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Dreaming in Color

Page 19

by Cameron Dane


  What the fuck is he doing here? Colin didn't live in this nice neighborhood any more than Marek did.

  Heat burned Marek's face; he quickly looked down and made a production out of adjusting the straps on his backpack before slinging it over one shoulder. He could still see Colin's sneakers and jean-clad legs from his stooped vantage point, not moving down the sidewalk one bit. Great. Straightening up, Marek affected his best indifferent walk down the driveway and came to a stop at Colin's side. He forced himself to make eye contact, and tried not to notice how attractive Colin was or that he had the nicest green eyes Marek had ever seen.

  Marek tore the connection away before Colin could accuse him of staring. “Hey.” He gave his standard greeting.

  “Hey.” Colin looked up at Marek, using his hand to shade his eyes from the late afternoon sun. “How's it going?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Marek shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and the tentacles of discomfort within burrowed to the point where he blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

  Colin's stare narrowed and then grew big and round. “Oh God. I wasn't stalking you or anything. Sorry. I was studying with a friend.” He pointed at the house two down and across the street. “I'm heading home now.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Suddenly, Marek didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. A cute boy checking him out wouldn't be a bad thing, especially if he had the same kinds of fantasies Marek did. Don't even think about that unless you want to get the crap beaten out of you the second you walk in the house. Marek's gaze slid back to the red door, and his chest squeezed at the safety and acceptance he knew existed for those kids inside.

  Colin tapped his sneaker against Marek's boot, gaining his full attention. “You heading home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me too.” Colin's smile halted midway, and his face filled with color. “Which…I said already. Duh.” He laughed and rolled his eyes. “You cool with us walking together?”

  Marek didn't exactly hang out with Colin, but… “Uh…okay.”

  “Cool.” Colin started walking, and Marek fell in step beside him. “So”—Colin shoved his hands into his pockets—“what were you doing over here? Are those people family or something?”

  Glancing to the side, Marek traded a look with Colin. Their attention caught and held for a moment before they both looked away. “No-I'm-the-babysitter,” spilled out of Marek in a rush.

  “Really?” Colin's voice rose comically high. “Sorry,” he said again quickly. “I wasn't laughing.”

  “I didn't start out doing it,” Marek covered quickly, defending himself. “I did their lawn, which I still do.”

  “Seems like you do more than that now.” Colin looked Marek's way, and they made fast eye contact again before jerking away and staring straight ahead once more. When Colin spoke again, his voice dropped, and wavered a bit. “I was staring earlier,” he admitted. “I stopped because I could hear the kids all the way from the street. They sound like they like you.”

  Marek shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward. “I guess they think I'm okay.”

  “It was just surprising, you know? Because…” With a quick look in Marek's direction, Colin darted his focus straight ahead again and shrugged. “…I don't know. You seemed different back there.”

  “Yeah.” Marek knew what Colin meant, but he didn't know what else to say. He knew his brother's reputation as a jackass rat bastard smeared onto him because of their two-year age difference and similar physical features. Marek tended to keep quiet, and his head down low, on his own, just as a general rule. A few years ago, when Marek realized he liked other boys, he kept to himself in an effort to hide his attraction to his own sex. He knew the picture people had of him wasn't entirely his brother's fault; he accepted his own behavior added to the distant, cold person others thought they saw in him.

  “How'd you go from mowing the yard to taking care of the kids?” Colin asked, pulling Marek's attention back to him.

  “I was there mowing one Saturday, and the Sumters' sitter cancelled on them at the last minute. They were going to a wake or a funeral or something. I came to the door to let them know I was finished and to get paid, and they asked me if could help them out and said they would pay me extra for the inconvenience. I'd already been mowing their lawn for almost a year, so I guess Peter and Joan trusted me. I was nervous to be alone with the kids, but I did it. It went good. I liked helping them out.” Marek shrugged, out of steam. Christ, he hadn't spoken so much to one person, without his nerves constantly sitting at the alert cautioning him to silence, ever before.

