Inertia: Impulse, Book One

by Amelia C. Gormley

  Derrick nodded soberly. “Fair enough.”

  “What about your last relationship?” Gavin asked, nursing his own cup of coffee. “How long were you with that person?”

  “From the age of fourteen to the age of twenty-one.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Gavin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, looking a bit troubled. “I can see why you’re out of practice then. That must have been quite a blow, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, it was expected. I wasn’t gonna go to college, and she was. Before our senior year, we talked about me going to Boston with her, finding work there, but then Gram and Gramps… needed me and it just wasn’t the right time to leave home. So she went and I stayed. After that it was just sort of inevitable that we’d grow apart.”

  He could think of those three years of slow decline and alienation and increasing distance with philosophical complacency, now. How by the third year, the emails and phone calls had gotten less and less frequent, and he’d stopped feeling he could call her and confide how overwhelmed he felt with the care of his grandparents, until finally they had both acknowledged it was over.

  “After that, I looked at the singles scene. Particularly meeting other men, which wasn’t something I’d had a chance to explore before. Which is why I ended up here, that time.” He gave a self-effacing smile. “But that whole thing, it just isn’t me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. That sounds like it was rough.”

  Derrick looked down at his coffee as the inevitable memories assailed him, of those years after high school, trying to do everything alone with no one to turn to or take comfort from.

  Oh, yes, it had been rough. But the truth was, LeeAnn had been an afterthought much of the time.

  He lifted his eyes with a smile. He wouldn’t say any of that, of course. It was just too damn maudlin.

  “No, not really.” He shook his head in denial. “It was a gradual thing. No drama. No hard feelings. I actually—” He smiled ruefully, huffing a soft laugh. “She broke up with me when I proposed marriage while she was home for Christmas break her junior year. I had the ring and everything.”

  He saw Gavin wince in sympathy. Damn. He didn’t want that. That wasn’t the point. The point was how young and foolish and wrong he’d been, and how gentle and caring the breakup had been. “I offered it to her, and she got tears in her eyes. She kissed my cheek and closed my hands over it and then she told me I was trying to create a reason to hang on when it was time to accept there was nothing left and just let go. And she was absolutely right; that’s exactly what I was doing. So she kissed me and that was that. We still send each other Christmas and birthday cards. Now LeeAnn’s a successful concert violinist out in California. She’s having her first baby in the spring.”

  He looked up and smiled at Gavin, who looked at him a bit too casually. “So you still keep in contact with her, then?”

  “Just cards.” He shrugged. “The occasional Facebook post. Saw her when she came home to visit her family last month.”

  “I think it’s nice that there were no hard feelings behind it.” Gavin licked his lips with a slow nod. “That you two can talk amicably like that.”

  “I’m sorry you can’t say the same,” Derrick said, his voice soft with sympathy.

  Gavin shrugged, shaking his head as he held his coffee up before him. “He seemed nice enough at first. It just went downhill. Rather quickly.”

  “You seem the type to have something that’s really intense from the get-go. Sometimes that sort of fire explodes, rather than burning out slowly.”

  Derrick bit his tongue the instant the words were out. Had he lost all control of his mouth? You didn’t say that sort of thing on a first date.

  Or maybe ever.

  Gavin’s voice was soft as he answered, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Sorry.” Derrick managed not to groan. “That may have been too personal an observation.”

  Gavin denied it with an adamant shake of his head. “No, not at all. You see things really clearly. That’s nothing to apologize for. I do throw myself headlong at things. Is that intimidating for you?”

  Sweet Jesus, yes, his mind chimed in. Perhaps intimidating wasn’t the right word. Whatever it was, it didn’t make him feel all that safe.

  He settled for a half-truth, offering Gavin a wry grin. “Not intimidating. Different, though. I’ve been told I move at a pace that makes snails frustrated and impatient.”

  Gavin smiled, and Derrick promptly lost track of what they were taking about. He was too busy looking at Gavin’s mouth.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with being rock-steady.” Gavin shrugged. “Might be a nice change of pace.”

