Pounding Skin

by L. A. Witt

  “I said I was buying, woman.” He handed her a twenty. Glancing down at the wadded up muffin wrapper and empty coffee cup, he added, “And I’m good. Thanks.” He probably shouldn’t have even had that much caffeine, as jittery as he was.

  “Okay. Be right back.”

  As she wandered up to the counter, he watched her, and smiled to himself. Though their breakup had been reasonably amicable, it had taken them almost a year to get their friendship back on an even keel. That all seemed like a distant memory now, and he was grateful they’d both put in the effort. They may have been a disaster as a couple, but he couldn’t imagine not having her in his life at all.

  Neither of them had traditional nine-to-five jobs, and one of the advantages of that was—workloads permitting—being able to meet up when everyone else was at work. Coffee shops tended to be packed during the morning commute and lunch hours, but when the two of them slipped in around ten o’clock, the tables were mostly empty except for the odd student or cluster of moms.

  Today, there were enough people to provide a thick hum of background noise. Matt didn’t mind. He actually liked noise. Working in a shop that was constantly full of voices, music, and buzzing equipment had made it harder for him to cope with absolute silence. As a bonus, it meant he and Lisa could talk a little more candidly without being afraid the whole shop would hear everything they had to say.

  When she came back with her tea and a croissant, they made some small talk, but she cut to the chase in no time. “So. You wanted to talk. What’s up?”

  “Uh, well . . .” He hesitated, not sure where to start. “For one thing, I gotta know something.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “’kay?”

  Matt kept his voice low, since they were in public. “When you wanted that threeway for your birthday . . .” He studied her for a minute. “Why me?”

  Lisa shrugged. “Why not? Me and you have fucked before, so I knew you were good.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “Well, kind of.” She paused. “I mean, Derek just figured of all of our friends, you were the least likely to get weird if he accidentally touched you.”

  “Or not so accidentally.”

  “Well.” She laughed softly. “That wasn’t planned. At least, not that I knew of. He told me the next day that he touched you by mistake, and you actually seemed to dig it, so he went for it.”

  “Did he ever,” Matt murmured, goose bumps prickling at the memory of that unexpected and enthusiastic blowjob.

  “I was amazed you went with it,” she said. “Not that I expected you to get mean or violent or something. You get defensive when someone says you’re gay, but I’ve never seen you get upset if a guy is kind of touchy-feely. Including Derek.” She shrugged. “He was kind of nervous about having a threeway with a straight guy, and I was nervous about being with someone new, but we figured you were, you know, the safest bet.” She paused. “And I mean, let’s face it—we both wanted to get naked with you.”

  Matt laughed, cheeks burning.

  She went on. “I honestly didn’t expect the two of you to go as far as you did. And, uh . . .” She winked as she brought her cup to her lips. “For the record? Watching you and him go at it was probably the best birthday present ever.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Matt shifted in his seat. “It must’ve rattled something loose in my head because I met this guy and—”

  She choked on her drink, very nearly spitting it on him. “Are you serious? You have a boyfriend?”

  “Well . . . I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend.”

  “So, a fuck buddy? With a dick?”

  Matt laughed. “Anyone ever tell you how ladylike you are?”

  “All the time.”

  “Anyway.” He sighed, leaning over his folded arms. “He came into my shop like three or four days after . . .” He gestured at her, then himself.

  “After you and Derek boned the hell out of—”

  “Yes, Lisa.” He rolled his eyes.

  “You’re adorable when you blush. Just FYI.”

  He was suddenly aware of the heat in his cheeks, and of course it intensified. “So he came in, and . . . God, he’s hot.”

  “Oh yeah.” She leaned in closer, grinning broadly. “Tell me. What’d he look like?”

  “Well, he’s military. So, you know—fit.”

  “Huh. Never thought you’d zero in on a military guy, but hey, what do I know?”

  “Yeah well. He came in for a tattoo. Which I gave him.”

  “You give him anything else?”

  Matt glared at her.

  She snickered. “I’m just teasing you.” Beat. “But seriously, did—”

  “Yes, I slept with him, okay?”

  A pair of moms in yoga pants were walking by right when he said it, and apparently his exasperated tone carried over the coffee shop’s background noise. They both shot him wide-eyed looks, and one very nearly dropped her drink.

  Matt groaned. Lisa tried so hard to smother her laughter, she was nearly tumbling out of her chair. With anyone else, he’d have been annoyed by the playful ribbing, but he expected it from her. And in a way, he kind of liked it. Her sense of humor was like a crisis barometer for him. If she could still make jokes about something, then maybe it wasn’t as terrible as his overreactive brain made it out to be.

  “So you hooked up with him.” She studied him intently. “How was it?”

  “It was great.” Matt blew out a breath. “Right up until I freaked out.”

  Lisa blinked. “What? Why?” She straightened, panic flickering across her expression. “Did he do something? Was he—”

  “No, no. He was fine.” Matt rubbed his forehead and sighed. “He was perfect.”

  “Then . . . ?”

