Nobody’s Hero

by J. Leigh Bailey

  Damn it. He was doing it again. Running away.

  He braced his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands. He was so tired of running.

  “Sometimes you make me feel like I should apologize for who I am.”

  Remembering the words was as much a punch to the gut as it was when Danny had said it. Who did stuff like that? Who made his boyfriend feel like he should apologize for who he was?

  Was there any way to salvage the mess he’d made?

  Could he stay?

  Danny wanted a real relationship, one that included public dates and group activities. It wasn’t a lot to ask. At least not for normal people. But could Brad do it? Could he get beyond his fear and step out of his protective walls?

  He didn’t know.

  He imagined going to an a cappella concert with Danny and another couple. On a real date, with no pretenses.

  His stomach jumped.

  What if he couldn’t be the kind of boyfriend Danny wanted? What if he tried and nothing changed? Danny deserved someone proud to be seen with him, not someone who wanted to hide from the world.

  If Brad left, Danny could find someone better.

  Oh, hell no.

  The violence of his reaction surprised him. And told him he wouldn’t be going anywhere, not right away.

  Danny deserved someone better, so Brad would go back and try to be that someone better. Assuming, of course, Danny was willing to give him another chance.

  * * *

  Danny knew he wasn’t alone the second he opened his eyes. After leaving Brad’s apartment he’d holed up in his bedroom. He didn’t normally nap—whenever he did, he woke up grumpy and more tired than when he’d fallen asleep. This was no exception.

  Brad sat on his bedroom floor, back against the dresser, arms resting on his upraised knees. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” Danny sat up. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you, but then you were sleeping. I was going to come back later, but well, I decided to wait.”

  “So you sat there and watched me sleep? A little stalkerish, isn’t it?”

  Brad shrugged.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t a good time to see Brad. He might change his mind, back down, if he had to see that lost look in Brad’s eyes. “How long did it take for you to pack up your stuff?”

  “I didn’t,” Brad said, but Danny had seen the guilty flinch.

  “No? Why not? That’s what you do, isn’t it? When things get tough, you run?”

  “I don’t want to run.”

  Danny arched his brow at Brad’s running clothes.

  “Fine, I didn’t want to run away.”

  He stood and walked to his closet to slip on a pair of flip-flops. “What did you want, Brad? I’ve got to go to... I’ve got to go.” Somewhere. Anywhere else. He needed to do something besides sit and stare at Brad.

  There was a long pause, then Brad said, “Never apologize.”

  “I didn’t intend to.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Brad shook his head. “No, I mean, never apologize for who you are. You are amazing. If I ever made you feel like you needed to apologize for who you are, then I’m the one who’s sorry. So sorry.”

  Danny swallowed hard. He wouldn’t look at Brad, though. He needed a minute to organize his scattered thoughts.

  “I want to try.”

  Danny turned around. Brad was serious. He watched Danny with a determined expression. Only the cracking of his knuckles gave away how nervous he was.

  Danny sat back on his bed. “You want to try?”

  Brad got up and sat next to him. “Look, I know I’ve been a little neurotic about everything. And I know you understand why. I didn’t recognize what it was doing to you, and that’s on me. I don’t have any excuses and I don’t deserve another chance. But I’m asking for one anyway.” He reached down and grabbed Danny’s hand. “Please, Danny? Can we try again?”

  Danny pulled his hand back, forcing himself to ignore the pained look on Brad’s face. “Brad, you have to know I want to. But the problem—the cause—of your issues still exists. You can’t change years of habits overnight.”

  “I know.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “I looked at the student health services information for Carleton. When school starts, I’ll make an appointment to see someone. Maybe they can help me figure out a way to move forward.”

  Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s good. Great. But you need to do it for you, not because you think it’s what I want you to do.”

  “I get that. And I do want it for me. I may not have done anything about it if I hadn’t realized what I’ve been missing out on—but I definitely want it for me.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “I can’t promise not to pull away sometimes, but I can promise to try,” Brad said in a rush, as though he needed to fill the silence. “And I give you full permission to call me out on it if I do.”

  He wanted to say yes, but he had to be sure. “You’ll go do things with me in public? With my friends?”

  “I will.” With a self-deprecating smile, Brad added, “Though I might ask that we take it kind of slow. But, to prove I mean it, if the offer is still open, I’d love to go to the concert with you tonight.”

  Who was he kidding? Of course he was going to say yes. “Okay. We’ll try again.”

  Brad leaned in to Danny, resting his head on Danny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Danny waited a minute, then asked, “Dude, did we just DTR version two point oh?”

  Chuckling, Brad wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist. “Only you.”

  He lay down, bringing Danny with him until they both stretched across his twin bed. They would make it work. Danny would make sure of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brad was finally getting the hang of the whole boyfriend thing. Maybe he wasn’t up to holding hands on Main Street, but he didn’t jerk away every time Danny got close. And Danny definitely knew how to reward Brad’s efforts. He’d put up with a lot of PDA if it led to lots of Danny’s private displays of affection.

