Life on Pause

by Erin McLellan

  Niles couldn’t keep from giggling. Victor always made him laugh. Made him admit his darkest sins. Convinced him to use weird sex toys. It was probably not a healthy friendship.

  “How was it, seriously?”

  Niles considered not telling him because talking about it would make it real. And he wasn’t ready for that yet. The sooner it was real, the sooner it was over. But in the end, the words burst from his mouth like they’d been fired from a shotgun. “We fooled around a little.”

  “Shut the front fucking door!”

  “I don’t think you have to say ‘front door’ if you’re going to include the f-word anyway. It defeats the purpose of using a cursing placeholder, don’t you think?”

  “Shut up. You hit it with the choir teacher? What does that mean? What do you mean ‘fooled around’?”

  “Uh, I don’t know,” Niles grumbled. He didn’t want to give a play-by-play. He wasn’t a call girl. “First base, I guess.”

  “You had anal?”

  “In what hellacious world is anal sex first base, Vic? Ohmigod, my mind just exploded.”

  Victor laughed. He was upfront about his many and varied sex-capades—a different man in every port and fifty in Galveston. Niles would probably have been jealous of his sex life if the thought of being with that many men wasn’t so frightening.

  “Gay bases are different than straight bases.”

  “Oh do tell, Victor,” Niles joked.

  And the handsome bastard didn’t even blink before rattling them off, as if they were written in freaking stone: The Gay Commandments.

  “First base is anal. Second is meeting friends and family. Third is deleting Grindr. And a homerun is going bare. I saw that on a Twitter thread, so it must be true.”

  “Jesus Christ, that’s scary. If I go by Gay Twitter rules, we didn’t get to first base. I would say there was a sacrifice bunt. Or maybe a pop fly. No one made it on base.”

  “You lost me when you started talking about actual baseball,” Victor sniped.

  “We fooled around. Nothing big.”

  “‘Nothing big’? That’s a shame.”

  “Oh, my God, Victor Consuelos, you fucking prick. Stop twisting my words. He’s hung. He blew me, and then I jacked him off. It was great and weird and part of me wants to propose and part of me wants to never see him again. And right now, I’m feeling the never seeing him again. Now leave me alone!”

  Victor stared at him in shock for too many long seconds.

  Niles fell back on his bed, covered his face, and growled, “I hadn’t planned on telling you that.”

  “I figured, honey.”

  Niles sat back up. “Why am I losing it?”

  “My guess, if I’m being perfectly honest? You’re freaking out because the choir director acted like his dick wasn’t the only one in the room, and you’ve never had that. It feels special, and you don’t know how to react.”

  “You think it was special?” Niles asked. It had felt spectacular. Important.

  And that was why he’d bolted. There was no way Rusty had thought their time together was momentous. Only a sucker like Niles would get emotional over a blowjob.

  “I don’t know,” Victor said. “It might have been special. Or maybe it felt special because you’ve never been with anyone nice before. It had to have been great to get some attention from someone who cares about you.”

  “He cares because we’re friends.” Friends. Friends. Friends. Niles needed to repeat that over and over in his head. Maybe then it would stick.

  “Right. Or maybe he likes you. Remember what I said? You deserve better than what you’ve allowed yourself. Was last night better?”

  “It was outrageously, irrevocably, incandescently better.”

  “Ooo! You know I like it when you talk Jane Austen to me.” Victor shifted around and Niles caught a glimpse of the back of his tiny cruise ship cabin. It reminded Niles of their dorm room, freshman year of college. Everything had been so much simpler then. His mom had been alive. His dad had been healthy. He’d been a virgin. The most exciting thing to happen to him had been discovering the SyFy channel.

  “My advice?” Victor continued. “Go with the flow. See what happens. Put yourself out there. Be the master of your own destiny. All that crap. And remember that I love you and anyone who can’t see what a good catch you are is a total jizz basket.”

  Niles laughed, a little wetly. “I miss you, Vic.”

  “I miss you too. Promise me you won’t hide from your guy indefinitely. He’s your friend, and you don’t treat your friends like crap. No reason to start now.”

