Rogue Affair

by Rhys Everly

  MrRomantic: Because I’d only break his heart.

  Sweet_Peaches: So you keep saying. But there’s only one way to find out.

  MrRomantic: I could say the same thing about meeting me.

  Sweet_Peaches: Maybe he wants his heart broken.

  MrRomantic: No one wants their heart broken.

  MrRomantic: And don’t avoid my question.

  Sweet_Peaches: Maybe the risk of a broken heart is half the fun.

  MrRomantic: There’s nothing fun about a broken heart.

  Sweet_Peaches: I know. Trust me.

  MrRomantic: Is that why you won’t meet me? Because some douchewaffle broke your heart?

  Sweet_Peaches: No. That’s not it.

  MrRomantic: Then why?

  Sweet_Peaches: I wish I could tell you.

  MrRomantic: But you can’t.

  Nothing new. Nothing had changed. The last few days our conversations always circled around the subject. He’d told me in so many ways, so many times, that he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  But I kept pushing.

  The app pinged with a date request and a pop-up screen asked me to reject or view more.

  For the first time in a while, I was tempted to open it and see if I was being hung-up on some guy, or guys even, when my happy ever after was still out there.

  Without thinking too much about it, I clicked the ‘view more’ button and was introduced to a new guy I hadn’t talked to.

  It was happening a lot more lately now that I only ever chatted to Sweet_Peaches and nobody else. Quite ironic considering.

  His name was Oscar, and he’d even already picked a place for us. The Flaming Fillet.

  Well, at the very least, if the date didn’t go well, I’d have decent steak.

  I clicked to accept the date, and my screen returned to my chat with Sweet_Peaches.

  Sweet_Peaches: Sorry.

  Well, he could apologize all he wanted, it still didn’t make my situation any better.

  MrRomantic: That’s ok. I just got myself a hot date.

  Or at least I hoped it was hot. I opened Oscar’s date request and looked at his pictures.

  He was cute. Brunet. With glasses and an obsession with Star Wars.

  Sweet_Peaches: Oh. What about your high school friend?

  MrRomantic: Well, he’s just a friend.

  MrRomantic: Why? Are you jealous?

  At this point, I was just baiting for the sake of it. I knew he couldn’t be baited.

  It was getting strikingly obvious he didn’t feel the same way about me as I did for him.

  The dots on his side faded in and out for what seemed like ages. I got out of bed and decided to get in the shower and try to take both men tormenting my head out of it.

  Even if the sexualized fantasies threatened to come back out in the shower and take me full force.

  I ignored my throbbing cock and focused on the rest of my body.

  When I came out, I checked his message.

  Sweet_Peaches: No.

  Well that took forever to type. Maybe Sweet_Peaches wasn’t as uninvested in this “friendship” as he made it out.

  I decided not to respond to him. Even if my fingers were itching to keep going, to keep torturing him until he confessed.

  I even went as far as to leave my phone in my room before going to class.

  I needed time away from Sweet_Peaches as much as I did from Hudson. It was a mess I’d created, of course, but I couldn’t deal with either of them.

  Where was your best friend when you needed him to help you make decisions?

  “I don’t know what I’d do without my mom. She’s the best person in the world. And my best friend. She makes the best blackberry cobbler in the state. And when I came out? She couldn’t be happier,” Oscar the geek said.

  I mentally rolled my eyes because I couldn’t do it while he was looking at me. Well, when I say looking, I meant glancing at me while admiring the decor, the other patrons, and his food.

  Whose parent was happy when they came out? It was nothing to be happy about. I couldn’t imagine a parent being happy their kid was gay while being a very good or informed parent.

  Yay! Welcome to a life of discrimination, bullying, and constant criticism. We hope you enjoy your life as a homosexual, and remember, stay away from dark alleys, don’t hold your partner’s hand in public, and be careful who you come out to.

  “And my dad? Well, give him a barbecue and he will literally bend over backwards for you,” Oscar went on.

