the skin. He tucked his long hair behind his ears, then began removing the hair from his chin. He immediately noticed a small dimple that he had forgotten about, a tinge of regret swelling in him. But it was too late. Of course, that regret was balanced with the ease of shaving his beard off without the tedium of having to line it up, worry about it being too high, or too low, or not straight enough. So he thought.

A few more swipes and he was left with long sideburns. He looked at himself for a long moment, pleased that he did indeed appear very handsome. The sideburns were too long he decided. He boldly pressed the trimmer above the tragus of his left ear, and slowly eliminated the sideburn on one side until it was gone completely. He then went to the right side, repeating the process, shaving down the last of his facial hair. He looked to each side to make sure they were even. No. The right side was higher. Damn it.

Raising the trimmer to his left ear again, he slowly cut it higher, trying to make it as close to even as possible. His hand shook slightly as he pressed the trimmer down to meet the hair. Too high! Now, his left side was higher than the right. Much higher.

"Ok, idiot, stop screwing up," he said to himself under his breath.

He rose the trimmer again to the right, confident he would be able to even it out with the left side, which now was almost to the top of his ear. Lining the trimmer with the fragment that remained of his sideburn, he leaned into the mirror to see it closer. As he moved to close the trimmer against his upper ear, the long lock hooked on his ear loosened, falling between the loud teeth of the trimmer and his sideburn. A terrible sound of the blade cutting through the hair made Travis jump back. He turned the trimmer off, only to find a long-severed lock of hair fall to the sink. With panic he rushed back to the mirror. He grabbed the long hair tucked behind his ear and pulled, releasing an even thicker lock of severed hair into his fingers. A mass of short hairs now hovered above his high sideburn. He tried to tuck them behind his ear again, but they were far from being long enough.

Travis immediately though of Blair and his haircut, with the severely shaved sides, all the way up his head, and the back left long. There was no way he could do that. He loved the style on Blair, but never in a thousand years would he want his hair like that. Still, he had seen people with long hair who would cut the sides short just at the ear. That’s what he had to do, although he didn’t know how. All he could do was use the trimmer to shave it off and wait for it to grow back. Just do it, Travis. In a diagonal line from the top of his ear to the bottom of his temple, more area than he had originally accidentally cut off, Travis fed his hair to the trimmer, a few quick passes instantly revealing a triangle of pale white scalp, connecting with his hairless face. He tucked the remaining long hair back, the texture clashing attractively with the newly cut area of hair. He liked it.

He moved to the next side, in the same place, cutting a diagonal line across and releasing another series of long locks into the sink. Turning the trimmers off, he rubbed the new stubble on his head. It felt just like Blair’s when Travis ran his hand across his head in their passion. He felt powerful. He combed his hair back and threw his hat on to see how it would look. It was sharp. Too sharp. But he would have to get over it, or shave it all, and there was absolutely no chance of that happening. He took his hat off again, letting his hair fall loose.

He gathered up the locks of severed long hairs in his hand. Just a minute ago, that eight inches or more of hair was attached to where there was now only scalp. Travis couldn’t understand, but something about it felt erotic. All of it. His beardless face. His haircut accident. And all of it because of his one night with Blair, who he couldn’t get out of his mind. His excitement showed as he dropped his underwear and turned on the shower. Travis was sure to make the water as hot as he could handle, to feel the steam and water on his head and tired body. He stepped in, letting the jet stream soak his body and his hair, his hands scrubbing in the shampoo. Rinsing. Then the soft, spearmint scented conditioner. He rubbed it in, letting his fingers glide over the fresh, stubbly sides, rubbing them too. Rubbing his body. Rubbing everything, his eyes closed, thinking of Blair, thinking of his slim, toned body, his tattoos, his pink hair, thinking about rubbing him too, and rubbing himself at the mercy of sensation, heat, and lust.

***

Travis rose early the next morning, as he promised. He threw on his jeans, his boots, a fresh t-shirt to work in. It was going to be hot. In the mirror, he combed his hair back and threw on his trucker cap again, dazzled by the empty space around his ear and the cleaned and conditioned curls at the back. He liked the look but was nervous about what the guys would say.

As he sipped a cup of coffee â€" with cream, unlike his dad â€" the sounds of tires on the gravel driveway alerted him to their arrival. His dad had been awake, preparing a large breakfast for the lot of them, as he usually did. They would need a lot of energy for the work ahead. The guys let themselves in, all three of them, Derek, James, and Nick. They knew the drill. Frankly, Travis though they were all handsome. Three young, muscular guys, but his friends, who were very straight. They think I am too though. He wondered as he greeted them all.

"What the hell happened to your hair?" James immediately said to Travis, earning snickers as the crew said their hellos and took their seats for a quick bite.

"I went to high with my trimmer," Travis blushed.

"It doesn’t look bad," Nick butted in. "Just a little gay." Another round of laughter.

"Would that be a problem?" Travis asked boldly, almost confrontationally, in a way that suggested a test of loyalty rather than an admission of his sexual tastes.

"Dude, relax. I’m just kidding," Nick responded, trying to be polite. "It doesn’t matter anyway. We told you what’s up today, right?"

"Besides work? No." Travis was confused.

"You didn’t get the text?" Derek asked. "I brought clippers and we all agreed to buzz our heads today. Before it gets too hot out."

"What?" Travis asked, his throat running dry, his heartbeat elevating.

"Just get to it quick, boys," his dad added, annoyed. "Travis just cleaned out the barn, so take it out there. I’m not waiting around all day either."

Travis rose a hand to the back of his neck, feeling his long curls, struggling to imagine them no longer being there. But they were all going to do it, and Derek had as much to lose as he did. He couldn’t be the only one not to get a buzzcut… could he?

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