by Aly Martinez
“I need him to be straight.”
“No. You need him to be gay. You’re gay, Henry. This isn’t exactly a newsflash.”
I nibbled on my thumbnail. “Right. But, if he likes all men, how will I know that he truly loves me? I mean, he could leave me tomorrow and just move along to the next guy. Or, fuck, even woman.”
“That would be more likely to happen if he were straight though.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand. Shit, I’m not explaining this right.”
“You want to find King Kong,” Sam declared, appearing in the doorway with two steaming mugs of coffee.
I tapped my finger on the tip of my nose. “Yes! That!”
He rolled his eyes and passed me a mug.
“You don’t have enough body hair for King Kong. Too much manscaping,” Levee said, taking the other cup from him as he settled next to her on the bed. “Ew…decaf.” She passed it back.
He threw his arm around her shoulders. “King Kong was a gorilla, but he fell in love with a woman and ultimately fought to the death for her. She was his one and only mate despite their vast differences in basically every other way—including species. If you forgo the battle with the T. rex and stegosaurus, I can see what you’re going for here.”
“Thank you, Sam.” I smiled proudly.
“You’re also a delusional idiot who believes wooing a straight man into bed will ever turn into anything more than sex.”
My jaw fell open as he casually sipped Levee’s coffee.
“Well, aren’t you chipper this morning,” I deadpanned, resuming my pacing.
“I’m not trying to be chipper. I’m trying to be real. While you’re here pissed off that your boyfriend actually wants to be with you for once, there is a line of men out there waiting for you to fuck this up. I don’t know Evan well. Only met him once. But, if he’s willing to put up with your brand of neurotic, he’s got my stamp of approval.”
Levee pinched his nipple through his shirt. “He’s not neurotic.”
He tenderly smiled down at her. “Yes, he is. And you are too. But I fucking love your brand. And, if Evan loves his, then that, in and of itself, is more rare than any King Kong he’s ever going to find.” He took another sip of the coffee and then lifted his eyes to mine. “Maybe you need to figure out why you chase straight guys to begin with. You didn’t drive all the way back today just because he was straight. You did it because you wanted to see him.”
“But I never would have given him a chance if I’d thought he was bisexual. So, really, it all goes hand in hand,” I countered.
“Aaaand there’s your problem.”
Levee gasped, “Oh my God.”
Sam looked down at her and grinned painfully. “I told you.”
My eyes flashed between them as Levee’s face paled and she used a hand to cover her mouth.
“You told her what?” I asked anxiously. “Have you two been talking about me behind my back?”
“Of course we have!” Sam replied at the same time Levee breathed, “No.”
“Somehow, I’m not believing that,” I smarted.
“You don’t want them to get to know you,” Levee damn near cried.
I barked a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“You only go after men who won’t want you.”
I shot her a confident scowl. “Oh, please. They all want me eventually.”
“No, they don’t! They want whoever you become when you’re trying to get them into bed. That’s not you. At least, not the Henry you show me. That’s the cocky asshole you are on stage!”
I swirled a finger next to my temple. “I’m pretty sure it’s still me, crazy.”
Sam sighed. “It’s not. Trust me. I can tell immediately when you’re on the hunt. You find men who are just as confused as you are and then you use the whole sex thing to keep your distance. Nobody stays with you because they don’t know what the hell they want any more than you do. It has nothing to do with gay or straight. And everything to do with you being too damn afraid to expose yourself to someone for fear that they will see the real you and still walk away.”
I scoffed. He was so fucking wrong I was almost embarrassed for him. “Okay, slow down there, Doctor Rivers. I’m not afraid of that at all. I just like straight men, the same way you like women.” I waved a finger between him and Levee.
“Straight men are not a gender, Henry.” Levee piped up. “You just like men.”
“Who like women,” I corrected, leveling her with a challenging glare. “It’s a type. Everyone has a type.”
She rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. You like the ones who do their best not to get to know you. The ones who will play your little game of chase and not ask a single question about you in return. Let me guess: Evan wants the real you. It freaked you the fuck out. And you hauled ass here so you could avoid doing the one thing you really need to do.”
I blew out a loud breath, becoming more annoyed by the second. “And what’s that?”
“Let him get to know you!” she yelled, rising to her knees and moving down the bed until she was right in front of me. “For God’s sake, Henry. Does he like you?”
“He apparently likes a lot of men,” I snapped.
She poked me with a finger. “I asked if he likes you.”
I opened my mouth to reply only to close it. Did Evan like me? I mean really like me? A million moments of him flashed through my mind. From his face in the limo when I had announced I was gay to him counting down with me in the middle of a panic attack, all the way up to tonight when he’d forced me to tell him every detail about Robin just because he was genuinely interested in why I was so upset.
If it had been a movie, that would have been the moment of realization where I took Levee’s face between my palms, planted a kiss on her lips, and then ran from the room while an upbeat ballad played in the background. A camera would have followed me all the way back to Evan’s house, where I’d throw cash at the cabbie and tell him that he didn’t need to wait. I’d run through his front door to find him waiting for me with surprise covering his handsome face. And, when he asked what I was doing, I’d have some grand line about being just a boy asking him to love me or something equally as unrealistic. Then we’d kiss while the cameraman panned a circle around us until we faded to black in an implied happily-ever-after.