  Hm, now Oscar’s dad sounded more promising.

  God, was I bored. Why on Earth would I even be thinking about my date’s dad naked, on his knees next to his barbecue with a pair of tongs on one hand and a sausage in the other?

  “What about your family?” Oscar asked, but it took several seconds to register as he hadn’t asked me anything since we first sat down. And even then, it’d been to ask me what I was having.

  “What about them? What do they do?” He laughed as if it was the funniest joke he had ever said.

  “Oh, well I come from a big, Greek family, so they all do all sorts of things,” I said.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  I guess we were gonna spend the whole evening talking about other people.

  “Well, my dad runs a bar in my hometown, my older sister is studying at Harlow U, and my younger sister is still in elementary school,” I said.

  “What about your mom?” he asked.

  “My mom?”

  “Yeah, what does she do?”

  He really wanted to go there, bless his heart.

  “Oh, she’s rotting,” I deadpanned.

  “You don’t get along?” He squinted.

  “No. Rotting. As in a grave.”

  Everyone hated when I made that joke, which was why I’d stopped saying it. Except in extenuating circumstances. Like when someone was asking me an uncomfortable question I didn’t want to answer.

  “Oh that’s horrible. Why would you say that?” came his response. As expected. “I don’t know what I’d do without my mom. She’s literally my best friend.”

  Yeah, so you said.

  “She has sacrificed so much for me it’s unbelievable. Can you believe she didn’t want to go back to her college degree because she thought it was my turn to shine? Like, how can you not love a woman like that?”

  God! A lot of talk about mom, but screw the dad right? Maybe he had an Oedipus complex.

  Well, maybe “maybe” was a redundant word.

  “I honestly don’t know how people can live without their moms. When I was eleven, she took me all the way to Vermont…”

  Oscar kept waffling about his mom and how perfect, and gorgeous, and creative she was, and all I could think about was Hudson’s mom. How he’d grown up without her. And how he had still come out a decent human being.

  With a few exceptions, of course, but no one was perfect.

  At least he didn’t talk about his family for two hours straight on a first date.

  My phone lit up with a message on Cinderfella, and as Oscar took a turn to talking about his job—something boring about processing and analytics I didn’t even want to understand—I unlocked my phone and saw a message from Sweet_Peaches.

  Sweet_Peaches: Ready for your date?

  MrRomantic: Already on it.

  Sweet_Peaches: Oh.

  Sweet_Peaches: That’s early.

  MrRomantic: *shrugs* It’s a steak dinner.

  Sweet_Peaches: How is he?

  He was jealous, wasn’t he? So it wasn’t all in my head. Why would he message otherwise while I was on my date, and that single “oh” said a lot more than he probably thought it did.

  Now I had to decide how to play this.

  Did I tell him Oscar was amazing and make him jealous?

  Or did I tell him the truth, that he was more boring than watching paint dry, and make him feel good?

  MrRomantic: He’s the cutest. Best date I’ve been to.

  Swee
t_Peaches: Oh.

  Another “oh”.

  Just admit it, Sweet_Peaches. You’re jealous. So jealous.

  My mind control didn’t work, nor did my staring blankly at the screen.

  Sweet_Peaches: That’s nice. I’m happy for you.

  A groan came out of before I could stop it, and that got both Oscar’s and our waitress’s attention.

  “Are you okay?” Oscar asked me.

  I locked my phone again and put it down with a forced smile.

  “Everything’s perfect,” I said, which seemed to boost his ego as he went back to his rambling.

  Was I doomed to only ever date boring or rude idiots and chatting to great guys who had no intention of connecting in real life ever?

  Then again, there was Hudson, but I wasn’t going there.

  He might currently run head to head with Sweet_Peaches on boxes ticked, but he wasn’t my dream man. He wasn’t my future. He couldn’t be.

