by Laura Stone
“You go see Seth in his musical? Broadway—that’s the big time.”
“Yes, sir, I did. Twice, actually.” Oliver didn’t know what to do with his hands. He could still feel the soft cotton of Mike’s shirt against his palms, so he jammed them into his pockets, balling them into fists to hold onto the sensation.
“Twice?” Mike nodded his approval at that. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Okay, Dad. I’m the best thing ever; Oliver is well aware of that,” Seth said, rolling his eyes but clearly not upset with his father for heaping praise on him. It was something Oliver could understand; it was something he’d longed for in his own family, that type of easy affection.
Mike said, “Seth here tells me that you’re living across the pond. They treating you right over there?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a lot different from Kansas in some ways,” Oliver laughed, rocking back and forth on his heels to dispel some of his nervous energy.
“You like it there?” Mike asked the question casually, but Oliver had the feeling that he—and his future plans—were being vetted. It was a little scary. Mike Larsen, no matter how much kindness he’d given Oliver over the years, and he’d given him plenty, was still an intimidating man as the father of his boyfriend. Well, former boyfriend. But it was also heartening that he wanted to know what was going to happen down the road. Like maybe this wasn’t a one-time visit.
“I do,” Oliver said carefully. “The city itself is great, not too big, not too small, lots of things to do. I’ve gotten into a bit of a rhythm there. But—” He looked Mike straight in the eye, wanting to convey all of his hopes for a future with Seth. “It’s not home. I miss a lot of things from my life here. Things I just can’t get there.”
Mike regarded him for a moment, the tiniest of smiles crooking the corner of his mouth in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. “I hear they drink their beer warm.”
Oliver laughed. “Well, maybe in some places. But you can get a cold beer. When you hear that people in Europe drink their beer at room temperature, you don’t realize that the room is at about fifty-five degrees. And I have to tell you, Mike,” he shot Mike a wry look, “I’ve had better beer there.”
“All right, now you’re sounding crazy,” Mike laughed and shook his head. “So you’re just here for the holidays, huh? What’s next?”
Oliver shot a quick look at Seth, who had gone still and was listening intently to their conversation. He took a deep breath; he had hoped for a chance to talk about this with Seth in private, but now was as good as any time, he supposed. “Well, it looks like I’m on schedule for graduation, barring a huge mistake on my part.” Seth inhaled and straightened his posture. It was a tiny movement, but Oliver noticed it. He took it as encouragement. “That’s in June. After that, it’s wherever I end up for my PhD. I have some ideas, but I still need to decide on a school as soon as I get back or I’ll miss the deadline to get my apps in for fall semester. I still need to talk all of that out.”
“Hmm,” Mike said, glancing at Seth.
Seth evidently took that as his cue; he pushed off the wall and said, “We were just on our way downstairs to do some talking, actually.” He glanced at Oliver as he moved behind his dad, gently pushing on Mike’s shoulders to move him away from the door. “Right, Oliver?”
Oliver nodded sharply.
Seth gave his dad’s shoulder a squeeze, saying, “So if you don’t mind,” as he continued to push Mike along the corridor.
“All right, all right. But the door stays open… ha. Sorry,” Mike said, laughing and shaking his head. “Old habit. You two have fun. You sticking around?” he asked Oliver.
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“Good.”
It was almost too much to process: Mike assuming he and Seth would fool around like they were back in school; the blush on Seth’s cheeks (Are we? Oh my God. No, he’s just embarrassed. Oh my God.); the feeling of comfort that was beginning to settle in him just by virtue of being in the place where he had so many wonderfully happy memories.
Seth stopped three steps down and turned and looked back at Oliver with an easy smile. “You coming?”
Oliver breathed in through his nose and slowly exhaled, feeling more of the tension melt away, even as his chest tightened with the force of his longing. He smiled back and said, “Lead the way.”
