The Walls of Troy

by L. A. Witt

  Troy laughed. “He wanted me in the Navy, but…” He shook his head. “I’ve lived the military life since I was a kid. I know some people thrive in that, but I’m looking forward to getting away from it.”

  “Don’t want to move around every ten minutes?”

  He groaned. “Oh my God, no. I am so looking forward to moving in somewhere and just…staying there. For years.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I can relate. This shit’s not for the faint of heart.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “So what are you planning on doing? After you graduate?”

  Troy tapped his pen on his notepad. “I haven’t really decided yet. Kind of hoped college would give me a chance to figure it out.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. Anything calling to you yet?”

  “Eh, not really. My dad insisted I should major in something business related, but I think I’d rather drink antifreeze.”

  “So, no MBA for you?”

  He made a face and a gagging noise. “Fuck, no.”

  “Same here. Business classes put me to sleep.”

  “Right? History and English might not get me a job as a CEO, but at least they’re interesting.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Our eyes met, and we both smiled. Then we shifted our attention to our books and quietly started working our way through the chapter.

  Tried to, anyway. I struggled not to steal glances at him. Despite the ink-black hair, the piercings, and that smoky black eyeliner, he’d shaken off that emo exterior. Suddenly it was all just a look. A costume. Something that hid who he was, rather than throwing it in the whole world’s face in fuck-you fashion.

  He’d lifted that veil before, but only a little at a time and only to reveal the fear underneath. The vulnerability he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t deny.

  This time, though, he was something different entirely. Sealed in a room with me in the back of the library, with no one else around except someone whose sole purpose was to protect him by any means necessary, he was relaxed. Comfortable. He was just a normal, unafraid guy without the persona his exterior advertised. Like one of those people who did cosplay at comic conventions, staying in character the entire time, but then lowering the mask while they grabbed lunch or a cigarette. Still dressed up, still painted as someone else, but slipping out of character and back into their own skin while no one was looking.

  No one except for me, in this case. Alone with me, he’d given the broody, sullen persona a break, leaving behind this kid who shared my love of Harry Potter and didn’t quite know what he wanted to do with the future but was optimistic about it and had an idea of what he didn’t want to do. There was more to him than black nails and an attitude.

  And he didn’t need to know that the more I saw what was behind the veil, the harder it was for me to find my breath, because what was underneath had my Achilles’ heel written all over it. Hell, I was even getting used to the eyeliner, if only because it drew my attention straight to the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. Because that helped me unscramble my thoughts.

  Troy was proud, and he was tougher than even he probably realized. Reluctantly vulnerable, as if he didn’t want to be protected but wasn’t too stupid or too proud to pretend he didn’t need to be. Something about that combination fucked with me. Always had.

  His eyes flicked up, and I realized I’d been staring at him instead of my book.

  I quickly lowered my gaze to the text. What the hell was all this? Words?

  “So, um.” He cleared his throat, and I cautiously met his eyes again. “The other day, when we were talking about harassment of queer kids, you said not to make any assumptions. About you. I, um…” He gnawed his lip. “What did…”

  “I meant I’ve been there.”

  He met my eyes through his long lashes. “You have?”

  I nodded. “Not exactly the same. I mean, I’ve never had notes on my car or anything like that. But the, uh, spirit of it? Yeah.”

  Troy’s lips parted. “Are you…” His eyes flicked toward the door and the empty space just beyond it.

  I kept my voice low. “Am I gay?”

  Eyes wide, he nodded.

  So did I.

  “Wow. I…hadn’t…” He muffled a cough and sat back. “I hadn’t guessed. What are the odds of both of us being gay?”

  I thumbed my chin. “Probably better than you think.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “The commander at my last command specifically asked me to take the orders. Said he owed your dad a favor, and handpicked me for it.” I shook my head. “Funny, I thought it was because he thought I was a good cop. Didn’t realize it was because I’m gay.”

  “So you’re out?”

  “Sort of. A few people know. He happened to be one of them.”

  Troy ran his pen back and forth along the spiral binding on his notebook. “Huh. I didn’t think my dad had specifically asked for a gay bodyguard.”

  I shrugged. “Well, if the issue is with homophobia, he probably wanted to make sure the person with you wasn’t going to contribute to that.”

  Troy shuddered. “Probably a smart move.”

  “Your dad obviously knows you’re gay, then?”

  He threw me a sidelong glance. “Dude. Look at me.”

  Oh, I have. Probably more times than—

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. Plenty of straight guys pull the”—I waved a hand at him—“punk look.”

  “I guess, yeah. But ever since I started dressing like this, not too many people have been all that surprised when I’ve said I’m gay.”

  “And your dad isn’t… He’s not bothered by it?”

  “Nah. He wasn’t great about it in the beginning, but he came around.” Troy grimaced. “He’d have a coronary if he knew about some of the guys I’ve dated, though.”

  I laughed. “I think we all have a few of those.”