  Lowering his hand, he gnawed his lip. “I’ll be honest—it was probably some of the best sex I’ve ever had. He was amazing. And being with a guy felt so . . .” He stared at the table with unfocused eyes, searching for the words while the other night rolled through his mind like a porno on a loop.

  “Natural?”

  He wanted to shake his head and say that wasn’t the word, but now that she’d said it . . . it was. It absolutely was. Once he’d gotten too turned on to obsess over anything, it had felt completely natural. In a why the fuck didn’t I do this sooner? kind of way.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Natural.” He paused, then quickly added, “Not that I ever thought gay sex wasn’t natural. Just—”

  “You just thought it wasn’t for you.”

  “Basically.”

  Lisa nodded. “So, let me guess. It was like one of those movies where somebody falls into bed with somebody else, and in the morning they wake up, look over, and wonder what the fuck they just did?”

  “Minus the part where they’re usually drunk, yeah.” He tapped his fingers beside the muffin wrapper. “And I spent half the night worrying about it, and then told him I need some time to get my head around who I am.” His stomach turned to lead. “But ever since I cut him loose, he’s the only thing I can think about.”

  “Sooo maybe cutting him loose was a mistake?”

  Matt groaned. “Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Which begs the question—why are you talking to me instead of calling him?”

  “Because I’m an idiot and a coward?”

  “Duh. But really, unless you told him he has a small dick, I doubt you burned the bridge, you know?”

  He laughed halfheartedly. “I didn’t say that to him, no. Especially since he definitely does not have a small dick.”

  “Then you definitely need to call him, honey.”

  His humor faded, and he sighed. “I don’t know. I’m still just so hung up on . . . everything. Like, how did this come out of nowhere? I’ve been straight forever, then suddenly I’m in bed with you and Derek, and I’m into men?”

  “I don’t think it came out of nowhere.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Look.
” She held his gaze, her expression more serious than the night they’d broken up years ago. “To be honest, I’ve always kind of . . . wondered about you. If you were into men.”

  “But why?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I don’t really know. A vibe? Maybe the way you looked at some guys? I . . .” She shrugged again and reached for her tea. “I don’t know what it was, but even when we were dating, I had my suspicions. When you and Derek started messing around that night? I was one hundred percent not surprised.”

  He stared at her.

  “You’ve been in denial your whole life because people have been trying to tell you you’re gay, and shame you for it at the same time.” She grimaced sympathetically. “Anyone would be defensive. I mean, that shit started when you were, what, nine?”

  His mouth had gone dry, but he whispered, “Seven.” To this day, he could hear the high-pitched voices, echoing under the high ceiling and shitty acoustics of the school bus, chanted, “Matt and Julio, sitting in a tree . . .” He could still feel his first grade self huddling against the window, praying for the driver to gun the engine and not stop until she was in front of his house. That was the first time in his life he ever knew “gay” was a thing or that boys shouldn’t kiss other boys, and even twenty-plus years later, the humiliation and shame haunted him.

  Matt shuddered, fidgeting in his seat.

  “Think about it, hon,” she said. “By the time sex ed rolled around, and you learned what it actually meant to be gay or to have sex, you’d probably already said ‘I’m not gay’ at least a thousand times.” She grimaced sympathetically. “You never stood a chance.”

  He squirmed again and started turning his empty coffee cup between his fingers. “So you see why it’s so hard for me to accept.”

  “I totally do. But every day you spend wringing your hands over it is just giving all those other assholes more power.” She put a hand on his arm. “Matthew, look at me.”

  Uh oh. Full name. She was not fucking around.

  He held her gaze and waited for her to speak.

  Staring right back into his eyes, she said, “You don’t need to figure out who you are. You know who you are. I know it’s a big shift, realizing you’re not as ‘not gay’ as you always thought. But I think you’re worrying yourself into the ground over something that could actually be really liberating.”

  Matt cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Like, you’ve been suppressing this your whole life. Denying it over and over for years. Being that defensive for that long—it’s gotta get exhausting.” The lift of her eyebrows added, Right?

  Now that she mentioned it . . . “Yeah. Man. Yeah, it is.”

  “Okay. So.” She half-shrugged. “You don’t have to be defensive anymore. No, you’re not gay. You’re quite obviously bisexual, unless your attraction to women has suddenly dried up.”

  Matt laughed. “No. Definitely not.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She winked, and he couldn’t help shivering at the memory of their threesome. Though he’d been largely preoccupied with thoughts of fooling around with Derek that night, neither of them had neglected the birthday girl.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m absolutely still attracted to women. No doubt.”

  “I figured as much. And between my boyfriend and your pilot dude, you’re obviously into guys too. So . . .” She picked up the stirrer he’d used for his long-gone coffee, and waved it in front of his face like a magic wand. “You are hereby officially bisexual. Debate over.” She tapped the end of it on his nose. “Angst, be gone!”

  Matt laughed, batting away the “wand.”

  She dropped the stick into his coffee cup and folded her hands. “I know you have to adjust your worldview a bit, but you’ve already missed out on too many years when you could’ve been comfortable in your own skin. Accepting that who you’re attracted to is what it is. And hey, maybe going out and meeting some guys—or being smart and calling your pilot dude—will make it sink in more, you know?”

