Crushed

by J. M. Snyder

  Glancing over at him from the corner of his eye, Roger prompted, “Was it something new?”

  “I don’t remember,” Wes lied, edging into the room. He wanted to shove Nathan’s tank top beneath the bed, get it out of sight, just until Roger left. “Sandy—”

  “Told me he saw you yesterday.” Roger replaced the last bottle of cologne and met Wes’s gaze in the mirror. The hard look in his eyes, the hatred Wes saw there, froze him in place. “Told me to tell you he was sorry he didn’t get a chance to say hi before you left the grill.” Roger waited a moment, and then added, “I thought you were at Tom’s.”

  “I was,” Wes whispered.

  Roger ignored him. His long fingers fiddled with one of the cologne bottles, the gentle chink of glass on glass distracting in the still room. “You saying Sandy lied to me?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Who’d he see, then? Who was it that looked just like you?”

  “I don’t know,” Wes murmured. “I was at Tom’s, Roger, call him and ask him yourself.” He took another step toward the bed, his gaze never leaving his boyfriend’s reflection.

  Suddenly Roger smiled—not one of his wicked grins but a rare smile that lit up his whole face, the kind of smile Wes had fallen for when they first met. “So it wasn’t you,” he said.

  Relieved, Wes shook his head. Why couldn’t Sandy have kept his fucking mouth shut?

  Roger turned, leaned back against the dresser, and pinned Wes with that inscrutable gaze. “I knew he had to have been mistaken. Especially when he mentioned the other guy…”

  “Other guy?” Wes choked. His knees gave out on him and he sank to the bed, defeated. “Roger, we…” He looked away from his boyfriend and sighed. Covering his face with one hand, he whispered, “We have to talk.”

  Softly, Roger asked, “What’s his name?”

  Wes sighed again. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. “Nathan…”

  In two steps Roger was at his side, fingers digging into Wes’s arms, pinching into him, pulling him to his feet. Wes found himself face to face with his boyfriend, but the visage he had thought he loved these past eight months was twisted in rage. Who the fuck had he been kidding? I can’t control this. He let me believe I could just to lull me, to mold me into who he wanted, what he wanted me to be, but I was wrong about him, so goddamn WRONG—

  “You’re fucking around on me?” Roger cried, squeezing Wes’s arms in pincer-like hands. “Is that what this is all about? You won’t give it up for me because you’re too busy getting it from everyone else?”

  Wes tried to twist out of his grip, but Roger was much stronger than his thin frame suggested. “Roger, no, listen—”

  “Tom sticking it to you, too?” Roger wanted to know. “What about Herbert? What about every goddamn asshole at that party—is that why I couldn’t find you all night? You were with this other guy—”

  “Nathan.” The name sounded foreign on Wes’s lips. Had they spent last night together? Had he really just left minutes ago? It seemed like hours, days, like a dream fading in the bright morning light. “His name is Nathan. Roger, I’m not fucking around on you. We didn’t—”

  “Didn’t what?” Roger demanded. His fingers blanched where he held Wes’s arms.

  “Let me go,” Wes whispered. “You’re hurting me—”

  “And you don’t think this fucking hurts me?” Roger cried, but he threw Wes back onto the bed. Wes stared up at the stranger above him, the man he’d once believed he loved. “To find out you’re screwing someone else? To have my friend tell me? At the club?”

  Wes crawled back against the pillows. “Roger, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “What?” Roger snapped, struggling to hold onto his anger. He stepped away from the bed, away from Wes, and rubbed his eyes with one hand in a defeated gesture that made Wes’s heart break to see it. “Didn’t mean what, babe? To fuck around? It just happened?” He laughed at that, a shaky, scary sound. “Shit.”

  “I didn’t…” Wes started, and then he sighed. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “How long?” Roger’s voice sounded strangled, wounded. When Wes started to speak, Roger asked, “How long have you been with him? I thought you were mine.”

  “I was,” Wes whispered. “I never cheated on you, Roger, never—”

  “Except now.” Roger laughed but Wes didn’t see anything funny about this whole situation. “How long have you known him?”

