Covet Thy Neighbor

by L. A. Witt

  It took two, though.

  And judging by the upward flick of his eyebrows and the oh shit in his tired eyes, I wasn’t the only one who’d be wallowing in regret all damned day.

  He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then sat all the way up, each motion subtly increasing the distance between us. “Um. We….” His fingers tapped rapidly on the sheet covering his knee. “Do you, um, want some coffee?”

  “Sure. Yeah.”

  Not that I wanted to stick around long enough for coffee, but it gave us an excuse to get out of this bed. We parted ways as people do after one-night stands that shouldn’t have happened: awkward coffee, mumbled excuses, and a quick escape with noncommittal comments about “later” and “again.” We skipped the goodbye kiss too, which only underscored the point that was already much too clear: last night should not have happened.

  Even if I wasn’t completely sure why. One-night stands were fine with me. But… neighbors. Two guys who couldn’t avoid each other forever. And one was a minister, for fuck’s sake. Exactly the kind of person I avoided at all costs, all wrapped up in a body I couldn’t resist. Exactly the kind of person I had no business getting involved with unless I wanted to take years’ worth of emotional healing about twenty steps backward.

  I tried—yeah right—to get my mind off last night and this morning as I showered, poured another gallon or so of coffee down my throat, fed and watered the cat, and headed downstairs to the shop.

  There wasn’t much to do right off the bat. I kept my workstation immaculate. The waiting area needed just a little tidying—straighten the pile of magazines and portfolios, run through with the broom and dustpan—and the counter and desks were organized already. Not a damned thing to do, and two hours before my first appointment.

  I needed something to occupy my restless hands and brain, so I grabbed a clipboard, opened up the ink cabinet, and started counting cups and bottles.

  I was about halfway through our stock when the front door opened. I hoped it was an early walk-in, but it was just Lane. “Hey, man.”

  “Morning,” he grumbled and sipped his coffee. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Eh.”

  Typical. I went back to counting.

  “Uh, Seth?”

  I leaned back and glanced past the open cabinet door. “Hmm?”

  Lane eyed me. “You are aware it’s Friday, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gestured at the cabinet. “We’re going to use half of what’s in there before you have a chance to order on Monday.”

  “I know. I know. I just need… something to do for a few minutes.”

  “Dude, we’re self-employed,” he said, chuckling. “You don’t have to look busy.”

  “No, I just need to be busy. Something to”—I tapped my temple with my pen—“keep my mind busy.”

  “Oh.” He furrowed his brow. “Okay. Uh, you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.” I checked the clock. It was close to eleven, and we probably wouldn’t see any walk-ins for a while, so I set the clipboard aside. “I’m going to go grab lunch. You want me to bring anything back for you?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

  “Anytime. Back in an hour.”

  I didn’t head toward the town square like I usually would. Better food down that way, but it was also the route Darren and I had taken last night, and retracing those steps wouldn’t do me a bit of good right now.

  I got in my truck, backed out of the parking space, and went in the opposite direction, not allowing myself even a glimpse of the familiar street in the rearview. Once I’d turned down the next street, I released a breath and tried to stretch some tension out of my shoulders.

  This was ridiculous. It didn’t make sense. Something about last night had me sick to my stomach, and… why? I’d had more one-night stands than I could count—including a few with coworkers, classmates, and close friends—and none of them had bugged me like this.

  I tried not to think about it, but how well did that ever work? And the more I thought about it, willingly or otherwise, the worse I felt. My skin crawled. My stomach twisted. Every time I moved, a twinge reminded me of something we’d done, something he’d done, and queasiness mixed with semidormant arousal. Like if I went upstairs to my apartment and just gave in and let the memories wash over me, I wasn’t sure if I’d get a hard-on or puke.

  Or hit something. Because I was pissed, and I couldn’t even begin to understand why. At myself? At Darren? Fuck if I knew.

  My mind kept wandering back to that moment when I’d casually asked him what kind of work had brought him to Tucker Springs.

  I’m a minister.

  Maybe that was the problem. It probably had something to do with the awkwardness from him this morning; I couldn’t imagine one-night stands with near strangers of the same sex were encouraged in his profession.

  But deep down, something told me I’d still be this conflicted and weirded out even if he’d been all smiling and flirting this morning and sent me on my way with the promise of a rematch. I hated that I’d let myself get this close to someone like him. I’d very carefully kept my distance from the religious crowd. They were welcome to their beliefs, but once badly bitten, twice extremely shy.

  Except he wasn’t like the others. And he was hardly the type to ostracize someone for being gay. He was way too good at giving head and getting fucked to have spent much effort shunning gays.

  But he was still a Christian. He was still a minister. He not only believed, he preached. He brought others into the fold. He couldn’t possibly fathom why I distrusted Christians in general and usually couldn’t stomach the idea of being in the same room with a clergyman.

  Yet I’d spent the night in the same bed with one. And I’d loved every minute of it. Every fucking minute. Just like I’d enjoyed the hell out of talking to him over a couple of beers. Last night was a perfect first date and first fuck, except for that one tiny little detail, and I… I didn’t know what to make of it. Any of it.

