What You Own

Home > Fiction > What You Own > Page 13
What You Own Page 13

by A. M. Arthur


  I didn’t know what anyone said the rest of the meeting.

  We pooled our cash for the bill and tip and left as a group. My belly was full of pancakes and bacon, but my brain was heavy with other stuff. A lot of it guilt. Adam’s car was parked one over from mine, and he paused by my bumper, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his cargo shorts.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked now that we were alone.

  “I really am just tired,” he replied. “Long day.”

  We’d made tentative, texted plans for him to come over tonight around eleven. It’d make getting up for his internship a bear, and I saw how selfish I was for asking. He looked like he needed a good night’s sleep more than he needed his dick sucked. And even though I could offer a good night’s sleep in my bed, he’d turn me down because he’d never once spent the whole night, and we’d end up doing something to burn up those sleeping hours. In private, I couldn’t keep my hands off him.

  “You wanna skip the date tonight? See each other on Friday like we already said?”

  Adam blinked slowly, several times, like a drunk trying to focus on a hard question involving arithmetic. “Are you sure?”

  Hell no. “Yeah, real sure. You get a long sleep. Last thing I want is you gettin’ sick.”

  His grateful smile made it all worth it. His elbow jerked, like he wanted to touch me, only we were in a public parking lot, and he’d never do that. Not yet.

  Maybe never.

  In ten days he’d either brand me his, or he’d (metaphorically) take me out back and shoot me. One way or another, I’d know.

  “Thanks, Rye,” Adam said. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  I watched him get into his car and drive away. Something felt weird about that, and I didn’t know why. I’d seen him drive away from places dozens of times and never had this little buzz in my head that told me to go after him.

  I went to work and wondered on it all night long.

  Adam

  Ryan letting me off the hook for tonight was a relief I didn’t expect, like a heavy blanket had been taken off my face, and I was able to breathe freely. Sitting next to him at the diner for ninety minutes had been a special kind of pain after my conversation with Joe. I couldn’t tell Ryan about it in front of Ellie and the Bishops, and what could Ryan do anyway? He’d likely be grateful to know that Joe was in our corner. And then he’d worry we weren’t being discreet enough, that my father was going to find us out.

  My father was my problem to own and to manage, not Ryan’s.

  The sight of Dad’s car in the garage when I parked made my pulse jump. He rarely made it home before eight most nights, and it was only a few minutes before seven. I went into a silent house. Lights blazed in both the kitchen and the living room, but they were empty. Curious and worried, I crept down the hall toward Dad’s home office. The door was half open, spilling light out in a yellow glow that looked sickly and cold, instead of warm and inviting.

  “Adam?”

  He’d heard me. I continued forward, into the office doorway. Dad sat in his big, leather desk chair, a glass of amber liquid in a tumbler on his blotter. Probably scotch, his favorite evening drink. He didn’t ask me inside, and he didn’t get up. He simply stared at me, and I recognized his business poker face—the face he used when sizing up a new client, deciding which way was best to proceed.

  My heart was pounding loudly, and I needed to shatter the silence in the house before he heard it and declared me guilty. “You’re home early,” I said.

  “I’m not going to accuse you of lying, Adam, because you’ll argue that you didn’t lie, and you’ll be technically correct,” Dad said. His voice was flat, cold, one tonal shift from utterly furious.

  You’re fucked.

  I stood my ground, even though my insides started shaking. “What did I not lie about, exactly?”

  “The people on the center’s fundraiser committee with you.”

  Shit, fuck, and damn it all to hell.

  “You’re right, you never asked.” His eyes narrowed, and before he could explode, I went on. “Ryan Sanders is on the committee with me. He’s been volunteering at the center for years and if it helps”—now I’m lying to your face, Dad, sorry—”it’s not exactly been a picnic for either of us. He hates me for everything that went down senior year. Hates you too.”

  “Hates us both so much that he came begging to our door for a donation?”

