Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  Evan might hate the guy, but he couldn’t deny that he was still completely, utterly fucking gone for him.

  After the ceremony, they were all ushered through to the marquee for lunch, and Evan took his place at a table of people he thankfully liked. That was another perk of helping Lacey with the wedding planning. He wasn’t stuck at the back with her racist old aunt and a bunch of bratty flower girls.

  Day melted into evening, with the smallest changes transforming the marquee from elegant reception venue to a space dedicated to partying. The tables were cleared to the edges, revealing a wide dance floor. The space the waiters had used for prep during dinner was turned into a generously stocked open bar. There was wine. The fairy lights came on, and then it was perfect.

  As soon as the DJ started playing old Motown hits, Evan took his cue and found Lacey for a dance. She had been busy with family and bridesmaids for most of the day, but he’d helped organize this show, and he wanted a dance.

  Evan twirled Lacey around, making her laugh, then pulled her back into his arms. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt a strange sort of protective urge toward her. Like a sister.

  Someone tapped Evan’s shoulder lightly.

  “May I cut in?” Anthony asked.

  “Sure,” Lacey said, stepping back with a wicked grin.

  Never one to back down from a challenge, Evan wrapped his arm around Anthony’s waist and grabbed his hand, turning them in a quick two-step.

  Anthony was still laughing when Evan handed him back to his wife, and Evan offered him a quick salute.

  “At ease, Captain,” Anthony said. Evan felt his face fall, just a little.

  Captain.

  He turned, and Scott was watching him from the bar. He’d felt something, someone’s eyes on him as he’d danced with the groom, though when you were a guy dancing with another guy, especially one in uniform, that was to be expected.

  Evan nodded to the newlyweds and made his way back to the single glass of wine he’d been nursing all night.

  Scott cut him off halfway between the dance floor and his table. “Buy you a drink?”

  “It’s an open bar, Cap,” Evan said, using the nickname without thinking. It seemed to shock Scott as much as Evan.

  “Shit, haven’t heard that in a while.”

  Scott wasn’t going to let it go, then. Evan shrugged and gave him a twisted sort of smile. “I guess I could take a top-up.”

  Scott nodded. He’d loosened his tie and lost the jacket at some point in the evening, and his hair had gone from tidy to elegantly messy. Evan wondered if he’d ever stop looking at this man and seeing something more. More than he should. More than anyone else ever seemed to.

  Evan followed him to the bar in a companionable sort of silence and grabbed one of the bottles of rosé to pour his own glass, then added a few ice cubes. He didn’t want to get drunk tonight. He was driving home.

  “You want to go for a walk?” Scott asked. He’d helped himself to a beer, twisting the top with his bare hand.

  Evan nodded. “Sure,” he said, his voice sounding thick. There was no way to back out of the offer without being the asshole.

  They walked out of the tent with a weird sort of silence looming over them. Evan kept his eyes on his feet, not wanting to look up and accidentally make eye contact with someone who would get the significance of this.

  Scott seemed to know where he was going, so Evan followed. Wasn’t that the way it had always been, back in the day? Scott led, Evan followed. If nothing else, Evan was glad he’d grown a backbone in the past ten years.

  They went from the Cunninghams’ yard back to the Sparrows’. Both were now lit up with those tiny, twinkly fairy lights, turning a suburban backyard into a magical wonderland. The moon was bright in the night sky, and the stars twinkled too, just a bit farther away.

  Scott stopped in front of the old pool house and took a seat on the top step of the porch. After a second, Evan joined him.

  “Is this an argument?” Evan asked after taking a sip of his wine. Liquid courage.

  “What? No.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to be prepared if it was.”

  “It’s not an argument, Evan.”

  “Good.”

  “So, how have you been?”

  Evan shot Scott an incredulous look, but he was staring at the bottle in his hands and didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m good,” Evan said slowly. “I bought a house down in North Carolina. Just outside Nags Head.”

  “Oh, nice.”

  “I mean, it’s tiny, like, really small. But it has space for my studio, and it’s not like there’s anyone else there with me, so it’s fine really.”

  That was his way of telling Scott he wasn’t in a relationship. For a moment, he wondered if Scott had picked up on that.

  “So, you didn’t bring a date.”

  “No. Neither did you.”

  Scott hummed noncommittally. Evan thought that this conversation was like pulling teeth.

  “You’re still in Chicago?” Evan asked. Small talk was better than awkward silence. The music from the marquee drifted over to them. Otis Redding. Try a little tenderness.

  “Yeah. I just moved, actually. It’s a new apartment complex. It’s closer to work than my old place, so that’s good.”

  “Sorry, I don’t even know what you do.”

  Scott gave him a funny look and the lopsided smile Evan had fallen for at fifteen fucking years old.

  “I work for a financial services company. I’m an investments expert.”

  “Okay. What does that mean?”

  Scott barked a laugh. “Mostly I track the performance of different funds and make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to. Then I refer that against our investment portfolio and decide on whether or not we’re going to make any changes.”

