by Lane Hayes
We stared at each other heatedly. I was vaguely aware of Isaac and Cory storming out of the room to save us from what they probably assumed was another typical day at the office. I licked my bottom lip and nodded.
“There’s nothing to fix. It’s just my life.”
“You make me want to kick you in the nuts, you stupid motherfucker. Life is what you make of it. Don’t take a backseat to anyone. Ever. You’re better than that. And if Carter puts a smile on your pretty face, I like him. And so will Cory and Isaac and anyone else who really gives a shit about you.”
We stared at each other in angry silence for a half beat before I nodded and pushed his chest.
“You’re right.”
“I know.” He shifted as though he were about to move off me and, at the last second, sucker-punched me in the stomach. “We’re even now, asshole.”
I scrambled to get off the ground and smacked the side of his head before following him to join Isaac and Cory.
“What the hell is going on? We can’t leave you guys alone for ten fucking minutes. Pull it together, shitheads, and get back in there!” Cory pointed to the studio door with a pissed-off expression while Isaac assured the few random bystanders everything was cool.
Rand reached for his guitar the second we entered the studio and started playing “Ramble On,” an old Led Zeppelin tune with a catchy rhythm he’d recently mastered on the acoustic, with Will’s help, no doubt. I picked up my sticks and launched flawlessly into the beat. As the song escalated, he moved in a sinewy dance and came to stand directly in front of me. He was egging me on. Daring me to either come after him again for having the temerity to bring up shit no one was allowed to talk about or to handle those old bad feelings the way I learned to many years ago. In music.
I closed my eyes and leaned into my instrument. And I was gone. This was my balance. This hadn’t deserted me. This was still mine. Rand was an annoying pain in the ass, but maybe he was right. Maybe I could have it all. Maybe it was time to try.
8
There was an element of possibility in the spring air that made even the most mundane, everyday pastimes seem new again. Or maybe it was Carter. If I wasn’t in the studio practicing with the band, I was with him. Activities we’d originally used as excuses to see each other slowly became ours. He didn’t think twice about joining me on my rambling walks around the city, and I no longer balked at Saturday morning yoga. In my defense I was usually still reeling from the aftereffects of a spine-tingling orgasm and didn’t have it in me to refuse him. We were game for anything from throwing a Frisbee in Central Park to strolling through a crowded farmers’ market on a Sunday. By the beginning of June, I was even listed as a permanent sub for his baseball team. Which meant for the first time since I was fourteen I was playing almost every weekend. Unlike then, I loved it.
We trudged back to the East Village one Saturday afternoon through a freak spring rainstorm after a game. By the time we’d pushed open the door to my place, we were soaked to our skin. We quickly stripped out of our wet clothes and hurried to shower. The allure of sharing warm water with a hot, muscled man in a confined space was too strong to ignore. The rush to wash and change into dry clothing was forgotten. Within ten minutes I had him face forward with one hand splayed against the thick pane of glass, begging me to fuck him harder and faster while he jacked himself with the other. I came with a roar that echoed off the glass tiles. His head fell backward on my shoulder when his release hit him a moment later. I wrapped my arms around his chest and held him until he gently pushed me back.
We rinsed off in silence. I couldn’t say why, but as I dried his broad back, pausing to kiss his neck and lick his earlobe, I experienced a profound sense of… contentment. Like I was in the right place at the right time with the right person. It was disconcerting in a way. I wanted to brush aside the sentiment. It was silly. Fanciful. Not something I’d ever say aloud in a million years. But I couldn’t stop smiling. Nor could I get my pulse under control. Just being near him made me… giddy. That was the word. Giddy. A notion I associated with infatuated schoolgirls who twittered over photos of the cute guys in boy bands.
By the time we made our way to the kitchen, I’d regained my cool. Or at least most of it. I sat at a barstool with my feet propped on the rung of the one next to me while Carter made lunch. He had this way of making himself at home in my place that should have annoyed me. Instead I found it comforting. I loved watching him move around the room, opening drawers, pulling out plates, and pacing between the refrigerator and the sink. It was cozy.
