by Witt, L. A.
“I usually go by whatever form they’re in. Sam said he gravitates more toward being male, so I’d err on the side of he. If it’s someone like me who is pretty much fifty-fifty, either way is probably okay. With anyone, though, you can’t go wrong by asking.”
“Seems like an awkward question.”
“Not really. It shows you actually give a shit about their feelings, which kind of negates any awkwardness.”
“You’d think we’d have another set of pronouns for shifters.”
“People have tried, but it’s hard to get something like that to stick when people are already used to one set of pronouns.” In a low growl, he added, “And besides, a good portion of the population is pretty sure we already have one.”
“Oh?”
“‘It.’”
I rolled my eyes. “Classy.”
“Yeah, really. I’m just glad I didn’t have to put up with that crap today, and now I’m really glad I called in sick. No work bullshit, and I got to spend an afternoon with my brother. Even if it does get me fired.”
“Fired? For calling in sick?”
“Knowing my boss, yeah.” He swore under his breath. “You know, I’ll probably end up getting fired for abusing my sick time before those assholes ever get nailed for harassing me.” He paused, then shook his head. “Ah, well. Such is life. I just don’t feel like letting it under my skin tonight. I’m in a good mood for once, damn it, so the rest of the world can fuck off.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I held out my beer bottle, and Alex clinked the neck of his against mine.
He swallowed the last of his beer. “Tonight? I’m just going to relax for once.”
“Good. You deserve it.” I paused. “Do you . . . do you want me to rub your feet?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You serious?”
I grinned. “Why not?”
“Like I’m going to turn that away.” He stood. “Let me get us each another beer first.” He took the two empty bottles and disappeared into the kitchen.
He came back and set two fresh, opened bottles on the table. Then he lay back on the couch with his head on the armrest, and I sat on the opposite end, facing him, with his feet in my lap.
He laced his fingers behind his head and watched my hands. “You sure you don’t mind doing— Oh, holy shit.”
“Should I stop?” I ran my thumb back and forth along the arch of his foot.
“No. Definitely don’t.”
For a while, we were both silent. I watched my hands, occasionally glancing up at his peaceful expression. I’d expected this to feel strange and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. Even when my fingertips drifted up into the thin hair on his lower leg, or slid over bones that had more substance than I was used to, it didn’t feel weird. Though the terrain beneath my hands was unfamiliar, the contact wasn’t. We’d finally bridged this gap and were skin to skin for the first time in too long, and no amount of leg hair or thicker bones was going to temper my relief. He was a man, but he was Alex, and I was touching him. This was perfect.
As I traced his arch with my thumb again, Alex groaned. “Jesus, Damon, I still want to know who bought your soul in exchange for teaching you how to do this.”
I laughed. “Just Damon’s magic touch, you know that.”
“I’m telling you, you could make a killing doing this for everyone who works at the Mat.”
“You think?”
“Uh, yeah. But then, I don’t know. I kind of like having it all to myself.”
I chuckled. “I could always start charging you for it.”
He opened one eye for a second. “You would, too.”
“Hey, if I can make money, why not?”
Alex just laughed.
I smiled. “You know, it’s really good to see you back in better spirits.”
“Good to be this way again, let me tell you. Sorry I’ve been such a downer lately.”
“A downer?” I said with a cough of startled laughter. “My God, Alex, with everything you’ve been through, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be giddy.”
A faint laugh pulled up the corners of his lips. “I suppose not. Just, I hate dragging other people down, you know?”
I ran my fingers up the back of his ankle, along his Achilles’ tendon, just grazing some of the fine hair of his lower leg. “Under the circumstances, I think you can be forgiven.”
“Well, thank God for that.” He picked up his beer and sat up just enough to take a sip. Then he set the bottle back on the coffee table and relaxed onto the couch again. It was his second beer, but he sipped it like soda. Just something to drink, not an express ticket to numbness and distraction. I wondered if he knew how much of a relief that was for me.
I continued rubbing his feet, which worked out tension I hadn’t even noticed in my own neck and shoulders. When my hands started to ache a little, I kept going, even if I was just gently running my fingers up and down his not-ticklish-at-all skin. The physical contact was a relief in and of itself. It didn’t have to be firm pressure, just a touch. A connection, something to relax us both while we shot the breeze. For all I’d been worried about making physical contact with a man, I didn’t want it to be over, and he didn’t object, so I didn’t stop.
Alex told me about Sam, and the discussion they’d had about Alex petitioning for custody. I told him about my day, which was just the usual office bullshit. We mused about our predictions for the upcoming season of a cop drama we’d been hooked on for a while. Anything and everything except all the important, stressful, and depressing shit going on. It was like we’d locked it all outside when we closed the front door. It would all be there tomorrow, and we’d deal with it then, but for tonight, it didn’t matter. It didn’t even exist.