  “Oh. Do they pay you well for that?”

  “Well enough, yeah.”

  “I’m sorry. It sounds crazy to me. But then I never did have a head for numbers.”

  “No,” Scott said, and Evan still couldn’t interpret his tone. Did he sound almost… sad? Wistful? Something?

  “Okay, this is weird. I’m going to go back to the party,” Evan said as he started to stand.

  “No, please,” Scott said, grabbing Evan’s wrist and dragging him back down. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to jump right into—I thought we should—”

  “Should what? It’s been years, Scott. We’ve both moved on with our lives. It’s fine. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do,” he said. “I really do.”

  For a moment, Evan felt like he was fighting tears. This was so fucking stupid. If there had been an easier way to avoid Scott, he would have. He’d been doing just fine so far. Damn Lacey and her stupid wedding.

  “Okay,” Evan said, sighing and keeping his eyes closed as he sat back down. “Okay.”

  “I wanted to apologize,” Scott mumbled.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I wanted to apologize,” he repeated, louder this time. “I was a total asshole to you, and you never deserved that. I never got to say sorry—and I don’t blame you for not returning my calls, but—”

  “Wait, you never called.”

  “I did,” Scott said ruefully. “A lot. I left you voice mails too.”

  “I never got them.” Evan frowned, trying to remember back. “I went back to college, and I… shit. I lost my phone. Just for a few days. Then it turned up down the back of the couch. The battery had died, and Cael….”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  “At the time, yeah. We didn’t even make it to spring break the next year. He got all weird and possessive, and we broke it off.”

  “Huh.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with him.”

  “No, you’re not,” Evan said with a harsh laugh.

  “I get that you don’t want to forgive and forget
what happened,” Scott said, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and hurt. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. But I wanted to say sorry for the way I treated you. I did want to make it up, to clear the air and stuff, but I was told to give you space and you’d come round. But you never came round, and I guess the next time we were both at home, it was pretty obvious you didn’t want to see me.”

  “I was so fucking mad at you,” Evan said softly. “You were the one person I thought I could trust, and….”

  “I really am sorry.”

  “Okay,” Evan said, nodding. “Thank you. For saying that.”

  “Can we maybe—” Scott started, and Evan cut him off before he could go any further.

  “I’m still gay, Scott. I’m even more open about that than I was the last time we spoke. You know those guys who are gay but say they don’t ‘flaunt’ it? Well, fuck them. I flaunt it. I dance in gay bars on podiums, and I march in parades with a big fucking flag, wearing pink sparkly shorts. I am what I fucking am, and I’m not sorry, and I’m not going to hide that. Not for you, not for anyone.”

  “I’m so, so jealous of you. Did you ever consider that?” Scott said, his voice little more than a pained hiss.

  “You’re… what?”

  “I’m bisexual,” he said with a humorless laugh. “And for my whole life, I’ve been too fucking scared to do anything about it. I see guys like you all the time, in Boystown, and I wish it was that easy for me. To know who I am and be out and proud about it. But you’re now one of only three people on the fucking planet who knows and… and….”

  “And we’re back at the same argument again!” Evan exclaimed. “It’s the same thing, Scott. You seem to think my life is just sunshine and rainbows, and it really isn’t. If you want to come out, that’s your thing, it’s your life, your story. I can’t do it for you.”

  “I’m not saying you should. I knew you had a crush on me, by the way.”

  Evan recoiled, stung. “Yeah,” he snapped. “For close to five years of my life. And you were my best friend, and I wasn’t out, so I didn’t do anything about it.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because I had too much respect for you. And our friendship.”

  “Did you ever think I wouldn’t mind if you had? Done something about it, I mean.”

  “No,” Evan said icily. “I didn’t ever think that my straight best friend would be okay with his also supposedly straight best friend making a move on him.”

  “Well, I would have been.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” Evan said, standing and leaving the wineglass. There was too much emotion running through his veins, making it feel like he was boiling over from the inside. He’d go in, find Lacey and hug her, then grab his shitty car and drive back to his shitty house and cry.

  He got half a dozen steps away before Scott caught up with him, calling his name.

  “I can’t, Scott,” Evan said as Scott jogged around and put both his hands on Evan’s chest. “I can’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” Scott whispered, and he trailed one of those hands up to cup Evan’s jaw, gently thumbing away the tears that were pooling on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Here.”

  In hindsight, Evan thought he should have expected the kiss.

  Scott’s hand was still on his face, and Evan felt something twist and shiver down his spine as Scott’s full bottom lip pulled his own into Scott’s mouth. It was different from before, insistent and knowing and fire-spitting fast—suddenly something existing where only moments before there was nothing.

  Evan’s hands were gripping Scott’s shoulders before he knew what he was doing, not pushing Scott away, not pulling him in deeper either. Maybe the lack of pushing away was really the same as pulling him in.

  Evan whimpered.

