Return to Sender

by Ashlyn Kane

  Emerson sighed and sat back in his seat. “It’s fine. I know you’re just looking out for me. But I’m not going to break. I am a mostly functional member of society. Promise.” Emerson gave a little tremulous smile.

  “I know.” Truth told, Emerson was doing a much better job of keeping his shit together than Jonah was, and Jonah wasn’t the one whose dad had just died. But Jonah was trying to make up for two years of absentee friendship and be supportive to someone who was grieving, and he had less of a clue how to do the latter than the former, which was to say he had no fucking idea. Compounding this was the further complication that he happened to be in love with Emerson as well. Basic chivalry had seemed a good start originally, but then, Emerson wasn’t a girl.

  Jonah was more than just aware of that fact.

  He sat down in the aisle seat—no one had claimed the window yet; Jonah was hoping it stayed empty—and tucked a paperback he’d nicked off his dad into the seatback in front of him. “Nervous?” he asked.

  Emerson shook his head. “I’m okay. Excited.” Emerson chewed his lip. “Worried about leaving my mom alone, but I guess that’ll happen when I go back to school anyway.” Then Emerson turned to him and asked with an obvious attempt to change the subject, “What about you? You’re the one with a book release in less than two months. Aren’t you nervous?”

  Sure he was, but he was a lot more nervous about having Emerson in his apartment for a week and trying to keep his hands to himself. “I—believe it or not, no.”

  “I can’t believe I haven’t even read it yet,” muttered Emerson.

  Jonah tensed.

  “Not that—I’m not complaining,” Emerson assured him. “Just, I thought I was going to have my hands on it a week ago, and now I’m going to be hanging out with you for a week, so I’m not going to have time until I head back home.”

  “You know I’d have given it to you if I could,” Jonah said gently. Emerson only ever babbled like that if he was nervous, and his leg was bouncing. “Are you sure you don’t want some Gravol or something?”

  “Yes!” Emerson assured him. “I’m fine. I keep telling you—” and then the plane started pulling away from the boarding area, and his face went white.

  “Are you going to do up your seatbelt now?”

  He did, his hands trembling slightly in the process. When he pulled them away from the belt it was to curl them around his chest, hugging himself.

  The plane turned to orient itself to the runway, and Emerson started jiggling his leg double-time. It was making Jonah nervous, and Jonah hadn’t been nervous on a flight since his family’s vacation to Disney World when he was eight. Before he could think about it, he reached out with his right hand and pressed down on Emerson’s knee.

  Oh. That had been a mistake, because the denim underneath Jonah’s hand was warm from Emerson’s skin, and Emerson had gone still like he was waiting for something, only he couldn’t be, and Jonah—couldn’t take his hand away. It was like it was permanently magnetized to Emerson’s leg.

  “Sorry,” Emerson said, sounding a little off. In the background, Jonah heard the pitch of the engines increase and managed to shake himself enough to pull his hand away.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”

  Somehow, Jonah made it through takeoff with Emerson white-knuckling the armrests beside him and breathing hard like someone was—well, like he was having a lot better time than he really was. For a second Jonah wondered, somewhat wildly, if he could calm Emerson down by blowing him in the restroom, and then he spent the next half an hour deeply regretting that moment’s indiscretion, because he could not stop thinking about it. The second the fasten seatbelts sign went off, he muttered an excuse about needing a piss to Emerson and made a beeline for the bathroom.

  No sooner had he slid the latch closed behind him than he had his jeans down around his knees and one hand curled tightly around his dick.

  What would Emerson be like, he wondered as he frantically scrabbled for tissues with his left hand. Would he be shy? Wanton? Some intoxicating mixture of the two? Would his skin pebble into goose bumps under Jonah’s touch? Would he shiver? How would he taste?

  Jonah gave himself a rough experimental stroke, knowing he wouldn’t last long. Emerson would take some coaxing, he decided. Jonah knew he hadn’t always had the best luck with sex, however little they talked about it—which was to say only when Emerson had had too much to drink. So he’d be nervous. Jonah would have to convince him that it was good for him, that he wanted—God. Everything that he wanted. Which was a lot.

