Guyliner

by J. Leigh Bailey

  “Morning.” Graham’s voice was husky, rough from sleep.

  Connor reached down and pushed a patch of black hair away from Graham’s eyes. “Morning.” Connor trailed his fingers across Graham’s forehead and down the side of his face, sweeping his thumb under those ice-blue eyes. The eyeliner that was already smudged from the night before had smeared further, making it look like Graham had two black eyes. Connor was intrigued by Graham’s wide mouth, the mobile lips surprisingly soft. He traced the fuller bottom lip. “Jesus, you’re pretty.”

  Graham didn’t say anything, just lay statue still while Connor explored his face. It took a minute for Connor to notice the wariness in Graham’s look and the lack of movement. Reality crashed into Connor. Last night. Shit, last night he’d had some kind of meltdown and fell apart like a baby, and here he was, petting Graham like some kind of puppy.

  He groaned and rolled onto his back, covering his face with an arm. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m some kind of freak.”

  “No.” Graham shifted so that he leaned over Connor. “Not at all. It’s only that last night—” His voice cut off as Connor let loose another groan, but then he rushed on. “Last night was kind of intense. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it this morning.”

  “Apparently I decided on avoidance. I didn’t remember that part until now. Only the parts where we were dancing and kissing.” His voice softened, warmed. “In case I forgot to mention it, it was the best night of my life.”

  “Even the panic?”

  “That part wasn’t cool.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “But the rest was worth it. Especially since it’s back to the real world as soon as we leave this room.”

  “You plan on pretending that this weekend never happened?”

  Something dark twisted in Connor’s chest. “I have to. I just, I can’t….”

  Graham stilled, his face a blank mask that hurt Connor’s heart. After what felt like eons, Graham spoke. “So, once we leave this room, it’s back to the way it was.”

  Throat tight, Connor nodded.

  “Then,” Graham said, drawing the words out, “we should make the most of the time left, yeah?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Graham didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned down, slowly enough that Connor could stop him in plenty of time. Connor licked his lips, anticipation jittering through his body. Graham’s lips touched his without the aggression of the previous night’s kisses. Softly, almost romantically. Connor returned the kiss with as much reverence. Graham shifted, settling fully on Connor. Connor loved the weight of him, the closeness that simple movement brought. Graham tilted his head, changing the angle of the kiss, deepening it, until Connor was lost in the dance of lips and mouths and tongues.

  Graham pulled back, sucking in a few deep breaths.

  “Wow.” Connor was pretty sure that kiss had fried each and every one of his brain cells.

  “Yeah, wow.” Graham’s eyes were unfocused, his face flushed.

  Connor’s grin felt like it would split his face in half. “Can we do that again?”

  Graham tucked his head into Connor’s shoulder and chuckled. “Yeah.” Before he could get back to the kissing, Connor rolled, taking Graham with him until he’d reversed their positions.

  “My turn.”

  He didn’t do anything at first, just stared down at Graham in wonder. He really was beautiful. Even with hair tousled from sleep and eyeliner smeared on his face, Connor could get lost in the angles and planes of his face. Like the center of a flame, the blue of his eyes burned hot and bright. Connor cupped Graham’s cheek, sliding his hand into the black hair. His fingers got caught a bit in the tangled, hair-sprayed strands, but somehow it was so absolutely Graham that Connor didn’t even hesitate. He tugged on Graham’s hair to tilt his face up. Their lips melded seamlessly in a slow, thorough kiss that went on and on. Connor arched up when he felt Graham’s hand slip under his tank and slide across the muscles in his back and along the sensitive skin of his side.

  Connor broke away, taking great, panting gulps of air. “You twist me up.”

  “Same.” Graham leaned up to nuzzle Connor’s throat, scraping his teeth lightly across his Adam’s apple.