  Wes pulled his legs up to his chest and set his chin on his knees. “Since high school,” he admitted. “I just ran into him at the party, Roger. I promise you, we didn’t do anything. I—we need to talk first, you and me. We need—”

  Roger laughed again, cutting him off. “Sounds to me like you already have your mind made up,” he interrupted, bitter. “You’re ready to throw this away, throw us away—doesn’t that mean shit to you?”

  Please don’t do this. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

  “I thought we had something here.” Roger’s voice cracked and he turned away, wiping one hand across his mouth. “Maybe I was wrong, but I thought there was something between us, you know? Something real…”

  He trailed off in a stifled sob. He’s playing you, a voice in Wes’s mind whispered. This is just another act, can’t you see that? God, you’d think by now you’d learn…

  But what if it wasn’t an act? “Roger, I didn’t mean…” Wes sighed. “I don’t want this, okay? I don’t want—”

  “It’s me,” Roger announced, falling to his knees at the foot of the bed. He looked like a child saying bedtime prayers, hands folded in front of him, eyes beseeching, thin lips turned down into a slight frown. “Babe, it’s me, I know it is, it’s all my fault. I started drinking again and you know how I get when I’m like that, you know how it makes me.” His large eyes shone with bright tears. “I need you, can’t you see that? I need you to keep me sober. Give me another chance, please.” He covered his face with his hands. “Don’t leave me, not like this.”

  “Roger.” Wes crawled to his boyfriend, his ex-boyfriend, his heart aching. Look at him, on his knees begging. I did this to him, me…why didn’t I think he’d be hurt by this? He reached out and ran a tentative hand over Roger’s tight, bleached curls. His boyfriend shuddered at his touch. “It’s not just you. It’s not…”

  Roger’s hand closed around Wes’s wrist. With a hard jerk, he twisted Wes’s arm until he fell to the mattress, tears of pain blurring his vision. “You think you can fuck around on me?” Roger’s breath was hot along Wes’s skin. “You think I’m going to put up with that shit?”

  “Roger,” Wes sobbed through the pain shooting up his arm. Playing me all along. “Let go. You’re hurting me. Let go—”

  “You think this hurts?” Roger asked, twisting harder. “You call up your new boyfriend and you tell him to step off, you hear me? You tell him you’re with me. I’ll fuck him up if he thinks he can take you from me. You’re mine, Wes, and no one else is going to have you but me.”

  Chapter 23

  “Let me go.” Wes’s arm seared with a white, blinding pain; he couldn’t even feel Roger’s hand on his wrist—there was no feeling, nothing but the heat of agony. “Roger, please…”

  Roger released him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, smoothing back the hair from Wes’s damp brow. His touch was gentle but Wes could feel the anger running beneath the surface, just waiting for release. “I’m sorry, babe, I don’t want to hurt you. I need you, can’t you see that? Can’t you see how much I need you?”

  Wes closed his eyes and thought of Nathan. “You don’t need me,” he muttered. “Not specifically me. You just need someone you can control.”

  “Is that what he told you?” Roger brushed his thumb over Wes’s closed eyelid, a gentle touch that hardened when he pressed down. Red blossoms grew before Wes’s eye, but when Wes turned his head aside, Roger let go. His hand trailed along Wes’s cheek and down his neck. “He doesn’t know me, babe. He doesn’t kno
w us.”

  “There is no us,” Wes told him. Sitting up, he shrugged out of Roger’s grip and massaged the feeling back into his arm as he watched his boyfriend with a guarded expression. At least it’s my left. I could still get in a good punch if I had to. Could he hit this man, whom he once thought he loved?

  He didn’t know. He didn’t think so.

  “Look, I said I was sorry.” Roger reached for him but Wes moved away. Without taking his gaze off Roger, Wes rolled off the far side of the mattress and stood. Now the bed was between them, keeping them apart. Roger rose to his feet and came around the side of the bed. “Babe, listen to me. You’re not listening.”

  Wes took a step back, unwilling to turn and take his eyes off his boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He sensed the open door behind him, and the relative safety of the hall beyond. The phone was out there; Nathan was nothing more than a call away. Or maybe he was parking his car outside, or already heading up the stairs. He should arrive soon enough. If Wes could just keep Roger talking, and stay out of reach… “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m not. Not anymore. We’re over.”

