Worth Waiting For

by Wendy Qualls

  “You do what you need to do and I’ll see if I can rustle us up something to eat for breakfast. Also some coffee and maybe some underpants.”

  Brandon grinned at the screen, then caught Paul’s arm and tugged him down for a quick open-mouthed kiss. “You’re a mind-reader.”

  Chapter 14

  “You all finished?” Paul asked, suddenly aware of Brandon looming in the doorway.

  Brandon sank down beside him on the sofa in a loose sprawl. “As much as I can get done from here, yes,” he answered. “Sorry to ignore you like that—not a very good host of me, I know. Thanks for breakfast.” He’d finally gotten dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a ring-necked T-shirt that showed off his arms, but his feet were still bare. Which was more erotic than it really should have been, considering the mess Paul was in.

  “If it’s helping you keep Christopher—or whoever—from threatening or blackmailing me in the future,” Paul said, “ignore me all you want. And it wasn’t ‘breakfast’ as much as scrounging for edibles in your kitchen. You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t cook, were you?” He turned off the TV that he hadn’t really been watching anyway and twisted so they were at least partially facing each other. “What now?”

  “Now I take you out to experience something fun in Atlanta, because apparently you’ve lived in Georgia all your life but haven’t done anything here. And we enjoy our weekend because there’s absolutely nothing we can do about anything at St. Ben’s until we get back there tomorrow evening.” Brandon grimaced. “I know you’re probably eager to charge back and go dive in, but I’ve got to get the formal go-ahead from a few higher-ups before I go chasing after an individual employee, and they’re not going to be checking their work e-mail until Monday at the earliest. Even if we went back now, I wouldn’t have access to the databases I’d need. Waiting sucks, I know.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Paul was surprised to realize, as he said it, that it was true. “We’re here and the rest of my life is there. It’s freeing, in a way. I’d rather be here with you than sitting around my apartment, worrying. Sorry, that probably doesn’t make sense—but yes, doing something touristy sounds good. And a real lunch at some point would be nice, too. Pickles and fried eggs and coffee are technically food but they’re not exactly part of a balanced breakfast, you know?”

  * * * *

  After some back-and-forth—and a little more making out and a lot more frantic gasping and a truly spectacular mutual handjob—they ended up at the Georgia Aquarium. Brandon swore he hadn’t been for years and Paul had never been at all. The Saturday morning crowds were a bit daunting at first, but once they got inside the entryway the press of bodies dispersed and there was a bit more room to breathe. Brandon handed Paul an exhibit map and waited, lounging casually against the wall, while Paul glanced through it. Nothing stood out as more interesting than anything else.

  “I’m just following you.” Paul took Brandon’s nearer hand without thinking about it—then froze, their hands clasped together. In public. “Sorry, I—”

  “It’s fine.” Brandon squeezed their joined hands and smiled, a tiny little private smile for Paul’s eyes alone. “There’s nobody you know here, nobody you’d give a shit about who can judge you for the sin of wanting to enjoy a bit of a day off. And I kinda like the idea of wandering around the aquarium holding hands—neither of us really got to do that as teenagers, did we? This is our chance.”

  They held hands. No one commented. A few people did give them the side-eye, as they wandered down the giant underwater tunnel in the ocean exhibit, but it was easy to ignore the funny looks when they were surrounded by the incredible aquatic panorama outside the tunnel walls.

  “This is ridiculously huge,” Brandon murmured quietly, leaning in so his breath tickled Paul’s neck. “I assumed I just remembered it being big because I was still a kid when I was here last, but yeah—it’s actually that big.”

  “I wonder if they pay any attention to us at all.” Paul watched a manta ray float slowly overhead, its body easily twice the length of a person. “We may be the closest thing these poor critters get to a TV.”