  Mouths fused again, and Connor completely lost track of time. The firm press of Graham’s hands on the bare skin of his back caused him to arch into the caress like a cat. Connor took advantage of the opportunity to explore Graham the same way. He shifted to his side so he could trail his hands across Graham’s chest. Graham turned into the caress. Encouraged by this, Connor moved lower, tracing the defined lines of Graham’s abs through his shirt.

  Connor grabbed the bottom edge of Graham’s shirt and started to drag it up far enough to get access to those amazing muscles. Suddenly Graham jerked back and managed to roll away from Connor’s heavier body.

  “I’m sorry,” Connor blurted automatically.

  Graham laughed, a bitter exhalation of sound. “For what?”

  “For whatever I did wrong, I guess.”

  “Connor, you didn’t do anything wrong. But we need to stop. Things are getting a little out of hand.”

  “Out of hand?” Connor hoped steadying his breathing would somehow clear away the fog of lust in his brain.

  “You’ve only started to figure things out. And, well, you have a girlfriend. I shouldn’t have started this. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret later.”

  Connor’s brain finally started to kick in. Oh shit. Graham was right. Things had been getting intense. And Allyson. He closed his eyes. “Oh God.”

  Graham flung his arm over his face. “Yeah.”

  When his breathing had steadied, Connor turned back to Graham. “Um, thanks. For stopping, that is. I was a little… caught up.”

  They lay there quiet for a moment.

  Connor scooted up until he sat with his back against the bed’s headboard. “Graham?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you tell me about the scars?”

  Chapter 22

  GRAHAM CLOSED his eyes, the question echoing in his head.

  After a long silence, Connor swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Look, you don’t have to—”

  “No, it’s fine. I was figuring out where to start.” Not only was he hesitant to relive the worst experience of his life, but Connor had only just acknowledged that he was gay. Telling Connor what he’d experienced could add fuel to the fear fire.

  “When did it happen?” Connor pulled his legs back up and wrapped his hands around his knees.

  “About a year ago. You know how I told you my parents knew I was gay, but they found out in probably the absolute worst way possible?” He released a shaky breath and turned to face Connor. “It was a gay bashing.”

  Connor blanched, eyes widening. “Oh my God! How… I mean….”

  “I’d been seeing this guy—Brandon—for a while. We were keeping things on the down-low, mostly because neither of us was out to our families, and he was scared of what his older brothers would think.”

  “Were they—” He stopped to swallow. “I guess I really mean, why was he scared?”

  “Let’s say they held a certain resemblance to the Tweedles except they were bigger, meaner, and overprotective of their little brother. He was different. He didn’t quite fit in with them. He was smaller, sweeter. They always sort of looked out for him. We went to the same school but didn’t hang out much. Different interests, mostly. We actually met at a club a lot like the one we went to last night. It was my first trip to a gay club, and there he was. At first it was like oh shit, because we obviously didn’t want to be out at school. Him more so than me, as it turns out. We spent most of the night pretending the other wasn’t there, all the while watching each other. Finally, he came over to me and asked me to not tell anyone that he’d been there. Since I wasn’t ready to advertise, it was no big deal. We started talking.”

  “And you guys went out?” He hel
d on to his knees tighter, as though trying not to reach out.

  “Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of time together. Between school and the soccer schedule, I was busy. But yeah, we started getting closer.”

  Graham stopped to try and wrestle his chaotic thoughts into some kind of logical order. His feelings about the attack and Brandon were a jumbled mix of excitement, infatuation, and pain. “It isn’t really fair to blame Brandon, but I do. Did. Still do, I guess. It’s all messed up in my head.”

  “What happened?”

  “We’d been seeing each other for a while, and I was getting tired of sneaking around. After a while it gets hard to pretend. Hard to pretend that you don’t know him in school. Hard to pretend that your dates are study sessions with friends. And you don’t expect the shame that comes with the hiding, the sneaking around. I didn’t like feeling like a dirty little secret.”

  “He wasn’t willing to stop hiding?”