  “You said we had to talk about it,” Roger reminded him. When he took a step closer, Wes moved back, and Roger stretched out a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Let me—babe, don’t…”

  Wes stepped out into the hall. His arm tingled as the blood began to flow through it again, and his shoulder ached like a rotten tooth. “I think you should leave.”

  “You said we could talk,” Roger said, following him. Wes bumped into the wall and edged down its length, keeping the distance between them. “Wes—”

  “I was wrong.”

  The knob on the bathroom door poked into Wes’s back as he moved down the hall, watching Roger. His boyfriend advanced, eyes dark hollows in his face, lips curled back in a sneer. I was wrong about you, Wes realized as he backed away. So fucking wrong. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over, Roger, okay? Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  He bumped into the phone table. Roger closed in but when he raised his hands, he didn’t grab at Wes this time. Instead he stopped and seemed to gather himself together—Wes could see the struggle in his eyes.

  I’m doing this to him. Wes hated the anger and pain that flickered across Roger’s face. He remembered all the times he had stared into those brown eyes, into their depths. They could be warm eyes, a caring gaze, loving…

  Sometimes.

  Wes had almost managed to convince himself that this was the man he wanted. He’d almost been satisfied with Roger, content to relegate Nathan to the past, confine that hope and lust to the memory of one night back in high school. But who was he kidding? Whatever he may have seen in Roger’s eyes had died long ago. He’d just grown too damn comfortable with being needed to realize they were through. Well, babe, he thought as his mouth struggled to speak the words out loud, this is it. This is goodbye.

  “Wes,” Roger whispered, his voice cracking in just the right spot to tear at Wes’s heart. He touched Wes’s arms, tentative, his lower lip trembling as he studied Wes’s face for signs that he was getting through.

  I’m not that weak. You can’t hurt me any more.

  “Babe, listen, please.”

  “I’m listening,” Wes told him.

  Roger didn’t reply. His fingers kneaded Wes’s arms, a gentle, soothing rhythm working into him, easing away the stress and the harsh words and the pain. When he didn’t speak, Wes prompted, “Roger—”

  “Shh.” Roger’s hands moved lower, took Wes’s own, raised them to his lips. As he kissed Wes’s knuckles, his eyes slipped shut. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Too late.

  But Wes couldn’t take his gaze off the tears that darkened Roger’s lashes, and he couldn’t bring himself to say it was over. He couldn’t seem to find the strength to pull away.

  “Babe,” Roger sighed, snaking his arms around Wes’s waist, pulling him close. “Let’s forget about this, okay? Can we just pretend it didn’t happen? Just start again?”

  And then Wes was in his arms, Roger holding him close, rubbing along his back and ass, lips pressed against Wes’s neck, possessive. Wait a minute. Wes tried to push away, but his arms were pinned between them and Roger held him too tight. He couldn’t get free.

  “I forgive you,” Roger was saying, kissing his way along Wes’s jaw. “We’ll just start all over again and I’ll be so much better this time, I promise.”

  Wes pushed against him. “Roger, this isn’t talking—”

  Roger’s lips closed over his, cutting off his protest. His tongue forced its way into Wes’s mouth to claim him. Wes felt a hand slip between his legs, prodding at hidden flesh, rubbing and greedy. “Stop,” he said, shoving Roger back. “Stop it. Right now.”

  “Wes,” Roger started, his hands straying to Wes’s crotch. “Come on, babe, I said I was sorry—”

  Wes slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me there.” He ignored the wounded look in Roger’s eyes and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  Roger reached for him again, but Wes moved out of reach. “I’m serious, Roger. We’re through.”

  A muscle twitched in Roger’s jaw. For a moment Wes thought his anger would get the best of him and he braced himself for the strike he knew was coming. One hand rested on the phone behind him—in his mind he was already dialing 911.