  He jogged to Danny’s Jeep, ready for their next date. Dinner didn’t excite him, but the thought of what they might do afterward in his apartment had him rushing. He slid into the car and nearly jumped right out again. “What the hell? Dude, what did you do?”

  Danny’s hair, all those dark silky waves Brad liked to play with, was gone. It was cut short, barely more than a buzz.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Danny scowled and started the car.

  “What happened?” Brad fastened his seat belt, unable to take his eyes off Danny.

  Danny hunched his shoulders as they started down the street. “Stop staring.” He must have noticed the childish whine in his voice, because he straightened in his seat. “It’s only hair. It’ll grow back.”

  Brad ran his hand through the short spikes, enjoying the way they prickled between his fingers. “It’s bizarre,” he said. “You look like Ray.”

  Danny’s scowl deepened. “If Juan Carlos wasn’t so young, I’d have to kill him. Him and whoever created that stupid cartoon he watches.”

  “So you didn’t just get a haircut?”

  “I may not have my brother’s obsession with fashion, but I like my hair. I’m vain about my hair. I wouldn’t just chop it off. No, I have my cousin, and probably a niece, though I didn’t catch her in the act, to blame for this look.”

  “Will you tell me what they did already? Stop talking around it and tell me.”

  “They glued my hair.”

  “Why? And why would you let them?”

  “I di
dn’t let them,” Danny snapped. “I was taking a nap. Well, actually I was babysitting the little monsters and fell asleep watching TV with them. Next thing I know, I wake up smelling super glue with a pillow stuck to my head.”

  Brad choked on a laugh, his mind easily providing the image of the two kids gathered around Danny’s head pouring glue on him. “They glued a pillow to your head?”

  “No, the pillow was a side-effect. What they were trying to do is give me a Mohawk, figuring the glue would keep it sticking straight up, but the glue set too fast. I had to have Mamá cut the pillow away. I tried to wash the glue out of my hair, but nothing doing. You know how when you get super glue stuck on your finger you have to sort of peel it off or you’re stuck with it? Let’s just say that peeling super glue off of hair is a futile and painful process, and shampoo didn’t cut it.”

  “It’s your own fault, you know,” Brad said, giving up the fight and laughing out loud. “You were supposed to be watching them. You got what you deserved.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what Mamá said. She’s making me replace the pillow too.”

  Brad laughed harder. Danny seemed so put out. It would have been different if he was pissed, but his annoyance—and probably mortification—over a child’s prank was adorable.

  “Laugh it up, Brad. We’ll see how much you enjoy hanging out in the home décor section of the store picking out pillow shams or whatever. Apparently I have to get a whole set because they have to match. Where do women come up with this shit? I mean, really. They’re pillows. You sit on them or lie on them. People and dogs drool on them. Who cares if one is a slightly different shade of blue?”

  “Man, this is priceless.” Brad wiped at the tears streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath. “Jesus, I love you.”

  The minute the words were out of his mouth, the laughter dried up. Oh, crap. Had he actually said that? Maybe Danny would take it like a casual “I love your sense of humor” or something, rather than a declaration. He didn’t even know where the words had come from. It wasn’t as if he’d been doodling their initials inside hearts on his notebook or considering getting married or anything. But when he thought about it, it was true. Completely, utterly true.

  And that scared the shit out of him.

  Heart in his throat, he turned to look at Danny, whose eyes were wide with shock.

  Someone honked and Brad realized they’d stopped at a green light. Danny whipped his gaze forward and stepped on the gas. “Crap, crap, crap. Why are all these people out driving? Where are they going? I need to find a place to pull over, like right now.”

  Oh, shit. This wasn’t a good sign. Brad looked out the window at the traffic. He’d done it wrong. Said it too soon and now it was too late to play it off as some kind of joke. Brad cleared his throat. “Why are we pulling over?”

  “Because when I tell you I love you too, I want to look you in the eye and then kiss you, and, unless I find a place to pull over, we’ll run into a car or a kid or a building and be killed before I can tell you.”

  It took a moment for Brad to comprehend. Then he did. One long sentence, said all in a rush, with Danny searching for a convenient place to park, cracked open something in Brad’s chest.

  “You love me?”

  “Shh,” Danny hissed. “Not until I park. Damn it, people,” he shouted at the cars on either side of him, “get the hell off the road! Ah, there!” He braked suddenly and the car behind him honked as Danny turned into a gas station parking lot.

  Danny threw the Jeep into Park. “Finally.” He released his seat belt and reached over to undo Brad’s. “Did you mean it?”

  Brad licked his lips and nodded. “Did you?”

  Danny nodded. “Say it again?”

  “I love you?”

  “Jesus, Brad. Are you asking me or telling me? Come on, say it again so I can say it back.”

  “Man, you are so demanding.”

  “Stop stalling. This is a big deal. I want it to be perfect.”

  “Fine!” With a big sigh, Brad said, “I love you.”

  Danny beamed at him and cupped the sides of Brad’s face. “I love you too.” His voice was soft but sure as he drew Brad forward. The kiss was gentle. The air smelled like gasoline and motor oil, and Danny’s wavy hair was now military-short, but the moment was perfect.

  A knock on the driver’s side window interrupted the kiss.