  “Nope. He was so afraid that he would lose his brothers’ respect or that people at school would give him a hard time that he wouldn’t even consider it. Our school had a few openly gay students, and no one seemed to give them any trouble, but Brandon couldn’t see that. One day he invited me over to his house. His parents were out of town, and he had the place to himself for a while. We were in his room, hanging out and listening to music. At first. Then we started to fool around a bit. We’d gotten a little distracted, so we didn’t hear his brothers come home. They came into his room and caught us…. We’d both lost our shirts by this point, and it was pretty obvious what was going on. His brothers completely lost their shit. I got out of there as fast as I could. Hell, I even left without my shirt.”

  Phantom pain ghosted along his shoulder. He rubbed at it absently. “I tried to talk to Brandon, to make sure everything was okay, but he didn’t come to school for the rest of that week. He didn’t answer any of my texts. Before all this, he’d made me promise to never call him, but when he ignored my texts, I tried calling. He wouldn’t answer. I was about ready to show up on his doorstep, screw any promises, when I got a text. It asked me to meet him at the picnic area nearby. We’d met there a few times, so I didn’t question it.”

  It felt like someone was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He panted, desperately trying to get oxygen to his lungs. Connor reached over and grasped his hand and the warmth of it, the acceptance of that connection, eased the pressure. “I snuck out after my parents settled in front of the television for the evening. They thought I was doing homework, so they didn’t know I was gone. I went to the park to meet Brandon. The picnic area was on the far side of the park, near a wooded area. There wasn’t much light and there weren’t any people around. Brandon was late. After a while I decided to leave. When I started to leave the park, I thought I heard him.”

  “It wasn’t Brandon, was it?” Connor’s hand tightened around his. He maneuvered until they sat face-to-face, knee-to-knee. His other hand moved to Graham’s shoulder, kneading the tension there. Graham relaxed into the touch, taking strength from it.

  “No. It was Brandon’s brothers. They were there to kick my ass, to punish me for what I did to their brother.”

  “What do they think you did? They didn’t think you raped him or something, did they?”

  “No, but I think they’d have preferred it. I think they loved Brandon, but they showed it in a really twisted way. It was easier for them to think that I had somehow turned Brandon gay, tempted him to the dark side. Even rape would have been easier for them to accept. Then it wouldn’t have been Brandon’s choice, wouldn’t have been his fault. They’d convinced themselves that I somehow brainwashed Brandon or took advantage of him. That if it weren’t for me, their brother wouldn’t have been such an embarrassment to the family. His family ended up sending him to some military academy in Georgia to ‘straighten him out.’” Graham made air quotes with his fingers. Clammy sweat broke out along his body.

  “Sending him away wasn’t enough, though. They had to make sure I wouldn’t lure some other vulnerable, God-fearing boy to the dark side. These guys were only a couple of years older than me, but they were rabid.”

  Graham didn’t realize he’d started rocking in place until Connor’s strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

  His gut clenched in memory of fists and feet striking flesh. He forced the rest of the story past his constricted throat. Sheer force of will kept tears away. “You stop fighting after a while. There’s only so much your body can take before everything sort of shuts down and you don’t care what happens anymore, as long as it stops.”

  “Oh God. Oh no,” Connor chanted while he rocked Graham. Sympathy or horror, or a combination of both, in his voice. Graham buried his face into Connor’s shoulder so he didn’t have to see which reaction it was.

  “Three broken ribs, a broken wrist, internal bleeding, several gashes and bruises. That wasn’t the worst of it. I passed out from the pain, so I don’t remember it, but they locked me in a maintenance shed, doused it with gasoline, and set it on fire. The whole thing collapsed, trapping me under it. A lady saw the fire and called for help, and the firemen got me out in time. I was lucky.” Graham’s voice cracked. “If that lady hadn’t come along when she did, I’d have died.”

  “How could someone do that to another human being? I can’t even imagine.”

