Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1)

by Vicki Tharp

  Roman stood abruptly and paced a few strides away before coming back. “A good time to tell me would have been the first time I wanted to blow you. Or maybe the first time I asked if I could fuck you. Or when I started questioning what was wrong with me that you didn’t want to fuck me. Or maybe when I fucking asked you what was wrong.”

  Although it would be easier, Demetri wouldn’t allow himself to look away. “Any one of those times would have been good. I see that now. And I wanted to. It ate me up inside that I was falling for you but knew whatever you felt for me couldn’t be real, not without you knowing the truth.”

  “And still, you said nothing.”

  Demetri went all in. If he and Roman had a chance of working through this, he had to be honest and vulnerable and not hold back no matter how hard it would be to find the words. “I was afraid of losing you. Of getting hurt. Of being rejected again.”

  “It’s not all about you. What about my feelings? My hurt? Knowing that, like with my father, I can’t be trusted with your truth? That I’m unworthy of it.”

  Demetri reached out and took hold of Roman’s arm as he stalked by. Roman stopped but kept his focus straight ahead, his body stiff, his chin high.

  “I’m sorry.” As Demetri’s words came out, he knew they were the truest words he’d ever spoken. Even though he knew they weren’t enough. “How do I make this better?”

  Roman took a step back and leaned against the car. “I don’t know.” They sat in silence, staring out at the sky, at the blinking lights of the planes as they lined up on the runway in the distance. “How did you get it?”

  Demetri glanced over at Roman, watching him in profile. “Does it matter?”

  Roman shrugged. “I guess not.”

  “Do you think I was promiscuous? That I went from hookup to hookup and—”

  “Stop.” Roman looked at him then, his gaze fierce, protective, and wholly unexpected. “It doesn’t matter how you got it. Whether you fucked five hundred or one. HIV is not a judgment on your character or a punishment for perceived wrongs. It’s not the morality police. It’s a vicious disease that doesn’t care who it infects or fucks over.”

  A corner of Demetri’s mouth tilted up into a smile, and he didn’t fight it. “Careful there. You almost sound like you’re on my side.”

  “I am on your side. Just because I hate the way this all rolled out, don’t for one minute think I’m against you, because I’m not.”

  Demetri held Roman’s gaze but could only nod with the lump in his throat pressing so hard it made breathing a chore.

  Roman lay back on the hood, scrubbing his hands down his face as he stared up at the sky. A car pulled in at the other end of the parking lot, but the interior lights didn’t come on, and no one got out.

  Demetri stretched out beside Roman, not touching, but close enough to feel Roman’s body heat. A satellite passed by overhead before Demetri said, “It was my previous boyfriend who gave it to me. Kind of a parting gift as our relationship crumbled.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Roman muttered.

  Demetri took that as a cue to continue. “We’d been monogamous. On his insistence. We’d both been on PrEP, but it messed with his liver, so we agreed he should stop taking it. We’d both tested negative multiple times on full STI screens. Eventually, I stopped taking mine, too. We’d made a pact from the start, that if either one of us slipped, if we had unprotected sex with someone else, we would disclose and go back to using condoms until we could both go through testing again.

  “Then, near the end, as our relationship coming to an end, I found out he’d been cheating on me for months.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Around. I’ve bumped into him a time or two.”

  “And you didn’t deck him?”

  Demetri laughed. “I wanted to. But that wouldn’t have changed anything, and it wouldn’t have done me any good to break my hand on his face and not be able to paint or draw.”

  “Lucky bastard. I think I would have taken that chance. Who is he?”

  It was what it was. Giving Roman the name of his ex to focus on wouldn’t change anything. Not Demetri’s HIV status. Not how royally Demetri had fucked up his and Roman’s relationship.

  Shaking his head, Demetri said, “Not anyone who matters anymore.”

  They let the conversation trail off into a comfortable silence. The car parked at the end of the lot started its engine and drove away. Demetri had no idea what time it was, but they both had to be back at the community lot early in the morning. His eyes wanted to drift closed. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d be falling asleep at the wheel.

  “We should head back, huh?” Demetri asked.

  Roman startled as if he’d fallen asleep. “Yeah. I’m fried.”

  That late at night, traffic going into the valley was relatively light even for a Saturday night.

  Demetri pulled up beside Roman’s car and turned toward him, the parking lot lights illuminating the interior. “Thanks for agreeing to talk with me.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “I’m leaving that up to you.”

  Roman stared down at his lap and nodded. Demetri took a chance and took Roman’s chin in his hand until their eyes met. “If I could take it all back, I would.”

  “All of it?”

  “No. Even if this doesn’t work out, I’m fortunate to have gotten a chance to know you.”

  Demetri leaned in, and when Roman didn’t move away, he pressed his lips to Roman’s. It was meant to be chaste and sweet. But Roman groaned and opened his mouth, inviting Demetri in.

  Demetri’s heart raced like it was the last lap of the Indy 500, and the checkered flag lay in his sights. Roman reached for him, cupping a fierce hand behind Demetri’s neck and deepening the kiss.

  Demetri’s lungs screamed for air, but he didn’t want to break the kiss and lose their precious, tenuous connection.