  Silence fell again, not uncomfortable, but heavy with awareness. Finally Derrick pushed his empty cup aside and flagged down the waiter to ask him to close out the tab. “I should get going. But I’m glad you called me.”

  “So am I,” Gavin said, rising and pulling on his jacket. Derrick signed his credit card slip and led the way to the door as Gavin asked, “What are your plans this weekend?”

  “I’m meeting my friend Devon for pool tomorrow night, but I was hoping maybe I could come by and sand down your wall on Saturday?” he ventured hopefully.

  “Sure. Maybe we could meet for lunch, and watch a movie after?” Gavin proposed as they stepped out into the parking lot. His hands twitched toward his jacket pocket, then stopped.

  “That sounds good.” Derrick shoved his own hands in the pockets of his leather jacket for lack of anything better to do with them. It was ridiculously cool for August.

  “I’ll text you, then?”

  Derrick laughed. “Can’t. I don’t have texting on my phone. How about I call you?”

  Gavin echoed the laugh as Derrick leaned against his truck, smiling. “You built your own computer and can fix every appliance known to man, but you don’t have texting on your cell phone.” Gavin shook his head in amusement, his hands twitching again. “It’s going to be interesting, getting to know your quirks.”

  “Good.” Derrick grinned, watching Gavin. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just really need a cigarette, so I guess I’d better do this first.” He stepped close, and Derrick’s stomach thudded. Gavin’s hand slid up Derrick’s neck under the collar of his jacket, and his lips brushed Derrick’s.

  His blood pounded in his ears, and every extremity seemed to tingle as though he’d touched a poorly insulated wire. He couldn’t get enough air, and he thought he understood now just what being ready to swoon must feel like.

  He knew a short peck was all Gavin had in mind, but he ended up nuzzling Gavin, his nose stroking Gavin’s ear as he breathed deep between feather-light kisses.

  “God, you smell good,” he whispered.

  Gavin gave a breathy laugh against his cheek, his arms laying over Derrick’s shoulders as Derrick held lightly to his waist. “That’s why I did it before the cigarette.” He pulled away, his eyes soft with reluctance. “We’d better go. Call me Saturday?”

  “I will.” He stared at Gavin a moment, fixated on his gorgeous lips, wanting another kiss so badly his palms itched with the need to reach out. He made himself take out the keys to his truck instead, and turned away.

  THERE WAS NO QUESTION that he’d call Gavin Saturday as he’d promised. He’d had to fight against the impulse to come up with a reason to do it Friday night, and his distraction had lost him another round of pool to Devon, and won him a huge heap of teasing.

  Saturday morning, he managed to hold off until he’d taken the edge off his eager tension by taking Chelsea for a romp in the park and jerking off in the shower. Feeling considerably calmer in the aftermath, he dialed Gavin’s number.

  Gavin’s voice sounded a little muzzy as he answered, despite the fact that it was nearly ten o’clock. “Hello?”

  “Hi. It’s Derrick.”

  He could hear Gavin’s deep inhalation over the line, and Derrick wondered if he’d caught Gavin unprepared. “Yeah, hi. Great t
o hear from you. Uh, how’s your morning been?”

  For a moment, he imagined telling Gavin exactly what he’d done with his morning, and immediately regretted it, trying to cover his embarrassment with a chuckle and grateful Gavin couldn’t actually hear him blushing over the phone.

  “Been pretty good. Took my dog, Chelsea, to the park this morning. Let her run around a bit. Thought I’d give you a call, like we’d planned. I hope I didn’t call too early?”

  He could hear the smile in Gavin’s tone. “No. Though, I might have been pretty crabby if you’d called earlier.”

  “Up late?” he asked, dishing up some fruit salad to eat with mozzarella cheese sticks as a snack after running around with Chelsea half the morning.

  “Yeah, up late. Andi and I stayed up talking.” Gavin laughed softly, and Derrick could hear dishes clanking in the background. He wondered if Gavin was only just now eating breakfast. “How about you? Did you sleep well?”

