by Beth Bolden
“It’s the secrets that really bother you, isn’t it?” Sean challenged.
“Well, yeah,” Gabriel said. “I had your tongue down my throat last night. I think I deserve a little fucking consideration.”
“Except you said that had nothing to do with changing the name on your truck,” Sean argued. “You even went out of your way to prove it, if I remember correctly.”
Gabriel glared at him, and this felt . . . well, not better, but at least more normal. Like always, like they hadn’t figured out last night that the heat between them was actually sexual.
It’s not, Sean told himself, you still really don’t like him. He threw a freaking meatball at you.
“So that’s it, then, I just have to change my name, no cooperation and no compromise from you? Just because you say so?”
Sean wasn’t normally an unreasonable person, but after being shoved between a rock and a hard place by his own stubbornness, what else was he supposed to say? No, I’m sorry, this is about something you’ll never understand. A love that transcends time and space and life and death.
He didn’t usually make a habit of saying nothing, but he kept his mouth shut again, and that made for the second time today.
“Yes,” Sean said.
Gabriel threw up his hands. “You are fucking unreasonable, you know? I’m trying here, and you’re just trying to tie me up in knots.”
He felt a pulse of guilt, but pushed it away. “There’s an easy way to untie yourself,” Sean said. “Give in.”
Gabriel actually glowered at him. “No way. Not like this. Not just because you want me to.”
“See, this is actually how I thought last night’s ‘discussion’ would go,” Sean said. He glanced down at his watch. “I’m sorry, I’ve actually got important stuff to do. More important than having a pointless argument with you, anyway.”
Gabriel opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again. “Fine. Fine. But just so you know, I’m definitely not the only stubborn asshole here.”
As Sean watched him march off, temper rolling off him in nearly visible waves, Sean found that he couldn’t disagree. He was being both ridiculously stubborn and kind of an asshole.
He should go apologize. There was a part of him that knew he should. He should sit Gabriel down, even though the lunch crowd would show up in less than an hour, and explain all about Milo and the plans they’d made when they were still so young and naive and starry-eyed.
He should. But he didn’t.
Instead, he went back to his truck, and instead of starting the veggie prep like he needed to, he went straight to where the aprons were hung up, and grabbed the one with the stain, the one that Gabriel had branded, two years before.
Sean could still feel the weight of that stupid meatball, smacking him right in the chest. And maybe it didn’t excuse every shitty thing he’d done and said to Gabriel in the past, but it sure made it easier to ignore them.
Chapter Three
Gabriel hadn’t known this when they’d first met, two years ago, but Sean was undeniably one of the most particular, meticulous people he’d ever known. His truck, now over two years old, was practically as shiny and perfect as it had been the day he’d opened.
So when he spotted Sean, approaching the group of them gathering near the central circle of picnic tables, wearing an apron with a telltale red blotch across the chest, Gabriel knew something was up.
“You have an accident today?” Lucas asked Sean, as he lounged between his boyfriend’s legs. Tony was halfheartedly sifting Lucas’ hair between his fingers, and Gabriel felt that all-too-familiar sting of jealousy. Tony and Lucas were so casually, so flawlessly yet imperfectly happy. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but that didn’t matter, because they always had each other’s backs.
And the love? You’d have to be blind to miss it.
What did Gabriel have?
A frenemy who refused to confess his secrets, wouldn’t tell him the truth, and now had pulled out evidence of his worst behavior and was displaying it for all their friends to see.
It hurt, even though by now Gabriel should have been used to it.
“This?” Sean asked, pointing to the telltale stain on the center of his white apron. “Oh, this is old. Just an old stain.”
“An old stain from where Gabe beaned him with a meatball,” Tony said with a chuckle.
“Ah,” Lucas said, shooting Gabriel a sympathetic look. “Makes sense.”
If he left now, went back to the truck and grabbed his stuff and went home, everyone would know that he was bothered by Sean wearing it.
Sean would know that he was bothered.
“Really?” The voice was low and incredulous.
Gabriel glanced back and saw Ren approaching, holding two bottles of beer by their long necks. He passed one to Gabe. “What?” Gabriel said, gulping his beer. It didn’t really help. Last night had proved that booze was not the solution to the problems he had with Sean—but at least he’d take those solutions over these.
“He’s really going to pull that out now?” Ren shook his head. “He kind of sucks, doesn’t he?”
Gabriel sighed. “If only that was actually the case.”
Ren’s gaze turned calculating. “Oh, so you finally acknowledged that you want him to suck?”
“You’re the worst,” Gabriel said.
“Unfair, considering we’ve already established who actually is the worst,” Ren said lightly. He tipped his beer bottle in Sean’s direction. He’d gotten drawn into a conversation with Lucas and Tony and was thankfully ignoring Gabe.
Gabriel wasn’t under any stupid assumption that would continue, but for right now, he’d take it.
“I just wish . . . I wish he’d tell me why,” Gabriel said under his breath.
Ren shrugged. “If he hasn’t by now, he probably won’t. You should just change the name and get it over with. He’s never going to give that up.”