  “I promise.”

  Kind of.

  Maybe.

  “All right,” Victor said suspiciously. Even from thousands of miles away, Victor could clearly read him like a tabloid magazine. “I have to go. My roomie asked for privacy tonight. He’s banging one of the bartenders from the cigar bar. She’s British. Her voice turns me on, but they won’t let me watch, so I have to clear out soon.”

  Niles said his goodbyes and shut down his computer. As he lay back down, his phone, which he’d shoved under his pillow before falling asleep, vibrated with a text notification.

  His message was a selfie from Rusty, and in it, he was smiling, all charm, and wearing a blue glittery bowtie. The message said, Gift from the seniors. Think I’ll wear it next time we go out.

  Shivers jangled through Niles’s limbs like sheets of electricity, and adrenaline amped him up and set his stomach rolling. Rusty was so handsome in the selfie. So perfect. And it only made Niles more determined to stay away. Rusty had already managed to burrow into that soft part of his chest that longed for love and acceptance. If Niles let himself get more attached, it would only hurt worse when Rusty let him down.

  Niles took one last look at his phone but didn’t respond.

  Rusty stopped trying to contact Niles after three days. Niles hadn’t answered any phone calls or text messages, and Rusty had never in his life felt quite so used.

  By Saturday, Rusty had almost convinced himself that Niles was just a nerd who wasn’t very good in bed.

  Yeah right.

  He was pissed, not forgetful. Niles had been a firecracker in the sack who’d made Rusty feel happy and tender and strange.

  That asshole.

  Rusty considered ambushing Niles at work again on Saturday afternoon, but he didn’t really want to pay the ten-dollar entrance fee to Bushyhead Homestead only to get rejected. Instead, he had Jackie and Margo over for dinner. It’d be nice to have them in his apartment. He needed to wash over some of those Niles memories with new ones involving people who’d never leave him high and dry.

  Toward the end of their meal of grilled chicken, baked potatoes, and green beans, after Margo was already in the living room watching Disney Junior, Jackie set aside her plate and gave Rusty a hard stare. “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing.” He wasn’t used to lying to Jackie, but he’d been hiding Niles from the beginning, never telling her about their late nights of Netflix or the way Niles had slowly set up shop in Rusty’s heart and home. He was worried about repeating his past mistakes. Todd had been so enmeshed in his daily family life with Jackie and Margo, and the results had been painful for everyone.

  “You’ve been acting weird since we saw you at your choir concert. Plus, weeks ago you stopped begging to hang out after I got home from work, and then all of sudden you wanted us over for dinner on a Saturday night. It’s almost like you’ve been dating someone and now they’re either busy or dumped you. I want to know what’s going on.” She arched an expressive eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t dating anyone. I’ve been hanging out with that guy from Bushyhead Homestead, but only as friends. Maybe I simply wanted to see my poor, poor sister who has no social life so she has to judge mine.”

  She ignored his dig. “That guy was hot. You’re dumb if you’re not trying to get with him. He’s got that awkward-cute thing going. And those long legs. Yum.”

>   Yes, Niles was awkward-cute, and he had the most appealing freckles on his nose, and he kissed like a wet dream, but he was also the jerk who didn’t call Rusty back. He shrugged, hoping his sister would drop it.

  “If you’re only friends, why do you look so sad?” she asked stubbornly.

  He knew Jackie well enough to know this was a losing battle, and part of him kind of wanted to vent.

  “Fine, you brat. Niles and I screwed around, and now he won’t talk to me. It sucks, and I’m pissed. He’s a dick. End of story.”

  That was definitely not the end of the story. He suspected Niles was freaked out, and Rusty could make it better if Niles would only talk to him. They could figure it out, and go back to being friends. Or fuck buddies. Or even, if Rusty was honest about what he really wanted, boyfriends.

  “Oh. Maybe you weren’t any good?” Jackie suggested.

  Rusty threw his napkin at her. “What’s going on with you, nosey? Why don’t you distract me from my pathetic dating life?”