This was a glimpse of the way we were before, relaxing with a couple of beers and talking about whatever we felt like with no dark clouds hanging over us. No one was drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. My God, I’d missed this side of Alex, and this side of us. Talking, touching, even if we didn’t talk about the big stuff, and even if that touch was something I could tell myself was purely platonic.
For once, we just enjoyed each other’s company.
And as always when things were this enjoyable, the evening flew by. Before I knew it, the clock on Alex’s DVD player was creeping up on eleven thirty.
“Damn, it’s getting late.”
“Is it?” He looked at his watch. “Wow, time just keeps getting away from me today.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.”
His smile bordered on shy. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
We held eye contact for a moment. Then I cleared my throat. “I should probably get home.”
“Yeah, I need to get some sleep myself.” Alex swung his legs off my lap and onto the floor, and we both got up. He glanced at the beer bottles on the table. “You okay to drive home?”
I hadn’t had much to drink, but my head was still light. “Probably not, no. I guess I should call a cab.”
“Or . . .” He caught himself.
“Or, what?”
“You’re, um, welcome to stay here,” he said. “If you want to.”
My heart beat faster. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Alex smiled cautiously. “Did you think I’d throw you out?”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
We both laughed, but it was forced. Halfhearted.
He pursed his lips. “Um, where do you want to sleep?”
Our eyes met.
“I, uh . . .” I cleared my throat. “I can just, you know, crash out here.”
He didn’t quite turn away in time to hide the flinch before he started toward the hall closet. “Sure. I’ll see if I have a spare blanket.”
“Great. Thanks.”
He glanced back at me, and our eyes met again for an awkward, silent couple of seconds. I wondered if I should have opted for that cab after all. Maybe we weren’t ready to go down this road yet.
Down what r
oad? Idiot, you’re just crashing on the couch. Quit overthinking everything.
I was overthinking it. If anything, sleeping under the same roof had to be a step in the right direction. Didn’t it?
Alex handed me a pillow and blanket. “I guess I don’t have to tell you where the bathroom is or anything like that.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Your toothbrush is still in the master bathroom, and you still have some clothes here.”
“Convenient,” I said with a soft laugh.
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“That’ll save me a trip home in the morning.”
Another forced smile. Without speaking, we went into the master bedroom so I could get what I needed. It was weird walking into this room under these circumstances. I focused on just getting a change of clothes and everything else I’d come for, trying not to notice all the landmarks of our relationship in this room. Trying not to think about the damage we’d done to some of the furniture in here, or the times staying here on a weeknight meant being exhausted as hell at work the next day.
With clean clothes tucked under my arm, I paused on my way out of the room. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
We looked at each other, and I couldn’t quite convince myself I was overthinking the emotion in his eyes.
We exchanged murmured “good nights” again, as if a second attempt might get our feet to move us in the right directions. In opposite directions. Fortunately—I supposed—it worked. I headed down the hall, and he went into the master bathroom.
Going through the motions of getting ready for bed was weirder than venturing into his bedroom had been. I was so used to brushing my teeth in the master bathroom and sleeping in the bedroom, being at the other end of the hall tonight was . . . strange. Isolated. Like there was more distance between us than if I’d gone back to my own house for the night.
A faucet turned on. I caught myself thinking of all the times I’d driven her nuts while she’d tried to get ready for bed. There was nothing I loved more than putting my arms around her waist and kissing her neck while she tried to brush her teeth or take off her makeup.
“You are such a pest,” she’d say, trying to sound stern in between laughing.
“Want me to stop?” I’d murmur against her neck.
“I’m going to make you sleep on the sofa if you don’t.”
“No you won’t.”
“Prove it.”
A hand under her shirt. A lingering kiss behind her ear. A whisper of what I planned to do to her if she’d please let me join her in bed.
A soft whimper from her lips.
And I would be safe from the couch for another night.
At the other end of the house, the faucet shut off. I sighed and went back into the living room to try to get some sleep.
I stared up at the ceiling from the couch, fingers laced behind my head on the pillow he’d given me. No sound came from the bedroom. The whole place was dark now, and the occasional creak of the settling house emphasized the stillness.
Over and over, my mind’s eye replayed that flinch when I told him I’d sleep out here.
Gender aside, the person in there was the woman—man, shifter, whoever—I’d been trying to persuade to marry me. I’d wanted Alex for better or worse, in sickness and in health, and what did I do when things went to shit? Kept him at arm’s length. Slept a safe distance from him, because God forbid I get too close to another man.
Couldn’t imagine why she’d hesitated to discuss getting married. This must have been what she was afraid of. That once I knew, I’d push her away.
How right she was.
I loved him. There was no doubt about that. I still loved Alex in male or female form. But how far would that carry us in the bedroom? Sex had been no small part of our relationship before. Alex had a hell of a sex drive. So did I. I wanted to continue that intimacy, but . . . how?
It wasn’t a matter of pride or shame, worrying I’d be labeled “gay.” I didn’t care about that. But the fact was, I’d never been physically attracted to men. I couldn’t force it, and if I tried, he’d catch on. He wanted something genuine, not a patronizing charade.
