by Ann Grech
Night rolled around, and we walked the few blocks back to Palmira’s house. The freshly fallen snow glowed under the light of the streetlamps, the flashing lights of Christmas displays along the street and the odd laugh coming from inside the homes creating a magical moment. It was oddly romantic walking with Angelo. The quiet of the night seemed to close in around us, and I could imagine for a moment that we were the only two people in the world. I could happily live out my days just the two of us. Rooming with him over the last few weeks had been comfortable. We’d gelled with barely a hiccup. It was easy, easier than I’d imagined possible.
Angelo’s childhood home came into view, and I slowed my steps, stuffing my hands deeper into the pockets of my woolen coat. My beanie was pulled low, covering my ears and my scarf covered the rest of my face. All except my eyes. It was cold out, but I didn’t want the moment to end. As if he could read my thoughts, Angelo slowed too, and we meandered home. We didn’t speak, but the faint brush of his arm against mine said enough for me. He was here. We were together. Friends stuck by each other, and I loved him for that.
Walking inside, we toed off our boots, called out our greeting to Palmira, and headed upstairs into the same bedroom Angelo and Ricky had shared as children. Two twin beds pushed up against opposite walls, a window above, and a nightstand between them almost filled the room. There was barely enough space for the heavy timber closet. When Rick had moved out, Angelo replaced the beds with a double, but he’d sold it when saving to move. Now, back to the original furniture, it was cramped but homely and gave me an insight into Angelo’s life in Italy and abroad. There were black-and-white photographs of people and places ranging from the Eiffel tower to Disneyland, the three siblings as children, and an elderly lady making lace. Each one was beautiful, and I’d spent way too long staring at them and thinking about the stories of each of the people and places that went with the images.
Angelo stripped off his socks and sweater before rifling through the closet. He pulled out a pair of navy blue and white striped flannel pajamas while I stood by the open doors on my side. My motivation levels to go to the club were at zero, and not just because my best friend wasn’t going to be there. I’d made the remainder of the family Christmas uncomfortable, unable to get out of my head. The other two presents I’d been given had floored me—an antique stethoscope from Gabriella and thermal socks from Palmira. They were thoughtful, kind presents, and the guilt at losing my shit ate at me the longer I’d sat there.
Even though I didn’t want to go out, I forced myself to choose something. I heard the shower start and stop while I dressed in a button-down shirt, jeans, and a clean pair of socks. I was still sitting down, one sock in hand, when Angelo came back in. The ends of his hair were wet and curled outward, giving him a boyish appearance that added to his attractiveness. There was no denying it. Always so put together, dressed sharply with his hair perfectly styled and his face shaved clean, it was a wonder the girls weren’t falling over him. Maybe they were, but I hadn’t seen much of it. He didn’t flirt and absolutely hadn’t hooked up while we’d been living together. He was polite to everyone he met, but I could tell it took him a while to warm up to new people. It was funny—we were never like that. Even from that first moment, it was as if we’d known each other for years.
I realized I’d been staring at him in loose-fitting pajamas and bare feet when he asked from the open doorway, “You ready?”
“Yeah. The others will be here soon,” I responded quietly.
Angelo stepped into the room and shut the door, standing so he was blocking my exit. I knew what was coming next, and I cringed when he said the words. “I know what your answer will be, but I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about what happened before.” I opened my mouth to interrupt him, and he held up his hand. “Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I have eyes and I know you. I know that your reaction was….” He trailed off, and when he looked at me I saw the pain in his eyes. I expected to see pity, but it wasn’t that. Hurt seemed to linger in his gaze. “Something happened back at the pub, and I know you well enough not to expect you to talk about it, but one day if you’re ever ready, I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to say more with the lump in my throat.