  “We were on the list of places to ask. Ryan and Ellie randomly ended up with LQF. Ellie sold me on the fundraiser, and she sold me on the importance of the center to the community. That’s why I brought it to you and Joe.”

  Dad tapped his fingers against the rim of his crystal tumbler. “So Ryan’s participation had no influence on your decision?”

  “It made me reconsider my initial enthusiasm, because I knew we’d be working together for a few weeks. We didn’t exactly end our friendship on a positive note, and he was less than polite during that first meeting.” When had I gotten so good at lying to my father? Maybe when I found out he let my mother drown in her own alcoholism rather than risk a few backhanded whispers.

  “And he hasn’t tried to weasel his way back into your life? To make himself some sort of martyred victim?”

  Ryan was a victim—of a lot of things but mostly of bigotry and hate. God help me, I loved him so much, and no way was I saying that to my father. “No, he hasn’t.” I cast a line that I knew would make him buy this, hook and sinker. “I asked him about the bashing once.” Held up a hand so Dad didn’t interrupt. “You know I don’t remember anything about the fight. I thought he’d be able to fill in the gaps, tell me how I broke my arm. Asshole refused to talk about it, even though I have every right to know.”

  I must have put the right amount of righteous indignation into those final few sentences, because Dad nodded slowly. “Of course you do, son,” he said. “It sounds like he’s grown into an angry, bitter young man.”

  No, he’s not! He’s been hurt, but he’s amazing and loving and kind.

  “He lives with a girl, works at Walgreens, and spends his free time teaching kids to sing and dance,” I said with the right amount of sneer in my tone. “What do you think?”

  Dad studied me a while longer, and I held still. I didn’t fidget or rock on my heels or do anything to betray the way my insides were quaking with fear. “If you weren’t two weeks from the actual fundraiser, I’d advise you to seriously considering dropping the project. However, seeing as you’ve nearly seen it through, you might as well reap the rewards of your labors. But do not let Ryan Sanders get in your head, son. Keep your eye on the end game.”

  My end game is to be with him.

  “I won’t, Dad, I promise. Once the fundraiser is over, Ryan’s back out of my life.” Saying those words made me want to vomit.

  So did the way Dad smiled at me. “Good. I have faith that you won’t do anything to shame me.” Something in his tone hinted at the exact opposite. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  He might as well have saluted and barked “Dismissed!” at me.

  I wandered upstairs to my room in a daze, uncertain how I’d survived that conversation with my sanity intact. One slip, one admission of my real relationship with Ryan, and it would have been over. Dad would have screamed, threatened, then kicked me out. He may yet in the very near future when he realized I’d stood in his office doorway and lied to his face, over and over again.

  And I didn’t feel one iota of guilt over that fact.

  I did, however, feel a sharp stab of fear. It blazed through my guts, then settled heavily in the bottom of my stomach. Fear of reprisal if he found out the truth before I could tell him. Fear of him not taking my word for it and snooping into my life. He wasn’t above having me followed right over to Ryan’s apartment for a long night of fucking and sucking and being gay together. He’d find a way to ruin Ryan’s life again.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter Thirteen

&nb
sp; Ryan

  Adam ignored my calls and texts on Thursday, which planted a black splotch of fear in my gut, heavy and ugly like hot tar. Friday he texted to bail on our plans, and that splotch boiled up into something bigger, hotter. I chewed a bunch of antacids because something was wrong and he wasn’t telling me about it. I wanted to track him down, pin him, and make him talk. But barging into his job or house would only piss him off, and I wouldn’t do anything to push him away.

  If he was going, and this was his way of doing it, I wasn’t gonna help him along.

  Saturday I woke up with a cramp in my belly and something heavy sitting on my chest. Adam should be at the center by eleven for a full fundraiser rehearsal. I hadn’t talked to him since Wednesday night, and it was making me nuts.

  Ellie had already made coffee and was sitting at the counter eating cereal. I got a bowl, grabbed the box of corn flakes, and shook about a dozen flakes and crumbs into the bowl. Anger crawled across my skin like an army of ants.