* * *
“I will never understand the need to have speakers the size of buses,” Seth said, sighing as he stood in front of the huge sound system in the basement. “I did make him let me pick out the sofa, at least,” he said, running his hand over the leather.
Oliver held a large throw pillow that Seth had, clearly, bought and raked his fingertips through the fringe along the seam. While he didn’t mind talking about the hassle of convincing a man who thought neon signs were the height of chic décor to buy things that were more tasteful, he really wanted to talk about them. And how to make them a “them,” again. The problem was that he didn’t know how to start the conversation in which he would convince Seth to love him again and to start apartment-hunting for his arrival at the end of June. He didn’t know how to start, because he had no idea what he was going to do after graduation.
“I just don’t understand the old metal motor oil signs,” Seth said. “And I can’t say anything to him about it because he’s so proud of them. He even texted me a picture when he found them at a yard sale. I’m assuming someone helped him with his phone, of course.”
Oliver propped his head on his hand and rested his arm on the back of the sofa, watching Seth, who leaned against the opposite side, legs crossed, fingers trailing the velvet trim on another pillow. Oliver’s eyes tracked the movement of Seth’s fingers. He wanted to feel them trail along his arm, his face, through his hair.
“Oliver.” Seth’s fingers had stopped; he was looking at Oliver with a contained nervousness. At least Oliver wasn’t the only one who felt out of his depth here.
“So you’re graduating in June?” Seth asked. “That’s… interesting.”
“I was going to talk to you about that tonight, if we got the chance.” Oliver said quickly. He didn’t want Seth to think he was hiding any details.
“It looks like we have the chance now,” Seth said, smiling.
Oliver could hear the faint sound of footsteps on the upper floor, but all his attention was focused on what he thought might be hope on Seth’s face.
“I heard from Moira, my partner?” Seth nodded and he continued. “She says we’re a go, which is great.”
“That is. It seems like a long way off, still.” Seth toyed with the pillow again.
“It’s not that far off. Honestly, after five years of school, it feels like it’s rushing at me.”
“Does it?” Seth asked, looking back up and then past Oliver to the doorway, which had been left cracked open; Seth had smirked at Oliver when he made a production of it. Someone was coming down the stairs.
“Everyone decent? I’m not looking!” Mike pushed the door open with one hand; the other hand covered his eyes, as if he was scared of what he may have just walked in on.
“Oh my God, Dad. No one is naked,” said Seth, his annoyance evident. Oliver didn’t miss the deep red blush blooming on his neck. He looked embarrassed, as if they were a couple of teenagers.
Oliver remembered the two of them hopping off Seth’s bed and scrambling to pull up their pants when they heard the garage door begin to open. Smoothing their hair back into place after a quick grope in the hallway before walking into the living room. Mike loudly asking him if he’d eaten, when he came to pick Seth up for a date, because evidently the last time they’d gone out, Oliver was so hungry that he’d mistaken Seth’s neck for food and gnawed on it.
Oliver’s palms began to sweat just remembering the utter embarrassment he’d felt not only from giving Seth a hickey (so tacky), but being called out for it by his father, a man who looked like he chewed glass for breakfast. He wiped his hands on the legs of his jeans an
d glanced over at Seth. Seth’s hand hovered at the neck of his shirt, which was still perfectly buttoned, and he looked at Oliver with such a familiar “we just got busted” expression that Oliver couldn’t help himself. He started laughing and reached over to give Seth’s hand a squeeze. They had only been talking, but it had been such a common occurrence back in school to be caught not talking that they had both easily slipped into their familiar roles.
Seth chuckled to himself and shook his head. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. “Dad, I told you before that Oliver and I are just friends now. We weren’t doing anything, for God’s sake.”
“Oh, I know what you said, bud.” He shrugged. “You two getting hungry?”
Oliver smiled. “I’m not, but thank you very much. Oh, and the changes you made in this room are really cool, sir.”
Mike positively beamed at him. “Thanks, kid. And stop calling me ‘sir;’ it’s Mike, you know that.”
Oliver nodded, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.
