by Marie Sexton
Our last morning in Denver, I spent three hours trying to catch Geisha, but she wouldn’t come near me. I wasn’t going to wait around for my ex-boyfriend’s ungrateful cat.
“I guess we’ll just leave her,” I said to Angelo.
“What?” I was surprised at how outraged he was. “No way, Zach! We’re takin’ her!”
Of course it only took him about ten minutes to coax her over.
We finally got her shoved into the cat carrier and left Arvada behind us. I drove the rental van, and Angelo followed behind in my Mustang, with a yowling Geisha in the passenger seat.
Less than four weeks after our first night in Coda, we were residents. Two weeks later, we opened the rental side of A to Z Video.
“What about the back room?” Angelo asked me a few days after our grand opening. “You need to get tables and chairs and start lookin’ into all the licensing bullshit.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that anytime soon.”
“Thought you liked the idea.”
“I do. I love it. I’m just not sure I can afford to do it right away. We need one of those projection home theater systems, with full surround sound. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I do.”
I looked at him in surprise. “You do? How?”
“Been workin’ two jobs for a long time. I pay rent. I buy food. Other than that, my only expense is rentin’ movies.” He walked over to me, leaned into me, and looked up at me through his bangs. “Few months ago I met this cute preppy guy. He’s been givin’ me a discount on the movies.”
I laughed. “He must be trying to get in your pants.”
He smiled. “It’s possible.”
“If you’re going to invest, you should be a partner.”
His smile disappeared. “No, man. I don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
I could see that look in his eyes—the same one he had when we talked about living together. It was just one more thing he wasn’t ready for. “I’ll pay you back.”
His arms went around my waist. “I been meanin’ to tell you, Zach—I want a raise. And that’s not a sexual innuendo.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
His lips brushed mine, and he smiled. “I lied.”
“You don’t want a raise?”
“It was a sexual innuendo.”
“I think I love you.” The words were out of my mouth before I knew I was going to say them. I wanted to take them back immediately. If talking about living together sent him into a full- blown panic attack, there was no telling what the L-word was going to do to him.
He froze, for just a second, and I braced for the worst, but he just smiled and said simply, “I know.”
ONE day in mid-October, Matt and Jared stopped by the store just as we were about to close to see if we wanted to go out for dinner.
Angelo was making a Halloween display, with horror movies sorted into four categories: bloody, spooky, campy, and downright disturbing.
“You think The Exorcist goes in spooky or disturbing?” he asked us.
“Disturbing!” Jared said right as Matt said, “Campy.”
“Really?” Jared and Angelo said in unison, looking at Matt in surprise.
Matt shrugged. “Never did see what was so scary about it.”
Angelo turned to me. “What do you think, Zach?”
“Never se—”
“—seen it,” he finished for me, smiling. “Should have known.
We’ll go with spooky.”
“Scariest. Movie. Ever,” Jared said with finality.
“No way,” Matt laughed.
“Zach, what’s the scariest movie you seen?” Ang asked me.
I could count the number of horror movies I could actually remember watching on one hand. “The Shining?”
He smiled at me. “Okay. That’s respectable.”
“What do you think?” I asked him.
“Not sure. Maybe The Changeling.”
“That one with Angelina Jolie?” Matt asked skeptically.
“No, man. With George C. Scott. You seen it?” We all shook our heads. “Nobody’s seen that movie.” He turned to Matt. “What’s your pick?”
“Jesus Camp.”
Angelo actually looked confused. “Never heard of it. Is it a slasher flick?”
“It’s a documentary.” We all laughed, but he didn’t seem to be joking. “I’m telling you, if that movie doesn’t scare you, nothing will.”
Jared was looking at him in astonishment. “A documentary about religion?”
“It’s not about religion. It’s about fanaticism. Not the same thing.”
Angelo was looking thoughtful, and I knew we’d have a copy of it by the end of the month.
We had dinner with Matt and Jared, and then they came to my house to watch a movie with us. Angelo usually liked watching movies, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. He was sitting next to me on the couch, and his hand was slowly moving farther up my thigh. As soon as they were out the door, he grabbed my hand and led me into the bedroom.
I watched him undress. I loved to just look at him. There was something wildly exotic about him, something rare and precious and beautiful but also shamelessly audacious. Something that was divine and yet completely irreverent. He practically radiated sensuality.
Now that I knew it was there, I wondered how I had ever not seen it.
I really had been blind.
“What’s your deal?” he asked suddenly, in that impudent tone he always used.
“You’re amazing.”
He gave me his lopsided smile. “If I’m so amazing, why you still have clothes on?”
I had to laugh. “I have no idea.” It didn’t take us long to remedy that situation.
He got the lube out of the drawer and pulled me over to him. I was hard already, and I started to stroke him while I kissed him. I felt his hand on me, wet with lube, and then he whispered in my year, “I want you to fuck me, Zach.”
Just hearing those words could almost have sent me over the edge. I had to push his hand away from my cock to keep from losing it too soon. I wanted more time with him—more time to taste him and feel him and become part of him.
