It took him a few minutes to compose the text, but when he did, he knew it was the right thing to say.
Hey, he wrote to Ramon. I am so sorry about the way I acted. I didn’t mean to hurt you or make you feel humiliated. I was confused about…everything, basically. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I think I was afraid of disappointing you, and then that’s exactly what I did. I want us to be friends. I hope we can put this behind us somehow.
A couple hours later he got a message back from Ramon. It read: I get it. None of this shit is easy, but I think we can do it. I’d like us to be friends too. Happy Hanukkah & Merry Christmas.
* * *
Patrick arrived the next day from Fresno with a bag filled with gifts from his family and a dorky grin on his face. Josh backed him into his room the second he got in the door.
“You’re a truly strange individual,” Patrick told him. “What even was that song you left on my voicemail?”
“We’ve been dating for, what, almost three months?” Josh asked. “And you’ve been living with us for over four months and you’re just now figuring this out?”
“I always knew you were a freak,” Patrick said. “I just didn’t know the extent of your freakishness. How was the Christmas party?”
“You mean the Fabulous Dirda Christmas Funtacular?” Josh said.
“I stand corrected.”
“It was nice,” Josh said. “Saw some family, ate a goose, did some brotherly duets. The usual. How’s your family?”
“They’re good,” Patrick said. “How’s Isaiah?”
Josh exhaled. “Well, he left for New York yesterday. So that’s definitely feeling real.”
“I’m so sorry, Josh.”
“It makes total sense, of course,” Josh said. “He’s got the band there and Lucy, and they’re getting married, so…”
“But it still sucks,” Patrick said. “Your brother moved away. Don’t pretend you’re not upset.”
Josh swallowed. He couldn’t seem to get the right words out.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Patrick said, voice gentle and soft.
God, Josh loved when Patrick said things like that. “You know what would distract me and make it better?” Josh said, raising his eyebrows, and Patrick laughed until Josh kissed him quiet.
* * *
“Shut the fuck up, you freaky motherfuckers,” Kai shouted, punctuating his words with his pounding fist on the door of Patrick’s room.
“It’s so good to be home,” Patrick said, breathless.
“It really is,” Josh said, licking soft over Patrick’s cock and watching the way his spine curved.
“Ah…ah…ah…oh God, Josh, right there, right—”
“You are truly terrible at being quiet,” Josh marveled.
He smoothed his hand over Patrick’s stomach and watched as Patrick pushed up his hips, trying to reach his mouth.
“You love it,” Patrick said. “You love it, now fucking—stop being such a tease.”
“Pat,” Josh moaned, faux shocked, and Patrick pushed himself up so he could shove Josh in the chest.
“Do not call me what my mother calls me, especially when we are in bed,” Patrick said. “Do not.”
Josh began to laugh and couldn’t stop.
“I hate you,” Patrick said, pouting.
“Aw, don’t—” Josh coughed, then lost his shit all over again.
“I hate you so much,” Patrick stated. “We are no longer boyfriends.”
“There’s a please in there somewhere,” Josh said, his voice hoarse from laughter. “I know there is.”
“Please don’t make me kill you before you get me off,” Patrick said. “Please stop being an annoying asshole.”
“I’m feeling so unloved right now,” Josh said. “Unappreciated, unloved—”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Patrick said, wriggling out from under Josh and flipping them over.
Josh got the air knocked out of him, but wasn’t even the slightest bit upset. Arousal zinged through him as Patrick straddled him and leaned down to bite his neck, thrusting his hard cock against Josh’s stomach.
“I’m sorry, is something upsetting you?” Josh asked, fluttering his eyelashes, and Patrick cut him off by biting his lip and sliding his hand into Josh’s pajama pants.
Josh’s breath caught when Patrick’s hand encircled his cock, stroking from root to tip. Patrick dropped light kisses along his jawline and over his cheek, murmuring, “You are so lucky you’re so hot.”
“I know, right?” Josh said, exhaling heavily when Patrick pressed his thumbnail into the head of Josh’s dick. “It’s gotten me pretty far in life, I think.”
“Too far, most likely,” Patrick said, scraping his teeth over the pulse point in Josh’s neck.
Josh grabbed Patrick’s hips and held him still, thrusting against him and squishing Patrick’s hand between them.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Patrick yelped.
Josh reached between them and lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth, sucking Patrick’s middle finger between his lips and watching as Patrick’s eyes widened.
“Oh…ohhh,” Patrick moaned.
“Better?” Josh whispered.
“Shut up, God,” Patrick groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“The worst or the best?” Josh asked. “You mean the best, don’t you?”
“It’s up for debate,” Patrick said, his eyelids shuttering closed, and Josh grinned.