  “So you got a new job out of it. Yeah?” Colin smiled, and Marek found himself doing the same.

  “Next time they needed a sitter, they just asked me instead of the girl.” Pride filled Marek, as it had done the first and every time since the Sumters trusted him with the protection of their children. Fear of nasty comments and reprisals kept Marek from talking about his part-time job with other people, but right now, with Colin, the words just spilled out of him. “About three months ago, Joan went back to college, and they asked me to make it a regular gig after school. When I get out of class, I take a bus and go pick the two older kids up from school. We walk home together. They're right over at Blake Elementary.”

  “Right, I know it,” Colin said. “That's where my little sister goes.”

  Both boys paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the go sign. One road in Henderson—this road—separated the upper-middle-class homes from the lower-middle-class ones. For Marek, so much more than just a street made his life drastically different from what he knew existed for the Sumter kids.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, damn it.

  Marek shook himself out of his pity party and chanced another glance at Colin. “The kids don't mind walking,” he shared. The crosswalk sign shifted to green, and the two boys booked it across the busy street before the red stop signal started to flash. “The little one goes to daycare so I don't watch him unless it's a special occasion and Peter and Joan are going out for dinner or a party or something.”

  “Sounds like you like it.”

  “I do,” Marek agreed without hesitation. “There's a lot of love behind that red door.” The words just slipped out, and Marek skidded to a halt, stricken. “I mean—” He chanced a look at Colin, and the softening of the other boy's knowing green gaze said everything. He heard the pussy-ass longing in my voice. “Shit. If you—”

  Colin immediately held up a hand. “It's okay. I promise.” He faced Marek dead-on, looked right at him, and did not waver as he spoke. “I swear I won't tell anyone you secretly like babysitting. You like them, and they like you. So what? Right?”

  Caught up in Colin's easy acceptance, Marek very nearly leaned in and brushed a kiss on the other boy's lips. “Shit.” He ripped his gaze away and started walking.

  Catching up the half dozen steps to Marek's side, Colin said, “I can tell you don't want anyone to know you dig your job. That's cool. They won't hear it from me.”

  He didn't pick up on what almost just happened. Thank God. Marek started breathing easier once again. “There's something about them, you know?” He couldn't keep his defense of the Sumters out of his voice. After bottling up virtually all conversation about anything important to him, Marek couldn't seem to shut up with this boy. It was so very risky, but something in Colin's eyes said Marek could believe him; the guy would never sell him out. “When I knocked on their door the first time, Mr. Sumter treated me real nice, right from the start. He talked to me, and we negotiated a price for my services like I was a person who was equal to him. The first time I saw them as a group they came out of their house all together, laughing and just being this awesome picture of a cool family. I'm not saying they're perfect or anything; I've seen them fight, and the kids misbehave and get punished sometimes, but the parents don't talk down to each other, or to their kids. I've never seen Peter or Joan call them names or ignore them. The
y talk to the kids like what they say matters. It's a rare thing, I think. But then on top of that, I also think why shouldn't it be just like that for everybody.”

  “Agreed.” Colin looked up, his face sober. “On both counts.”

  “I want a house like them one day.” Marek confessed his most secret desire. “With a bright red door that makes a person feel cheerful and upbeat the second they see it, a door that reflects a loving family living inside.”

  “That's a nice thing to wish for.”

  Marek grabbed Colin's arm and spun him around. “You think so?” He searched Colin's eyes, his demeanor, terrified he would find deception or subterfuge somewhere inside the guy. He looked, but his shit detector remained silent. Fuck me. “You really don't think it's stupid?” he asked, unable to believe it.

  “No.” Puzzlement pulled at Colin's eyebrows. He burrowed his hands under the straps of his backpack and shifted the weight. “Shit, I'm working my ass off studying with the smartest kid in school—that would be Jenna Fuller, whose house I was just at—trying to make sure I have good enough grades for college and then working at Gino's so I can afford the difference if I do eventually get in somewhere. Do you think my goal sounds stupid?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would I think yours is dumb?”