I pushed him down so that he was sitting on the bed and knelt in front of him. He kissed me and ran his fingers through my hair.
His hand rested on my head, and it felt like a blessing.
I took his other hand, turned it palm up, and kissed the inside of his wrist. I sucked gently on that soft skin. I could actually feel his pulse against my lips, and it was unbelievably arousing. I kissed the palm of his hand, ran my tongue in a small circle, and heard his breath catch. He was always so quiet. It was sometimes hard to know what he liked. I loved when I could actually elicit a response from him—fingers clenching in my hair or a hitch in his breathing.
I pushed him back on the bed and leaned over him to suck one of his nipples. His fingers went into my hair, and his head went back. I teased each one, until he was tense and panting, arching his hips toward me. I ran my hand down his side, circled as close to his cock as I could without touching it.
“Zach….” It was so quiet, but I could sense the growing need behind it.
“Roll over.” He did, and I moved down between his legs. He was so slim and beautiful. His skin was dark all over but even darker in that soft place behind his balls, leading into his crack. I ran my tongue up that dark trail, heard his breath catch again, and he spread his legs farther apart for me. I licked around his rim, over and over, teasing us both. His breathing stopped, stuttered, almost like a sob, and he pushed back toward me. I let my tongue penetrate him and actually heard him make a soft sighing sound that almost undid me altogether. I pulled his cheeks apart and pushed deeper with my tongue. He started to reach for his cock, but I stopped him. He tried to grind himself into the bed, but I held his hips. I pushed into him as deep as I could, over and over, until I could feel that
he was tense and straining toward the bed, trying to get some release.
I pulled out, locked my mouth over him and sucked. That little sighing sound came again, and I pushed my tongue deep back into him. He tried again to reach for his cock, and I stopped him but slid my own hand up between his legs. He immediately thrust into my hand, started to tense up, and I knew he was close.
“Zach, please….”
I wasn’t going to last long, either. I moved as quickly as I could. I covered his body with my own and slowly pushed into him.
I felt like I could see heaven. It felt like coming home. I could never be close enough to him or deep enough. I wanted to sink into him forever, to burn myself into him until we became one. One body, one spirit, but two beating hearts. I gripped his cock with my hand, thrust into him again. His hands were gripping the sheets tight.
He made that small sighing sound again and arched up to meet me. I felt pressure inside of me, building and expanding, threatening to tear me apart. I heard his breath catch, but he never released it. He always held his breath when he came. I buried my face in his hair, felt his body trembling beneath me, and clenching around me. That pressure inside of me, burning and pulsing, finally exploded. It tore through me and erased me completely. I didn’t even exist, except in that beautiful, holy place where I was joined to him.
My hand on him was slick with his come, and he was breathing again. Breathing hard, like he’d just run a mile, and his fingers found my free hand and gripped it tight. We stayed that way for a while, until his breathing was back to normal. And then he said quietly, “Everything feels so much better with you, Zach. Is it that way for you too?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I knew why, but I was hesitant to say it. I ran my hand down his side, felt his ribs against my fingers, kissed the back of his neck, and finally whispered, “Because we love each other.”
His fingers clenched in mine, but then he sighed and said sleepily, “That must be it.”
It was the closest he had ever come to saying it. I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat and held him tight. We fell asleep tangled together, but when I woke up a few hours later, he was getting dressed.
“Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”
He tensed and didn’t look at me. “Home.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
He didn’t say a word. Just turned and left. I tried to tell myself it was no big deal. But that empty space on the other side of the bed haunted me the rest of the night.
…Angelo
BEEN in Coda almost two months now. Still tryin’ to get used to bein’ with Zach. Still tryin’ to make that bird in my chest be still.
Zach tells me he loves me. He says it all the time. I can’t say it back—not ’cause I don’t feel the same way, but ’cause I just can’t seem to make those words come outta my mouth. Seems like he doesn’t mind.
I go to his house almost every night after work. He cooks dinner sometimes. Maybe we watch a movie or work on a puzzle or hang out with Matt and Jared. Sometimes we just talk. Sometimes we spend the entire evenin’ makin’ out or havin’ sex. I love bein’ with him. Still can’t believe how good everything feels with him.
Never realized love could make sex feel so much better.
Every night, though, that moment comes when I have to decide if I’m stayin’ there or goin’ home. Hate how hard that moment is for me sometimes. He asks more and more if I’ll spend the night. Makes that stupid bird in my chest frantic. The more he asks, the more I want to leave. Feel like no matter how much I manage to give, he just wants more. Sometimes I think there’s nothin’ left of me to give.
I been spendin’ a lot of time with Matt and Jared. I watch them. They’re obviously crazy ’bout each other. What’s interestin’ to me, though, is that they don’t love each other the same way.
Neither way is less or more than the other. Just different kinds of love.