  “Either get gas or pull out and let someone else through!” a burly man shouted from the other side of the glass.

  Danny sat up straight. “Oops,” he said, refastening his seat belt and turning the key.

  It was silent in the Jeep as they drove to the department store. Brad didn’t know what Danny was thinking about, but his brain was fixed firmly on sex. That wasn’t unusual in and of itself—he was eighteen. He and Danny had played around a bit after their Fourth of July talk. Mostly heavy kissing and hand jobs. Danny had even gone down on him once, but they’d been interrupted by Danny’s mom calling him to dinner. Talk about a mood-killer.

  The Ortegas were an amazing family, but—especially since Brad didn’t have a place away from the Ortegas—privacy was hard to find.

  And he desperately wanted privacy. No, he and Danny needed privacy.

  “Do you have condoms?”

  Danny whipped his head around, his foot leaving the gas.

  Brad cringed. He was on a roll. Thanks to his sudden case of nerves, he seemed to have completely lost his brain-to-mouth filter. “I just thought if you didn’t, we should maybe pick some up while we’re shopping. Lube too.”

  “Don’t say lube. You can’t say lube and expect me to keep driving. If you say lube I’ll think of sex. And when I think of sex, I think of you. I think of sex with you and my brain explodes and I become a throbbing mass of hormones, and I can’t be expected to pick out pillows when I’m a throbbing mass of hormones. I’ll probably jump you on the comforter display, or fall into a knife display because I’ll be daydreaming about you and lube and sex. You see how this is a crisis waiting to happen. So don’t say lube, okay?”

  Brad had thought about anal sex with Danny, of course. While they’d been playing around, Danny had been careful not to move too fast and Brad had been more comfortable letting him take the lead. It took him a while to realize Danny was probably waiting for some sign that Brad was ready to go to the next level. And now, with images of Danny and lube and sex running through his head, he wished he’d said something sooner. “Do you know of anywhere we can go where we can be alone? I mean, really alone? Somewhere your mom or your niece or your brother won’t walk in on us?”

  Danny closed his eyes as if in prayer. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious. I think it’s time. And you’re not the only throbbing mass of hormones in this car.”

  “Shit. Okay, let me think. Let’s grab some stupid pillows and we’ll see what we can come up with because, now, now we need some alone time.” He started driving again. “Man, what a night. Super-glued hair, declarations of love, sex talk. And it’s not even seven.”

  * * *

  Danny couldn’t remember the color of the four decorative pillows stored in the back of his Jeep. In fact, the entire trip into the department store was a blurry jumble of sights and sounds. His mind, obviously, had been elsewhere.

  He hoped the pillows weren’t ugly.

  He did remember that the blanket he’d purchased was a soft gray, the same color as Brad’s eyes.

  Brad had taken one look at the blanket next to the pillows at the check-out counter and hadn’t asked what it was for.

  The house on Bay Street was perfect. It was empty and nearly complete. Some of the rooms even had carpeting. The blanket maybe wasn’t necessary, but the moment seemed to call for some kind of special consideration. It wasn’t every day a guy had sex with
the man he’d just admitted to loving, after all.

  Never had the constant presence of his family chafed more. Usually Danny liked knowing someone was there. Lately, though, he’d daydreamed about a place of his own, where everyone didn’t poke their noses into everyone else’s business. Even Brad’s place above the garage was too close. Getting it on while kids played in the yard below seemed weird. And hearing Mamá’s voice when he was face-to-fly with Brad...yeah, that had been awkward.

  And as excited as he was, he needed to make sure he wasn’t rushing Brad. “I’d figured we could grab some dinner, maybe catch a movie,” he said, tapping his thumb impatiently on the steering wheel. “You sure you’d rather...”

  “I’m sure,” Brad said. “Let’s pick up some drive-thru chicken and have a picnic.”

  Danny coughed to clear his throat. “We’ll still have to make a stop at a drugstore. I don’t exactly have what we need in my Jeep. There’s one next door to the chicken place.”

  “Handy.” Brad looked at the row of stores and then back at Danny. “Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets the chicken, loser gets the rubbers.”

  Danny pulled into the parking lot in front of the restaurant. “Deal.”

  They twisted to face each other, fists held in front of them. “One. Two. Three.”

  Danny looked at his scissors and Brad’s rock. “Best two out of three?”

  “No chance.” Brad leapt out of the Jeep and darted to the restaurant.

  “Coward!” Danny shouted after him, then he made his way to the drugstore. The place was packed. Walking down the main center aisle, a woman with two screaming toddlers read the back of a pregnancy test box. The condoms happened to be on the same shelf.

  Danny bypassed that aisle and tried to play it cool by studying a selection of greeting cards. It was taking the lady forever. How many options could there be for sticks to pee on? The cards in front of him reminded him Mamá’s birthday was coming up. Sure, in like three months, but it was never too early to pick up a card for her. Right? Anything to give his loitering purpose. He finally found one that was funny but not crude, and not too sentimental. With the card and the accompanying orange envelope in hand, he moved back to the middle of the store and ran into Mr. Schmidt, his eleventh grade history teacher.