  What kind of noises would he make? Jonah wondered. Little quiet gasps and snuffles of pleasure? Would he hiss in satisfaction when Jonah licked at the head of his cock like he was currently dying to do? Or maybe—Jonah clenched his jaw at another long, hard stroke—maybe he wouldn’t contain himself. Maybe he’d be loud. God, that would be hot. Jonah hoped he was a screamer….

  Jonah barely managed to catch the mess before it sprayed all over the bathroom and his jeans, shuddering with aftershocks so strong, they made him dizzy. Jesus Christ, if this was what it was like to jerk off thinking about Emerson, actual sex would probably kill him, but what a way to go.

  Making sure there was no physical evidence of his activities, Jonah washed his hands thoroughly and flushed before leaving the bathroom. There wasn’t even a line-up yet. That was just embarrassing.

  Jonah plopped back down in his seat, trying very hard to act like a normal human being and not someone who’d just frantically jerked off in an airplane bathroom while fantasizing about sucking his best friend off. For all the attention Emerson was paying to anything that was not hyperventilating and trying to dent the plastic with his fingernails, Jonah might as well have come out of the bathroom naked with his dick still hard. “Emerson. Come on, man, breathe. It’s another four hours to San Francisco.”

  “Oh, God,” Emerson said.

  “Come on, the movie’s going to start soon,” Jonah coaxed. “You can use my headphones. I kept them from my last flight.” He fished them out of the seat pocket and plugged them into Emerson’s armrest, flipping through the channels until he found something that sounded classical and soothing. “Here.” He hooked the speakers over Emerson’s ears, more challenging than it sounded when he was limited to one side.

  Emerson managed a shaky smile. “Thanks.”

  “Relax,” Jonah commanded, and he automatically put his hand on Emerson’s knee again, God damn it. For a second he could only stare down at the hand like it had betrayed him; then he snapped out of it. “Sleep if you can, ’cause I’m going to keep you very busy all week.”

  If Jonah hadn’t known better, he would have said Emerson flushed at the words.

  Chapter 13

  NOW

  JONAH was brushing his teeth when his cell phone started ringing, the sudden sound startling him so much that he jerked his head up and hit it on the open medicine cabinet and swore through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat quickly and dropped his toothbrush into the cup by the sink before bolting out the door, following the sound of his ringtone.

  “Maggie!” he shouted. What if it was Emerson? He didn’t want Emerson to think he was screening his calls. Damn it, he knew he should’ve assigned his boyfriend a ringtone. “Can you help me find—”

  “Got it!” his roommate cried from the living room.

  Thank God. “Emerson?” Jonah mouthed hopefully at her when he skidded to a stop in the doorway. She shook her head regretfully.

  “Some girl,” she mouthed back, handing over the phone.

  Jonah tried not to be too obvious about his disappointment, but from the way Maggie patted his shoulder as she left the room, he was fairly certain he’d been unsuccessful. “Hello?”

  “What, you don’t answer your own phone anymore, mister big shot?”

  Jonah held the phone away from his ear for a second in disbelief. “Xie?”

  “In the flesh!” she chirped. “Well, sort of.”

&n
bsp; “It’s good to hear your voice,” Jonah told her honestly. Okay, he’d been hoping for a call from Emerson, but if he couldn’t have that, maybe he could at least vent to someone who’d understand.

  “Back at you,” Xie said. “E-mail just isn’t the same. I miss you, you know?”

  Jonah felt his throat start to close up. God, how he knew. He could really use a friend like Xie at the moment. Preferably closer than a phone call away. “I do know,” he said, managing to speak without tipping Xie off to his mood. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I trust from your chipper demeanor that you’re not having problems with Bryce.”

  “God, no,” she laughed. “He’s wonderful. I’m calling for your mailing address.”

  That was odd—she could have just e-mailed him for that. It would have been more convenient. “It’s—uh—hold on,” he said, rummaging through the pile of junk mail by the door for something with the house number and zip code on it. “I haven’t got it memorized yet.”

