The Coil

by Gilbert, L. A.

  Problem was, they were getting serious. They were going in exactly the right direction, just not fast enough. It wasn’t something that could be pushed, but with the pace they were going at, the time was going to come when he was gonna have to consider giving up what could be a concrete dream ready and waiting for him, for another dream which might just be exactly that: a dream and nothing more.

  “How about, just for now, you concentrate on this?” Ty tapped the textbook. “Don’t make any decisions yet. Concentrate on what you know you definitely want regardless of the future—your GED.”

  Mattie nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Always am.”

  Mattie pulled the textbook closer and sat up. “Can’t believe it’s not even a week away.”

  Ty nodded. “Just a few days. You’re gonna do great.”

  “God, I’m terrified of the essay portion.”

  “Just think of it as practice for your entrance essay to art school.”

  “What if I get in there and go blank? Or pass out? What if I throw up?”

  “You’re not going to do any of those things, idiot. You’ll get in there and breeze through it. You’ll be a rock star.”

  “You could be one of those life coaches.”

  “Nah, whining makes my dick soft.”

  Mattie snorted. “How you’ve managed to remain friends with me is a miracle.”

  “It’s not a question of remaining friends; it’s a question of remaining flaccid.”

  Mattie laughed and shook his head at him. Ty gave him a shit-eating grin. “This got weird.” said Mattie.

  “Yes, it did,” Ty agreed. “How about we call this a day for now? Seeing as you’re distracted over fretting about what to wear for your big date and all.”

  Mattie’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Shit, I don’t have anything nice to wear!”

  “Oh my God. I was kidding, you girl.”

  “Well, I’m not.” He stood up. “Up. Come on. Help me pick out something smart—oh! What time is it?” He glanced at his watch. “Even better, we’ve got enough time to head on over to your place so I can borrow something nice to wear. All I have are jeans and T-shirts, man.”

  “I swear you just grew a vagina before my very eyes.”

  Mattie was already looking for his keys. “Shut up and get your jacket on.”

  “You’re just going to end up naked anyway,” Ty argued. “Just wear what you usually wear.”

  “This is a big deal. I want to look good.”

  “Annnnd… there’s the tits.”

  Mattie threw Ty’s jacket at him, which Ty deftly caught. “Get the fuck up.”

  “You will go to the ball, Cinderella!”

  SIMON glanced over at Mattie when slowing down at a stop light. He looked nice. “You look nice.”

  Mattie smiled, touching the collar of his shirt for the hundredth time. “Thanks, you too.”

  Simon didn’t think he looked any different than usual, but he was starting to wish he’d made more of an effort. It was touching that Mattie was treating this as something special, and he supposed that it was, in a way. It was a new step in their relationship. A small one, but a step nonetheless. “Is that a new shirt?”

  “Uh, no, not really. I um, I borrowed it from Ty, so….” He trailed off with a small self-conscious shrug, smiling and looking back out the window.

  Simon had to fight to keep a silly smile from his face. In that moment, he was so happy to be taking Mattie home with him. His Mattie. “Well, you look great.”

  Mattie actually flushed, looking pleased with himself. “I gotta be careful not to get any wine on it or anything.” His eyes widened slightly. “T-that’s if we’re having wine. I don’t know what you have planned.”

  Yes. His Mattie. “I have wine,” he laughed softly.

  “Okay.” Mattie nodded, smiling across at him. “So,” he asked brightly. “How’s Jamie doing?”

  Simon felt his happy glow dim slightly. Any time Mattie mentioned Jamie, he felt pressure to introduce the two of them again. He knew Mattie was merely interested and wasn’t trying to force any kind of meeting between him and his son, but Jamie was his boy, their relationship was still new, and it had gone so very wrong with Tim.

  “He’s just fine. He’s with Sarah for a few hours.”

  “How’re things going between him and your mom?”