Epilogue
“Champagne?” Patrick offered when Josh found him in the living room. Patrick and Taneisha were lying in the middle of the floor, a half-empty bottle of champagne and two plastic champagne flutes sitting next to them. Taneisha was eating a chocolate-covered cherry and humming along to Whitney Houston, who was playing in the background.
“You look like you’re doing all right there by yourself, buddy,” Josh said, and Patrick propped himself up on his elbows, narrowing his eyes.
“Happy New Year to you too, butthead,” Patrick said. “For this, I skipped my family’s New Year’s?”
“Ah, young love,” Taneisha sighed.
Alan, who had somehow become a self-appointed DJ, flipped the song to “Fernando.” Alexis catapulted into the room and began to sing, and Taneisha joined in, pulling Alexis down onto the floor. Alexis downed the rest of Taneisha’s champagne and yelled, “Singing party!”
“Only if you turn off that disco shit,” Freddy called from the hallway, and Alexis made an indignant noise.
“You did not just insult ABBA,” Alexis huffed.
“I think he did,” Patrick said, sitting up and holding out his hand to Josh, who pulled him to his feet. Patrick swayed, steadying himself on Josh’s shoulder, and Josh slid his arm around Patrick’s waist.
“ABBA is all right, but it’s so high,” Mike said.
He and Kai were playing PS4 Golf. He swung and nearly knocked Alan off the couch. Alan still managed to switch the song to “Gimme Gimme Gimme” before shoving Mike away with his feet.
“ABBA is too high for us dudes,” Freddy said, appearing in the living room. He was holding his own bottle of champagne. “Maybe Josh could sing it in falsetto.”
“I could totally sing it in falsetto,” Josh said, “and Patrick would rock ABBA.”
“Why don’t you ever sing for us, Patrick?” Mike asked. “We know you can sing.”
“You know I can…” Patrick said, looking puzzled.
“Well, yeah,” Kai said. “I mean, you sing for Josh all the time.”
“What?” Patrick said, brow furrowing.
“Yeah,” Mike said. “Like, oh, God, Josh, oh oh, God—”
“Oh my God,” Patrick said, flushing pink, and Alexis and Taneisha dissolved into giggles.
“Harder, do it harder, fuck, do it harder—” Kai chimed in.
Then Freddy groaned, “Right there, Josh, right there, don’t stop, don’t—”
Josh was caught between being a little embarrassed and a little turned on. He squeeze
d Patrick around his waist and watched the blush trail down the back of Patrick’s neck as he buried his face in Josh’s shoulder.
“Guys,” Josh warned.
Freddy and Kai and Mike high-fived, and Alan helpfully switched the song to “I’ll Make Love to You” by Boyz II Men.
“You’re all jealous that Josh and Patrick are having amazing sex,” Alexis said. “Don’t be bitches because you can’t get some misguided girls to sleep with you, assholes.”
“Rough words, Alexis,” Freddy said, putting a hand over his heart. “Way to bring a brother down.”
“I love you,” Josh whispered against Patrick’s cheek, and he lifted his chin to give Josh a tilted smile.
“Sap,” Patrick said.
“You know it,” Josh said, nosing at his neck.
Patrick sighed as Josh kissed him lightly.
“You should sing,” Josh said. “You know what it does to me when you sing.”
Patrick smirked, but then his smile faded. “You don’t think they’ll laugh at me?”
For a split second, Josh could see Patrick as he was in high school, brittle and terrified, insecure and furious.
“Nobody’s gonna laugh at you,” Josh murmured. “Anybody who laughs gets kicked in the nuts.”
Patrick squeezed Josh’s arm, then kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re so sweet.”
“Sweet like candy.” Josh nodded. “And equally delicious.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, but was soon distracted by Alexis, who leaned into him, handing him a champagne glass so full it was sloshing over.
“Baby doll, drink this.”
“Good thinking,” Patrick said, and lifted the glass to his lips.
A few glasses later, it was approaching midnight. Josh was feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy, and Patrick was starting to look straight-up sloppy.
“Truth and dare,” Alexis suggested, then seemed to reconsider. “I mean, truth or dare.”
“Just dare her to make out with Josh,” Artemis said from where she was perched on the couch, sandwiched between Mike and Freddy. “That’s her favorite part of this game anyway.”
“You don’t know me,” Alexis said, gesturing with one hand and nearly clocking Freddy in the face.
“Nobody’s making out with Josh,” Patrick piped up. He was curled into Josh’s side, head pillowed on his shoulder. “Nobody but me.”
“Whoa, look at Fresno!” Alexis exclaimed. “Baby gay’s gone toppy.”
“Oh, he’s toppy all right,” Mike said.