  The only thing that was clear at this point was that last night had been a mistake.

  INK SPRINGS was always open late on Friday nights, and it was quarter to ten by the time Lane and I were locking up the front door. We shot the shit for a few minutes, and then he drove off.

  I didn’t go upstairs right away. For the longest time I stood in front of the door leading up to the stairwell. What if Darren was awake? Those walls were so thin I swore I could hear spiders walking through that hallway at night. If he was awake, he’d hear me. And then he might come out. And I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid he’d feel as uncomfortable and awkward as I did, or if he’d think nothing at all of what we’d done last night.

  I’d find that out when we finally crossed paths again. Obviously he could stomach sex with a man he’d just met. He hadn’t batted a fucking eye, at least not until the morning after. And he hadn’t been drunk. He’d been perfectly coherent and there hadn’t been a trace of whiskey dick in sight, so he’d known damn well what he was doing when he’d kissed me and then suggested going into his apartment.

  A minister who was down with casual sex and one-night stands. What the hell?

  Whatever. I wasn’t ready to face him yet, so I stuffed my keys into my jacket pocket and started down the sidewalk.

  Lights Out was only a few blocks away. When I got there, the bouncer checking IDs at the door gave me a nod and let me in without paying the cover. Sometimes knowing the owner of the place really paid off.

  Over the music, I shouted, “Jason around?” Of course he was. He was always here when the club was open.

  The bouncer pointed at the stairs. “Was in his office last I saw.”

  “Thanks.” I went upstairs and walked right past the Employees Only sign to a short hallway. Then I tapped two knuckles on the door to Jason’s office.

  “It’s open” came the strained, tried reply. I grimaced. Someone was having a rough
night.

  I pushed open the door. “Hey, man.”

  He looked up from a mountain of paperwork and exhaled. “Oh, hey. How’s it going?”

  “Not bad.” I dropped into the folding chair in front of his desk. “What about you?”

  “Eh.” Jason rubbed his shoulder gingerly and tilted his head to stretch his neck.

  “Shoulder acting up?”

  He nodded. “I’d have Michael come down, but Dylan’s staying at the house this weekend.”

  “Well, it isn’t like you can’t have him fix you up in the morning.”

  “True.”

  “Must be nice, having a live-in acupuncturist.”

  Jason flashed me a smug grin. “It has its perks.” He closed the thick binder he’d been going through and put his elbow on top of it. “So what brings you here? Out of beer again?”

  “Come on, I don’t just come down here for the free beer.” I leaned against the back of the chair. “Honestly, I don’t even want a beer tonight.”

  Jason sat bolt upright, nearly knocking a cup of pens off his desk. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

  “Well.” I tapped my heel beside the chair leg. “I have a new neighbor.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s right, you were saying Robyn was going to move out.”

  “She did. And the new guy?” I whistled and shook my head. “Gorgeous.”

  “Nice! Never hurts to have a little eye candy around the neighborhood.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the problem?”

  “He’s hot, he’s amazing, and he’s a minister.”

  A laugh burst out of Jason. “Oh shit. Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Wow. The fucking irony.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So does he know he’s living in the gayest part of town?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Totally does. And he’s also completely cool with living across the hall from an atheist.”

  Jason laughed again. “Maybe you’re his next project, assuming he likes a challenge.”

  I tried to laugh, but it probably wasn’t very convincing. “Yeah. Maybe.” I watched my fingers play with the edge of the armrest. “Pretty sure he’s okay with the fact that I’m gay, though.”

  “Well, that’s a plus, especially considering what part of town he’s living in.” Jason shrugged. “What’s the big deal, then? So your hot new neighbor’s a minister? Just take in the eye candy and skip the religious debates.”

  Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. “Well, that’s a little easier said than done. Especially after, um, last night….”

  Jason eyed me for a moment. Then he blinked. “Good God, Seth. You two didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  I laughed, heat rushing into my cheeks. “No, we didn’t.” I scowled. “And now I feel like shit about it.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out all day.” I tapped my fingers on the armrest. “I guess it… I mean….” I exhaled hard. “I think it just keeps coming back to the fact that after how things went down with my family and my old church, I don’t want to get involved with someone who’s part of that crowd.”

  Jason lowered his chin and raised his eyebrows. “That was one of those extremist churches. Is it really fair to paint an entire religion with that brush?”

  “Maybe not,” I said through gritted teeth. “But the church pariah and disowned son in me are a bit hard-pressed to give a damn about what fucking qualifies as ‘fair.’”

  “Okay, I can understand that. But you know damn well not everyone with a religious affiliation is like your idiot family. I can see why you’re gun-shy, but, Jesus, I would think it would be refreshing to find someone who didn’t condemn us the way your family does.”

  “Maybe it should be, but all I can think is… fuck. I don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

  “That his acceptance of who you are—and who he is, Seth—invalidates everything that happened to you?”