And I didn’t want it to end.
Carter was talking about a crazy play an outfielder from the other team made that ruined his mad dash to home plate. His animated hand gestures were a comical contrast to the knife in his hand. I pointed at the mustard he was about to drip on the island, but didn’t attempt to disrupt his flow of speech. He was on a roll.
“I rounded third so fast I slipped instead of slid into home. There’s no way Dempsey would have been able to tag me otherwise. I’m not convinced he did. I think he got a home team call. Do you want dijon?”
“Sure.” I leaned on my elbow and gave him a dubious shrug. “No offense, but that was more like a three-run play you tried to will into a home run.”
“Traitor,” he huffed without heat. “Do you like this wheat bread? It’s the whole-grain one we picked up at the organic market.”
“Then it’s a week old. It’s probably stale.”
“It’s fine. I froze it and took out a couple slices this morning. Here you go.”
He set a huge turkey sandwich on a plate and pushed it in front of me with a napkin.
“Thank you. You’re a great cook, Carter the Fourth.”
He tapped at my feet before pulling out the barstool next to me and taking a seat. “Thanks, but this isn’t cooking. Anyone can make a sandwich.”
“Maybe. You’re better at it than me. Even your peanut-butter-to-jelly ratio is killer,” I gushed before taking a gigantic bite.
“I’m blushing.” He rolled his eyes and made a show of neatly stacking his sandwich before cutting it into even halves. I wanted to tease him for being fastidious, but the faint flush of pink on his cheeks stopped me.
“You are blushing. Hasn’t anyone ever complimented your masterful application of condiments?”
“No. You’re the first.”
“Hmph. Then you’ve been robbed. You’re a gem, Cart. You do it all. You’re a successful businessman, a star baseball player, a yoga guru, a decent cook… and you’re hot. You’ll make some lucky guy the perfect wife one day.”
“Fuck off.” He kicked my leg with his bare foot but left it lying on mine. The innocent contact felt nice. I brushed his shin with my toes, loving the feel of his coarse hair. A subtle reminder Carter was all man.
“I was teasing but—maybe not. You’re one of those naturally talented people who master new things easily. I bet you do well with pretty much everything you try. Other than stealing covers in the middle of the night and overselling the joys of yoga… is there anything you suck at?” My tone was jocular, but I was interested in his answer because I wasn’t exaggerating. Carter was freakishly gifted.
He furrowed his brow in query as though he wasn’t sure I was playing around. “Huh?”
“Fine. I’ll go first.” I cleared my throat and recited a few ugly truths in a bored tone. “I’m an iffy cook, and I can’t be trusted with laundry. I still turn white T-shirts pink on a regular basis. I used to think I was good at baseball, but sadly, I’m not and—”
“You’re getting better.”
“Cart, I suck and your entire office knows it.”
Carter laughed. “You’re going at this the wrong way. Be positive. What are you good at?”
“I’m a good drummer and a relatively responsible citizen.”
“So you pay your taxes on time and you vote.” His derisive tone told me he wasn’t particularly impressed.
“Yeah, but
I meant I’m not a flake. If I say I’m going to be somewhere, I keep my word. Or I try to. The past year has shaken my credibility with my family. The touring, the travel, impromptu schedule changes… I haven’t been able to visit as much. I can’t move back home nor do I want to, but sometimes I feel responsible for things that happen when I’m not around.”
“Like what?”
“My sister’s return to rehab, my mom’s anxiety. I know I can’t influence everyday life, but I should have been able to make it to my nephew’s elementary school holiday program, for fuck’s sake. I sent extra Christmas gifts to compensate for being stuck in Dallas for a last-minute radio appearance. Liam was stoked about his seven-hundred-dollar LEGO set, but—”
“Seven hundred dollars?”
“Yeah. It was the Star Wars Death Star. It has everything. The control room, the Emperor’s throne room, the Imperial conference chamber, the Death Star superlaser… it was worth every fucking dime!”
“How can you justify spending that kind of money on a toy? That’s insane.”
