by J. M. Snyder
Nathan frowned as he leaned against Wes. “You don’t want to stay here? I thought—”
“We can stay,” Wes said with a glance up at the waitress. “If that’s what you want.”
Nathan closed the menu and set it down. Then he turned his back on the girl, who was trying a little too hard to look as if she weren’t listening in on their conversation. Ignoring her, he asked Wes, “Is that what you want?”
Wes shrugged again, uncomfortable.
Is this what he does to you? Does he tell you what to do and not bother to ask if you want to do it or not? Hell, if you don’t want to stay, we don’t have to. I’m not the only one making the decisions here. I’m not the only one calling the shots. “Wes, tell me. If you want to go—”
Glancing past Nathan at the waitress, Wes forced a tight smile. “We can stay.”
Nathan sighed. “I’m not him, okay?”
Wes’s gaze shifted to him, his pale eyes like large pools reflecting the endless summer sky. Nathan thought he could drown in those eyes and die happy. “If you don’t want to be here, we don’t have to stay.” When Wes didn’t answer, Nathan said, “I won’t get mad. We can leave.”
Another glance up at the waitress and Wes sighed. “Please?” he whispered. “I’m just—I don’t want…”
Nathan slid out of the booth. “Come on, then,” he said, taking Wes’s arm as he stood. He pushed past the waitress as he helped Wes stand. “We’re leaving.”
“What about the drinks?” she asked.
As Wes led the way to the door, Nathan called over his shoulder, “Pour them back.”
Outside Wes hurried around the building, shoulders hunched as if afraid of being seen. “Hey, wait up,” Nathan said, walking fast to keep up with him. He kept a hold on Wes’s arm and once or twice tugged at it, trying to slow him down. “He’s not—”
“They might have called him.” Wes glanced around the street at the few people walking past the downtown stores and office buildings, then ducked through the fence around the parking lot. “If he sees us…God, if he even finds out—”
“He’ll what?” Nathan wanted to know. He stopped and held onto Wes’s arm, forcing him to stop, as well. “What will he do, Wes? Tell me.”
“I don’t know.” Wes wouldn’t meet Nathan’s gaze. “He has a temper—”
Nathan laughed. “Fuck that,” he said, draping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “He better step off.”
“Nathan, please.” Wes ran a nervous hand down his face and sighed. “Just don’t, okay? Not here, not so loud.”
Kissing his temple, Nathan lowered his voice. “He’s not here, Wes. It’s just you and me. Don’t drag him into it.” Then he grinned. “So, if you don’t want to hang around here, you have someplace better in mind?”
Wes admitted, “I don’t live too far away.”
“Your car or mine?” Nathan brushed his knuckles across Wes’s cheek, savoring the feel of fuzz against his fingers, like the skin of a peach, so smooth, so faint.
Wes laughed. “I’ve seen you try to park—”
“Hey!” Nathan cried, indignant. “I didn’t put the fence there.”
Taking his hand, Wes led him across the parking lot to his own car, a small midsize sedan painted a nondescript shade of navy. Inside it smelled like Wes’s cologne, and the passenger seat was pushed all the way back. As Nathan readjusted it, he asked, “Who sat here last? Daddy Longlegs?”
“Roger.” Wes backed out of his parking space with more ease and grace than Nathan could’ve mustered. “He’s pretty tall.” With a slight frown, he added, “Maybe you shouldn’t have moved it.”
Nathan jerked the seat forward and sat back as it locked into place. “What’s he gonna say?”
“Who moved my fucking seat?” Wes murmured and Nathan grinned at him, but there was no mirth in his friend’s eyes. He looked scared. “Who the hell you giving rides to, babe? That’s what he’ll say.”
One of Wes’s hands rested on the gear shaft. Nathan covered it with his own, easing his fingers into Wes’s palm. “Does he hurt you?”
“He doesn’t hit me,” Wes said with a shake of his head, “if that’s what you mean. It’s not like that.”