  Brandon nudged Paul’s arm and nodded toward a small boy, not much past learning to walk, who was absolutely fascinated by the fish outside. He stumbled along the edge of the tunnel, hand on the glass, staring out at the tank. His mother ambled slowly in his wake, nose buried in her phone, not even watching the scene outside. Maybe they were regulars and she’d seen it all too often to be impressed anymore, but it seemed like a waste of a beautiful moment. Paul caught Brandon’s eye and squeezed his hand, understanding without speaking.

  * * * *

  The only truly awkward moment was when they went to the dolphin show. Brandon warned that it was a bit corny, but Paul countered with how the heck can you pass up dolphins? He caught Brandon around the waist and mock-dragged him toward the auditorium. There was a fair crowd there already, fifteen minutes before the doors were set to open, but the press of bodies in the waiting-area-slash-gift-shop just meant Paul had ample opportunity to step back against Brandon and nestle his spine against Brandon’s chest as they staked out an out-of-the-way spot in the room to wait.

  “I always hated seeing couples get all snuggly like this,” he said softly over his shoulder so Brandon could hear. “Silly teenage PDA. But now I want to pull your arms around me and bask in it. I’m feeling giddy. It’s like puberty all over again.”

  “Without the awkward voice cracking and the bullying at school,” Brandon murmured in his ear. “I’m not going to pull you around and kiss you right here, but you should probably know that I want to. Very much.”

  “Just as well you don’t—I’d probably kiss you back. And we’d scandalize some of the parents here.”

  “Look at you. Last night you wouldn’t kiss me out in the open with no one around. Today, PDA.” Brandon let his hands rest on Paul’s hips. Nothing indecent, nothing sexual, but it let him pull Paul even closer and rest his chin on Paul’s shoulder. Paul could feel Brandon’s chest rise and fall with each breath. “For the record, though, their kids wouldn’t care.”

  They stood like that, barely moving, until the doors opened and the assembled crowd started filing into the auditorium. Brandon snagged them two fantastic seats, slightly off to the side but near the front, just out of range of the “splash zone.” They settled in, holding hands and sitting slightly angled in their chairs so their shoes touched. Brandon’s eye caught Paul’s and they both froze, grinning inanely at each other. It was the most ridiculous thing, Paul knew, but he couldn’t tear his attention away from the sheer surprised happiness on Brandon’s face. As if he couldn’t believe his luck. The cheesy music Brandon had warned about was already well underway, but it didn’t require any effort to ignore. Everything was fine until a dark-haired woman with two children in tow tapped Paul on the shoulder.

  “Could you not do that?” she asked.

  Paul blinked at her. “Sorry, do what?”

  “All that in public.” She settled her children into the two seats on either side of her—directly behind Paul and Brandon—as she spoke. “My boys want to sit close enough to watch the show, but I don’t want them to witness any funny business when we’re just here for the dolphins.”

  Paul was suddenly thrust into the uncomfortable position of realizing he was probably supposed to say something in response, but having absolutely no idea what. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Frantically he looked over to Brandon, unsure—

  “Sitting next to each other?” Brandon asked, his voice deceptively calm.

  The woman frowned. “Just…you know.” She gestured vaguely toward the space between Brandon and Paul. The only part of them touching were their palms. “That.”

  “Hmm. This?” Brandon twined his fingers in Paul’s and lifted their joined hands together so she could see. “The exact same thing you were doing with your son
s only thirty seconds ago?”

  “It’s different,” she snapped. “My boys shouldn’t have to see that.”

  “It’s only different if you tell them it is,” Brandon retorted calmly. “And they’re only going to be more curious now that you’ve made a big deal of it.”

  The older of the two boys was indeed watching their conversation with interest, something the woman only gradually seemed to realize. With a huff, she grabbed her children and stalked off to find another seat. Somewhere with a larger buffer against sinners, presumably.

  Brandon tracked her with his eyes for several seconds after she left, then let go of Paul’s hand reluctantly. “Sorry—didn’t really ask if you minded me using you to make a point.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Is it?” Brandon twisted a bit to look at him face-on. “I always try to stay calmer than they are—it makes them look that much stupider by comparison—but it drives me crazy how people seem to think that just by existing I will somehow give their children gay cooties. Like I’m some sort of gay plague vector. I could deal with them thinking that quietly, but the pushy ones always seem to want to tell me about it.”