But life wasn’t a movie. At least, not that kind.
In order to accept that someone as incredible as Evan Roth wanted to be with Henry Gilchrist and not the façade I paraded around as, I’d need far more than a pep talk from my best friend. I didn’t even want to be with that guy, but for a brief moment in time, I’d convinced myself that Evan did.
I didn’t care that he wasn’t straight. But I couldn’t risk him seeing the dirty and broken parts of me, because if he didn’t return my feelings after I’d opened myself up, I’d never recover.
Evan had given himself to me that night. What we had experienced together wasn’t even in the same category as sex. It was the joining of two souls, and we’d both felt it.
Only I’d felt it too much.
Too deep.
Too hard.
Too permanent—at least, I wanted it to be.
So, clearly, the obvious answer was for me to leave him before he could leave me.
“Henry.” Levee snapped her fingers and repeated, “Does he like you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was only physical for him,” I lied. Only I couldn’t muster a fake smile to go along with it.
I liked him. That was all that mattered. And it hurt like hell to be standing in her bedroom instead of falling asleep in his arms.
“Jesus. Get him in bed,” Sam whispered when Levee wrapped her arms around my trembling shoulders.
She pulled me down beside her. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”
“I’ll give you two some time alone.” He kissed Levee’s hair and squeezed my shoulder. “Not accepting it doesn’t change reali
ty, Henry. Life is a struggle, but it’s who you chose to take on the journey with you that matters the most. And, if you ask me, it sounds like you already chose. Don’t let the bullshit details get in your way.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, nowhere near ready to internalize his words. “I’m doubling my efforts at sending you naked men from now on. Warning: They might even include a few selfies.”
His laugh traveled out of the room before disappearing with the click of the door closing behind him.
Levee tugged a giant body pillow between her legs and faced me. “You want to talk or sleep?”
“Sleep. But I feel the need to admit that I lied to you about how I felt about Evan a few weeks ago.”
Her eyes softened as she trailed her thumb over my eyebrows. “I know.”
I sucked in an agonizing breath. “Well, it was only a half lie. I don’t know if I really love him yet. But I want to. So fucking bad.”
She smiled warmly. “I know that too.”
I SAT AT the airport all day, hoping Henry would show and at least let me fly him to his next concert.
And maybe talk to me.
And kiss me.
And tell me that he was sorry.
And, most importantly, tell me that we were okay.
He never showed.
My heart broke a little more each time my call went to his voicemail. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he was avoiding me.
But, by the second day without so much as a text, I got pissed.
At him for having run out on me for reasons I still couldn’t comprehend.
At myself for having trusted him with the jagged pieces of my heart.
At Shannon for having made them jagged to begin with.
At myself for having allowed Shannon to still have any part of my life at all.
Then, at Henry again, for having proven me right about men.
It was emotional upheaval at its finest.
On day three, I sent him a text telling him that I quit. It probably would have been more effective if I’d actually ever flown him anywhere since he hired me.
He didn’t reply.
So, on day four, I gathered my company cell phone and the few bits of clothing he’d left at my house and dropped them off at Jackson’s office. It was unlikely that Henry would get them any time soon, but just having them out of my house did wonders for me.
Or that’s what I told myself as I drunkenly destroyed my bedroom.
By day five, the anger had ebbed, but the pain was more prevalent than ever. The walls around my heart had long since been demolished, having left me raw and exposed. I couldn’t figure out how to start over after someone like Henry Alexander.
On day six, I found myself trying to manipulate a situation where I got to see him again. I spent hours mapping out his tour routes like some kind of sociopath. I needed to talk to him and naïvely thought, if I could get him into a room with me, I could fix things. I wasn’t sure what was truly broken, but I would have torn the gates of Hell down in order to fix it.
I was drowning.
At the one-week mark, I decided to fuck him out of my system with as many women as I could find. Scott came over, we went out, and, instead of taking home the busty brunette eye-fucking me from across the bar, I proceeded to sit at a table and stalk Henry’s twitter account, which I knew he didn’t even run.
There wasn’t enough booze in the state of California to make me forget him.
I went home alone that night. It was a good fucking thing too. Because, the next morning, someone finally threw me a lifeline.
I was still basking in an alcohol-induced, pain-free slumber when I awoke to a loud knock on the door. Prying one eye open, I felt the world came crashing back down around me. I had no idea who was at my door at what felt like the crack of dawn, but I knew who it wasn’t, and for that alone, I dragged the pillow over my head and tried to block it all out.
However, when my unwelcome guest had the audacity to begin knocking in a cheery, musical beat, I was left with no other choice but to drag a pair of pants on and put a stop to the pounding before my head split in half.
“What?” I snapped, jerking the door open.
“Evan!” The woman tipped her sunglasses down her nose and raked her eyes over my shirtless torso while mumbling to herself, “Nice job, Henry.”