When the silence stretched on for a beat too long and it bordered on uncomfortable, Angelo opened the closet and pulled out a small black bag that looked like a bigger version of a shaving kit. “Um,” he started, pausing like he didn’t know what to say before holding it out to me. “I know we said we wouldn’t get anything for each other, and I know you haven’t gotten me anything, but I kind of wanted to do something for you for Christmas.” He dropped his hand as my brow knitted and I reached out for the bag. “It’s not strictly a present for you. It’s just something I thought you might appreciate.” He handed the bag over to me, and I turned it over in my hands before unzipping it.
I tipped the contents on the bed and couldn’t help but wonder why he’d given me what looked like an emergency kit. Wet wipes, toilet paper, toothbrush and paste, deodorant, a bottle of water, foil blanket, and rain poncho, as well as tampons and sunscreen. When I looked at Angelo curiously, he sat on the opposite bed and intertwined his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees. “I made up a hundred of them and took them to the soup kitchen you volunteer at. Anyone who goes there today is getting one.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, words escaping me. I blinked and tried again but nothing would come out. He’d floored me. I was speechless. No one had ever done anything like this before. It was the most thoughtful gift anyone could have ever given me. He’d never said a thing about it, but I knew he saw me trying to help when I could. He didn’t know the whys. He didn’t know my story. But neither of those things mattered to Angelo. He did something this thoughtful because he’d figured out helping the homeless was important to me. I sucked in a breath and held it, not wanting to let the tide of emotion drown me. Being out there, sleeping on the ground and not feeling safe for one moment was terrifying. Especially for a boy like I’d been. Tragically, it was a reality far too many people had to face. There were never enough beds in shelters. Never enough resources to feed and clothe people who desperately needed it. Never enough help. My hands were shaking and my vision blurred as I exhaled slowly and breathed again. It didn’t work though. Angelo’s, “Shit,” barely registered as he pulled me into his arms and held me while I trembled, full body shudders wracking me.
His hand on my back, rubbing up and down, and the soft fabric of his pajamas against my face held me grounded, while his scent—fresh and woodsy—surrounded me. I burrowed in, holding tight. His murmured words rumbled through his chest and the indescribable need to get closer to him overwhelmed me. I wanted to surround myself with him. To really feel him. Touch him. Skin on skin with no barriers between us. I wanted to kiss him.
No.
Like a bucket of iced water being dumped on me, whatever the hell was going on with my crazy brain shut down and I startled, pulling back and putting some distance between us. I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “That was….” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. I couldn’t brush this off. It meant something to me. More than something, if I were being honest. I wanted Angelo to know that. But, God, I was confused. Why did I get the insane urge to kiss him?
“No one’s ever done anything like this for me, Angelo. I… Thank you.” I huffed out a sigh and shook my head, frustrated that I just couldn’t get the damn words out. He reached out and squeezed my forearm, his gaze fixed on the point where his hand met my arm. I watched him and returned his stare when he looked up. “It means more than you could ever know. Thank you.”
“Will you tell me one day?”
I shook my head and reached for the hand he had on me, brushing my thumb over his skin to soften the blow. His warmth seeped through me, and in his touch, I didn’t feel so alone in the world. I hated that I disappointed him when he’d given me s
o much, but I didn’t talk about my past. I wouldn’t. I’d never let him be tainted by it, and I sure as hell didn’t want to revisit those days. My history was better off remaining buried where it couldn’t hurt me anymore.
“Trent? You coming?” I heard yelled from downstairs. I pulled my hand away at the same time Angelo did.
“I’d better—”
“Yeah.” Angelo nodded and stood up, backing away. Even that small distance between us suddenly felt too much, but I needed space. I needed to get my head on straight, and a night out with the boys, a few drinks, and a hookup with some hot Italian girl was exactly what I needed. But as I trudged down the stairs, the desire to turn around and stay with Angelo hit me like a force of nature.
The club that we pulled up at a couple of hours later had an industrial vibe from the outside. Its dark, square block walls and flashing neon martini glass sign stood out starkly against the snow-covered gables of the more traditional shops and apartments along the normally busy road in Bormio. Located on a corner, the only signs of life around were cars parking nearby and people gathered around the entrance, queuing up to show IDs to security. The two burly guys looked bored, but studiously checked each of the cards against the faces that presented them, the line flowing slowly as they did their job.
