Tipping the Balance

by Koehler, Christopher

  “Yeah, baby steps,” Brad whispered, suddenly embarrassed. He rested his forehead on Drew’s.

  “Regrets?” Drew said, his heart in his eyes.

  “No,” Brad croaked, his voice cracking. “It’s just that… this morning I was straight and right now I almost got off on a man. With a man, I mean.”

  “That doesn’t have to mean you’re gay, you know,” Drew said. “A lot of guys experiment. That doesn’t make you gay.”

  “No, listen. You don’t understand. This isn’t an experiment. I came over here because of you, for you,” Brad said, his voice rising.

  “It’s okay, I get it,” Drew said, still pinned beneath Brad.

  “No, you don’t,” Brad said, almost yelling. He forced himself to calm down. “You don’t, Drew. If you did, you’d know what you do to me, what you’ve been doing to me, ever since you first smiled at me at that regatta this spring. You’d know why I can’t get you out of my head, and,” he said softly, raising his head to look in Drew’s eyes, “I don’t want to.”

  “Then help me understand,” Drew whispered, stroking Brad’s back.

  “I can’t. I don’t understand it myself. I just know….” Brad paused. “I know this isn’t an experiment. You opened my eyes or changed me or something. Can’t put the genie back in the bottle.”

  “Are you gay?”

  “I… yes,” Brad said. “No? I don’t know,” he groaned. “Do I have to have an answer?”

  “No.” Drew shook his head. “So where do we go from here?” Drew said. He wiped a tear from Brad’s cheek with his thumb.

  “I don’t know,” Brad whispered, “but I want to find out.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drew and Brad spent the rest of that Sunday exploring their new… whatever it was. Drew didn’t delude himself into thinking it was a relationship. But they were more than friends, that much was clear. He knew there’d be a backlash, too, that the rubber band would snap back as the no-longer-straight Brad suffered the inevitable freak-out after spending an afternoon rolling around on the sofa with him. It was so much easier, Drew reflected, coming out early in life. The longer you waited, the harder it was.

  Drew wasn’t sure what to make of Brad’s wanting to spend lots of time together in the evenings. New relationship? Escaping paternal influence? While it was Wednesday afternoon and he hadn’t yet heard from Brad that day, they were already two for three this week. He told himself just to enjoy the ride, even if he had no idea where they were headed. But he knew where he wanted them to go.

  Drew glanced at the clock on his desk. 4:32. He should just go home. He was done at the office, and he was the last one there. If he left, then the admin, Serena, could switch everything over to the answering service and pick her son up from daycare early.

  Then his phone vibrated. Free 2nite? the text read.

  Drew smiled. Like he’d be anything else for Brad. Heading home now. See U there?

  As soon as I’m done at Graveyard, I’ve got the oversight committee. After that? Brad replied.

  I’ll have food waiting for you, Drew wrote back, thinking about the way to a man’s heart.

  You’re the best. L8r, Brad sent.

  “Hey, Serena! Let’s get out of here!” Drew called as he shoved files in his messenger bag. He just couldn’t take the office any longer.

  Drew fixed himself a snack when he got home before showering and then cooking a real meal. He wasn’t sure how much Brad would want to eat that late, but he could always live off the leftovers for a day or two if Brad didn’t eat anything.

  Then he occupied himself with work. He’d landed three new sets of clients that morning, two selling and one buying, and market research awaited him. He doubted he’d get much done, but he had to do something and had too much work to do to justify watching television.

  Brad’s unmistakable pounding on the door jarred him out of his search for what houses comparable to his two new would-be sellers had sold for recently. That the county tax assessor’s records were now online was a boon to him but held nothing but bad news for anyone trying to sell a home.

  Drew glanced at his watch as he bounded to the door, now re-invigorated after a long day. It was almost 9:00 p.m., and he’d been in front of his computer for close to two very productive hours.

  Drew opened the door. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.”

  Brad pushed in and shut the door behind him. “Of course I made it. Why wouldn’t I?” He looked at Drew for a moment with a shy smile.

  “Hug?” Drew said, opening his arms.

  Brad returned the hug awkwardly, relaxing into it after a moment’s hesitation. It was obvious to Drew that Brad still struggled with his attraction for him. Drew allowed himself to savor the feeling of the other man’s arms around him for a moment before releasing him.

  “So how was your day?” Drew asked, pulling Brad along to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

  “I should be, but no,” Brad said, making a face. “I’m sorry. I know you made something, but between eating because I’m bored out there at Suburban Graveyard and a snack at the oversight committee, I don’t have much appetite.”

  “Then I’ll just get us something to drink, and you can tell me about your day,” Drew said. He was struck by the incongruity of their situation. He wasn’t even sure they were dating, but already they were falling into some kind of Leave It to Beaver-like pattern. So long as neither of them took it too seriously, it seemed harmless.