  Marek stared at the question and challenge in Colin's eyes for a long time—too long—and felt his groin twitch. Oh, no no no. “Okay, so I believe you.” Marek spun away and put his legs to moving. Search for safe conversation. “What were you studying at Jenna's house?”

  Colin laughed, and Marek started breathing easier. “What wasn't I studying might be a better question.”

  The conversation went on from there with easy topics that didn't challenge Marek's secrets and privacy again, and by the time they parted ways, Marek was laughing uproariously at some stupid joke Colin told, having the best time of his life.

  Unfortunately, some other guys saw them, and Marek's conversation with those boys right after changed everything again.

  And destroyed Colin's world in the process.

  * * * * *

  Fingers snapped in front of Marek's face, jerking him out of his memories and back into the attic.

  Colin leaned his elbow on his bent leg, and his eyes still looked like they tracked backward in time. “I can't believe I forgot about the walk we shared that day.”

  Marek cleared his throat, swallowing the full answer to his query. “I think…I imagine what happened to you so close afterward takes up most of your memories of that time in your life.” The half truth nearly choked Marek as it came out.

  “Good point.” Colin nodded. “The assault did take over my world and eclipse everything else around it for quite a long time.” His slouch against the wall suddenly went away. He held Marek's leg, studying him intently. “But you remembered the walk and conversation we had that day the entire time I've been here, didn't you?”

  “Yeah.” Roughness filled that one word; the emotions of the memory—and what came after—still held Marek captive. “I thought that was probably why you were seeing a red door in your dreams, but it doesn't explain other aspects of your visions—” Marek couldn't take that comment any further without outright lying. “I didn't know what to say.”

  “Maybe you were embarrassed about what you confessed so long ago.” Colin's hand traveled up from Marek's leg and caressed his arm with a comforting touch. “And maybe you didn't want to tell me that was the reason why you had the red door on this house torn down before you moved in? Because it didn't represent what you always hoped it would?”

  Marek cleared more thickness from his voice before he could speak again. “That played a part.”

  “Did you ever tell Payton about your dream for a house with a red door?” Colin asked. “And about what it meant to you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wasn't open, so I couldn't give it to him. It would have been cruel to dangle a dream in front of him, but then go and say, 'But I'm not going to give it to you, because I'm never going to come out of the closet and share a house with another man.'“ Marek could feel his face twist into a sneer. “It was wishful thinking from a sullen kid with a crappy home life looking to latch onto something positive. It didn't mean anything. I knew I was gay, and I already knew I never wanted anyone to know, so that pretty much killed the integrity of the dream before it even began.”

  “Still, it was a nice senti—Oh fucking shit!” Colin grabbed Marek's forearm and yanked his watch close. “We are supposed to be sitting down for lunch with Jordan and Tag right this second.” He grabbed the journals, painting, and satchel, hopped to his feet, and ran for the stairs. “You jump in the shower first, and I'll go call Jordan to let her know we're gonna be late.” Colin disappeared a few steps down, but stopped with his head still peeking out of the opening. “Oh, and close that window for me too, please?” His voice was sweetly ordering. “Hurry!”

  What just happened?

  Marek closed the window and grabbed the lantern off the floor. He followed and got ready for lunch, but he couldn't shake the heaviness weighing on his heart and conscience.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Colin is the one who suggested Fiji for our wedding, even though he swears he didn't know why at the time,” Jordan shared. She lifted her umbrella drink in Marek's direction, using it as a pointer. “I think subconsciously he knew you and that house were here. You should have seen his face when he saw your place right there in front of his eyes. Colin is the biggest, sappiest, most romantic guy I know. He wants everybody to be in love.”

  “I am not! I do not.” Outrage filled Colin's voice and got Marek sitting up straighter in his chair. “Take that back,” he demanded.