  “I didn’t mean that, you twit.” Paul nudged Brandon’s foot with his own. “I agree that she was being ridiculous. I meant what you did. I didn’t mind being a prop.” It was fun, in a tweaking-someone’s-nose kind of way. “Kind of exciting too—my first bigot! Well,” he amended, “the first one to say something to my face who didn’t assume I was also straight and just commiserating with them about the evils of sinners these days.”

  “You get that a lot?”

  Paul rolled his eyes theatrically enough to get a tiny smile out of Brandon. “I teach at St. Benedict’s—of course I get it a lot. Every darn day.”

  * * * *

  They spent almost three hours at the aquarium. It was long enough to work up a thorough appetite, for food as well as for more chances to touch each other, so they finally left to go find somewhere for lunch. They found a Greek hole-in-the-wall a few blocks away and ended up getting their gyros to-go so they could backtrack to Centennial Olympic Park and eat there. The spring weather was only recently warm enough for local families to bring their kids out and play in the fountains, so the center part of the park was filled with loud and enthusiastically damp children. Paul and Brandon wandered the paths for a bit afterward, enjoying the sunshine, but by late afternoon Paul could tell Brandon was ready to head home. They made their way back to the nearest MARTA station and walked the six blocks to Brandon’s apartment.

  “Now what?” Brandon asked. “I’m ready to get away from other people’s children for a bit, but we can go out again this evening if you want to. Today’s for you.”

  Paul leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Brandon’s lips in response. “You may not have noticed this about me, but I’m kind of an introvert. I was thinking …maybe some video games? And then we can order a pizza or Chinese or something that delivers, and we can stay in our pajamas all evening, and if at some point we happen to end up out of our pajamas again…”

  The answering predatory grin would have been worth the trip to Atlanta all on its own.

  * * * *

  Brandon may have generally preferred PC games to console releases, but he still had a nice selection of multiplayer options. “I do occasionally have my friends over,” he explained with a bit of a shrug when Paul asked him about it. “Most of them aren’t really gamers, not the way you and I are, but we can’t go to drag revues and gay bars every night.”

  “You are kidding about all that, right?” The idea of getting dragged along to an environment like that was terrifying.

  “Oh, I’m totally serious—I don’t think I’d have that kind of stamina. We can save that for tomorrow afternoon, though.” Brandon managed to hold a straight face for a full two seconds before cracking and bursting into totally undignified giggles. “Sorry, you just looked—I’m sorry,” he panted between snickers. “I mean, I don’t go out to those with them as much anymore because I finally decided I’m not into all that, but it’s not like we never see each other. We usually still get together once a month or so and do whatever. Sometimes it’s a bar, yeah, but sometimes we just sit around each other’s apartments and gripe about our week. They’re all out at a drag show tonight, but I would probably have sat out anyway. My friend Lito has another friend who’s performing, but I’ve only met her once or twice. She won’t care whether I’m there to cheer her on or not.”

  Paul heaved a theatrical sigh and flopped himself backward onto the sofa, pretending he was thoroughly disappointed in Brandon’s answer. “I don’t think I’m ready to be gay enough for that.”

  “I understand. It can take some getting used to.” Brandon sank onto the other side of the sofa and lifted Paul’s legs into his lap. “Like I said yesterday—I spent a couple of years trying to fit in with that world, but it’s really not me. Some of the guys got really into the drag scene a few years ago and I love seeing them get so excited about it, but the whole thing never resonated with me the same way. I still go along every once in a while because I like to see my friends, but I’d be just as happy if we all did something a little less…”

  “Extroverted?”

  Brandon snorted. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Good, because that takes us back to some nice macho alpha-male-fantasy video games.” Paul lifted his legs off Brandon’s lap and gave his hip a little shove with one foot. “Go pick something out for us. I’m pretty sure I’ve been too ridiculously happy all day. It’s not manly. I need to either shoot things or blow them up.”