I shrugged. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I just wouldn’t give it to him on Christmas. I’d save it for some random day—”
“Like super-cool-uncle day?”
“Exactly! When is that, by the way?”
“You’re hopeless.” Carter kicked my leg playfully again and took a bite of his sandwich.
“Maybe so. Liam was happy, but his dad was pissed. I managed to usurp Santa in probably the final year he actually believes in the old dude.”
“Sorry, but his dad has a point.”
“I know. I felt bad, but it was done. I couldn’t take it back. Disappear then show up with a toy, like that’s all it takes to be forgiven. I hate getting it wrong all the time. It smacks of my dad,” I commented ruefully.
“Mine too.” Carter’s voice was soft and filled with a longing I recognized.
“How so?”
“He was always busy. No one came to my school plays either, Tim. My aunt and my father weren’t on speaking terms then and… there was no one else. I don’t know if he didn’t think it was important or if he simply forgot. But I noticed.”
“Did you say something to him? Did you ask him why he was an asshole?”
“I did once.” Carter huffed a humorless half laugh. “I was about ten. I’d pitched my first game and my team won. I was thrilled. More so because my dad was somewhere in the bleachers. He’d promised to come and this was the perfect game. It was exciting from start to finish. The score was tied at five until I batted in the runner on third at the bottom of the ninth.”
“You were ten? How do you remember that?”
“It was a big deal. To me anyway. I thought he’d be proud. He used to talk about his own glory days on the field. I thought this would get his attention… maybe jog his memory and remind him he had a son. But I found out he wasn’t there. He hadn’t bothered to show up.”
“That sucks.”
“It was one of many instances. I learned it does no good to dwell on things I can’t change. I only end up sounding like a spoiled brat. And let’s be honest, no one sympathizes with the ‘poor little rich kid’ story. It’s best to take what you didn’t like about where you come from and do your best not to repeat it. If I ever become a father, I won’t miss a thing. Not a sniffly nose, a first tooth, or a silly school play. And I won’t make promises I can’t keep.
“I’ve never told anyone that story but… I think it was the beginning of my issues with overachieving. Good grades, sport accolades, the best entry job at the biggest salary, starting my own firm. My goal after I started my company was to outgross the one I’ll always sit on the board for because I share my father’s last name, if not his ideology. I’m not naturally good at anything other than trying to outrun a legacy of neglect. No one cares if I can do half the shit I know how to do. Bragging rights don’t pay the bills, and though they’ve gotten me laid more than a few times—” He paused to give me a sly grin before continuing with a shrug, “—I suspect that could be part of the reason I’m still alone.”
“You’re not alone. You’re with me.” I swallowed hard and gave him a weak smile before picking up my sandwich nonchalantly. I casually took a huge bite, as though I hadn’t said something uncomfortably out of character.
Carter swiveled on his barstool and set his hand on my thigh, then leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Thanks. You may be a terrible outfielder, but you’re a good guy.”
His singsong delivery had the perfect amount of snark to keep the moment from becoming awkward. I gave him a faux dirty look and pushed my plate aside as I turned to face him.
“Don’t tell my nephew I suck at baseball. He’s convinced I’m the best player ever.”
“Gee, where’d he get that idea?”
I shrugged and gave him a mischievous grin. “No clue. Just don’t burst his bubble.”
Carter chuckled. “I won’t. Then again, I probably won’t meet him anytime soon.”
“You should come home with me,” I heard myself say.
“To Baltimore?”
“Yeah. I owe my family a visit and… yeah.”
Carter shifted in his chair and cocked his head to get a better look at me. “You want me to go home with you?”
“Sure. Why not? Friends do stuff like that together, right? We’ll take Liam to a ball game, have a fish fry at my favorite spot in town, and—it’ll be fun.”
“Where would we stay?”
“My place. I have a two-bedroom condo in town. No one will think twice about it. Come on! It’ll be like a field trip. A weekend break from the city.”
“Won’t they wonder why you’re bringing a guy home?”
“They’ll think we’re friends. Which is what we are.”