  “Um, yeah, yeah they’re getting on.” Simon swallowed and tapped the side of the steering wheel with his thumb. The thought of Mattie and Jamie together made him anxious, sure, but the thought of Mattie and his mother in the same room—the same sentence—was enough to give him palpitations. His mother would scare Mattie off. Mattie could scare his mother off. Change the subject, Simon.

  “I made risotto with lemon chicken; just have to heat it up when we get home—back, when we get back,” he amended quickly, swallowing thickly as he glanced between the road and Mattie. Mattie seemed oblivious to his discomfort. He was also as gorgeous as ever.

  “That sounds great. I can’t wait to try it.”

  “I hope you’re hungry. If not, we can always heat it up later and I could give you a tour around the house in the meantime?”

  “I’M starving, actually.” No truer words had ever been spoken. Mattie’s cupboards were becoming alarmingly bare at home, with no means to fill them again until he was paid in a week’s time. “But I’d like that tour afterward.”

  “Great.” Simon slowed down and pulled into a more residential area. “Here we are,” he said unnecessarily as he pulled into the drive.

  Mattie blinked up at the house. It was nice. It was fancy looking.

  It was a whole other world.

  He’d known Simon owned his own home and that said home was comfortable; he was a fairly successful writer, after all. He drove an expensive car, had an expensive-looking laptop, his clothes were always smart-looking, so of course it would make sense that the house would follow suit. But for some reason, he hadn’t expected the well-kept front yard, complete with a painted royal blue gate to match the royal blue door. There were shutters on the windows. Rose bushes. A mailbox with a red flag. Mattie swallowed.

  “It’s looks nice.”

  “Thanks.” Simon smiled, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the car door.

  Mattie looked down at himself. The shirt was okay, but it was still him underneath. He was wearing sneakers, his smartest pair of jeans, and a smile that was starting to feel strained. For the first time during their relationship, he wondered what it was they looked like together.

  “Hey.” Simon rested one hand on the open door and the other on the car roof. He dipped his head slightly to catch Mattie’s gaze. He looked nervous. “Need help with your seatbelt?”

  “Oh.” Mattie forced a small laugh, looking down as he unbuckled. He stepped out of the car, closed the passenger door, and stood there nervously with his hands stuffed in his back pockets as he waited for Simon to round the front of the car and lead the way.

  Instead of heading to his front door, however, Simon strode over to Mattie, looking a little uncertain himself. Mattie felt a moment of panic, sure that Simon had changed his mind.

  He stopped just in front of Mattie, and for a moment, the younger man was arrested by the sincerity he could read so clearly in Simon’s now familiar, steady gaze. He watched, feeling strangely exposed by the frank expression as Simon reached for his hand, holding it loosely between his own. Simon’s smile was utter kindness, as if he could read Mattie’s every thought.

  Mattie swallowed again, looking down at where Simon’s thumb stroked over his wrist. “I knew this was a nice neighborhood, but….”

  “Don’t back away now,” Simon pleaded quietly. He looked worried, slightly fearful even. As if Mattie might make a run for it.

  Mattie chewed the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t look away from their hands. “Should we be doing this?”

  “Didn’t you… I—I thought—”

  “I want to be here.” He dare
d look Simon in the eye. “Was just asking if I should be, that’s all.”

  Simon looked inexplicably saddened, and the words of apology were on the tip of Mattie’s tongue, but he found himself unable to speak when his hand was raised to Simon’s lips and a kiss was brushed against his knuckles. It was a sweet gesture. Simon’s eyes looked up at him over the rims of his glasses. Mattie took a quick breath.

  “I’m hungry because I have next to nothing to eat at home,” he blurted, feeling as if this was something he should come clean about—something he should say to test the waters.

  Simon looked both surprised and troubled by this, and there was that sad look in his eyes again, but then a small smile touched his lips. “Then let me feed you my risotto and lemon chicken,” he said with a slight hitch in his voice.

  When Mattie didn’t move, Simon gave his hand a gentle tug, and finally, Mattie felt the coil loosen its grip inside, and followed. He felt himself returning that tentative smile.