  “Really, El?” I slammed the empty box down into the trash can. Something below it popped loudly. “You leave a tiny bit like that in the box? Shit.”

  “Sorry!” She leapt off her stool and yanked open a cabinet near the fridge. “I bought another box yesterday, geez.” She shoved the new box of corn flakes at me with a glare.

  I ripped open the box a little too rough because the plastic bag inside tore too deep. Poured some cereal and dumped a bunch of sugar over top before adding milk. Me putting sugar on corn flakes made Ellie nuts, and sure enough, I heard her mumbling something about just buying the fucking frosted kind.

  “What is up your ass, Ryan?” she asked when she’d put her bowl in the sink. “You and Adam break up or something?” My silence made her turn around and look at me. “Ryan?”

  “I don’t know.” I shoveled another syrupy sweet spoonful into my mouth. “He’s ignored me since Wednesday. Somethin’s happened, but I don’t know what.”

  She sat back down, her need to be my friend overtaking her earlier anger. “Do you think his dad knows something and got to him?”

  “Maybe. Adam says he wants to be with me, but what if when the chips are down, he folds? What if he really can’t pick me?”

  “Honey, you always knew there was a chance of that happening.”

  “Yeah, but knowin’ and believin’ aren’t the same thing.”

  “You’ll see him today. Make him talk to you. And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass for making you crazy.”

  My lips twitched, wanting to smile. “Thanks, El.”

  “Thank me by doing the dishes before we leave for rehearsal.”

  “Can do.”

  I finished eating, poured coffee, then cleaned up the kitchen. Checked my phone for messages—nothing. Drank my coffee and checked my phone again. More nothing. By the time we left for the center, I was an over-caffeinated nervous mess.

  The auditorium was full of people. Adam was already there, setting up some music equipment on stage with Lou and Larry. My heart fluttered stupidly at the sight of him. I longed to push through the people between us, grab him and kiss him until we couldn’t see straight. To prove to everyone how I felt. For now, keeping my big feet still and respecting his space was all I could do to prove it.

  I got a polite “hey” from him later on, same as Ellie, when the committee got up on stage with Lou to shush everyone.

  “Welcome to our first cast rehearsal,” Lou said, his big voice booming without a microphone. Some folks clapped. Somebody wolf whistled. “Susan has a tentative schedule written up, so we’re going to go through every act in order today. We’ll tweak things as needed, shift things if we have to. How’s that sound?”

  Lots of affirmatives burst from the sea of faces—adults, teens, and kids, all excited to be there and help the center.

  Adam and Larry seemed to be running the music, so I stood off to the side with Susan, Ellie, and Lou. Six little girls got up on stage and went through a really rough rendition of “Hard Knock Life.” Ellie stopped them a few times and gave pointers, especially to Kaylee, the black-haired girl doing the Annie part. They weren’t bad and could get a lot better in a week with a bit more practice.

  “The most important thing to remember,” Ellie said as the girls left the stage, “is to have fun. The whole event is about fun and family and showing people why the center is an amazing place.”

  “Amen!” someone piped up from the back.

  I fidgeted through three more acts by the kids, then one by some of the teens. I didn’t pay much attention to the singing, so my feedback was as useful as a three-legged mule. A few times I felt Adam’s stare. Don’t know how I knew it was him every time, but I did, and when I’d try to catch him at it, he’d look away real quick. I tried concentrating more when the kids from my Saturday class got up to do their songs.

  They shocked the hell out of me by doing “Seasons of Love” a cappella, and it was gorgeous. I couldn’t look away. The words sank into my soul and twisted my heart up into a misshapen lump. My eyes burned. When Maggie Johnson did the female solo, I nearly bawled. She was great, better than I knew.

  It ended, and all six kids looked at me, curious and hopeful. I couldn’t say anything around the lump in my throat.

  “Holy shit, is he going to cry?” Maggie asked, a harsh whisper that everyone must have heard, because the auditorium was dead silent.