  Oxygen deprived and breathing hard, Roman pulled away, resting his forehead on Demetri’s. “You’ve gotta stop doing that. It messes with my head.”

  “I should apologize for that too, but I’m not sorry.”

  Though all Demetri wanted to do was drag Roman across the center console and into his lap, he sat back. “Come find me when you’ve made your decision. Yeah?”

  18

  It was Sunday night, and between working at the community lot all day and the few precious hours of sleep he’d managed the night before, Demetri rolled up into his driveway, stifling a yawn and looking forward to a nice shower.

  He tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t heard from Roman. Of course, he’d seen him all day long as they worked with the kids and painted the fence. And they’d talked. But nothing consequential.

  You can’t push him. You have to give him the space to come back to you or decide the damage is too great to repair.

  But how long would that take? Each minute seemed like an hour. Each day a week. His concentration hadn’t been that low since he’d received his diagnosis. At least back then, it had been in the summer, and he hadn’t had to worry about being prepared for another week of classes.

  Maybe he’d extend the project deadline, give everyone more time to work in class, and him a chance to veg.

  And feel sorry for yourself.

  That too.

  He climbed out of his car, surprised to see Joss’s Jeep still in his driveway. The front door to his house was unlocked, and Demetri walked in and called out. “It’s me. I’m home.”

  Making his way into the kitchen for a beer, Joss popped out of the hall bathroom, wiping his hands on a rag. “Long day?”

  Demetri pulled out a beer for Joss. “I could say the same to you. I thought you were only working a half-day today.”

  “So did I.” Joss twisted off the top, and they both pulled out a chair at the kitchen table to take the weight off their feet. “The wind looks like it’s going to cooperate next week, and I made plans to take some people up. I’m so backed up on
my schedule. It could be weeks before I have a chance to come back and finish the bathroom, so I wanted to make sure the bathroom was at least functional before I left.”

  “How much more before you’re finished?”

  “Come look.” Joss stood, and Demetri followed him to the bathroom. “I’ve got touch-up painting to do, the new mirror to hand, and the toilet paper holder and the towel bar to install. But I finished the caulking in the shower and around the base of the toilet. Plumbing under the sink is finished. I even got the shower rod installed so you can hang a curtain and use the shower.”

  “It looks amazing. You do good work.”

  Joss took a long pull on his beer. “Thanks... but?”

  “No ‘but.’ It’s great.”

  Pushing away from the door jamb, Joss headed to the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he said, “You say that with the enthusiasm of someone going in for a kidney stone removal.”

  Demetri chuckled. “Sorry. Just tired.”

  “Not sleeping?”

  He shrugged, not wanting to get into it.

  Joss sucked down the rest of his beer. For a big man, that didn’t take much effort. He started packing up his tools. “This wouldn’t have something to do with what’s his name, would it?”

  “Roman?”

  “Unless you’re having problems with more than one man.”

  Demetri chuckled. “I’m not like my cousin Sebastian and his fiancé. One man at a time is all I can handle. And I don’t even do that well.”

  Joss zipped up his tool bag and glanced up at him. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “I did. Not the way I wanted. Spectacular fail, by the way. We’re trying to pick up the pieces, but I think I did irreparable damage.”

  Handing Demetri his empty bottle, Joss said, “All I know is that if I felt about someone the way you feel about him, I’d do everything in my power to find a way to make it better.”

  “I wish I knew how.”

  Joss clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  Demetri drained his beer and followed Joss to the front door, locking it behind him. He cut all the house lights in the house and—against his better judgment—packed his small cooler with beer and headed out to sit by his pool. The underwater lights drowned out the stars, and the ripples in the water from the skimmer cast reflections inside his house.

  He stared at the ever-changing patterns, and his thoughts turned inward as he drank beer after beer. Morning Demetri would hate himself, but late-night Demetri didn’t care.

  Sometime in the middle of the night—or was it early morning?—drunk Demetri pulled out his phone, brought up his video app, and started talking. About his diagnosis and his battered self-esteem and self-recrimination. The shame. The guilt. The feeling sorry for himself. He rambled on and on. Beer was good at helping him do that, especially after the sixth or seventh—or was that the eighth?—one.

  He didn’t leave any of it out. His mistakes. His failings—his many, many failings. Pouring his heart out if only for the universe to hear. At some point, he stopped recording and set his empty beer bottle down. It fell over and rolled to the lip of the pool.

  Then, even drunker Demetri did something foolish. He added a title. A few pertinent hashtags and uploaded his ramblings to his Twitter feed. He had few followers, so it was akin to shouting into the void.

  He leaned back against the lounger, his eyes falling closed and his phone slipping out of his hand. It clattered onto the pool deck, but Demetri couldn’t be bothered to retrieve it.

  Maybe in the morning, the universe would have an answer to his big, sexy problem.

  Monday morning came, and Roman hit snooze for the third time. When his alarm went off again, he shut it off for good and tossed his phone onto the nightstand.

  He groaned as he shifted, every muscle hurting from all the hard work over the weekend. But as sore as he was, his heart had taken the brunt of the abuse.