  Sure, great, once I stopped thinking about Thursday night long enough to fall asleep.

  “Well enough,” he answered, his tone mild.

  “I had a really good time the other night.”

  “So did I. Thanks again for calling me back.”

  “Did you still want to meet for lunch today?”

  “I’d like that. What’d you have in mind?”

  “How do you feel about Coney Islands?” Gavin asked, a grin in his tone. “I’ve got Netflix, we could watch a movie back at my place after you sand down the wall. That way we don’t have to stay out too late, and hopefully it won’t keep you away from Chelsea too long.”

  The lunch sounded good, but the suggestion of going back to Gavin’s place to watch a movie afterward made Derrick close his eyes for a moment. Public was safe, neutral. It was different, being alone. At least it felt that way. To see where this—whatever it was—would take them outside the restraints of public decorum… he wanted that.

  “I love Coneys.” A hot dog loaded with mustard, onions, and a dry, meaty chili sauce probably wasn’t the best idea for a date, but it sounded absolutely delicious. He’d have to remember to bring a toothbrush. “Where did you want to meet?”

  There were hundreds of family-oriented diners around southeast Michigan that served Coneys as their signature dish, but not all were equal. A smile spread across his face as Gavin suggested his favorite chain. Maybe they had more in common than it had originally appeared.

  “That sounds great. One-thirty?”

  “Yeah, at Twelve and Main.” Gavin sounded pleased. “I’ll meet you there. And… I’m really looking forward to it.”

  “So am I.” They hung up, and Derrick leaned against the counter in his kitchen, blowing out slow sigh and closing his eyes. He waited for the giddy, heady feeling to pass so he could locate his calm again. Then he laughed, digging in to his fruit salad. He’d spent more time trying to settle himself this past month than he had in the last decade. Chelsea watched him, half-curious and half-hopeful that his distraction meant he might forget the rules and decide to share his cheese. Derrick laughed, rubbing her wrinkled head.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  He was already seated in the restaurant, two steaming cups of coffee sitting on the table, when Gavin arrived. He greeted Derrick, looking embarrassed, then excused himself quickly. When he returned from the rest room, the scent of cigarette smoke that still clung to him was fainter, masked by the scent of soap and toothpaste as he brushed past Derrick to take his seat.

  Derrick looked at him a long moment, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Are you ashamed that you smoke?”

  Gavin blinked, startled by the blunt question. “Well, yeah. Kind of a disgusting habit, wouldn’t you say? At least most people think so.”

  Derrick shrugged. “Not my place to judge. If you’re worried I’m gonna criticize, don’t be. People do what they’ve got to do. You seem pretty considerate about not exposing other people to it. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

  Gavin grinned. “Well, I think I rather prefer you liking the way I smell, thank you very much.” He sipped his coffee, frowning slightly. “I guess I don’t much like the idea that I’ve got this… this crutch I use, to keep myself calm or pick myself up. Especially now that it’s become something I have to have. I don’t like anything having that sort of control over me.”

  “Why did you start in the first place?”

  “Back in college, studying all night. I lived on coffee and cigarettes. Also, by that time I had quit dancing and I was putting on a little more weight and smoking helped keep that down. I had almost managed to quit until about a year ago. Living with someone who is a heavy smoker makes it really hard to stop.”

  “You’re a dancer?” Derrick’s eyebrows rose, and suddenly that odd fluidity he’d noticed in Gavin’s movements made sense.

  Gavin nodded. “Used to be. It started out just with some basic ballet classes when I was young. My mom was a bit of an east coast socialite, also, and made sure I got some ballroom training, too. Which I really liked. I did that until I graduated high school.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  Gavin shrugged. “I originally made dance my minor at college, and I was actually really good, but I wasn’t good enough that I would ever be able to do it professionally. Then I had an injury and couldn’t practice, and I needed more time to study, so I just decided it was time to stop.”