  He wasn’t like my digital friend. If Hudson was funny, Sweet_Peaches was funnier. If Hudson was thoughtful, Sweet_Peaches was compassionate. If Hudson was good, Sweet_Peaches was better.

  But Hudson was sexy and Sweet_Peaches was a sexually suggestive picture of a fruit.

  Fuck me.

  It sounded a hella lot like I was falling for both men.

  If shit wasn’t complicated before, it certainly was now.

  Thirty-One

  Hudson

  “Hello,” I answered my phone before the ringtone even echoed across the room.

  Romeo raised his head from his bed and stared at me while I listened to the speaker.

  “Is that Hudson?” said a woman.

  “Speaking.”

  “It’s Linda, from Linda’s Bar. Your dad has, erm, passed out, and we don’t, erm, know what to do with him,” she said, and I groaned.

  “I’ll come right over,” I said.

  “Thank you, sweetie. And I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I sighed and hung up.

  I put my phone in my pocket and got out of bed.

  “Who wants to go for a walk?” I asked Romeo, and before I even finished my sentence, he’d sprung up and shot for the door.

  Since Dad had driven to the bar, I had to walk all the way to town in the dark.

  Romeo thoroughly enjoyed it, leaving piss trails every chance he got. When we finally got to main street, I passed Mrs. Vaugh’s grocery store as she was locking up her door, and Romeo took another opportunity to take a leak.

  “Bad boy,” I shouted at him and glanced at Mrs. Vaughn, expecting the full admonition.

  But it never came.

  “Oh, don’t worry, dear boy,” she laughed. “I’ll chuck a bucket o’ water in the morning. Besides, who could be mad at such a cute doggie?”

  My jaw fell open, and it took Mrs. Vaughn slapping my cheek gently to bring me out of the daze I’d gone into.

  “Are you all right, my dear boy? Do you need some medicine? Have you got a headache? Did you need anything from the store? I just set the alarm, but I can go back in if you want,” she said.

  I shook my head and thanked her, pulling Romeo by his lead and walking further into town.

  What had just happened? Mrs. Vaugh never liked me. She always found excuses or reasons why I wasn’t worthy of her time. Why was she being so nice all of a sudden?

  Every place was packed. Jovial with patrons enjoying a good time. It was Friday night, after all. Where else would everyone be?

  “Oh, Hudson. Hudson,” someone called out, and I turned to find Holly from the Oyster Club running after me.

  “Mrs. Barnes,” I greeted her.

  “Meeting friends?” she smiled.

  If I had any, maybe I’d meet with them. But my only friend was having an existential love crisis and wouldn’t get his head out of his ass or maybe I’d be meeting with Nathan for some beer and blowjobs. Or just talking. I wasn’t fussy.

  “Not really,” I said. The town would know by tomorrow morning that my dad got wasted and passed out at Linda’s. I didn’t need to spread the news faster.

  “Well, I don’t want to waste your time. I just forgot to submit my order for tomorrow. Can you-would you mind taking it back to your dad?” she asked.

  “After standing up for me to Felicity Carlson, I’ll let you walk all over me,” I chuckled, and she laughed.

  “I was just doing what’s right. And what do you know? I was right. Come on. I’ve got the order in my office,” she said and ran inside.

  I followed after her and stood at the hosting desk with Romeo’s curious nose probably trying to sniff out all the different foods he could swallow if he went for a free-ride around the restaurant.

  “Don’t just stand there, come with me,” Holly said.

  “But I’ve got the dog,” I said.

  “It’s fine. All dogs are welcome here. Besides, you’re not sitting for a meal, so who cares? Unless you… want a table? Are you hungry?”

  “I’m okay,” I said and followed her to the back.

  She opened the office door for me and sat down at her chair. She clicked something on her computer, then opened a notepad and wrote it all down.

  “You know, I’ve tried to talk him into email orders. But he’s resistant to change.”

  “Email orders would be a Godsend. But what can you do,” she said.