  Any hope of this being a mutual separation, a painless break, was gone. He could see it in the way Roger’s whole body trilled with anger as if electricity coursed through his veins, in the way those large brown eyes hardened, in the way those thin lips snarled at him. Roger’s hands clenched into fists at his sides and Wes didn’t dare say another word. Just leave.

  “Fine,” Roger said, his soft voice low. “You want to throw this away? Fine. But I want my shit back—”

  “I’ll get it together,” Wes told him, relieved.

  Roger continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I want all the shit I gave you back,” he said. “Clothing, CDs, jewelry—”

  “Fine.” Wes didn’t care anymore. “Just go.”

  Roger stared at him, his face pale with anger. “The dog,” he said, looking around. “That’s mine. I gave it to you. I want it back.”

  Wes nodded. He didn’t want to argue anymore. “Fine,” he murmured. “Just get out, please? I’ll get everything together and you can come back tonight and pick it up.”

  Roger laughed. “I hope he knows what he’s getting into.” Wes didn’t have to ask who he meant—he was talking about Nathan. “I hope he enjoys what he gets out of your cheating ass—”

  “I never cheated on you,” Wes whispered. Only in my mind. And only with Nathan. He didn’t dare meet Roger’s bitter gaze for fear that his ex would read those thoughts in his eyes.

  “I hope he knows you’re gonna leave him,” Roger was saying, heading for the door. “You leave me for him and it’s just a matter of time before you start chasing after someone else’s dick. I know guys like you, Wes. I’ve been burned before.”

  Following him to the door, Wes argued, “It’s not like that.”

  But Roger wasn’t listening any more, if he had ever listened to Wes in the first place. At the door he saw the dog in the living room, sitting back on its haunches and watching him. “Come here, girl,” Roger called, squatting to pat the carpet in front of him. “Come on, José Cuervo. Let’s get out of here.”

  The dog didn’t move. Ignoring Wes, Roger reached for the dog’s collar. “Come here, pup—”

  A low growl started up in the back of the dog’s throat. When Roger was close enough, she yipped and snapped at his hand.

  “Roger,” Wes warned.

  Roger got his fingers beneath the collar and pulled the dog toward him, but she dug her nails into the carpet and refused to move, growling through bared teeth. “Fuck it,” Roger said, pushing the dog away. She barked again and snapped at him. “You keep the bitch, I don’t care. Just get all my other shit together, you hear me? I’ll be
by tonight to pick it up.”

  Wes held the door as Roger stormed from the apartment. Tonight seemed so far away. But by then Nathan will be here and you won’t try to sweet talk me back again, I bet. You won’t dare touch me then. Wes would place all of Roger’s things in a bag by the door and when he came over, Nathan would stand in the hall and watch him while Wes waited in the bedroom, maybe, or he’d be in the kitchen making dinner. If Roger asked to speak to him…

  Over the sounds of his ex-boyfriend’s footsteps stomping down the stairs and out of his apartment building, Wes could almost hear Nathan’s response. “I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” Nathan would tell him, arms crossed. “Just get out and leave him alone.”

  Far below him, the door to his building opened and slammed shut. Wes closed his apartment door. Leaning against it, he sank to the floor, his body shaking with relief. As incredulous as it seemed, Roger was out of his life now, for good. I got rid of him. Without anyone’s help. I did it. Me.

  Something wet pressed into his palm. He looked up to find the dog sniffing at his hand, watching him with her big puppy-dog eyes. When she started to whine, he rubbed a hand down her back and whispered, “It’s okay now, girl. It’s going to be okay.”

  And for the first time since he’d begun to smell alcohol on Roger’s breath, he finally believed that.

  Chapter 24

  It seemed like hours later when Wes pushed himself up from the floor and entered the darkened living room. At the window, he pulled the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight. The street below his apartment building was empty—Roger’s car was gone.

  He sank to the couch, the dog beside him, her paws in his lap, and together they waited. Fifteen minutes came and went, thirty, forty-five. When he heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to his second floor apartment, there was no doubt in his mind that it was Nathan.

  It had to be.

  The footsteps stopped in front of his door, then someone knocked. “It’s open,” he called out. He hadn’t locked it after Roger left.

  The door opened as Nathan stepped into the room. “Wes?”