  “I will not.” Jordan put down her drink and jabbed her short, pink-painted fingernail into the table surface. “Who got me to go out with Tag a second time? Who told me I could trust him and that he wouldn't run away at the first sign of trouble? Who told me I would regret it if I had the wedding everyone else wanted instead of what felt right to me? Hell, who got me to go back to Tag and talk to him when I ran screaming from the room when he proposed to me in the first place? Shoot”—she covered Tag's hand and snorted—“you should take at least partial credit for every blowjob and fuck this sweet man gets from me.”

  Marek gasped and widened his eyes. Thank God he didn't have any food or drink in his mouth or he would have spit it halfway across the table. He shifted in his chair and looked around the outdoor dining area of the hotel, relieved to find the place nearly empty and the closest people some twenty feet away.

  Tag tapped Marek's shoulder, got Marek's attention, and shook his head with a defeatist look. “Let go of your embarrassment right now, man,” he said. “They talk like this all the time. Well, Jordan mostly. She has a mouth that would make the saltiest cowboy blush.”

  Jordan punched her husband in the arm. “Hey.”

  “Ow, woman.” Tag rubbed over the spot where Jordan had hit him. “You didn't let me finish.” He lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to his wife's wedding band. “I was going to add that I've developed an addiction to the flavor, and I never want to detox.”

  Colin groaned and made a gagging noise. “And I'm the one you call sappy and romantic?”

  “You're right.” Jordan leaned over the arm of her chair and planted a kiss on Tag's lips. “He definitely wins.” She moved in for another peck, and Tag slid his hand into her auburn hair, holding her close to deepen the kiss.

  Marek looked away, giving the couple a moment of privacy. His gaze caught on Colin's, and Colin offered a smile. Marek smiled back; he couldn't help it even though he felt acutely on display. Had from the moment he sat down for lunch.

  His eyes going all soft, Colin moved close and put his mouth to Marek's ear. “You doing all right?” He kept his voice low. “You've been quiet.”

  Just. Be. Cool. “I'm fine.” Damn it. Marek would not ruin Colin's lunch date
. He could sense how badly the man wanted everybody to get along. “I'm enjoying listening to you guys talk.”

  Colin narrowed an assessing stare on Marek. “We can go if you're ready,” he insisted.

  “No. It's okay.” Marek dipped down and brushed a kiss against Colin's cheek. “Finish your drink. I'm fine.”

  Jordan jabbed Colin just as hard as she had her husband a moment ago. “The man says he's fine, Col. Let him be.” She arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him. “Or I might start calling you Mom.”

  “Not unless you want me to start nagging you about when you're going to start a family,” Colin shot back with a flash of a smile.

  “Geez.” Jordan touched her yoga- and Pilates-trim stomach. “Let a girl finish her honeymoon first.”

  “A recklessly planned honeymoon ca—”

  Jordan clamped her hand over Colin's mouth and turned chocolate brown eyes on her husband and Marek. “Enough from us. I think it's you guys' turn to talk.”

  Tag took a long drag on his beer. “Okay. That's my cue.” He shifted in his chair, crossed his ankle on his knee, and settled in. “Tell me a little something about your boat, Marek. It isn't a bad drive from Austin to the Gulf Coast, and I wouldn't mind being able to afford one myself some day. Give me some dos and don'ts to keep in mind for the future.”

  All eyes on him, Marek felt another trickle of sweat run down his back that didn't have a damn thing to do with the heat and sun. “All right.” He scratched his jaw and never wished so hard for his beard back. “Well…”

  Marek went through the pros and cons of the vessel he owned, answering questions from both Tag and Jordan along the way. They talked about a boat, but through this entire conversation—as well as every single other previous minute he had sat with these people during lunch—Marek didn't for one second forget Jordan and Tag were assessing him and deciding if he was a quality person and worthy of their friend. Marek made nice as best he could and tried to blend into the role of listener as much as possible, but the judging glances kept him tense and on the edge of his seat the entire time, feeling like a fraud. They would surely want to throw him right over the side of his boat into the ocean if they knew the truth.

 

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