“Can I help you?” I impatiently bit out.
“Hi! I’m Levee—”
“Williams,” I filled in when I finally recognized her.
Chestnut-brown curls covered her shoulders, and her pregnant stomach might as well have been inside my house even though her feet were firmly on the other side of the threshold.
“Well, technically, Rivers, but yes. We met briefly in L.A. at one of Henry’s shows.”
The mere mention of his name wrenched my heart.
I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest as though it could mask the pain. “I remember.”
“Right. Well, anyway. I’m here to do the obligatory cleanup mission.” She shot me a megawatt smile.
“Cleanup mission?”
“Yeah. You know… Henry fucks shit up, I come in to save the day, and we all live happily ever after.” She shrugged. “I would have been here sooner, but you’ll find, with Henry, it will be quicker in the end if he has time to really stew on things.”
“Funny. I’m no longer interested in any kind of ‘happily ever after.’” I tossed a pair of exaggerated air quotes her way. “I’ve been stewing too.”
It was a lie of epic proportions, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to fall to my knees and beg her for help the way I so desperately wanted. He’d left me. Not the other way around.
Her eyebrows popped in surprise. “Oh. So, you aren’t interested in knowing how miserable he’s been for the last week?”
I ground my teeth. Part of me hoped he had been worse than miserable. Lord knows I was.
“Not really.”
She adorably twisted her lips. “Hmm… Well, that makes this a little more challenging, then. You mind if I give you my speech anyway? It would be such a waste. I’ve been practicing for a week.”
“Maybe you should give it to Henry, then.”
She pouted her bottom lip and stomped her foot. “Come on! It’s a good one.”
My head was killing me and my heart was aching, but my only lifeline to the man I had been pining over was standing in front of me. Fuck my pride.
My shoulders fell as I let out a resigned sigh. “You want to come in?”
She had the good grace to look surprised. “Why, that would be fantastic.”
I stepped aside and motioned her in. Just before closing the door, I caught sight of a giant leaning against her black SUV.
“You want to invite Hercules in too?”
She laughed. “Nah. Linc is fine out there. He’s not Henry’s biggest fan anyway. He probably wouldn’t help my cause.”
I slanted my head in silent question.
“Oh, it’s nothing. He just doesn’t sympathize with Henry’s equilibrium issues.”
“His what?” I asked.
Giggling, she waved me off and settled on one of my barstools. “You’ll have to ask Henry.”
“I would if he would answer my calls.” I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the fridge. “Or, ya know… texts, e-mails, Morse code, smoke signals.”
“Have you tried the Pony Express? I have it on good authority he likes horses.” She winked as though I should have gotten her joke.
“Right. I’ll hop right on that. Coffee?” I asked as I caught sight of Scott meandering shirtless into the room behind her.
“Dude, you’re up early. I figured you’d still be cry— Shit.” He froze when Levee spun to face him.
“Oh, shit,” she breathed, swinging her head between Scott and me—her eyes growing angrier every time they landed on me. “No fucking way.”
My lips twitched as she got the completely wrong idea.
“Are you…” Scott started in awe.
“Levee,” I said in both an answer and introduction. “This is my best friend, Scott. Scott, this is Henry’s best friend, Levee Williams.” I scratched the back of my head. “Er…Rivers.”
Levee’s murderous glare leveled me. “Best friend?”
The woman was more than a tad pissed off on Henry’s behalf. If it hadn’t been for the gaping hole in my heart, I would have burst into laughter.
Even still, I released a quiet chuckle and elaborated. “Straight best friend.”
“Totally straight!” Scott proclaimed after me. “Super straight. So straight, straight men wish they could be me. Straight as an arrow. Ruler straight. No! Make that yardstick straight.”
“You done yet?” I glared at him, unimpressed.
He bulged his eyes and tipped his chin to her while mouthing, “Holy shit!”
I shook my head and looked back at Levee. “You’ll have to excuse Mr. Straight. He has problems.”
Her cheeks pinked in embarrassment. “Sorry…I thought…”
“Coffee?”
“Yes! But no. Sam would sense the caffeine hitting my taste buds and show up like the Kool-Aid Man busting through your wall to stop me.” She propped her chin on a hand and frowned. “Any chance you’d be willing to indulge my voyeuristic needs and let me stare at you while you drink it? I’ll do my best to suppress the creepy moans.”
The first genuine smile in over a week teased at my lips, but it fell just as fast. There was a reason Henry and Levee were so close, and that similarity was almost more than I could take.
“I’ll be happy to indulge you. No suppressing necessary,” Scott flirted, sauntering into the kitchen, his abs flexed so tight it was a wonder he was able to speak. “Nice to meet you, Levee.” He extended a hand over the bar.
Levee took his hand and turned to the side to expose her stomach, politely—and pointedly—saying, “Nice ink. My husband would love it.”
Scott barked a laugh, catching the hint loud and clear. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I would expect nothing less from the consummate straight man,” she replied.
I pressed brew on the coffee pot and then leaned my hip against the counter, crossing my legs at the ankle. “So, let’s get back to Henry.”