  “I was in the hospital for two months and had three skin graft surgeries. Physical therapy for another six months to regain the movement in my right arm. Another few months of conditioning to get back into shape.” Graham pulled off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the scars.

  Graham didn’t want to see the revulsion in Connor’s eyes; he knew exactly how disgusting his scars were. Angry licks of shining red, jumbled with narrow ridges of pale tissue. Large patches of textured skin from the skin grafts. All of this pulled and stretched the healthy skin alongside. This lovely mess covered 40 percent of his back, his right side, and 20 percent of his chest, as well as his right arm from elbow to shoulder.

  “And that—” Graham fisted his hands in his shirt, “—is how my parents found out I was gay.”

  Connor was so quiet that Graham risked checking Connor’s expression. There was no horror, no revulsion. Instead, tears filled those wide hazel eyes, tracing down the golden skin of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, so sorry. Sorry you had to go through all of that, sorry I made you go through it all over again.”

  Graham balled the red shirt in his hands, feeling more naked than he ever had. It was the first time he’d shown his scars to anyone outside his family and doctors. And the details… he’d never told anyone except his therapist everything that happened that night.

  “Can I… does it hurt?”

  “No. Most of the burns damaged the nerves, so I don’t really have much sensation. I can sometimes feel pressure, or if something pushes on a bone or something, but the skin is numb for the most part.”

  Connor traced the outer edge of the scar along Graham’s shoulder. Goose bumps spread across the skin. The edges where scar tissue stretched healthy tissue were sensitive. How come Graham hadn’t known that?

  “You don’t want to do that,” Graham muttered, shaking out the shirt to put it on. “I know it’s nasty.”

  With his fingers, Connor covered Graham’s lips. “Don’t. Don’t ever be ashamed of your scars. They prove you survived something terrible, that you were strong enough to get through it.”

  Graham’s breath caught as he searched Connor’s face. He didn’t really believe that, did he?

  “And how cheesy is that?” Connor shook his head. “Yeah, I know, I sound like some kind of after-school special, but seriously, Graham, you survived. Hell, you didn’t just survive, you overcame it. Please tell me those assholes that did this to you got caught.”

  “Oh yeah. Not only could I identify them, the idiots still had the gas jug when the cops got there. They tried to deny it at first but admitted to everything, including why they did it, prett
y quickly. Because I was hospitalized in the burn unit, knocked out by major narcotics, it was a while before I was able to make a statement to the cops. By the time I could, though, they already had most of the details from their confessions. The cops knew it was a gay bashing, and hate crimes bring harsher sentencing.” There was cold satisfaction in that. “All but the youngest of the three brothers were tried as adults, so they’re currently doing time at the Missouri State Penitentiary.”

  “How long?”

  “They were each sentenced to five years—”

  “That’s it?”

  “—with the option of parole for good behavior. I think most of that was due to the vandalism. There have been similar cases where the person committing similar crimes was only sentenced to two months. Five years is huge.”

  “I don’t understand how you can be as… laid-back as you are. Why aren’t you angry or bitter?”

  “I’m still a little angry and bitter at times, but I’ve learned how to put the extra energy to work for me, rather than let it control my actions.” At Connor’s disbelieving look, Graham smiled. “Hey, I had a very expensive therapist. He was well worth the money.”

  Graham’s cell phone started chirping, and he leaned over to the bedside stand and grabbed it. “Hey, Mom. Yeah, we’re awake. We’ll need time to shower and get changed. Then we can meet you guys for brunch.” He paused for a moment before covering the speaker on the phone and asking Connor, “Mom wants to know if there’s anything else in the city you want to see before we head out.”

  It seemed to take Connor a minute to focus his mind in another direction. “Not that I can think of. I’m game for anything.”

  Graham repeated the information to his mother before ending the call. “We’d better get up and moving. They’re going to meet us in the lobby in half an hour.” He slid off the bed to head to the bathroom.