  “Some of us more than others.” His eyes lost focus for a second, but then he shook himself and met my gaze again. “So you’ve got some fucked-up exes too?”

  “A few, yeah.” I sat back, lacing my hands behind my head as I stretched. “I dated one guy who didn’t want to let me go. When I tried to end the relationship, he threatened to out me to my command.”

  Troy blinked. “What a dick!”

  “Right? Fortunately, that was the same year DADT was lifted, so at least he couldn’t end my career anymore, but I still didn’t want to be out.”

  Troy grimaced. “Christ. What’d you do?”

  I lowered my gaze, heat rushing into my cheeks as that all too familiar sense of shame twisted beneath my ribs. “I stayed with him.”

  “For how long?”

  I swallowed hard and looked at him through my lashes. “Another year.” More to myself than him, I added, “Another miserable fucking year.”

  “How’d you finally get rid of him?”

  “The problem kind of resolved itself. He got caught with our master chief’s husband, and she basically made both their lives hell. By the time I confronted him about it, the entire command already knew, so it wasn’t like he could deny it. He moved out the next day.”

  Troy shifted. “Damn. And he didn’t out you?”

  “Surprisingly, no. But I think he had bigger fish to fry at that point. I suspect our master chief told him to keep his head down and his mouth shut, or having his career destroyed would be the least of his problems. All I know is he moved out, and I never heard from him again.”

  “So you had to wait until he fucked up? Before you got rid of him?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  His eyes widened, and I realized he’d paled a little. “Jesus.”

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and squirmed in his chair. “I just
can’t believe you were stuck with that asshole for that long.” He lowered his gaze, rapidly tapping his pen on his notebook. “I haven’t had a lot of relationships. Can’t say I’m really looking forward to ever having to shake off somebody like that.” He laughed humorlessly. “Makes you wonder if dating is even worth it.”

  “Sometimes, yeah.”

  And I’ll be damned if Troy didn’t shudder.

  “You sure you’re all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’m…” He waved a hand. “I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “Has it, uh, been all bad?”

  “No, of course not. I’ve dated some good people too.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  He laid his pen down, clasped his hands together, and stretched. “But it’s never worked out with any of them?”

  “Nah.” I sighed. “The Navy’s hard on relationships, and I’m not very good at them. My marriage was probably the least disastrous of all of them.”

  Troy sat up a little. “You’ve been married?”

  I nodded.

  “So, out of curiosity, are you bi? Or was it…”

  “A sham marriage?”

  “Right.”

  “I’m not bi. I was just pretty deep in denial. I’d date a guy for a while, then freak out over things and go back into denial. Usually about the time we either broke up or I was afraid I’d have to come out to my parents.”

  “That why you got married?”

  I shrugged. “Yes and no. I mean, we really did love each other, just not…not in the way spouses should have, I guess.”

  “So how did that even work?” He raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

  “It’s fine.” I sat back, letting out a long breath. “We met in school between boot camp and going to our first duty stations. She came here to Norfolk, and I went to San Diego. We did the long-distance thing for a few months, then got married, and a year later, she transferred to a ship out of San Diego, so we could finally live in the same place. So of course, I deployed to Afghanistan within three months, and I came back two weeks before she went to Iraq.”

  “That’s one hell of a long-distance relationship.”

  “No kidding. Honestly, though, that’s probably the only reason it lasted as long as it did. Once we actually had to live together and make it work from day to day, the whole thing started unraveling. We were both fucked up from going to the Middle East, which didn’t help. Then, of course, I started figuring out I was gay, and…” I shook my head. “So we got a divorce.”

  “Wow. After how many years together?”

  “Not quite four, all told.” I tapped my fingers beside the textbook I’d been ignoring. “You’re, um, the first person I’ve told about that in a long time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I…don’t talk about it much.” I watched him for a moment. “So, um, what about you?”

  Troy jumped. “What?”

  “You said you haven’t dated much. What’s your experience been like? Good? Bad?”

  “Uh, well.” He looked down at the book in front of him, and I seriously expected him to insist we should get back to studying. But he took a breath and pushed his shoulders back as he lifted his gaze again. “Well, like I said, I’ve dated some guys who’d make my dad faint. I…haven’t really stuck with my own age bracket.”

  “Is that right?”

  He nodded. “When I was in high school, I dated college guys, and the minute I turned eighteen, I was all about the thirty-and-up crowd.” He laughed as color bloomed in his cheeks. “Dad wasn’t thrilled about some of the guys I brought home. The ones I didn’t bring home?” He whistled.

  “You don’t get along with guys your own age or something?”

  Troy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve just always preferred older guys. The conversations are more interesting. The, uh…” The color in his face deepened. “Maybe this is TMI, but the sex is better.” He paused, the sudden shyness vanishing in favor of something else. Nervous? Unsettled? He avoided my eyes. “It’s usually better, I mean.”