  I couldn’t do anything but put my hands together, over and over. The applause thundered, and my students all went red in the face, and it was fantastic. I hadn’t been so proud in a long time.

  We took a break for final notes, and then the younger kids gathered up their stuff. They wouldn’t be staying for the adult portion of the performances, and we needed to practice too. I escaped into the head for a few minutes to calm down. Adam and I hadn’t even talked beyond “hey,” and we’d be singing soon. Singing a song with a lotta meaning for both of us.

  The bathroom door swung open. Adam stalked inside. I couldn’t even process him there, wide-eyed and desperate, before he’d locked the door and shoved me against the wall. His mouth crashed into mine, and his body did the same, and oh my Lord, I’d missed him. Wrapped my arms tight around his waist and hauled him as close as I could get him. His hands were in my hair, his tongue in my mouth, one leg hitched up around my waist like he could climb inside me that way.

  I moaned into his mouth, desperate for more. For everything right the hell now. His wood pressed hard into my hip, and that sent blood rushing into my own dick.

  “Missed you so much,” he said, then dropped down to his knees.

  The loss of his hot mouth on mine helped me remember where we were, and that this was a bad idea—locked door or not—but then he was fishing my cock out of my shorts, and all I knew was heaven. Lips and tongue and wet heat. I looked down long enough to see him pulling on his own dick, then let my eyes roll shut. I went away on wave after wave of amazing, while Adam sucked me off. Pleasure boiled and burst up. I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the need to cry out while I emptied my load into his throat.

  Adam came right after, his spunk making an audible splat on the tile floor between my feet.

  “Missed you too,” I said when I had some measure of sense back.

  Me talking must have jump-started his brain again because Adam stood so fast he nearly clipped my chin with the top of his head. He zipped up quick enough that I feared for his junk and those zipper teeth. I took my time fixing myself up, wary of his sudden distance. He splashed water on his face and dried off on a handful of paper towels. We’d both gone off so fast that his lips weren’t too puffy.

  On the other hand, he did look kinda scared, and I didn’t understand. He cleaned his spunk off the floor with toilet paper, then flushed it down. I grabbed his arm before he could bolt out the door. He didn’t resist, just kinda listed into me, a dead weight against my chest. I held him there, needing him in my arms a minute longer, worried this might be the last time.

  �
��What’s goin’ on?” I asked.

  “After rehearsal.” His voice was tight, strained. I didn’t like it. I wanted to rip whatever was hurting him into little bitty pieces. “We’ll talk then, okay, Rye?”

  “M’kay.”

  He took a breath that turned into a shudder. Ripped away and shut himself into a stall. My stomach flipped, unhappy, that black splotch in my guts getting bigger. Oilier. Nastier.

  I returned to the auditorium on shaky legs. Somehow I got up and sang “Light My Candle” with Ellie, and we were okay. I knew the song backward, but I still missed a few cues. Ellie arched an eyebrow at me when we were done. All I could do was shrug.

  Larry and Susan were pretty hilarious. If they camped it up a little more, they’d be the highlight of the adult performances. Everyone thought so. Adam was back by the time they finished, and then it was our turn.

  My only saving grace was that “Mark” and “Roger” never looked at each other during this song. They were each singing from a different place, dancing around each other like ghosts, not acknowledging the other. If I’d had to look Adam in the eyes, everyone watching would know how I felt about him. And how scared I was that everything was about to implode.

  The music came up. Adam’s hand tapped the time on his thigh. He closed his eyes. Opened them again on his first belted lyric. His voice washed over me, a lover’s caress without actually touching, singing lyrics that had become incredibly personal over the last few years. I nearly missed my own cue to join in. We sang one at a time for several moments, and then our voices merged into one.

  “What was it about that night?” ripped out of my heart in a way I’d never considered the line before. A perfect summary of the night our lives had changed.

  “You’re not alone!” choked me up, but I got past it, and then it was over.

 

‹ Prev