“What’s he do?” Nathan wondered out loud. “I mean, if he doesn’t hurt you…”
Wes gave an abrupt laugh that he stifled before it could run away from him. “Just because he doesn’t throw punches doesn’t mean he doesn’t hurt me. There are other bruises, Nathan, ones you can’t see. Inside.”
Nathan tightened his fingers on Wes’s. “I’m sorry.”
With a sigh, Wes told him, “He wasn’t always like this. I don’t go looking for assholes, you know?” Nathan leaned across the space that divided them and kissed Wes’s cheek. “I guess I sort of was looking for you.”
“Me?” Nathan asked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
From the corner of his eye Wes looked over at him, a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t need a shrink to point out the fact that every guy I’ve ever dated looked like you. Long dark hair, light eyes, pretty smile. Part of me jumped at the chance to go out with Roger just because he was so…so different, you know what I mean?”
Nathan answered the question with one of his own. “You like my smile?”
“God,” Wes sighed. A dull blush pinked his cheeks; though he turned away to hide it, Nathan leaned forward, a grin on his own face, to watch the color rise in Wes’s. “Can I just tell you,” Wes said, “my junior year? I had gym right after your class. And one time, we were outside running the mile, and the coach left his grade book in his office. So I ran back in to get it.” He paused, glanced at Nathan, and quickly looked away. “The office overlooked the locker room, remember?”
Nathan nodded. In their high school, the boys’ locker room was down a short flight of stairs; one wall in the coach’s office was a large reinforced window that looked out over the double row of lockers that framed a long bench. The bench stretched from one end of the locker room to the other, from the window to the showers. Kids used to joke that the coach got his kicks watching them change for gym, but that window and the stern-faced teacher staring through it deterred bullying.
Wes’s voice was distant, lost in the past. “I’d just entered the office to grab the grade book, didn’t even bother to turn on the light, when I saw movement down in the locker room. Just from the corner of my eye. So I look out the window and…well, you were—”
“What?” Nathan asked. His grin widened into a leer at Wes’s obvious discomfort. “Nekkid? See anything you liked?”
Wes’s blush deepened to the color of fresh beets. “It was so long ago…”
“I can refresh your memory, if you want.” Nathan guided Wes’s hand to the zipper of his jeans and pressed his friend’s fingers against his crotch. “Wanna see?”
“God,” Wes sighed again.
Nathan laughed. Raising the hand to his lips, he kissed the fleshy pad of Wes’s thumb, and then each one of his fingertips. “Is that a yes?”
“Nathan—”
“I know. Not here.” Nathan liked Wes’s embarrassed grin, the blush coloring his cheeks, and the way his fingers closed over Nathan’s despite all that. “So how’d you meet a jerk like Roger Dodger anyway? He’s nothing like me.”
“No,” Wes agreed, “he’s not.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Well?” Nathan pressed.
Wes sighed. “We had a class together at State.”
“And you looked at him and thought you wanted a piece of that scary fucker?”
Wes frowned. “He’s not that bad.”
Nathan didn’t believe it. “Uh-huh. Tell me another one.”
“When he’s not drinking, he’s fine,” Wes explained.
“And he wasn’t drinking when you met?” Nathan asked.
“He’d just quit.” Wes slowed the car and peered out Nathan’s window. “That’s my place,” he said, pointing. “I don’t see Roger’s car.”
Natha
n didn’t like the fear he saw in Wes’s eyes. “I think you’re worrying too much.”
With a wry smirk, Wes told him, “You don’t know Roger.”
He drove around the block and pulled into the parking lot of a small grocery store. There was an empty spot in the back, near the alley that ran behind Wes’s apartment building. As Wes parked the car, Nathan wondered how sad it was that he had to go to all this trouble just to get back to his own apartment. If that dickhead comes anywhere near me again, I’m kicking his ass. In Nathan’s mind, he and Wes were almost together already; Roger was just an inconvenience that stood in the way. Taking Wes’s hand in his, Nathan followed him through the alley to his building.
At the back door of the apartment, Nathan stopped and pulled Wes to him. “Let’s clear things up before we go any further, okay?” Wes glanced around the alley. Taking both his hands, Nathan held them to his chest and said, “Look at me.”