  “It would avoid so many headaches. Trust me. Maybe I’ll convince him one day.” If I stayed long enough to care.

  “Here you go, hon. And thanks again,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I made to leave, but Romeo tried to climb her.

  “Oh, not that now, Romeo.”

  Holly laughed. “He can probably smell all the foods I’ve spilled on my clothes.”

  She followed me out of the office, and when we got to the hosting point, she opened a jar and passed a treat to Romeo.

  “Thank you for being so nice to him. To both of us,” I said.

  “Listen, I may not be from this town, but I’ve always learned to give people the benefit of the doubt. I hope people aren’t still boycotting you guys,” she said.

  “No. Not after Felicity’s son was arrested,” I said.

  “God, that woman was irritating, but I can’t imagine her embarrassment. Not that she didn’t deserve it. Making a fool of herself just so she can be a mayor.”

  “People will do stupid things for their dreams,” I said.

  Holly nodded and kissed my cheek goodbye, and we got back out to the street, reaching Linda’s without further interruptions.

  When I went in, I saw him straight away. Spread out over the table, snoring his head off.

  I approached the bar before I went anywhere near him.

  Linda was there, the sixty-year-old manager with the silver hair and the sassy attitude everyone adored in this town.

  I’d never had many dealings with her other than when I had to pick Dad up.

  Linda had never smiled at me one day in my life since I was eighteen.

  Now she looked at me sympathetically as if I carried the world on my shoulders.

  I guess things could change in this town. How had everyone gone from treating me like a mad criminal to a sweet young man was the question of the century.

  I should have focused on the fact that it was all for show. That people who truly cared about me wouldn’t have blamed me in the first place and wouldn’t cast me out regardless of my part in the fire.

  But instead, I was relieved. Relieved that my life didn’t have to be a twenty-four seven soap opera and that people’s opinions of me could change.

  Even if they weren’t entirely real. I didn’t care.

  Better to smile in your face and bash you behind your back than just bashing you all around.

  At least for me.

  “Thank you for coming, sweet man. I’ve tried to give him some water, but he’s fast asleep and way too heavy. I think it’s better you take him home,” she said.
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br />   “Thank you for calling,” I told her and headed for Dad’s table.

  He barely even stirred when I lifted him and draped one arm over my neck, but his legs supported him at least and Romeo was being good for once and not causing trouble.

  “Need some help?” one of Linda’s regulars asked.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  They’d never offered to help before. It was such a strange experience being faced by smiles and good hearts. It was surreal at the very least.

  As I carried him outside, he seemed to wake up, although when he spoke, his speech was slurred and one word blended into the next.

  “Fuckinandy. Kickinmeout mybar,” he mumbled.

  “It’s not your bar, Dad. It’s his,” I said, but I had no idea why. It’s not like I could reason with a drunk.

  “Ibeen goingthere since he opened. I spent somuch money. How dare he kick me out and let those pansies in?”

  Here we go again.

  “It’s been days, Dad. Get over it,” I told him, but I doubted he could understand English at the moment.

  I let him rant about whatever the fuck he wanted to while I unlocked the truck and pushed him in.

  He collapsed on the passenger seat and started snoring straight away.

  I got behind the wheel with Romeo on my lap and turned the engine on when I saw another figure come out of Linda’s.

  She was a shell of herself, wearing sunglasses in the darkness and a scarf over her head. But even so, no one could mistake her for anyone but Felicity Carlson.

  She stumbled from one end of the sidewalk to the other until she collapsed against the wall and stopped moving.

  I pursed my lips, trying to dissuade myself from getting involved. This woman had done me so much harm with her campaigning. Her family had fucked up my future and my present. She didn’t deserve help.

  Yet, despite all that, I found myself switching the car engine off and getting out to go to her aide, Romeo jumping at the opportunity for another walk.

  “Mrs. Carlson, are you okay?” I said when I got to her, touching her shoulder and searching for her under the sunglasses.