“Friends.” A flash of hurt flitted across his face. It was fleeting, but I couldn’t ignore it.
“Look… I’m not out with my family. My mom’s a nervous wreck as it is. I don’t want to give her anything more to worry about. If she knows we sleep in the same bed almost every night, it will make things complicated.”
“Why do you want me to go, then?”
Honestly, I didn’t know why. It was an impulsive invitation, but inexplicably it seemed… right.
“I just do. Not this weekend or maybe even next, but think about it. If it sounds remotely interesting—” I stopped to lean forward and cup his dick through his shorts before continuing in a husky voice, “—I can find ways to make it worth your while.”
Carter bucked his hips into my palm and yanked me forward to nip my bottom lip. “I’m counting on it.”
Our hectic schedules delayed our trip to Baltimore ’til mid-July. Carter was swamped at his office. And I was busy practicing with the band. Spiral was in the studio seven days a week, and some nights we didn’t finish until nine o’clock. We were consumed with perfecting our material before we were set to record our second album at the end of the month in LA. Personally, I thought our new songs were awesome, but there was always room for improvement and a couple tracks didn’t quite work the way we’d hoped. We all agreed a few days away was probably a good idea.
I stretched my arms above my head and tuned out the voices around me. Rand and Isaac were talking about changing a riff in one of the songs while Cory and Will weighed in. They may have expected me to join the discussion, but I didn’t have the energy to pretend to care. I was exhausted. My body was in the building, but my mind was elsewhere. I pulled my cell from my pocket and typed a quick message to let Carter know I’d be on my way soon. His immediate thumbs-up emoji made me smile.
“Do you have any plans this weekend?”
I looked up at Will with a start, then stood to put my phone away. “Uh… yeah. I’m heading to Baltimore.”
“Alone?”
“Um. Actually… no.” I gave Will a puzzled grin. It wasn’t like him to grill anyone on their private lives unless—“Don’t tell me you guys are going to visit Rand’s folks.”
Will ch
uckled. “No. Don’t worry… we won’t call you to double-date.”
“I don’t date,” I scoffed.
“Maybe not, but you’re seeing someone. How is it going?”
I stared at him for a few seconds before answering. “Good. Why? What did Rand tell you?”
“Everything. Don’t get mad. You know him. He can’t keep a secret.”
“Shit. Does Benny know?”
“Of course. Zeke figured it out when you started taking over his sub time, and Benny is as subtle as a jackhammer. If he thinks anything is suspicious, he doesn’t stop asking questions until he’s satisfied he knows everything.”
My stomach lurched. This couldn’t be good. I hadn’t put extra effort into keeping quiet about my relationship with Carter. We saw each other almost every day. We slept together, ate together, went our separate ways for work, and met up again to press Repeat. On the weekends we went to yoga or played baseball, but those were physical activities any two guys could do without raising any red flags. It’s not like we made out on street corners or had sex in the dugout after dark—well, not often. Rand knew and Zeke obviously did too, but no one had confronted us. And for some lame reason, I took that as a sign we’d managed to stay under the radar. Or that we’d given the impression we were friends of friends who had become unlikely buddies.
Will’s knowing glance quickly erased that fantasy.
“I’m surprised Benny hasn’t said anything to me.”
“He wanted to, but Zeke told him to leave you alone. For now. And I told Rand the same thing.”
“Oh. Then why are you bringing it up now?” I shot a look toward my friends giving bro fist bumps on the opposite side of the room.
Will waited for me to face him before he responded. “Because it’s been a few months and I think you should know we all support you. No questions asked.” He signaled to Rand that he was ready when Rand singsonged Will’s name playfully and gestured toward the door. “See ya, Tim.”
I watched my friends file out of the room, slapping each other’s backs and yelling crude parting remarks for the sake of a cheap laugh. I was grateful to be part of this odd circle. They were my brothers and had been a source of major support for years. More so than my family. The more my mother and sister leaned on me, the more I leaned on my bandmates. But I couldn’t decide how I felt about coming out about my relationship with Carter or sharing him with anyone else. Even my best friends.