The beat of music I couldn’t make out the lyrics to pulsed through the building, reverberating through us as soon as I entered. Flanked on either side by Ford and Riccardo, we checked our coats and I followed them through the black swing doors into the club proper. I expected it to be dark—a nightclub—but the room we were in was more like a sports bar. A bank of TVs ran along one wall, and a collection of high-top tables faced them. There were more people than I expected in there too, most either playing pool or gathered around the tables talking and drinking or watching the sports report on the screens. The black bar that ran most of the way down the opposite wall was lit with neon blue from underneath and had only a handful of people queued up waiting for service. Ford motioned to a table that had just freed up, and Rick pointed to the bar, then to Ford and me. I nodded before saying, “Whiskey. Thanks, man,” and our other companion agreed.
Alone with Ford, I guessed he’d want to talk about what went down over lunch, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. I was still kind of pissed at him. Who did that shit? Buying a dildo for another dude was downright offensive. I stared at the TVs, avoiding his gaze, and he soon got the message, turning his attention to the sports report. I looked around, taking in our surroundings. I couldn’t see the source of the music, but the flashing strobe lights from what looked like another room in the club hinted to more than I could see. Turning my attention back to the TVs, I watched Ford out of the corner of my eye. He tapped his hands on the table in time to the drum beat and bobbed his head, seemingly enjoying himself.
Even if I could have heard the TVs, I couldn’t understand what was being said about the aerial snowboarding they were televising. From what I could gather from the pictures, it looked like reruns of an earlier competition. The talking head did what appeared to be a wrap up of points in the world championship circuit, a leaderboard of the top ten men’s competitors flashing up on screen. Once the talking head was on screen again, an inset appeared of a man’s face. He looked carefree, his dimpled smile broad. The top half of his face was covered by reflective goggles, and I could see a hint of sandy blond hair peeking out from under his beanie. I had no idea who he was, but Ford sure did. “This guy’s brilliant,” he stated reverently and pointed to the screen. “Reef Reid. I could watch him jump for hours—”
“Sounds like you’ve got a boner for the dude,” I muttered petulantly, my mood taking another nosedive.
I didn’t think I’d spoken loud enough for Ford to hear, but his bark of laughter followed by a nod had me looking twice. “Don’t you? You can’t argue that he’s good-looking. Even a blind man could see that, and he’s got more talent in his little finger than most of the other snowboarders combined. I guarantee you he’ll be world champ one day.”
Rick slid two beers and a tumbler of whiskey on the table and motioned to the TV. “He’s got to beat Caden Lambert first, and that’s not gonna be easy.”
The two of them continued their conversation but I was stuck on the other dude—Reef. He was attractive. His smile, the dimple, his perfect teeth made him look pretty in a masculine kind of way. But he’s not my type, the voice in my head helpfully interjected. No, he wasn’t. He was a man. I was straight. But then whiskey-eyes, dark, swept-back hair, and olive skin flashed in my mind’s eye and my body reacted instantaneously. My breath hitched and my heart beat faster. I yearned to reach out to Angelo, to be in his arms again. But that want, that desire pissed me off. I had to be strong. I had to resist. I had to blot him out. I tipped my glass up and downed my drink in one long swallow. It went down easily, but I needed another few if I was going to be able to hook up.
Rick and Ford were nursing their beers and debating something. I tried to focus on what they were saying but my eyes were drawn to Rick’s. His were the same color as Angelo’s; the same golden brown. It had to have been Angelo’s present that had me thinking this way. Something so kind and thoughtful that spoke volumes about the giver had upended me. It’d blown away my carefully constructed fortress like tumbleweed in a breeze. Emotion had swamped me, and I was reaching out again for the comfort he’d given me. That had to be it. I ground my teeth together, disgusted at myself for not being stronger. For not being able to see that men were only for being mates with. How could I be thinking I wanted more than that? It wasn’t me. My godfather had shown me, so why the hell couldn’t whatever idiotic body part of mine that was thinking about Angelo in that way get with the program. I tried to concentrate harder on what Rick was saying, but the line of his brows and the curve of his lips as he smiled looked so familiar that the same pulse of want speared through me. Jesus H Christ, I’m fucking pathetic. Never mind needing something stronger to hook up. I needed it to shake out of this crazy talk.