  “That seems a shame.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Maybe it would have been, if I’d given it up to do something I didn’t enjoy, but like I said, I really actually like what I do, so I’m okay with it. And, I dunno, maybe some day I’ll take it up again, at least on a casual basis, or for exercise.” He grinned. “It would solve the dilemma I have of not wanting to go out jogging in the winter, at least.”

  Derrick smiled as the waitress approached.

  “Glad to know you have good taste in Coneys,” Gavin murmured after they’d ordered.

  “Can’t get a Coney without onions. I’m pretty sure there are laws against it. Maybe even Commandments.”

  Derrick’s smile widened as Gavin laughed aloud, and then the ball was in Gavin’s court.

  “So you’re, what, thirty?” Gavin asked.

  “Thirty-one.” He pushed his hair back from his face. “I guess that brings me to asking your age.”

  “I’m twenty-eight.” Gavin chuckled, flashing him another grin full of mischief. “Have to say, I like that whole idea of the older man.”

  Shit. He let his hair slip out from behind his ear in an effort to hide the blush. The attention of other people was a large part of why he kept his social circle so small. He saw lots of clients, of course, but usually they just pointed him in the direction of whatever he needed to work on and left him to it. They didn’t scrutinize him like Gavin was doing, watching for each reaction.

  “Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” Derrick accused, and Gavin laughed.

  “Perhaps.”

  The arrival of their food provided a welcome distraction, especially because he had started to feel the first hints of shakiness indicating he’d gone too long without eating. Perhaps he should have had more of that fruit and cheese earlier.

  He refused to let himself think too hard, as he followed Gavin back to his place after lunch. Gavin stepped out to the balcony for another cigarette as Derrick began sanding the patched drywall smooth. After they’d each finished, Gavin went thought his ritual of washing his hands and brushing his teeth, then offered Derrick beer and sat down to scroll through the video streaming options on Netflix.

  He didn’t much care about the movie they chose. If anything, he deliberately showed the most interest in the movies that would be the least engrossing. That way, it wouldn’t matter if he and Gavin turned their attention to conversation. If Gavin realized the scheme, he played along, and after the phony repairs, Derrick felt no remorse for that tiny bit of well-intentioned manipulation.

  Gavin sat just
far enough away to not be invading Derrick’s space, but not so far that he seemed to be avoiding contact. Derrick hesitated a moment, drawing a deep breath and stopping an internal debate before it began, and shifted an inch or two closer to the middle of the sofa. He didn’t really know what to do with the tension thrumming through him, the awareness of Gavin only a few inches away. Or perhaps it was more honest to say he knew what he wanted to do, he just wasn’t sure he could, or should, bring himself to do it. He was limited not only by his own shyness, but the foreign and unfamiliar notion of being with another person without all the childish fits and starts and torturously slow fumbling that had comprised his only other experience so many years ago.

  He wanted Gavin. It was just that simple. And he was pretty damn certain Gavin wanted him, too. His understanding that the proper, smart thing to do would be to take things slow, to learn about Gavin, to become friends, clashed against more than ten years of abstinence and a sexual awareness too strong to be denied.

  When Derrick turned his head, Gavin’s whiskey-colored eyes and beautiful mouth were right there.

  He didn’t want a hesitant, inch-by-inch approach. In utter contradiction of everything he thought he’d ever known about himself, he just wanted to let go and plunge headlong into this. He felt as though if he could just barrel past the uncertainty, if he could just feel Gavin’s hands on him, truly on him, all the questions and anxiety would just fade away and everything would be right.

  He could do it, he thought, swallowing hard. He was right there on the brink of it. He had it in him to make that move after all, Derrick realized. He could turn and pull Gavin into a kiss right now and things would move on from that and there wouldn’t be any more doubt. It would be a relief for both of them.

  In the end, it wasn’t his fears, but the knowledge of existing complications—at least on Gavin’s end—which stopped Derrick. The timing was bad, he’d said. So Derrick would wait, and let him take the lead no matter how much his body screamed to take more direct action.