“Nathan, can’t we do this inside?” Wes wanted to know.
“Look at me,” Nathan said again. With a sigh, Wes met his gaze. “You like me—”
Wes laughed. “God, yes.”
“Shh.” Nathan silenced him with a quick kiss. “I’m not through. You want to get with me, right?”
Wes nodded. “But there’s Roger—”
“I’m getting to him,” Nathan promised. He kissed Wes again, and this time they both laughed. “Keep interrupting me and we’ll never get anywhere,” he whispered against Wes’s lips. “We might not even make it up the stairs. Oh, wait, don’t say it. Not here, I know.” He liked the breathless way Wes giggled as they kissed again. “So what’s the problem again?”
“Roger,” Wes reminded him. “We’re sort of still dating—”
“Then you’ll just have to sort of break up,” Nathan said. “And he’ll have to sort of get over it, because I was here”—he kissed Wes once more to make his point—”way before he was. Right?”
Another breathless giggle. “He’s not going to like that,” Wes whispered.
“He not going to have to,” Nathan whispered back. “I want you and I know you want me, so he’s shit outta luck.” With a smile, he eased his arms around Wes’s waist and hugged him close. “Right?”
Wes laughed as he twisted out of the embrace. “Do you want to come in?”
Nathan followed Wes when he opened the door and led the way inside. “Can we continue this upstairs?”
Over his shoulder, Wes told him, “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Chapter 16
After all Wes’s anxious worrying, Nathan almost expected to run into Roger on the stairs—or maybe waiting for them inside Wes’s apartment, loaded and dangerous, ready to explode when they walked in the door. You’re letting his fear get to you, Nathan told himself as Wes unlocked the door to his apartment. You can’t do that. He’s scared enough for both of you, so you have to be strong for him.
Still, he held his breath as they pushed their way into Wes’s place, and he almost cried out when a little cocker spaniel barked up at him.
“Hush, girl,” Wes admonished, closing the door behind them. Nathan heard him lock it, as well. The dog didn’t listen—she sniffed at Nathan’s ankles and barked again, louder this time.
“Hey girl,” Nathan said, sinking to his knees. He held out one hand and smiled as the dog’s wet nose tickled along his palm. With his other hand he began to stroke the glossy hair behind her ears. “What’s your name?”
“José Cuervo,” Wes told him.
“What?” Nathan laughed. “You named the dog—”
“Roger did.” Wes crossed the narrow hallway and checked the answering machine. There were no messages. “At least he hasn’t called.”
Nathan buried his nose in the dog’s curly hair. “You thought he would?”
With a shrug, Wes admitted, “Maybe. He called earlier. Sometimes when I don’t call him back right away he tries to track me down. I’m surprised he hasn’t paged me yet.” Smiling, he watched Nathan nuzzle the dog. “I did tell him I’d be at Tom’s, though. You want a drink, or maybe something to eat? I might have something we can cook up.”
“I don’t want to make you cook.” When Nathan stood, the dog placed her paws on his leg, her nose sniffing into his palm. Her nails scratched through the denim of his jeans. “How about we order in? I owe you a meal since we cut out on Sandy’s. You like Chinese? There’s this great little place that delivers—I get stuff there all the time.”
Leaning back against the phone table, Wes started, “You don’t have to buy me dinner—”
“I want to.” Nathan took Wes’s hand and tugged until the distance between them disappeared. Easing his arms around his friend’s waist, Nathan slid his hands into the back pockets of Wes’s jeans and cupped his buttocks, kneading the flesh with eager fingers as he kissed the tip of Wes’s nose. “We’ll order in and sit on the floor and eat naked, how’s that?”
He liked the blush that crept into Wes’s cheeks. “Naked?” Wes’s voice broke around the word.
Nathan pulled him closer, until he could feel a slight erection rub against his own. Wes trailed his hands up Nathan’s chest and over his shoulders, cradled the back of Nathan’s neck, and then he pulled him down for another kiss, hungry, full of promise.
“On the floor?” Wes murmured. “I was thinking maybe the bed…”
Nathan grinned against his lips. “I like the way you think.”