  When he joined Brad in the family room on what had in three short days become their customary sofa, he saw that Brad had arrived at a similar conclusion. Brad reached for his glass of fizzy water with a smile. “Ah, the little woman. Where’s my pipe?”

  Drew’s glare had stopped rogue drag queens cold, and it would’ve taken a stronger man than Brad not to flinch. “Uh… sorry.”

  “I hope you got that out of your system,” Drew said in a low voice.

  “It was just a joke,” Brad said, hunching his shoulders defensively.

  Drew sat down next to Brad, turning to face him, one leg curled up under him. “Really? Where I come from, those’re usually funny.” Then he smiled to take the sting out of it.

  “Thanks,” Brad said, taking the water. He met Drew’s eyes but couldn’t hold his gaze long.

  “So,” Drew said, “the committee meeting?”

  “It’s actually kind of interesting,” Brad confessed. “When Pete Rancilman contacted me, he made it sound like the whole committee was at his back with torches and pitchforks or something and all of them out to get Nick.”

  “Yeah, I remember,” Drew said.

  Brad scratched his head absently. “The funny thing is, I think it might just be Pete.”

  “No kidding?” Drew said.

  “Don’t get me wrong, people are concerned about the ‘Nick Situation’,” Brad said, setting the words off with air quotes, “but Pete’s the one who seems like he’s out for Nick’s balls.”

  “I’m sure Morgan will have something to say about that,” Drew snorted.

  “You don’t know the half of it. I mean, the guy’s going on about Coach Bedford preying on innocent undergrads… clearly he’s never met Morgan,” Brad said, setting down his empty glass.

  “So how many hours did you have to spend listening to this guy’s witch hunt?” Drew said.

  “Not that long, thankfully. Everyone else was buzzing about how many people have already indicated an interest in crew,” Brad said, inching close to Drew. “Even assuming half of those people ever show up in the first place, and half of them can hack it, it’s still a huge increase.”

  Drew pretended not to notice. “Is this because of your big win this spring?”

  “That’d be my guess. What this means for the oversight committee is coming up with the money for an assistant coach or two. Wonder who they’ll find for that chore?” Brad said.

  “It’s not much fun?” Drew said.

  Brad shook his head. “Think about it—you get
to wake up dark and early, ride around in a launch when it’s freezing cold in the morning or boiling hot in the afternoon, depending on the season, but you’re the assistant, not the coach, so—”

  “All the work, none of the glory?”

  “And there’s no payoff. The training plan and strategy are the primary coach’s. If you’re lucky, he’ll consult you and let you in on his plans. If you’re not, you’re just a babysitter in a motorboat,” Brad said.

  Drew looked at him shrewdly. “You miss it, don’t you?”

  “I think I do,” Brad said. “I didn’t know it until just now, but yes, I miss it.”

  “Maybe Nick’ll ask you,” Drew said.

  “Why would he do that? I don’t know the first thing about coaching,” Brad said.

  “Maybe not, but you know the sport and have a little time on your hands,” Drew said.

  “Until that bid comes in,” Brad said, elbowing Drew. “Listen to you, Mr. Optimistic.”

  Drew curled over protectively. “God, don’t start tickling me.”

  But Brad wasn’t listening. With a devilish grin, he moved in for the kill, going right for the sensitive spots.

  “Just because you—” Drew gasped, swatting at Brad’s hands. “Stop that. Just because you tickle me to distract me doesn’t change the fact that you’d be a good assistant coach.”

  “Maybe,” Brad muttered, “but it’s not going to happen, so forget about it. The oversight committee has to approve hires, and besides, the money hasn’t even been set aside yet.”

  “Okay, but consider this—the very fact that you’d be willing to do it might make this oversight committee of yours more likely to agree to it in the first place, and could even reassure the committee that one of its own would be in a position to keep an eye on things for them,” Drew suggested.

  “I’d never spy on Coach Bedford for them!” Brad said, almost shouting.

  Drew put his hands up. “I’m not saying you would, but they don’t need to know that, now do they?”

  “No, I guess not,” Brad said, crossing his arms. “I just don’t like the thought of spying or all this sneaking around.”

  “I know you don’t,” Drew said. Even though his heart was suddenly full of affection for Brad, the irony wasn’t lost on him. “That’s not who you are. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

  Brad smiled at Drew and then looked away. He quickly looked back at Drew, blushing. “I like that you see that about me.”

  They looked at each other for a few more moments, and then Drew pulled Brad toward him. Brad sighed, resting his head on Drew’s lap, closing his eyes, the tension leaving his body.

  Drew closed his eyes, too, for just a moment, enjoying the feeling of Brad’s head and shoulders and his lap. He was such a solid, reassuring presence, like his weight on Drew’s legs meant he’d be in Drew’s life for a while. Drew felt incredible tenderness at that moment, and he never wanted it to end. He tried not to think. He only wanted to experience that moment and that man.