  Not five minutes later, his worries had been, for the moment at least, placed on the back burner as he enjoyed a delicious home-cooked meal. He felt himself relax as Simon casually talked about his manuscript, and allowed himself to sit back with a glass of wine and just watch the man he was beginning to adore beyond words.

  “So, how long do you think until it’ll be finished?”

  “I’d say about ten or eleven months, not including editing, of course.”

  “Really?”

  Simon sat his own glass down. “Oh yeah, it’s a long process, getting a book out. Writing can take a year, editing can take two or three months, and then there’s actually getting it produced and out on the shelves. Not to mention that I actually rewrite everything at least three times anyway. From start to finish, it can take two to three years, depending on the publisher.”

  “No kidding.”

  “A year to write a book is actually a little embarrassing.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Well, I’ve always been able to churn out the pages rather quickly when an idea takes form, but for most writers—at least for the writers I know—it usually takes up to two or three years.” He shrugged. “I’ve always wondered if it was a reflection on the quality of my writing, but, uh….” He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, ignore me.” He bailed with a self-conscious smile.

  “Well….” Mattie frowned, setting down his fork and laying his forearm across the table to slowly turn the stem of his wine glass. “We all develop and work at our own pace, don’t we? I mean.” He snorted. “I’m going to back high school in a few days to take my GED.”

  Simon let out a surprised laugh, and then, raising his brows and nodding, he dipped his head slightly and lifted his glass. “You’re actually quite the savant, aren’t you?”

  “Uh… yes?”

  Simon shook his head, still grinning, and stood to take his plate over to the spotless kitchen counter. “Would you like some more?”

  “I’m good, actually, and so was the food. I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to raise Jamie on microwave meals and takeout, so I had to learn.”

  Mattie snickered. “I can just see you glaring at a cookbook, mixing spoon in hand.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes playfully as he held his hand out for Mattie’s plate. “I went to a cooking class, actually.”

  “Yeah? Was it fun?”

  “Uh, no, not really. I was the only guy there.”

  Mattie rolled his eyes. “Let me guess: single, cute dad learning to cook for the first time… they were on you like white on rice.”

  Simon shuddered. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to be so appealing to women but a lost cause to men.”

  “You’re far from a lost cause, but it hardly matters what other guys think when you’re already spoken for.”

  Simon turned around, leaning back on his hands against the counter. “I’m spoken for, am I?”

  Mattie couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction at seeing the faint flush spread along Simon’s cheeks. He pushed his chair back and slowly strode—no—sauntered over to where Simon stood. Mattie took Simon’s hips in his hands, pulling him close. He brushed his nose against Simon’s cheek as one of his hands wandered south and splayed over the other man’s ass.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I—I’m agreeable to that.”

  “That’s just as well, really.” Mattie pressed a soft kiss against his throat.

  “I think I rather like it when you get like this.”

  Mattie shook his head and stole a chaste kiss, keeping his hands on Simon’s trim waist. “You really have no idea how much you tie me up in knots, do you?”

  Simon let out a reticent huff but couldn’t quite hide his pleasure. “Think I’m beginning to see, actually.”

  “It’s about time.” He brought his hand up to cup the side of Simon’s face and kissed him like he’d been jonesing to do all day.

  They pulled apart a fraction, and Mattie watched from under his eyelashes, pleased at how ruffled Simon appeared. Simon’s eyes remained closed. He wet his lip and then swallowed hard. Having this sort of effect on the writer did a lot for Mattie’s ego, not to mention his libido.

  “Do—” Simon cleared his throat and opened his eyes. “Do you want to take our drinks into the other room?”

  Mattie grinned, feeling for once confident and brave, and gave Simon room to breathe. “Lead the way.”

  Mattie trailed after him with his wine glass in hand, and took in his surroundings as he followed Simon into the living room. It really was a nice place, spacious and homely all at the same time. He bit his lip against a smile as Simon set his glass down and fidgeted, brushing his hands down his khakis and straightening his glasses. Fucking. Cute.