Laughing, Wes pulled away. “Let me get us some drinks,” he said, “while you call in an order. Get me those noodle things.”
“Hi, China Inn?” Nathan said with a laugh. “Can you get me an order of those noodle things?”
Twisting out of his embrace, Wes rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. “You know what I mean.”
Nathan turned to the dog, sitting at his feet. “What about you, girlfriend? What do you want to eat?”
From the other room Wes called out, “Don’t order anything for the dog.”
Picking up the phone, Nathan dialed the Chinese restaurant from memory. “You heard him,” he murmured to the dog. “You don’t get anything today.”
He ordered lo mien and fried rice and spring rolls, and told the girl on the other end of the phone to make sure she gave them good fortunes in the cookies. Then he started to give her his own address before he remembered where he was.
Where was he? “What’s your address?” he asked as Wes came back into the hallway, carrying two tall glasses of iced tea.
Handing Nathan one glass, Wes said, “2328 Monument. Upstairs. Tell them—”
“You tell them.”
Nathan held the receiver against Wes’s ear and sipped at the tea. He watched his friend’s lips move as he spoke into the phone, telling the girl which apartment in the building was his. He didn’t like the way Wes’s eyes stayed downcast, the way he looked at the floor, the way he frowned at something the girl said to him. Roger made you like this. The boy I knew in high school was shy but now you’re afraid and I hate that he has you running scared. What’s he do or say when you’re together to keep you this subdued? You say he doesn’t hit you and I believe you, really I do, but what’s he done to scar your heart?
“Fifteen minutes,” Wes told him, stepping away from the receiver. “I can pay for myself—”
“Oh, stop it,” Nathan said as he hung up the phone. “It’s my treat. You pay next time, if you really want to. Doesn’t Roger ever pick up the tab for you guys?”
“No,” Wes replied. “We don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about him, okay? We don’t really go out. He starts to drink and I don’t like being with him in public then, so I try to stay in.”
Nathan touched Wes’s shoulder but his friend turned away. “We’re not talking about him,” Wes said. “Please.”
“We don’t have to,” Nathan agreed. With a sly grin, he trailed a hand down Wes’s arm. “Who said anything about talking at all?” When Wes smiled, Nathan prompted, “Show me around.”
&nb
sp; “It’s just a small apartment,” Wes told him.
Nathan laughed. “It’s bigger than mine. I only have one room. You know, an efficiency? At least you have a separate bedroom.” Looking down the hall at the two closed doors, he added, “You do have a bedroom, right?”
“I’ll show you,” Wes promised. “I’ll give you the tour the landlord gave me.” Sweeping an arm around them, he said, “This is the hall.”
Nathan snickered. “No shit.”
Wes’s eyes lit up when he smiled. God, Nathan thought, staring into those eyes. You’ve grown into a beautiful man. Does Roger ever tell you that? But they weren’t talking about Wes’s boyfriend, so Nathan kept the words to himself.
Brushing by him, Wes walked to the front door at the end of the hall. “This is the foyer.”
Nathan laughed. “The foyer?” He joined Wes by the door, wrapping an arm around his waist. “They didn’t really call it that.”
“Oh, yes they did,” Wes told him. “It was one of the features. A real selling point.”
Taking Nathan’s hand, Wes led him into the living room. “The living room.” It was small, with a low couch behind a coffee table and one wingback chair that sat across from the television. A torchière-style lamp stood in one corner but it was turned off; the only light in the room came from what little sunlight crept through the closed curtains. When Nathan picked up one corner to look outside, Wes cautioned, “Don’t. You can see these windows from the street.”
Nathan sighed. “He’s not going to see me—”
“He might.”
Wes pulled him away from the windows and crossed the room to a small dining room table framed by chairs. The morning newspaper was still spread out across its length. Almost embarrassed, Wes folded it up and tucked it under one arm. “Roger was reading that.”
“He was here already?” Nathan hadn’t considered that the guy from the party, the one whose boyfriend he was trying to get with, might have been in these very rooms mere hours before himself. “I thought you said he doesn’t live here.”