  Then Drew opened his eyes to see Brad looking up at him, a gentle expression on his face.

  “Hi,” Brad said softly. “What’re you looking at?”

  Drew blushed. “You.”

  “Good,” Brad said. “I’d hate to think anything else could hold you.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Drew said. He smiled a goofy smile. He hated that, but Brad somehow just drew it out of him.

  “Get down here. You look like you need to be kissed, and I know just the man for the job,” Brad said.

  “Oh?” Drew said. “And who would that be?”

  Drew figured maybe he’d already been a bad influence on Brad when Brad rolled his eyes and pulled his head down, but then their lips met and drove thought from his brain.

  A few moments later, Drew straightened. “This is killing my neck.”

  “You’re getting old,” Brad taunted.

  Drew stuck his tongue out.

  “Nice,” Brad said. He sat up and leaned in for another kiss.

  Drew grabbed onto Brad and then pushed him over.

  “Oooh, pushy,” Brad breathed.

  “Making out’s easier if you’re not crushing the air out of me, you big doofus,” Drew said.

  “Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Brad said.

  “Yeah, I’m terrified. Are you going to kiss me or what?” Drew said.

  And then Drew lost track of time, spell-bound in near-total focus on the man underneath him. They kissed, and there was heat and wandering hands but none of the rolling around or threatened sex.

  Drew kept going to play with Brad’s hair… which had been almost completely shaved off. He made a frustrated noise.

  Brad figured it out quickly. “I’ll grow it out for you,” Brad said softly. “If you want. There’s probably enough left to make you happy.”

  “I’m good,” Drew said.

  “Yeah,” Brad said, smiling, “you are.”

  Drew thought about what he was about to say for a moment. He didn’t want to spoil the moment, but he couldn’t avoid responsibility forever. He sat up and pulled Brad with him. Or tried, only tugging on one of the larger man’s arms.

  “All right, all right, I’ll sit up. I had no idea you were so pushy,” Brad muttered.

  “Technically, that was pulling,” Drew said.

  “I bet you’re an expert puller… of something,” Brad said.

  “Don’t get all cocky on me,” Drew said.

  “That was bad,” Brad said, shaking his head.

  Drew shrugged. “So.”

  “So?” Brad echoed.

  “So are you ready to get to work on the renovation? I’ve got another one starting, and Nick’s going back to school and coaching. He’s agreed to stick around for the first few days of this one to help you learn the ropes, but he’s pretty much over and out until next summer,” Drew said.

  “Shit, are you kidding me?” Brad said.

  Drew shook his head. “Nope, this is a perfect time. If—when—we get the bid, you’ll have some hands-on experience being in charge of these things. Even if we don’t, it’ll count as hands-on experience toward your contractor’s license.”

  “I didn’t think it’d be this soon,” Brad said. “I don’t know the first thing—”

  “Isn’t that the point of this? And don’t give me that, that’s your dad talking. I submitted our applications, remember? You know what you’re doing, you just need that piece of paper to prove it to everyone else,” Drew said.

  Brad started to retort, then clamped his mouth shut, thinking for a few moments. “I still think you picked the wrong guy.”

  “No,” Drew said, shaking his head, “I picked absolutely the right one.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drew didn’t waste any time, Brad thought, walking up to a house in a decent part of town. He knew it was the right place because it was a hive of activity in the afternoon heat, even though it was the first day of a new renovation job, even though it was a Thursday.

  Brad had bailed on the sales office as soon as his replacement had arrived, and he’d allowed himself time to pick up a sandwich before heading over. He’d wolfed it down, but looking at his watch, he saw that he still had ten minutes before he was supposed to meet Nick. But Nick’s car was already parked down the block, and Brad figured he’d better go in, since his former coach was back in school and back to coaching.

  Brad got out of the car and stripped off his work shirt. He hadn’t thought to bring jeans or carpenter’s pants, so his chinos were just going to take a beating. He pulled on a T-shirt as he headed up to the house.

  “Hello?” he called, opening the door. He knew no one was home. He knew the only people there were Nick and, presumably, the crew he’d shortly be supervising, but it felt weird just walking in. He guessed he’d get used to it.

  “Brad? That you?” called a voice he recognized as belonging to Nick Bedford.

  “Yep, in the flesh!” Brad called back, pre
tending he wasn’t nervous. That was stupid. Why should he be nervous around his old coach? Maybe because of what he’d been doing with his old coach’s best friend, he thought.

  Brad didn’t think Nick could’ve changed in the few months since he’d last seen him, but somehow he had. He wasn’t taller or more buff or anything. Maybe a bit of a tan from time on the water. But there was just something about him. He was hotter, somehow.

  And then Brad figured it out. Nick Bedford hadn’t changed. Brad had. How had he never noticed his coach before?