“How do you know?” Gabriel had always believed that over time he could wear Sean down. That belief had wavered over the last few days, but he still wanted to think it was true.
“That boy is holding on to something more important than just ornery stubbornness,” Ren said. “You know it, too, and that’s what drives you crazy. That he won’t tell you.” Ren took a drink of his beer. “Just change it. I know you have the name. I know you have the stuff all ready to go.”
“Is anything a secret from you?” Gabriel complained.
“Not really,” Ren admitted. “You know you’re going to do it, eventually. It’d be easier to just change it now, before you take each other and this whole lot out in a war of attrition over who’s going to give in first.”
“I . . . I can’t, okay,” Gabriel said. “I just can’t.”
Ren’s gaze turned pitying. “Oh, boy, you do have it bad.”
He’d probably had it bad before, but last night? That had been the last nail in his coffin.
“I guess,” Gabriel said.
“Hey,” Tony said, raising his voice, pulling their—and Ren’s attention, thank God—away from their conversation. “Anyone see that new guy who’s been hanging around the last few months?”
“Dark hair? Intense gaze? Jumpy? Looks like he’s used to carrying?” Ren spoke up. Gabriel wasn’t surprised. Ren knew most of the regulars, if not by name, then by sight.
It also felt like he’d slept with most of them. The single ones, anyway.
“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I tried to strike up a conversation with him today, but he’s . . .”
“Jumpy,” Ren repeated. “Yeah, I know. I actually asked him out . . .”
Gabriel groaned. “Of course you did.”
Ren shot him a glare. “He’s hot, in case you didn’t notice, or you were maybe too preoccupied with . . .”
“That’s enough,” Gabriel said, glaring back.
“Anyway, he turned me down,” Ren said. “But he said his name was Lennox. Just Lennox.”
“First or last?�
�� Tony wondered.
“Does it matter?” Ren retorted.
“If you’re gonna be screaming it, you might want to know,” Gabriel said sulkily.
“I told you, he turned me down,” Ren said.
“For now,” Tate piped in, chuckling as he walked up with a bottle of his own in his hand. “We all know it’s inevitable that you’ll end up popping his food truck cherry.”
Ren actually looked proud of this particular fact.
Gabriel didn’t know whether he was disgusted or kind of pathetically envious.
At least Ren had never been stupid enough to turn his attention to Sean. They’d never talked about it, but Ren had flirted with everyone—from Ash to Shaw, the bartender at the Funky Cup, to Lucas, at least before he’d realized that Tony wasn’t exactly the sharing type—but he’d never once even tried to get into Sean’s pants.
Gabriel was afraid that if he asked, he knew exactly what his cousin would say. He’s yours, he’s always been yours.
If that was true though, then why did it feel so goddamn shitty? Why hadn’t Sean ever told him even one of his many secrets?
It hurt. It had hurt for so long that Gabriel was almost used to the throb of it, by now.
“We’ll see,” Ren said. “But yeah, no idea if Lennox is first or last.”
“First,” Tony said at the same time his boyfriend said, “Last.” They both burst into laughter.
Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He looked over at Sean. And to his surprise, Sean was looking back. Like they’d both thought the same thing at the same time, look, they disagree all the time and they still share the same bed at night.
Gabriel might have asked again. Might have tried to make his case again. Except that apron was yelling at him, telling him Sean’s answer before he’d even asked.
He turned away, draining the rest of his beer, not looking back at the warm circle of friendly laughter as he melted into the shadows.
———
Sean would have to be blind to not notice when Gabriel left.
Especially after that look they’d shared.
Gabriel, as annoying as he was, was painfully transparent sometimes.
It didn’t help that Sean was pretty sure he’d had the same exact thought.
Look at Tony and Lucas. They argue all the time, and they love each other so goddamn much.
Sean knew that he and Gabriel were fundamentally different from their very loved-up friends, but that didn’t matter. He couldn’t help but wonder. Surely if it was just sex . . . that could work, right? He already knew that was all he wanted, because he’d been madly, completely, totally in love, and whatever he felt for Gabriel couldn’t be more different.
“Hey.” Sean glanced up, and Tate was standing there, a bottle of water in his hands, and a sympathetic smile on his face. “How’re you hanging in there?”
Tate was a good friend, and someone who watched out for everyone in their group. But there was an added layer of concern in his expression tonight.
“Tony told you about the ultimatum,” Sean stated rather than asked.
Tate nodded. “I don’t want you to think he was gossiping or anything . . .”
But Sean already knew that his and Gabriel’s bickering was a source of gossip. Which was why Gabriel hadn’t wanted to share that they’d done a lot more than just argue last night; they didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.
“I know, I know he wouldn’t,” Sean said. Even though Tony definitely would. Still, it meant something that Tate cared—but then Sean realized that made sense. Dating one of the most famous football players in the world would make someone more aware of who was saying what and to whom.
They’d all agreed in an unspoken vow to keep Tate’s shit—and as an extension, Chase’s—locked down tight. Nobody was getting anything out of any of them, no matter how many times they showed up at the lot, looking for dirt about Tate and Chase’s relationship.