  “Um, music?”

  “Sure.” Mattie didn’t take a seat right away and instead wandered over to a large glass cabinet that held a series of photographs. Mostly all were of Jamie. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he studied the pictures, practically seeing the boy grow in years. He smiled broadly when noticing that, in all recent photographs, Jamie was wearing his cape.

  “I know people are supposed to say this when they see pictures of other people’s children, but you really do have the cutest kid, like… ever.”

  Simon smiled over his shoulder as he looked up from where he flicked through what appeared to be a large CD collection in a hefty folder. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Little guy’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older.”

  Simon groaned. “Don’t. I can’t believe he’s nearly five years old. It feels like just yesterday that he fit in the crook of my arm.”

  “Five, huh? That’s sort of the first milestone.”

  “Yes, I suppose it might be.”

  “Doing anything special for the big day?”

  “Well, Sarah suggested a small birthday party with a few of the other kids from his class. Just some party games, some crafts, that sort of thing.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “It sounds scary.” Simon laughed, still flipping through his collection of CDs.

  “Why?” Mattie frowned, picking up another photo frame and smiling broadly at the picture of Simon and Jamie both dressed up as… hobbits? He wondered who took the picture.

  “I guess all I can think about is what might go wrong.” He shrugged. “Pointless, really. Sarah will be there, a few of the other kids’ parents will be there… my mother will be there.”

  Mattie’s brows rose. “Holy crap, that’s huge. Great, but huge.”

  “I don’t know; it might be.” He shrugged. “All the same, I’m not looking forward to Saturday. The party’ll kick off around five. She’ll be over at around three to help set up and… I don’t know, meet Jamie officially, I guess.”

  “I’m sure it’ll go just fine.” Mattie bit his lip. “Do, uh… do you need some moral support?” He asked, attempting to pass it off lightly.

  Simon snorted.
“I’m going to need all the help I can get come Saturday. Ah ha! Here we go.” He slotted a CD into the machine and then turned and strolled up to Mattie almost awkwardly.

  Unsure if that had been an answer or not, Mattie let it go for the moment. He frowned, tilting his head toward the stereo like a hound catching a scent. The strands of a very old-fashioned, 1940s-era song drifted through the living room.

  “You don’t like it.” Simon paused, looking unsure of himself. “It’s corny, isn’t it? I’ll change it—”

  Mattie shushed him, waving his hand in a hushing gesture. “I know this, but I have no idea who it is, if that makes sense?”

  “Yeah, it’s one of those classics everyone knows. It’s ‘You Go to My Head’, by Louis Armstrong.”

  “It’s romantic.”

  “That’s… kind of what I was going for.” Simon laughed nervously.

  “Come here.” Mattie didn’t wait, however, and pulled Simon close. With one hand at Simon’s waist, his other held Simon’s hand, curling it so that the back of Simon’s hand rested against his chest. It was something he’d seen in an old Jerry Lewis film once, and he’d always wanted to do it. He nuzzled close, his nose brushing Simon’s as he led them in a gentle sway. There was no real dancing involved—he didn’t know how—but this was enough.

  “Mattie,” Simon whispered his name, and they stayed that way for a few minutes, until the next oldie began to play. Simon pulled away almost reluctantly. His voice was a low murmur. “Did you, uh, did you want that tour?”

  “Does it start upstairs?”

  A smile split across Simon’s face. “As a matter of fact….”

  Mattie turned Simon in his arms, his hands at his waist. “Let’s go.”

  There had been a tour of some sort, but Mattie knew he wouldn’t know where the bathroom was if asked. He’d more or less pushed Simon down onto an ohmygod comfortable bed and stripped him without preamble. It reminded him of their first time together, actually. And at that thought, he mentally cooled his heels a little, attempted to rein in the excited horny puppy and summon any seductive prowess he possessed.