I didn’t think Rick and Ford even noticed when I walked away from the table, heading to the bar for another round. I swapped to tequila shots, and as the three glasses hit the bar and the clear liquor was poured into them, the feeling that I shouldn’t have even been standing there at that club hit me. I should be with Angelo. It was Christmas and it was the first one I’d shared with someone I considered my family in a long time, but I’d done the same thing to him as I did to my parents. I left him. No, he told me to go. I was going around in circles, my thoughts getting more confused with each revolution. I kept thinking of Angelo, but I didn’t want to. He was my friend. That was it. It was how it would always be, and the way I wanted it to be. No, you don’t. I mentally head-slapped myself and tipped back one of the shots of tequila. It burned all the way down, my thoughts consumed by the feel of the liquor sliding down my throat. I brought the second and third glasses to my lips, downing them too, and waved the bartender over for another round. The alcohol warmed me, and the buzz unfurling through my body dulled the tension I was carrying. It wasn’t enough though. When I closed my eyes, Angelo’s face popped into focus. He was beautiful, so much more than the Reef guy. And being in his arms like I was earlier that night had me wanting more, wishing for more. I shook the thoughts out of my head, wishing that the next round was in front of me. The only way I was going to get him out of my head was to get drunk and get laid. I tapped the pocket of my button-down shirt, feeling for the little blue pill there. My vitamin V. It was times like these I was grateful for knowing which of the doctors would issue prescriptions without asking too many questions. The last thing I wanted to admit was that when I needed to fuck the most, I had trouble getting it up. Curves and tight, wet, willing pussies were what I should crave, what I wanted to crave, but my dick rarely wanted to get in on the action. Much like whatever body part was thinking of Angelo.
Fresh drinks were placed in front of me, and in a haze, I paid and reached for them, taking them over to
Ford and Rick. I lifted mine up in a toast and sucked down the shot. The familiar burn had me exhaling, loving the numbness and loss of inhibition creeping in.
The music beckoned. The bodies writhing and grinding together called to me. I clapped Ford on the shoulder and motioned with my head to the other room of the club. “I’m gonna go get laid. You fairies comin’?” The room spun when I stepped away from the table, but I righted myself and reached for my pill. Swallowing it down with another shot, I hoped that there was at least one woman there who’d make my night. I wanted to laugh hysterically, but I was too fuckin’ cool for that. Instead, I raised my hands above my head like a general calling his troops to battle and shouted out my war cry. “Pussy!”
“Think you’ve had enough to drink, mate,” Ford chastised me, looking between me and the table. “How many of these things have you had?” He raised an eyebrow at me, but I didn’t care and didn’t want his lecture. I downed the last shot, turned my back on him, and stumbled toward the dance floor.
When I pushed through to the back of the bar into the nightclub section, I saw what I expected when I initially entered. Pulsing lights and a beat that was deep enough to shake the walls had me moving toward the dance floor and the bodies sweating and moving together as one. Grinding on each other. Skin touching, the contact intimate in its own way.
I didn’t stop at the edge of the mass of bodies. I worked my way in deep and found what I was looking for after only a moment. Three girls dancing together. They were cute, and from the way the one with shiny black hair checked me out, I knew I wasn’t going to be kicked to the curb if I joined them. I moved over to them, Ford and Rick on my heels, and we danced. “I’m Trent,” I shouted to the girl who’d eyed me. Her red dress was short, and her cleavage spilled out of the low neckline. Curvy with sky-high heels, she was undoubtedly sexy, but my blood didn’t pump harder at the sight of her. It should have, and the lack of desire flowing through my veins frustrated me.