Mike looked around the room with pride. “All right, I know you two want to catch up. I gotta get John on grill duty.”
“I hope there are turkey burgers waiting?” Seth said archly.
“It’s New Year’s!” his dad complained.
“And I’d like to see you make it to the next one.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “You’d think I had a ticking time bomb inside me, the way he talks,” he said, winking at Oliver.
Sighing in feigned annoyance, Seth crossed the room and pulled the door shut after him.
Oliver sat back on the sofa and tried to remember where they’d been in their previous conversation. He was still on the filial high that came from spending time with Seth’s dad.
“Change of topic,” Seth said breezily, flopping back onto the sofa and smiling. “Which means back to the original topic. June. You graduate. Good for you.”
Oliver blinked for a moment, trying to catch up. “Yes. Check, check and check.”
Seth looked back at him expectantly. “And?”
Oliver stared at the pale skin just above the collar of Seth’s shirt. That had been one of his favorite places to kiss Seth, a surefire way to get him to make that wonderful throaty sound that curled Oliver’s toes. Being in this house was making it difficult for Oliver to focus.
“And?” Oliver shook his head to clear it of thoughts of leaning forward to press his lips against warm skin. “Oh! Right. And… I’m not sure.”
Seth briefly closed his eyes.
Oliver leaned toward Seth on the sofa, wringing his hands in his lap. “I’m not sure because I still have to finish sending out my applications. I do have it narrowed down to two schools, though. Staying where I am or… one here.”
“Here?” Seth asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “Kansas? Why on earth would you ever come back here?”
Oliver laughed and put a hand out to stop Seth. “No, not here, here. Here, the States here. Sorry. Um, NYU, actually.”
Seth went still. His face did not give anything away. “Oh?”
Oliver bit his lip and nodded.
Seth suddenly seemed fascinated by the seam on one of the throw pillows. “But I thought you said that NYU was an inferior school for your degree.”
Oliver took a deep breath. He needed to see how Seth was really feeling, to see if he himself wasn’t about to make another huge mistake by jumping in with both feet before looking. He reached across and carefully took the pillow out of Seth’s hands to make him look up. “It was. For my undergraduate work. Their doctoral program in social sciences happens to be one of the best in the world.”
Seth stared back at him. His throat worked and he swallowed nervously. “Is it?”
Oliver decided he would go for broke. After all, they’d said they would try to be friends at the very least, hadn’t they? And their first friendship had begun with Oliver taking Seth’s hand and leading him through the school to show him around. Oliver stuttered in his movement for the briefest of moments and then took Seth’s hand in both of his, something in him faltering at the small hitch in Seth’s breath when they touched.
“It is. It’s also in Washington Square. Well, one of the campuses. But applicants get to choose from four.” He looked up into Seth’s face. “That would be what I would choose.”
Seth’s hand convulsed briefly in Oliver’s. When he spoke, his voice was high and breathy. “Is NYU your choice?”
Oliver sighed. “I have to see if they’ll choose me, actually. As soon as I get back to England, I’m emailing them my CV and letters of recommendation, et cetera. I’ve already filled out the application.”
“So it’s not for sure,” Seth said, leaning back and taking his hand out of Oliver’s and dropping it in his own lap. It ached to see him so guarded, but Oliver understood why. A part of him was grateful that Seth had this reaction; it meant that a part of his heart, a part he needed to protect from hurt, still belonged to Oliver. He clung to that.
Oliver looked at his empty hand and closed it to hold the warmth that still lingered there from Seth’s touch. “No, but I’m actually a really good student, turns out.” He flashed an over-bright grin at Seth, who thankfully smiled back. “And I happen to be a really good student at a really good university, so my chances at being accepted are pretty high. I need to talk to my mentor when I get back and see what my options are for what I’m hoping to accomplish at the doctorate level.”
Upstairs, the doorbell rang.