Still, being this far apart wasn’t going to bring us any closer together, physically or otherwise.
I doubted he was asleep now. He was probably staring at his bedroom ceiling in the darkness like I was staring at the living room ceiling.
And why?
I couldn’t think of a reason. I couldn’t justify why I was out here and he was in there. Physical attraction aside, there was no way to reconcile this separation with my love for him. He wasn’t asking me to have sex with him. There was nothing that said we couldn’t sleep together in the literal sense.
Nothing except my own hang-ups, anyway.
“Remember when you’re talking to him, Damon,” Jordan’s words echoed through my mind, “he is still the person you fell in love with. Male or female, static or shifter, Alex is still Alex.”
Then what the fuck was I doing out here?
Taking a deep breath and steeling myself, I threw off the blanket he’d given me and got up off the couch. Every step down the hall made my heart beat faster, but I kept going.
The bedroom door was ajar. Holding my breath, I pushed the door open.
What little light came in through the window just barely illuminated him. He was on his side, his back to me. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep. If I knew Alex as well as I thought I did, he was awake. Still, listening, wide awake.
Heart pounding, I sat on the edge of the bed. The whisper of the sheets and mattress revealed subtle movement. He didn’t sit up or roll over, but he’d moved enough to acknowledge my presence and make my breath catch. No turning back now.
I slipped under the covers. Paused. Waited. No eviction came, so I silently begged him not to reject me as I moved closer to him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Certain he’d shove me away at any moment, I reached for him.
The warmth of his skin met my fingertips. Muscles twitched beneath my touch. Stilled. Surprise, then, not revulsion, and when he didn’t pull away, I rested my whole hand on his arm. My heart thundered so hard he had to have heard it.
His fingers found mine. For a split second, I was sure he’d lift my hand off him and push it away, but instead, he gently drew my arm around him. I slid closer. Molded my body against his. He slipped his fingers between mine.
Alex released a held breath. So did I.
In the dark, the most distinctive difference was his short hair. In female form, Alex had long hair, which we’d always laughed about getting in my mouth and nose while we slept. Like this, the ends of his hair tickled my face a little, but that was it.
I was aware of the different shape of his body, of his broader shoulders and narrower waist, but I was so relieved to be holding him that it seemed ridiculous to have ever thought this would be awkward or weird. The fingers laced between mine weren’t as slim and fine as I was used to, but this was Alex, and I was holding him just like I had every night we’d spent together. Right now, nothing else mattered.
And wrapped up in each other’s arms, we both drifted off to sleep.
“Technical support, Alex Nichols speaking.”
“Oh, don’t you sound all professional?” Tabitha’s voice drew a chuckle out of me. She was a welcome distraction from the endless whispering and gawking I’d been trying to ignore all damned day.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Just a quick question. What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m going out with Damon. Why?”
“Because I want to take you out to celebrate your parents going to the big house,” she said. “And I want Damon to be there, too.”
“Why? So you can ogle him?”
“Maybe.”
I laughed. “I can call him. He’ll probab
ly be game.”
“Tell him dinner’s on me.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
Tabby snorted. “Keep dreaming, sunshine. Anyway, I’m buying. Now, talk to him, and if he’s game, pick me up at the Mat at seven.”
“Jeez, you’re inviting me out, but I have to pick up the Tab?”
She groaned. “Oh, shut up. And speaking of Damon, by the by, how are the two of you doing?”
I smiled to myself, absently twisting the phone cord around my finger. Waking up this morning beside Damon still had me in a good mood. Even if we weren’t sexually involved—for now? Forever?—it was nice to be touched again. “We’re doing better.”
“Glad to hear it. I figured he’d come around.”
My heart sank a little. “Well, let’s not count our chickens here. It’s better, but . . .” I let the cord around my finger unwind itself.
“Give him time, baby. Now get your ass back to work. And I’ll see you at seven, assuming Damon’s game for a free meal in my fabulous company.”
Damon was game, and at seven o’clock sharp, we walked into the Welcome Mat to pick up Tabitha.
“Wow, I didn’t think it’d be this busy,” Damon said.
“No kidding.” For a weeknight, the place was packed. There must have been a private party booked or something, but looking around, I recognized a lot of familiar faces. Many were regulars, but they weren’t part of any specific group or club as far as I could tell. Every bartender on the payroll, myself excluded, was behind the bar, and the servers were practically running to keep up with orders.
It surprised me that Tabby was willing to leave for the evening, even if it was just for dinner, when the club was this busy. But then, with every last staff member except the two of us working tonight, maybe it was covered enough for her to bow out for a bit.
“Guess we should find Tabitha and get out of here before she decides to put you to work,” Damon said.
“I wouldn’t put it past—”
“There you are!” Tabby squeezed out of the crowd and approached with her arms out. “Thought you boys were going to stand me up.”