  “No hurry. We just got a long-distance phone plan,” she teased.

  Jonah tried really hard to be happy for her, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting. He and Emerson weren’t living together, were maybe not even together anymore at all. “Okay, I found it,” he said at last. “Ready?”

  At Xie’s affirmative, Jonah rattled off the address. Xie read it back to him to ensure she had it down right.

  “That’s it,” Jonah confirmed.

  “Good! Oh! That reminds me.” Jonah could hear her flipping through the pages of some kind of notebook. “I’ve forgotten Emerson’s last name.”

  Jonah started feeling uneasy. “It’s Blackburn. What do you need it for?”

  “Well, it would be sort of rude to put ‘and guest’ on your invitation when the two of you have been together so long.”

  “Invitation?” Jonah echoed in a whisper.

  Apparently she couldn’t keep it in any longer. “To the wedding.”

  Oh, God. “Wedding?” he parroted.

  “Bryce proposed!”

  So it did mean what he thought it had meant. “Congratulations,” he choked out as sincerely as possible. “That’s really great, Xie. When’s the big day?”

  “This May. You’re going to come, right? I’ll finally get to meet Emerson?”

  “Of course I’m coming. I want to meet Bryce, too, you know.”

  “And Emerson? He’s not taking summer courses again, is he?”

  Shit. Should he tell her? “Not that he’s mentioned,” he hedged.

  He knew he was busted when Xie’s silence went on way too long, and he sighed and folded like a cheap piece of paper. “We had a fight,” he admitted.

  “What!? You and the boy wonder? You could have led with that,” Xie reproached him.

  “I didn’t want to rain on your parade! I really am happy for you.”

  “Never mind about my parade. It’s not for another nine months. What happened?”

  Jonah opened his mouth to answer, but nothing seemed to want to come out. Apparently he was all talked out.

  That probably made it action time.

  “Jonah!” Natalie bellowed from the top of the stairs. “We’re leaving in twenty!”

  Crap. The art exhibition thing was tonight. Making up with Emerson would have to wait until Natalie was done torturing him. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said. “And I’ve got to go. With any luck, by the next time I talk to you, there won’t be anything to tell.”

  §

  THEN

  JONAH handed him a beer and took the lawn chair next to him as the sun sank over the bay. “Man, I can’t believe it’s your last day here.” I can’t believe I’ve been such a pussy for an entire week, he amended in his head. He couldn’t be sure without asking, but he thought—he thought Emerson might possibly have the same kind of feelings for him that Jonah had about Emerson. He’d certainly caught him looking a time or two when Jonah had stepped out of the shower. Not that Jonah would hold that against him either way. He spent time at the gym on purpose to cultivate that kind of reaction. But he wanted it to mean something more coming from Emerson.

  “Me neither,” Emerson admitted. “Although I can certainly see why you don’t want to come back home. You have a great view.”

  The view was pretty great, Jonah thought, but he was looking at Emerson’s profile burnished pink and orange by the setting sun and not at the water. He couldn’t help but think that he’d go back to Texas in a heartbeat if only Emerson asked him to. “I have no complaints.”

  They watched the rest of the sunset in near-silence, and then by mutual unspoken agreement they folded up the lawn chairs and went back inside. Jonah stashed the chairs inside the tiny coat closet and kicked his shoes in after, but Emerson paced farther into the apartment, going all the way to the window that looked out over the street. Everything about him screamed “agitated.” Especially when he wrapped both arms around his torso.

  Jonah frowned. “What are you thinking?”

  Jonah saw him worry his lower lip for a moment before he released a long breath. “I’m thinking I should really—I was supposed to ask you why you left,” he said in a rush. “I’ve been putting it off because… but I’m leaving tomorrow. I can’t wait anymore.”

  Swaying like someone had just hit him with a sledgehammer, Jonah swallowed.

  “I was starting to think you’d forgotten.”

