
Be sure to read part one of this column if you missed it last week.
The Tipping Point
By Steve Prince
After hearing a crunch, I turned around just in time to see Peter's fist pulling back from the guy's face. Blood gushed down from the guy's nose as Peter bounded back like a boxer waiting to strike again.
You'd think that blood pouring from your face might stop you from fighting, but not this guy. After being hit, he stepped back stunned and then lunged towards Peter, rage flooding his eyes. Thankfully, his friend wasn't going to go after me.
"Jim!" he yelled grabbing his arms, "Stop! Don't be a prick!"
"Peter!" I went to hold him back.
Peter turned at me and growled, "Don't fucking touch me!"
I stood frozen. The intensity of his anger scared me.
"I'm sorry," Jim's friend called while trying to restrain the bleeding man. "He's drunk and acting like an asshole."
"Well, he should fucking know better," Peter shouted. "I'm not a fucking fag!"
Tearing himself away, Jim adjusted his shirt and flexed his chest. "Get off me," he said to his friend. "I don't fucking need this. Fuck you, both."
Peter began to move towards him, but this time I caught his arm.
Jim quickly ran off with his friend trailing behind and even in that moment I wanted to laugh at his cowardice. I tend to giggle when I get nervous. But judging from Peter's face, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
The ride home was abysmal. Not only had Peter been drinking, but now he was furious. Everything I said to calm him down only riled him up. Finally I gave up and focused on driving. I just wanted to get home.
More
"QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Tipping Point"