  Scott’s other hand was suddenly in his hair, and Evan tilted his head, giving permission for Scott to take the kiss deeper and lick into his mouth. It was just the same as last time, strangely familiar to be in this position with this man again, despite all the years they’d been apart.

  “Evan,” Scott murmured as he kissed over Evan’s jaw, then nuzzled into his neck. “Fuck, Evan.”

  “What….” Evan gasped and shook his head. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  “I want to know. I want to know what we could be, if we gave it a chance.”

  “No more fucking riddles. You want to fuck me?”

  “Yeah,” Scott said. His eyes were dilated, lips red, but he didn’t look drunk. “If that’s what you want too, then yeah.”

  Evan nodded. How could he do anything but? This was what he’d been waiting for since he was a fucking teenager. It didn’t matter that all his instincts were saying this was a bad idea, that he was only going to get hurt again. All he could see was Scott Sparrow, captain of his high school football team, the kid who could melt Evan’s stomach with that crooked smile.

  “You should know I live about an hour away from here. It gives you plenty of time to figure out that this is probably a bad idea.”

  “Shit. I’m staying with my parents.”

  “I know. And I’m not fucking you in your mom’s house, Scott. Contrary to popular belief, I do have some boundaries.”

  Scott laughed softly and pressed his forehead to Evan’s. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Scott skimmed his fingers up into Evan’s hair and frowned. “Not now?”

  “You have a chance to think this over. Make sure it’s not going to be a mistake.”

  “It won’t be,” Scott said, running his fingers through Evan’s hair and tugging lightly. “Plus, this way Lacey won’t know where I am.” He grinned wickedly.

  “Oh, she will,” Evan said with a laugh. “She’s known I had a crush on you for a long time now.”

  “Are you serious?” Scott said, pulling away sharply.

  “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “I guess not.”

  Evan looked at him for a long moment, taking in all the things that had changed as Scott had mellowed and grown. He looked good. Better than Evan had allowed himself to remember. Scott’s smile was perfect, warm and sweet, and Evan wanted to kiss him so fucking bad.

  “I’m going to go,” he said, shocking himself.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. If I stay… I might break my resolution of not fucking you in your parents’ house.”

  Scott’s laugh was a bright bark. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Around seven?”

  “Make it six. I’ll show you around before dinner then.”

  Scott nodded, and his tongue very slowly swept over his bottom lip. Evan watched its movement and stayed very, very still. He waited with more patience than he knew he had. Then finally Scott leaned in and kissed him again. Closed mouths, soft lips, a sweet promise.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Scott whispered.

  The drive home was characterized by a straining erection that would not, despite all of Evan’s willing, go away. It was weird for Evan to walk back into his house feeling like his whole world had changed, so why hadn’t his home? The tingling sting on his lips had long since faded, but he was still hoping for bruises on his skin from where Scott had been gripping him so tight. Maybe.

  In his bedroom, he furtively dragged the curtains closed and stripped out of clothes that had already been pulled loose, then flopped, facedown on the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. It took far too long for him to fall asleep.

  EVAN WOKE the next morning later than he was used to. He hadn’t plugged in his phone to charge while he slept, so it was dead when he reached for it to check the time.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, groping for the cord to plug it in.

  He had to get up to use the bathroom anyway. Stumbling through the too-bright hallways, Evan stubbed his toe on shoes he’d kicked off and not put away the nigh
t before, and after he’d peed, decided to just jump straight into the shower.

  The night before replayed in his head as Evan ran his hands over his body, taking small pleasures in the soapy slick of skin on skin, even if it was his own. He’d been like this for too long now, used to taking pleasure from his own hand and nothing else. The thought of finally sharing himself with someone, with Scott, was a little intoxicating.

  Evan masturbated to a mildly satisfying climax, pinching his nipple with one hand while he stroked hard and fast with the other. His eyes shut against the hot water, visions of Scott danced just out of reach.

  After the evidence of his exploits was washed away, Evan shut off the shower and dried quickly, then padded through to the bedroom, feeling far more awake. His phone, now charged enough to tell him the time, announced it was later than he thought. Much later.

  “Shit.”

  It was almost eleven.

  It wasn’t like Evan had lots planned for today, but now he had to go to the store and find something to make for dinner. He could be sure there was nothing suitable in the kitchen already.

  Judging by the brightness against his curtains and nothing else, Evan decided it was probably hot outside, and dressed in loose cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. He rooted through his closet to find flip-flops, then grabbed his sunglasses from the dresser and his car keys from where they were still hidden in the pocket of his pants from last night.

  It took longer to drive to Whole Foods than Walmart, but with the windows down and some Mariah Carey on the radio, Evan decided it was worth it. His stomach was churning, and he pressed his hand against it, not sure if he was hungry or nervous, or if this was some kind of physical reaction to what had happened last night. Nervous, he decided as it gave another plaintive growl. But it wouldn’t hurt to grab a pastry and some coffee.

  There was a drive-through Starbucks not far from the store, so he swung by and grabbed his usual order. It was enough, though the injection of caffeine made it feel like his heart was trembling.