“Yeah, we know that for sure,” Freddy said, and Kai snorted from where he was sprawled on the floor.
“You two should do porn,” Alexis said, indicating Josh and Patrick with a long fingernail. “I’d watch.”
“Okay!” Patrick exclaimed. “I’m gonna sing.”
“Ooooh, yay!” Alexis said, clapping her hands. Taneisha swatted at Patrick’s ass as he got off the couch.
“Do you need assistance?” Alan asked, and Patrick lurched over and whispered something in Alan’s ear.
Alan’s eyes brightened in a way that alarmed Josh a little.
“Oh, man,” he said, and Josh’s stomach dropped.
“You asked for it,” Patrick said, and blew Josh a kiss.
“Is there going to be stripping with this number?” Alexis demanded.
Alan flicked through his phone—which Josh realized was his phone, how did he even get that?—and put on a song.
In his champagne fog, it took Josh a moment to place it, but when Patrick began to sing “My All,” Josh sucked in a breath so fast he felt dizzy.
“Holy shit,” Josh whispered.
“Happy Mariah Carey-mas, bitches!” Alan shouted.
“Oh my God,” Taneisha said. “Oh my God!”
She punched Alexis in the shoulder, who was staring at Patrick, open-mouthed. Freddy whistled, and Mike cheered and pumped his fist.
Josh couldn’t breathe. He really—he couldn’t—he had to breathe, breathing was important, he couldn’t stop breathing even though Patrick was singing to him, his voice so magical-beautiful, every note absolutely right because Patrick did not fuck around. He was that perfect, even five glasses of champagne in, even singing in front of people for the first time, even when singing impossible, glorious, amazing Mariah fucking Carey.
Patrick’s voice was magic. It was Hogwarts and Narnia and Middle Earth. It was Peter Parker inventing webshooters and Superman landing in a cornfield in Kansas. It was the Force. It was miraculous.
Josh felt as if his heart was going to explode into a million tiny sharp beautiful little pieces, and those pieces were going to grow into their own little hearts, and all those hearts would still not be enough to hold all the love he felt for Patrick in this moment. He barely even registered everyone’s applause and shouts when Patrick hit a crazy high note, because in his mind they were in a room alone, him and Patrick and Patrick’s slow burning smile and his flushed cheeks and his eyes that shifted like the Pacific, blue and green and gray.
I have a feeling that city has a lot to teach me, Patrick had written in that first email about the apartment.
When can you come see the place? Josh had typed back.
I think you belong here.
You don’t have to settle. That is all I was trying to say.
You saved me by giving me San Francisco, Patrick said.
All of a sudden Josh understood what Patrick meant.
Josh was disappointed when the song ended, but then Patrick was climbing into his lap, sliding his hands into Josh’s hair and kissing him. Josh slumped down on the loveseat and let Patrick control the kiss. He pushed his hands under the fabric of Patrick’s T-shirt, and Patrick shuddered and pressed closer.
“Happy New Year,” Patrick mumbled against his lips, and Josh caught his words in a long, lingering kiss.
“You sang Mariah,” Josh said.
He was choked up. He was probably going to actually cry.
“It was a one-time deal,” Patrick said.
“Understood,” Josh said. “But I can sing Mariah to you whenever, right?”
“Preferably never,” Patrick said.
“Harsh,” Josh said.
Patrick lifted his half-empty champagne glass from the floor, and Josh picked his off the coffee table.
“To new beginnings,” Josh said, clinking their glasses together.
“To the good kind of change,” Patrick said, his eyes shining.
They were counting down to midnight in the background, but Josh didn’t care.
He and Patrick were already kissing.
About the Author
Natasha Washington lives in Philadelphia, where she writes queer love stories in both YA (as Sonia Belasco) and romance. She has spent much of her professional life working with young people as a mentor, tutor, or therapist. When not writing, she is likely cooking, taking long, meandering walks, or listening to dance music or 90s hip-hop.
Also by Natasha Washington
WRITING AS SONIA BELASCO
Melanie and Damon are both living in the shadow of loss. For Melanie, it's the loss of her larger-than-life artist mother, taken by cancer well before her time. For Damon, it’s the loss of his best friend, Carlos, who took his own life.
As they struggle to fill the empty spaces their loved ones left behind, fate conspires to bring them together. Damon takes pictures with Carlos’s camera to try to understand his choices, and Melanie begins painting as a way of feeling closer to her mother. But when the two join their school’s production of Othello, the play they both hoped would be a distraction becomes a test of who they truly are, both together and on their own. And more than anything else, they discover that it just might be possible to live their lives without completely letting go of their sadness.
ding books on Archive.
Calling Calling Calling Me Page 25