  “Okay,” she said slowly, and the pitch of her voice made the hair on Rusty’s neck stand on end. “Do you remember Chrissy? She worked at the salon in town with me for a couple of years but moved to Sapulpa last year.” Rusty nodded. “The owner at the salon she’s working at in Sapulpa is selling, and Chrissy is going to buy it if she can find a partner. She wants me to go in with her. Be co-owner.”

  Rusty’s heartbeat raced, and he tried to calm his breathing. “Is this something you want? Do you want to move away from Bison Hills?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Rus. I’m not sure I want to pick up and move again. And you uprooted everything for us. You moved to this tiny-ass town because of me. And I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, so as far as I’m concerned, this is a decision we make together. Either we both move, we both stay, or only Margo and I move. I’m not quite prepared to look too closely at that last option yet, but I can put on my big girl pants and deal, if that’s what it comes to. Would you want to move?”

  There wasn’t some rule written in stone that said they had to make every move of their lives together. But he’d helped to raise Margo. They had a routine that he loved.

  He also liked his job and this town. Sapulpa, while a little larger than Bison Hills, was still small, and there were no guarantees he’d be able to get a job there. The faces of his students here in Bison Hills flashed through his mind. God, he’d hate to leave them.

  “I’ll think about it. Either way, you’re so talented, and I don’t want you to pass up on a good career move because of me. You have a family to think of, Jackie.”

  “A family you help support, Russell. You help pay for my shit, and you take care of Margo every day after school. We’re a family. The three of us.”

  “Technically, I helped pay for Margo’s shit. Past tense, sister. You’ve been on your own two feet for years, and evidently have enough money to buy into a business. All I do is babysit. And I’ll continue to help you out for as long as you need—that will never change. Even if we’re in different places.”

  “I don’t know what I want, and I’m scared to choose wrong,” she said softly.

  Rusty scooted his seat over and wrapped her in his arms. “We don’t have to decide immediately, right?” She shook her head against his shoulder. “Then don’t. You have time, and we’ll figure it out.”

  Margo appeared at Rusty’s elbow and climbed into his lap. “Why are you hugging?” she asked, voice accusing, like she was miffed at being left out of the love fest.

  “Uncle Rusty and I needed a hug,” Jackie said.

  Margo rested her cheek on Rusty’s chest, and his love for her, for both of them, swelled up so big and perfect, it almost choked him up.

  “Are you sad?” Margo asked Rusty.

  “Not anymore. Hugs make everything better. Especially hugs from you.”

  Margo rolled her eyes—she was evidently too old to fall for such a line—and Rusty laughed.

  He wasn’t ready to lose this. Not yet.

  Early Sunday evening, after working himself into a complete and utter bad mood, Rusty drove out to that little farmhouse several miles out of town and knocked on Niles’s front fucking door.

  After a night of almost zero sleep, Rusty was pissed and ready for a confrontation. He knew his fear and frustration was due to Jackie’s news, but rather than dwelling on that, he’d spent the day working himself up over Niles ghosting on him.

  Rusty heard someone moving toward the door. What if this was a mistake? He should probably figure his shit out before pulling Niles into it.

  But he didn’t have time to leave or hide or get his head on straight because Niles swung the door open and he looked freaking fantastic in his large sweatshirt and tiny cutoff jean shorts. A spoon hung from his mouth, and he was holding Häagen-Dazs Butter Pecan ice cream.

  “Hi,” Rusty said, anger leeching into his voice. The spoon started to slip from Niles’s lips, and Rusty caught it.

  “Hey,” Niles responded faintly.

  “Wanna share?” Rusty asked, testily, with a gesture of the spoon toward the ice cream.

  “You don’t normally eat dessert.”

  “Yeah, I wanna eat some of your unhealthy shit, Niles. Now are you going to let me in, or do you really not care about me at all?” Rusty’s voice cracked, and embarrassment flooded his cheeks with heat.

  Niles reached out and cupped Rusty’s chin with an ice-cream-cold hand. Rusty was breaking. What was it about Niles that made him feel so unbalanced?