  “I was so angry with you when you wouldn’t tell me,” Emerson went on. “I mean I was pissed you left in the first place, and then you didn’t trust me—”

  “It was never you I didn’t trust,” Jonah assured him. God, he’d been waiting for this moment for fucking years, and he still wasn’t ready. “Maybe you should sit down?”

  He could practically feel Emerson’s anxiety ratcheting up another ten notches, but he did sit, and Jonah took care to keep as much distance between them on the couch as possible. “You’re not dying or something, are you?” Emerson half-whispered.

  “Jesus, fuck, no, Emerson, I’m not, I promise.” Christ, if that was what Emerson thought, then Jonah had been a bigger asshole than he’d given himself credit for. “I’m fine, okay? Picture of health.”

  Emerson let out a deep breath and finally met his eyes. “Okay. What then? What could be so bad that you’d…?”

  And here it was, the moment of truth. Jonah swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and resolved to finally put his money where his mouth was. “It was my birthday,” he interrupted. If he didn’t build up some momentum, he’d never get the story out right. “We were going to see a movie, remember? I was going to pick you up.”

  “I remember.”

  “Only when I got to your house, you weren’t anywhere to be found. Not in the living room, dining room, or kitchen. So I went upstairs to your room, and that’s when I saw you through the window.” He didn’t dare meet Emerson’s eyes now, just kept his gaze focused on the twinkling lights of the city out the window. “When I saw you kissing Justin.”

  There was an impatient, curious noise from the couch beside him. “Jonah, I told you, it was only once, nothing to write home about—”

  “But I didn’t write home, did I?” Jonah cut him off. “I left home. Emerson, God, I know you say it didn’t mean anything to you, but it meant a lot to me. All it took was that split-second, and then….” It was getting more and more difficult to continue, but he’d come this far.

  Emerson’s voice was almost too quiet. “And then?”

  Obviously Emerson wasn’t going to let him off the hook either, and that was good, Jonah told himself. But it didn’t make the next part any easier. “And then I knew.” It was an effort of sheer will, but Jonah forced himself to turn his head and meet Emerson’s gaze head on. “I was furious, Emerson. It was an innocent kiss, I know that now, but for those few seconds I wanted to tear Justin’s throat out. And then I had to stop and ask myself why, why the sight of my best friend kissing another man really bothered me. As I hauled ass somewhere else, by th
e way, because I couldn’t let you know that I’d seen you. At first I thought maybe it was because you hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me your secret. Or maybe I was just envious because you had someone and I didn’t. But that didn’t explain why I was so angry with Justin. When I was finally able to be honest with myself, I had to admit that it was because”—he took a deep breath and plunged ahead—“because I wanted you for myself.”

  By this time he was so deep in memory that the sharp intake of breath from Emerson barely registered. “And that just led to more questions. Did that mean I was gay? Bi? How strong were these”—he stumbled a little despite his best efforts—“feelings? Was it lust? Love? Was it possible that you felt the same? What if you did? Could we really be together? And if something did happen, what then? What if it didn’t work? Would I lose my best friend as well as my….” No, he couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t say another word, in fact. Between the trepidation and relief building into a solid mass in his throat, he counted himself lucky to keep breathing.

  §

  BEFORE:

  SHOVING his car keys into the pocket of his cargo shorts, Jonah slammed the door and headed up the drive, his flip-flops slapping happily against the interlocking brick.

  The day was overcast—probably going to rain, Jonah thought, or maybe even thunderstorm like it had been threatening all week—but it didn’t put a damper on his mood. He had a wallet full of birthday money and a car to use for the weekend while his parents went with Kierstyn to a soccer tournament in Houston. So far the plan was to pick up Emerson and hit the movies together. Then, when they inevitably ran into some girls from school—Hudson’s Bend was a tiny little town, and it was Friday night after all—maybe go out for ice cream together. If that didn’t work out he and Emerson could hit up the Blockbuster down the road from Emerson’s parents’ store and rent a couple horror movies, buy half a shelf of junk food, and spend all night on Jonah’s couch until they were too terrified to move.