Jared’s love is a sated, contented kind of love. It’s like he’s been given everything he ever wanted, and now he’s just sittin’ back, enjoyin’ the ride. That cliché ’bout a couple bein’ two halves of a whole—I thought it was sentimental crap ’til I met Jared. Matt really is part of him. He knows where Matt is and what he's doin’ almost all the time. Not ’cause he’s keepin’ track; I don't think he even knows he’s doin’ it. He just seems to sense it. I watched them once, cookin’ together. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen, with their backs to each other. But every time Matt turned to hand somethin’ to Jared, Jared was already reachin’ back to take it from him. I know they’ve only known each other a year and a half, and yet, I can’t imagine Jared without Matt. He must have been only half alive.
Matt’s love for Jared is somethin’ else entirely. For him it’s not so much constant contentment as it is a series of sudden, intense realizations. Watchin’ him, most of the time, you wouldn’t know they were a couple. He’s just spendin’ time with his best friend. But then, every once while, he’ll turn to look at Jared, and it’s like, instead of findin’ his best friend sittin’ there next to him, he suddenly sees the answer to every question he’s ever asked. And when that happens, you can see it on his face. It’s sheer amazement.
Those moments he can't keep his hands off of Jared, either.
Suddenly he has to touch him. Just to make sure he’s really there, I guess.
I know the way Zach loves me is closer to the way Matt loves Jared. Not exactly the same, though. Matt doesn’t worry ’bout losin’ Jared. I know Zach worries ’bout losin’ me all the time. ’Course Zach’s never been stupid. I think he can sense there’s still some piece of me that’s scared shitless. That little voice inside of me that’s constantly tellin’ me to run like crazy before he has a chance to hurt me.
I try not to listen to that voice. I know Zach practically worships me. Zach’s love is reverent. He’d do anything in the world for me. Still, sometimes that voice gets pretty fuckin’ loud.
Two weeks ago, I found a second job—stockin’ at the grocery store three nights a week. I know Zach’s annoyed ’bout it. He tries not to show it. I know he’s tryin’ to give me my space. But I also know he feels like I just took three nights of our time together away from him.
Guess he’s not wrong.
But the job keeps the bird quiet three nights a week.
Sometimes, though, there’s not much for me to do. Tonight they tell me I can go at one in the mornin’. Get all the way into my apartment, all the way to my bed. It’s empty, except for Geisha. I know it’s not where I want to be. Get to Zach’s a little before two.
’Course he gave me a key. I let myself in, go in the bedroom, where he’s sleepin’.
I get undressed and I’m just about to climb in bed with him when he says, “You’re here.”
“That okay?”
“Of course. I’m glad you’re here. I wish you were here every night.”
There he goes again, always wantin’ for more. Suddenly I’m so annoyed that I wish I was still dressed so I could just walk back out. I don’t know who I’m annoyed at more—him for always pushin’ or myself for bein’ so fuckin’ scared. I sit on the edge of the bed with my back to him, put my head in my hands, try to figure out what to say.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, but there’s annoyance in his voice too.
Suddenly that bird is thrashin’ in my chest again, and I have to put my head down between my knees, breathe in and out.
He sighs, and I don’t know if he’s annoyed at both of us, too, or just me. He gets out of bed, gets on his knees in front of me. I sit up, and he’s lookin’ up at me. “I can’t even say that I wish you were here?”
“Never happy, are you?” I ask bitterly. “I’ll never be good enough for you.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
“No,” he says, and I can tell he’s tryin’ hard to be patient, “it’s not.”
> “Seems like I can’t be what you want, Zach.”
He shakes his head at me. “You are what I want, Ang.”
“Doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”
“Damn it, Ang, I’m telling you—you are! You’re the one who’s so sure that I want something you’re not willing to give.” He sounds so mad, but he’s not yellin’. Still just sittin’ there on his knees in front of me, wearin’ only his boxers. “You need to stop, Ang. Stop assuming that I mean more than what I say. Just because I say I want you here with me, it doesn’t mean I blame you for not being here. I’m just telling you how I feel.”
Have to think ’bout that for a minute. Makes my anger disappear real fast. I never thought about it that way. Every time he says it, I think he’s mad. Think he’s tryin’ to coerce me into doin’ what he wants. But maybe he’s just sayin’ it. Just like when he tells me that he loves me.
“Angelo, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you. I can’t ask you to spend the night. I can’t come to your place. I can’t tell you that I miss you. I’m trying to learn to walk this line you’ve drawn between having you and smothering you, and I feel like I’m never going to get it right.”
Never meant to make him feel that way. Never thought about how it felt to him.
“Don’t know why you put up with me,” I say quietly.
“Because I’m crazy about you, Ang. But I’m so afraid of losing you I don’t know what to do. I feel like you’re ready to take off if I make one wrong move. You’re like some beautiful, crazy bird, and any second now you’ll just fly away, and I’ll never see you again.”
I have to smile at that. “You think I’m a bird?” It’s like he knows about that bird in my chest. He’s been seein’ it all along.
He smiles back but only barely. It’s a sad smile. He takes one of my hands and holds it between his. “Ang, if I move too close, you’ll be gone before I know it, but if I put you in a cage, you’ll just beat yourself to death against the bars.”
“Can’t believe I ever said you had no sense of romanticism.”
“I love you so much it hurts, Ang. I know you hate hearing it, but—”