  “I….”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  JASON’S COMMENTS stuck as I walked home from Lights Out an hour and two beers later. I couldn’t decide if what he’d said made me feel guiltier about my aversion to people like Darren, or if it had pissed me off because he’d hit the nail on the head and now I knew why last night had bothered me all day.

  Maybe Darren’s identity and his self-acceptance did invalidate what had happened to me. After all, he’d been so dismissive of the idea that homosexuality was a sin. Or that there was anything wrong with what we’d done. It seemed so fucking easy for him to blow off things that other preachers taught with fire and brimstone in their eyes. How could he so easily ignore the very thing my family and church had used to excommunicate me? What did he mean it was up for debate, or that it wasn’t such a big deal? I’d lost my entire goddamned family over it. That shit had better be written in blood and carved in stone for everything it had cost me.

  Way too much to think about after nothing more than a one-night stand.

  At my front door, I pulled out my keys. Right then a door opened behind me, the sound simultaneously kicking my heartbeat into overdrive and making me cringe.

  “Hey.” His tone was guarded.

  “Hey.” I turned around, ready to force a smile and try to get through the awkwardness.

  It was funny how the morning light could turn a night of scorching sex into searing hot guilt, but seeing him now had a completely different effect. I’d spent all damned day thinking and fuming and wondering what the fuck had happened and was happening, but it was near impossible to reconcile the smoking-hot guy in front of me with the one I’d been biting my nails about. After being away from him, my senses had had a chance to forget about his smile and those disarming eyes.

  Hey, Seth? my senses decided to tell me right now. Your neighbor’s fucking hot.

  He slid his hands into his pockets. “Um, so, this morning was a little more awkward than I thought it would be.”

  “Yeah.” I gulped. “I… sorry about that.”

  Darren shrugged. “Isn’t your fault. I just figured we should clear the air and all.”

  “Right. Good idea.” I tried not to let my nerves show.

  He gestured at his door. “I know it’s pretty late, but if you want to come in, I’ve got a six-pack in the fridge.”

  Lead me not into temptation….

  Calling on every bit of restraint I possessed—and that wasn’t much—I said, “Maybe we should hold off on the beers, actually.” I probably don’t need any more tonight. “I mean, until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

  He exhaled. “Good idea.”

  And of course, as it always did when two people desperately needed to talk, silence fell. We didn’t look at each other. Neither of us said a word for a good minute.

  “For what it’s worth,” he finally said, “I don’t regret it.”

  I should’ve found some relief in that. Maybe it wasn’t such a huge mistake after all. But my gut disagreed.

  Darren’s brow creased. “I get the feeling you do?” He drew back a little like he was bracing for whatever I’d say.

  “I don’t know if I regret it, but….” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Listen, it’s not….”

  “It’s not me, it’s you?” he asked with a cautious grin.

  I managed a soft laugh. “No. Well, I mean, sort of. Probably the timing more than anything.” Good enough excuse as any.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Basically, I guess I’m just not in a good place to be getting involved with anyone right now.” Yep. That worked. Run with it.

  Was that disappointment in his expression? Hard to tell, especially when he shrugged it away like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, we have to live next door to each other, so I don’t want things to be awkward.”

  “Yeah. Neither do I.”

  “Well, hey, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He smiled, and now I was sure that had been disappointme
nt a moment ago.

  Damn it, didn’t anything make this guy mad? Did he have to be so motherfucking easygoing about everything? Fine with associating with—sleeping with—an atheist. Not even batting an eye at me turning him down for a rematch. Standing there so calmly and rationally, not to mention being all brazenly gorgeous and totally throwing me off-balance, he obviously had no idea how difficult he was making it for me to stick to my I really can’t do this right now guns. Inconsiderate bastard.

  “Anyway.” I gestured at my still-locked door. “It’s pretty late. I should get going.”

  “Yeah, I’d better call it a night myself. Weekends get busy. Good night, Seth.”

  “Good night.”

  He extended his hand. Seemed weird to part ways on a friendly handshake after last night, but it was just as well. The more platonic, the better.

  Except he didn’t let go. Neither did I. Just like last night when things had taken that unexpected turn.

  Our eyes met.

  His fingers twitched on the back of my hand. Mine did the same on his. Like we were both thinking about using that casual contact to shorten this comfortable-but-not distance to nothing.

  “If it makes a difference,” he said quietly, “I’m not after anything serious either.” His fingers twitched again, but not so subtly. “Not anytime soon.”

  “Is that right?”

  He nodded slowly. His lips tightened like he was resisting—barely—the urge to lick them.

  Oh hell. Who was I kidding?

  I tightened my grasp on his hand, and I’d barely pulled before he was against me and had me all wrapped up in a deep, mind-blowing kiss. I’d spent the whole goddamned day telling myself we couldn’t do this, but that was an impossible thing to acknowledge or act on when I was touching him like this. Or when he was kissing me like that. Or when he tasted so much like a night that didn’t seem so regrettable now.

  He broke the kiss and tilted his head back, and I didn’t need to be told twice. I dived in and kissed the side of his throat, the underside of his jaw, any hot skin he exposed to me.