But he and Gabriel were a whole different kettle of fish, and Sean knew it. First of all, they’d brought the notoriety on themselves, by arguing so frequently and with such vehemence. And, besides, they weren’t a couple.
Tate shot Sean a crooked smile. “Yeah, of course not. Never. Gossip is totally not Tony’s style.”
Sean laughed. “Maybe a little bit Tony’s style.”
“I still wanted to make sure you were okay. I know that two years ago, you really didn’t want to change your name, and I’m assuming that nothing’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Sean confirmed.
“So what are you guys going to do?” Tate wondered.
“Gabe’s just gonna have to figure out how to live with the name change, I guess,” Sean said.
Tate looked surprised. “You’re just assuming he’s going to give in?”
“I’ve still got my reasons, right?” Sean said. “They didn’t just go away. Gabriel’s just being an ass.”
“Is he?”
“Well, yeah,” Sean said. “It’s Gabriel. Of course he’s being an ass about it.”
Maybe Tate’s worried expression shouldn’t have reminded Sean of how guilty he’d felt when Gabriel had left, but that guilt was now back in spades.
“I’m sure you’ve got great reasons,” Tate said carefully, “but that doesn’t mean that Gabe should just automatically do whatever you want him to. He’s got rights here, too. Maybe you could figure out how to compromise?”
“Compromise?” The idea felt ludicrous. But then the idea of kissing Gabriel had been ludicrous before last night. “How would we even do that? We can’t share the name, not anymore.”
“I know.” Tate patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “But you guys are both super smart, and I know you’ll figure something out. Something,” he added with a pointed glance towards Gabriel’s truck, “that you’re both happy with.”
Sean wanted to tell him that was impossible. There was going to be one winner and one loser here. Sean had always assumed that he’d be the former and Gabe would just have to come around to the new state of things.
But Tate’s words exposed not just the guilt he’d been feeling, but the fundamental assumptions he’d been making, and how they made him sound.
It hit him like a hard smack to the side of the head: he was always complaining that Gabe was a stubborn asshole, but when he believed that Gabe would have to give in, did that make him any different?
Didn’t it actually make him worse?
Tate patted him again. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
He had, in a way. Milo would not only have disapproved of how ridiculous Sean was being, he’d have been ashamed.
Could he and Gabriel compromise? The very thought seemed laughable, but how else could they get out of this and not hate each other in the end?
Because no matter how much they complained about each other, how vehemently Sean had bitched about Gabe and vice versa, he knew they’d never really hated each other.
But they would, if this kept going. If there was a winner and a loser.
“I think I need to go,” Sean said slowly. He reached up and tugged the knot out of his apron. The stupid, petty-as-fuck stained apron that he’d put on because he’d wanted to put Gabriel in his place. Shame him into giving in.
If it had worked, Sean never would’ve been able to live with himself.
He pulled the apron, and without a second thought, chucked into the trash.
Tate chuckled under his breath. “It’s about time,” he said.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “It really is.”
———
Gabriel was just locking up his truck when Sean found him, barely illuminated by a circle of one of the motion sensor lights scattered around the edge of the property. So far, the lights had kept the thefts and vandalisms to a minimum, but he knew Tony was still worried.
“Hey,” Sean said.
Gabriel glanced up, and then looked away. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I want t
o talk.”
Gabriel shrugged. “We already tried that.”
“No,” Sean said bluntly. “We really didn’t.”
“I’m not sure I’m following,” Gabriel said. “Is talking some kind of sexy metaphor that I’m not aware of?”
“No,” Sean said. “You said you wanted to know why I didn’t want to change the name. I guess if I’m asking you to change your name, you should at least know why.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’ve only been begging you for years.”
“I know.” Sean hesitated, trying to tone down the defensiveness in his tone. “It’s just that I don’t talk about it . . . about him . . . much.”
At all, actually. Ever.
And maybe that was kind of fucked up too, now that Sean thought about it.
“Him?” Gabriel looked shocked. “What . . . no,” he said. “I think I need a drink for this.” He turned abruptly and headed in the direction of the Funky Cup, which was only a few blocks over.
“Wait,” Sean said, scrambling to reach him. Gabriel’s legs were just so freaking long. “Wait, I still need to lock up . . .”
Gabriel turned. “So go lock up, then,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you really sure we should drink around each other again after . . .” Sean took a deep breath. “After last night?”
“You stopped thinking about it?” Gabriel wondered.
“Last night?” Sean swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn’t squeak when he said the word, but it did anyway. “The kiss?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said.
Sean stared at him for a moment. He was illuminated under one of those viciously bright lights. They washed everyone and everything under them out, but Gabriel was still, unbelievably, handsome. It’s because you’re just so horny. You want him so goddamn bad, that’s all.
“No,” he admitted. “No, I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
“Me either,” Gabriel said. “So I figure that whether we drink or not, it won’t matter.”
It was such a Gabriel thing to say. “It might happen again,” Sean hedged.
“Yeah.” Gabriel smiled wide. “I kinda hoped it might.”
“Okay,” Sean said. “But only after we . . . you know . . . talk. Actually talk.”