Seth rubbed at the edge of his thumbnail, staring at it. “So we continue to wait and see?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But at least the fork in the road is visible? That’s a first for me in a long time. I’ve got you to thank for that,” Oliver said, squeezing Seth’s knee and wishing he could slide his hand to Seth’s waist, pull him close and just hold him.
Seth looked back at him questioningly.
“I’ve had my head down, only looking at my feet, since the day you walked out, Seth. I guess I didn’t see a reason to look toward the future when it was clear that I didn’t have one anymore.”
There was so much sadness in Seth’s eyes when he said, “Oh, Oliver.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I just want to tell you how important you are.”
“Little Mike’s here!” John shouted down the staircase.
Seth looked as though he wanted to say something, but snapped his mouth shut and got to his feet. He held his hand out; Oliver took it without question and was surprised to be pulled into a hug.
Seth wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck and pressed their cheeks together. “Thank you for telling me. I wish you knew more. I wish I knew more.” His hands slid down Oliver’s shoulders and he pushed himself back to look in Oliver’s face. “It’s good to know where my friend might be soon.”
Every point of contact between their bodies was a point of radiant heat for Oliver. He wanted to be pulled back into Seth’s arms, to feel his skin, to know that Seth was willing to wait for him to get his future sorted out. He told himself that Seth was being smart, though, by not jumping in. That was always Oliver’s downfall: his lack of impulse control. He needed to follow Seth’s lead so the night could be a happy one.
“Oliver’s here?” they heard from upstairs, the scratchy two-pack-a-day voice indicating “Little Mike” Packard.
Seth gave Oliver’s shoulders a squeeze and dropped his hands. “Promise me that you will not encourage him to pull out that ridiculous e-cigarette. I keep telling him it makes him look like a stupid teenager.”
Oliver nodded, laughing. “Promise.”
He followed Seth upstairs, bracing himself for the whirlwind of energy and noise that was the very essence of a Mike Larsen gathering.
Chapter Twelve
Little Mike raised his beer can at them, giving Oliver a significant stare while tilting his head toward Seth. It took Oliver a moment to figure out what that was supposed to mean, and then he gave Little Mike a tiny shake of the head and saw h
is smile deflate.
Little Mike also gave Oliver a bro-five, pulling him in close and whispering in his ear, “Don’t give up.”
It was hard for Oliver to keep the mantra of “we’re just friends, we’re just friends” reverberating in his mind as the night wore on. It seemed tough for Mike’s friends—people who had always been in Seth’s life, who had supported him dating Oliver—to remember that as well. John’s longtime girlfriend, Natalie Greer—a tiny spitfire in skintight, broken-in blue jeans who favored sequined shirts and frosted tips on her short, dark hair—kept asking Oliver where Seth was, as if he would always know. He overheard one of the other guys from Mike’s shop ask Seth how the two of them were “getting on” in New York City.
He tried to mingle with other people, to give Seth space, since he hadn’t seen many of the night’s guests in a while, either, but he couldn’t help but notice how many times he looked up to find that he’d unconsciously moved toward Seth in the crowd. Seth simply had a sort of gravitational pull on him.
As much as he didn’t want to spend the night making small talk, he knew that he had to continue to give Seth some space, to let Seth come to him. So he pretended to enjoy listening to Mike’s employees from the shop (couldn’t they leave work at work? What on earth were ape hangers?) and was grateful for Natalie and her girlfriend’s banter about their new book club.
Little Mike spent a good forty-five minutes talking with Oliver about England, asking him repeatedly about “what chicks are like out there,” to which Oliver indicated that the ladies were just like anywhere else; they just had a different accent.
“Mm, stuck up, huh? Yeah, it figures.”
Oliver rubbed the back of his neck and wondered if it would be the greatest match-up or the worst in history to introduce Moira to Little Mike. He kept coming down on the side of it being the worst.
“So what’s up with you and our boy?” Little Mike asked, doing that guy head-nod thing. “Are you two—” He raised his eyebrows lasciviously. “You know? Back?”