  As always, Lisa had a point. And as always, he couldn’t argue with her. He knew she wasn’t belittling his identity crisis, or telling him to just snap out of it and accept everything overnight. They’d been through enough together that she’d figured out ages ago that he would curl up in a corner and angst himself to death over something if someone didn’t gently push him to just face it. He’d been the kind of kid to hide under the covers. She’d been the kind to get up, throw open the closet doors, and confirm that there were no monsters to be found.

  He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. “Okay. I’ll give him a call. And if he doesn’t respond, then—”

  “Then I can help you set up a profile on Grindr?” she squealed.

  Matt snorted. “Keep dreaming, sister.”

  “Aww. You really know how to ruin a girl’s fun.”

  “That’s what I live to do. You know that.”

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  Their eyes met, and they both laughed. The conversation shifted to lighter topics before Lisa had to get back to work and Matt needed to get to the shop. He actually had an appointment this afternoon, and thanks to Lisa, his head was clear enough to face it.

  After they’d parted ways, he went to his car, but he didn’t leave yet. Instead, he took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He still had Jon’s number. He’d debated deleting it a few times, but hadn’t been able to do it, and thank God for that.

  Before he could talk himself out of it—typing fast because he knew how quickly his own cowardice could set in—he texted Jon:

  Hey it’s Matt. Could we meet for drinks?

  Chapter 11

  With any other guy, Jon would’ve blown off the text and moved on. Meeting for drinks after they’d already hooked up was usually a precursor to someone wanting to actually date. Some guys could move fast when they wanted an actual relationship, too. Nate and Caleb had all but moved in together by their third date, so Jon didn’t want to set up any expectations.

  He was curious, though. What did Matt have on his mind? Had he changed his mind?

  Ultimately, Jon decided he had nothing to lose. It wasn’t like having a drink meant they were engaged. So, he exchanged a few texts with Matt, and they settled on a restaurant just off Virginia Beach Boulevard. Nothing romantic—just a bar and grill type place that Jon had been to a few dozen times.

  After work, he drove over and waited at a table in the lounge. By the time he was settled with a Crown on the rocks, it was almost 2000, so Matt would be here soon. Probably in the next—

  Nope. There he was. Ten minutes early, just like Jon.

  They locked eyes from across the lounge, and Matt acknowledged him with a nod as he made his way between the tables. He looked nervous, shoulders pulled tight as he huddled inside a leather jacket. Jon had worn one too, but Matt’s was more of the biker style—stiffer leather, the visible off-center zipper, much clingier in the shoulders and waist—than Jon’s bomber jacket. Either way, Jon dug leather. Especially on hot men with tattoos.

  He shivered.

  “Hey.” The jacket squeaked softly as he slid it off and draped it over the back of the chair. “Uh, thanks for meeting me.” He sat, shoulders still pulled in close. “I know we left things on kind of a weird note.”

  Maybe that was why Jon hadn’t been able to ignore the text. It wasn’t that he needed some kind of poetic closure at the end of their one night fling, but things had ended strangely.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, wrapping his fingers around his glass. “So . . .”

  Matt showed his palms. “Listen, just so we’re clear up front, I’m not in a headspace for a boyfriend. Like, I don’t think I could deal with being one or—” He stopped abruptly, and shifted his gaze away as he shyly added, “Or having one.”

  Well that was an interesting development.

  Jon gave a soft, cautious laugh. “You don’t have to worry about me and being or having a boyfriend. I
haven’t had one in years, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  Matt searched his eyes. “Right. That whole thing about being an unrepentant manwhore.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.” Matt seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders suddenly not quite so rigid and the lines between his eyebrows not quite so deep. “So, maybe we’re closer to the same page than I thought.”

  Jon nodded.

  Matt studied him, then rolled his shoulders and glanced around the room. “Do they come to the table, or do I order at the bar?”

  “They’ll come by eventually, but you’ll have better luck at the bar.”

  “Oh.” He pushed his chair back a little. “You mind if I—”

  “Of course not. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” Matt got up and went to the bar.

  Alone, Jon released a breath. Okay, so they had that part out of the way. And he had to admit, Matt was even more attractive now that he’d made it clear that a relationship was off the table.

  Matt came back a minute later with a bottle of Bud Light. He sat down, took a long pull, and met Jon’s eyes like he might say something. After a second, though, he apparently lost his nerve, and dropped his gaze.

  Jon rubbed his thumb up and down in the condensation on his glass. “So now that we’ve established what you don’t want, I’m curious what you do want.”

  Matt chewed his lip, watching himself fold and refold his fingers behind the brown longneck. “I just want to find my footing. Be with a guy. Physically, I mean. And since I’ve already been with you, I know I like it, and I guess it’s a bit less intimidating to . . .”

  “To hook up with me again?”

  Matt winced. “I guess? I don’t want to sound like I just want to experiment and then kick you to the curb when I’m ready to find a relationship.”

  “Why not?” Jon smiled. “That’s about the closest anyone will ever come to getting a commitment out of me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re talking to a guy who thinks friends with benefits is too much commitment.”