  “I do care about you,” Niles said sharply, an edge to his voice Rusty had never heard before. Niles dropped his hand and gestured for Rusty to follow him inside, where they sat on a faded beige pleather sofa, and then he handed the ice cream to Rusty.

  “You do care about me, but?” Rusty asked.

  “But it’s weird. I’m not good at this. I’ve never seen anyone after screwing around with him. I’ve only been with strangers.”

  Rusty had suspected that Niles was inexperienced, but he hadn’t expected that exactly. It was kind of sad.

  “Do you regret it? Because I’ll be honest, I don’t.” Rusty started eating the ice cream—he didn’t get the fancy stuff very often.

  “I don’t know,” Niles mumbled, and Rusty recoiled like he’d been slapped. Niles grabbed one of his hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I don’t know how to do this. We’re friends. But now I don’t know how to act around you or what you want. I feel like we messed everything up for a couple orgasms.”

  “So what now, then?” Rusty asked. He sat the ice cream down on the coffee table and paced away from the couch, hands in his hair. This was all Rusty’s fault. His fault for pushing and pushing and pushing. “You don’t want to get with me again. Fine. But should I watch the next episode of Battlestar Galactica without you? I mean, do you seriously not want to talk to me? Not want to hang out or see me? I need to know how big a berth I should give you. Do we pretend we don’t know each other? Cross to opposite sides of the road if we see each other in town?”

  Christ, he was being dramatic. He turned back to Niles, whose eyes were wide now and whose hands were nervously picking at the strings of his cutoffs.

  “I don’t know what I want, okay?” Niles said, almost too quietly for Rusty to hear. “I’ve never known. I’ve always made bad choices. Been with the wrong people, and it’s never made me happy. I’ve never felt happy afterwards. God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” Niles’s voice rose. “I always feel so shitty. Every time I let some guy use me. And I don’t want to feel shitty because of you!”

  “Did I make you feel shitty?” Rusty asked, horrified. “I wasn’t using you.” He sat down again, closer to Niles now. He wanted to kiss his fear and insecurity away. Instead, he grabbed up the ice cream and scooped out a spoonful. When Rusty held it to Niles’s mouth, Niles gave him a wry, irritated eye roll before taking the bite.

  After swallowing, he said, “Yet.”

  “‘Yet’ w
hat?” Rusty asked, distracted by Niles’s lips around the spoon. He fed Niles another dollop of Butter Pecan, hoping to soften him up.

  “You’re not using me yet. And no, I didn’t feel shitty. I felt good.”

  Rusty took a scoop for himself, the soft sweetness melting on his tongue. “I felt good too, and I’m not going to use you.”

  “I’m not sure I can trust that, Rusty.”

  “Here,” Rusty said, feeding him a spoonful of ice cream. Niles laughed a little but ate it, exasperation clear on his face. “I don’t know what to do to make you trust me, but I’m not in this to hurt you. If nothing else, we have at least fifty episodes of Battlestar Galactica left, and I want to watch them with you.”

  “Is that all you want?” Niles asked, his voice small.

  “No. It absolutely is not all I want.”

  Niles’s breath hitched, and he glanced away.

  “What do you want?” Rusty asked. “Friends? Or more? Because I want more. You were so perfect, made me feel so good, and I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again. And it’s not just sex I want. I want to hear every amazing word that comes out of your mouth and spend as much time with you as possible. I don’t want to lose you. I want to be with you, but we can play it by ear and we don’t have to take ourselves too seriously.” Rusty cringed inwardly. He didn’t know why he was diminishing what he wanted, like he was trying to talk Niles into thinking this could be a fling.

  Niles didn’t reply and kept fiddling with the threads on the hem of his shorty shorts. Rusty wanted to scream. Instead, he finished the little carton of ice cream, staring straight ahead, and when he was done, he placed the empty container on the coffee table.

  “Did one of your parents play the piano?” he asked finally. He’d spotted the old upright when he’d first bullied his way into the house, and talking about music was the easiest subject change he could manage. He needed to divert the focus away from himself for a second so he could salvage some of his pride. He couldn’t remember ever putting himself out there like this, and Niles hadn’t said a damn word in response.