  Ever since Saturday night, when he and Demetri had driven to the overlook and tried to talk things out, he couldn’t get their conversation out of his head. He’d turned it over and over in his mind, coming at it from every angle. And damn if maybe he could understand where Demetri had come from. Why he had done what he had.

  But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

  Moses pounded on his door so loud it hurt his head even though he hadn’t been drinking.

  “You’re going to miss class.”

  “Go away.”

  Moses opened the door, surprisingly alert for him on a Monday morning. “Dude. I’m the fuckup, not you. You’re the one who goes to class even when you went on a bender the night before and puked your guts out.”

  “Okay, okay.” Roman pushed himself up and sat. “I get the point.”

  “You know he’s trying, right?”

  What the hell did Moses know about Demetri anyway? He and Moses had hardly seen each other all week. And while Roman had mentioned that he’d helped the pastor at the church, he’d never told him about the talk he and Demetri had that same night. Roman squinted up at his friend, the light from the hallway bright enough to blind. “What are you even talking about?”

  “The video.” Moses had one of those ‘duh’ expressions on his face.

  If Moses thought that explained everything, it didn’t. Roman was still lost. “What video?”

  “Holy fuck.” Moses laughed. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to stretch twenty questions into forty. “Moses.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Roman recoiled against the overhead light Moses switched on and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His mattress dipped, and when he could focus again, Moses sat cross-legged beside him on the bed, his phone in his hand as he brought up his Twitter feed.

  “Your boyfriend has gone viral.”

  “Since when? And he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Since I don’t know. Sometime this morning maybe. Gay Twitter is all atwitter.” Moses laughed at his pathetic joke. Roman didn’t. “Aw c’mon, man. That was hilarious.”

  “Just show me the video.”

  Moses pressed play and handed over his phone. Instead of watching it over Roman’s shoulder the way he expected Moses would, Moses bounced off the bed and at the threshold said, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you wanna talk after.”

  He didn’t watch his roommate leave because Demetri’s voice came through the speaker. Demetri’s slightly slurred, still sexy as hell, voice.

  “Being poz isn’t the end of the world,” Demetri said. “But when you first get that call, you’re going to think it is...”

  Demetri’s video came straight from his heart. He talked about being gay, about how not being out about his diagnosis had forced him back into the closet in a way. About how important he realized it was to be honest because that’s how you fought and broke stigmas. He went on to talk about his struggles with relationships, in far greater, drunken detail than he had a couple of nights before.

  “You know,” Demetri said as if he was winding down. “A very wise man once told me that ‘HIV is not a judgment on your character or a punishment for perceived wrongs. It’s not the morality police. It’s a vicious disease that doesn’t care who it infects or fucks over.’

  “So, if you are watching this, don’t be an idiot like me. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t hide in shame because you have nothing to be ashamed of. Be kind. Be truthful. But most of all, don’t be afraid to be the real you.”

  A finger went toward the phone as if Demetri were about to turn off the video, then backed off. “Oh, and wear a condom. Take your PrEP. And, babe, if you’re watching… I truly am sorry. And I love you.”

  Demetri kissed two fingers and made a peace sign at the camera. “Peace out.”

  That showed how drunk Demetri was. He probably hadn’t said ‘peace out’ since high school. But that lump in Roman’s throat refused to dislodge no matter how many times he tried t
o swallow.

  And, babe, if you’re watching… I truly am sorry. And I love you.

  Did Demetri mean that? Or did those words only come out because he was too drunk to know what he was saying?

  And I love you.

  Roman stumbled out of his bedroom in only his boxers and dropped down onto one of the kitchen chairs. Moses grinned over at him and poured Roman a bowl of Lucky Charms. He wrinkled his nose at the sour milk he pulled from the fridge and slid the bowl of dry cereal in front of Roman.

  “Well?” Moses raised an impatient, expectant brow.

  Around a handful of cereal shoved into his mouth, Roman said, “Well, what?” It came out sounding like ‘’ell ut.’

  “Gurl. You can’t be serious.”

  Roman didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to chew and swallow, but that didn’t stop Moses from going off on him.

  “I can’t believe you. You can forgive a homophobic pastor, but you can’t forgive the man who told the whole world in a viral video that he loves you?”

  Roman blinked at Moses, at a loss for what to say.

  “Dude. That’s seriously messed up.”

  No. What was messed up was Moses, of all people, being the voice of reason.

  Roman kept chewing. Moses stared at him, that I know you expression on his face with perhaps a little bit of who are you and what have you done with my friend thrown in.

  With both hands, Moses gripped the back of a chair and leaned across the table, his gaze unwavering. “What are you really afraid of?”

  What the actual fuck?

  “That he’s going to stop taking his meds? That he’s going to die and leave you the way your father did?” Moses paced to the sink and back, scrubbing a hand through his bed-tousled hair. “News flash. The professor’s not your father.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  Roman stood and grabbed his keys off the counter. “I’ve got class.”

  He made it to the door before Moses called out, “Yeah, but you don’t have any clothes on.”

  He glanced down at his bare chest, legs, and feet.