  * * * *

  “How the hell are you so good at this?” Brandon dropped his controller into his lap in mock-disgust and stared at the screen, where his character was getting exploded in slow-motion by one of Paul’s grenades. “I’m used to either playing online with opponents I assume are mostly twelve-year-olds or playing with Lito and the gang who are all terrible. I like being the videogame expert.”

  “It’s because I have no life.” Paul kept his character moving long enough for their team to formally win, then tossed down his controller too. “Want to try a racing game instead? I’m awful at those.”

  Brandon snorted and shook his head, a smile blooming on his face. “It wasn’t a complaint. Well, not really.”

  “Still.” Paul went over to the cabinet and pulled out a driving game he recognized but had never tried. “I like the idea of competing against each other and the computer instead of a bunch of strangers. This way we have no one else to blame when we lose.”

  “What’s this we?” Brandon asked with a laugh, but he waved toward the console. “Fine, fine, go ahead. But I’m upping the stakes.”

  “Oh?”

  “As long as we’re acting like giddy teenagers today, we should add in an element of truth or dare. Winner of each round gets to ask the loser a question. Absolutely anything.”

  Paul thought it over as he swapped out the discs, but nothing bad came to mind. Brandon already knew the big secret he’d been keeping from everyone for so long—what else was there to hide? The always-cautious part of his mind yelled that this was a terrible idea, that he was going to ruin what was turning out to be a very good thing, but there was always the possibility that he’d get to ask Brandon something too. “I guess I’m game.”

  They dove into the game with way more gravity than the bright cartoon graphics would have suggested. Brandon waited until he had thoroughly trounced Paul at the first race before admitting, “by the way, this is the one the guys and I play the most. If you were curious.”

  Paul flipped him off. It was a novelty; he’d never done that before, as far as he could remember, but it was turning out to be a week of firsts. Brandon smirked and leaned back against the cushions of the sofa.

  “So. Question. We’ll start off easy—how did you come out to your twin sister,
and how did that go? It sounds like it would be an awkward conversation no matter what, but you said yesterday she took it badly.”

  “It was. And she did.” Paul thought back, trying to remember their exact words. “It was the week after finals, right after I got home. Her school finished before St. Ben’s, so she’d been back a few days already. Mom and Dad were both at work, I think. Danielle and I were sitting around on her bed, just catching up, and she asked me if I’d met any pretty girls.”

  “And you told her girls weren’t your thing.”

  “Not in so many words.” God, it was still awkward to even think about. “I admitted I’d kind of met someone, and she got all excited and started peppering me with questions, and I remember wanting to say it was you and just not being able to get the words out of my mouth. Danielle has always been able to read me better than anyone else—she picked up on it. I’ll never forget the look on her face.”

  A touch on Paul’s wrist startled him. Brandon was covering his hand with his own, present but not pushing. “What was it?” he asked.

  “Pity.” Paul closed his eyes, the memory still fresh in his mind. “She looked at me and asked if I was gay. It took me forever to form the word ‘yes.’” He sucked in a deep breath. Right. “And then she asked if I was sure, if I’d…if I’d tried it with a girl. I said no, but I knew, had known for ages. And she nodded and we didn’t talk about it again for months, until Thanksgiving break. Didn’t talk about anything much. Things were strained. By then she’d come around a lot—she gave me a hug and said she was sorry for not being more accepting and she’s been my biggest champion ever since. She’d like you.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t go better for you.” Brandon rubbed his thumb over the back of Paul’s hand, back and forth. Hypnotic. “Everything is hard enough without adding an unsupportive family.”

  “It’s gotten better,” Paul amended. “I mean, there’s still no way I can tell my parents, but Danielle spent most of the past weekend gushing about this French guy she’s dating and lecturing me on how I need to find a nice boyfriend and settle down.” Bit awkward to bring that up now, with him looking at me like that. “She’s totally gung-ho about being an ally.”