  “Yeah, usually.”

  He shook himself and met my eyes. “You’ve noticed?”

  “Oh, yeah. There’s something to be said for a man with experience, assuming he learned from all that experience.”

  Troy laughed quietly, the shyness starting to slip back in. “Exactly. So you’re into older guys too?”

  “Are you kidding?” I lowered my voice. “First boyfriend I had after I turned eighteen was forty-one.”

  Troy’s eyebrows jumped. I thought he’d ask “Really?” or make some smartass comment, but…

  But.

  Our eyes locked. Didn’t move. The corner of his mouth flicked upward, taking my blood pressure with it, and the light glinted off his piercings as his eyebrow rose slightly too. Had my pulse been pounding like this all along? Or had that just started?

  Troy swallowed. My stomach flipped. What the fuck were we doing? I was his bodyguard. Maybe a classmate and a study partner, but…

  Definitely not someone I should not have been sharing anecdotes about fucking older men and dating jackasses with.

  No matter how good he looked in this light.

  Troy coughed into his fist and broke eye contact, which should not have left me feeling like someone had just let go of my throat.

  “We should study,” he said, barely whispering.

  “Right. Yeah.” I glanced down at the book. “Uh, where do you want to start? Chapter four?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, chapter four sounds good.”

  We opened our books and flipped to the right pages.

  And goddammit, I should’ve known there was no point in trying to comprehend anything academic right now. Not on the heels of that conversation.

  We’d finally had a real conversation, one about ourselves rather than our classes, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d wanted Troy to show some of his cards, but the ones he’d shown weren’t the ones I’d had in mind, and there was no putting them back up his sleeve and pretending I’d never seen them.

  Troy wasn’t the first gay man I’d run into who preferred older men. I was one of those guys myself. But as the words on the page jumbled together and stopped making sense, I realized he’d said he liked the thirty-and-up crowd. Which meant I hadn’t just met a guy whose older-guy preference I completely understood.

  From where he was standing, I was an older guy.

  And no matter how much I tried to rationalize it away as hallucinating or plain old wishful thinking, I knew that look he’d given me a minute ago. I knew it because hadn’t I given that same look to a few men over the years?

  Oh God.

  I really was in over my head, wasn’t I?

  Chapter Seven

  After our study session and a long, boring biology lecture from Dr. Samson, Troy and I headed back to the house. All the while, I tried to put this morning’s conversation out of my mind. I needed to be his bodyguard. Concerned for his safety and nothing else. Especially not the way one corner of his mouth rose a little higher than the other when he smiled. Or how that eyeliner was starting to grow on me because it brought out the blue in his eyes. Or how the spiked black hair was inching from really, dude? to let me run my fingers through it.

  Jesus. I was so fucked.

  I did have a job to do, though, and whether or not I was tangled up in thoughts I had no business having, some things about this assignment still weren’t adding up. I told myself the only reason I felt the need to push for answers was because it was my job.

  Of course that was bullshit. This had started out as a job. Now? I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Or why I couldn’t think around him. Or stop thinking about him.

  We walked into the house, and of course, Talos came down to greet Troy, so while th
ey said hello to each other, I went into the security office to sign out and download my weapon.

  When I came back, though, keys in hand so I could head back to my apartment, Troy lingered by the stairs. His book bag still leaned against the bottom step, and he sat beside it, petting Talos. When he saw me, he rose, as did my pulse.

  “Hey.” He swallowed. “Uh…I was thinking…” He cleared his throat and motioned toward the second floor. “We’ve got that exam coming up in bio. Maybe we should study?”

  I held his gaze, my heart thumping as he looked right back at me, his eyes a mix of bold and uncertain. I wondered if I was imagining that devilish gleam. Even if I was, I sure as fuck wasn’t imagining the effect it had on my entire cardiovascular system.

  “Um.” I shifted my weight, glancing down at Talos just because I needed something else to look at besides Troy, and hell, the dog was there. And huge. And could probably take off my arm if he wanted to. Shit.

  I brought my gaze back up again, and goddammit, I was looking right back at Troy. “Probably not tonight. I’ve got some crap I need to take care of at home.”

  His shoulders came down so subtly it was almost imperceptible, but the combination of relief and disappointment in his face was unmistakable. “Okay. Well, um. I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

  “Yeah. 0700. I’ll be here.”

  “Good. Okay.”

  We locked eyes again, the air between us thrumming with a weird vibe that I hoped to God he couldn’t feel. Just because we’d opened up to each other a little while we’d been studying didn’t mean the door was open for more.

  “I should go,” I said, barely managing a whisper.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I should”—he nodded toward the stairs—“study.”

  “Good idea. I’ll…” We’d already done this. Why were we going around and around? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He took the first step up the stairs, which lifted him to just slightly above my eye level. Then he turned and continued up, Talos on his heels as always.

  And before they’d even made it to the top, I got the fuck out of there so I could clear my head.