Ethan in Gold

by Amy Lane

  “Jesus,” Jonah breathed.

  “Came first?” Amelia said, popping out of the ladies’ room with impeccable timing. “God, Ethan, that was the best blasphemy ever!”

  “Are we ready to sit down?” Ethan said brightly. “I think we’re ready to sit down. Can we all go sit down? That would be great. I think we should, uhm….”

  “Sit down,” Jonah supplied dryly, and Ethan nodded with lots of enthusiasm.

  “That is a fantastic idea!”

  THE awkwardness faded before the movie started, and the three of them talked animatedly about Hayao Miyazaki and his contribution to storytelling.

  “Yeah,” Amelia complained, “but so much of it is sad! The end of Arietty was just awful.”

  “That wasn’t even Miyazaki!” Ethan pointed out. “That was Yonebayashi, his Padawan.” Ethan had finished his water in one gulp, practically, and now he was rolling the bottle between his hands and slicing the wrapper with his thumbnail.

  “Really?” Jonah said through a mouthful of popcorn. “I didn’t realize Yonebayashi worked with Miyazaki—that makes a lot of sense!”

  “Well”—Ethan looked embarrassed—“I know they worked on movies together. He was a key animator for Ponyo and Princess Mononoke and a bunch of others. I think they work for Studio Ghibli.” He sighed. “What I really need to find is a job that’ll pay me to just know this stuff. But most of that comes with, I don’t know, blogging and reporting and shit, and I’m just not that good of a writer, you know? I’m like… a B student, not an A student—it just doesn’t seem that important when I’m in school.”

  “You take classes?” Jonah asked, curious. He’d love to go to school—but then, he’d love to not work thirty-eight hours a week at PetSmart too.

  “Yeah. I’ve been sort of lazy about it, really. I take about nine units a semester, if I can get ’em—”

  “Yeah, but you model too.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened, and Jonah watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. “Model, yeah. Hand modeling—I forgot Tommy told you.” He held up the stripped bottle, then set it down again. He kept the wrapper between his fingers and began to shred it systematically. “I only have about two shoots a month. But, you know. A lot of my time goes into working out and keeping pretty, I guess, so I can keep, uhm, modeling.”

  Jonah heard it then—the pause before “modeling”—but he didn’t know what to say or how to comment or even what question to ask.

  But it was the second time he’d heard it, and he swore he’d remember it—the sound of Ethan lying.

  The movie came on, and for a whole two hours Jonah was completely immersed in the story of Ponyo the goldfish princess and her desire to become human. Toward the middle of the movie, as the tide rose and Sosuke’s island was about to become submerged, Jonah heard gasps on either side of him. He looked to his left and saw Amelia, her hand to her mouth, her eyes bright and shiny as she rooted Ponyo on.

  To his right he saw Ethan doing the same thing. He smiled a little in the darkness—he could see why Amelia would identify with Ponyo. God, if anyone would want to be a human girl and not swimming through the world with water in her lungs, it was going to be Melly. But Ethan—for him, it had to be pure empathy.

  Jonah reached out to touch his hand, to be a friend and remind him that it was just a movie and that it would be all right in the end. Ethan grasped his hand then, tightly, and clung, his face still toward the screen, his other hand over his mouth, until the scary part had gone. When he let go, Jonah moved his hand quietly and looked back at his face.

  It had been completely unconscious, that grasping of his hand. Mr. I’m-a-one-night-stand had needed comfort through a children’s movie so badly he’d held a hand in the dark without realizing it.

  It made Jonah want to cry.

  Or, in all honesty, maybe that was just the muscles in his ass and inner thigh. The Tower was an old theatre, and the springs in the chairs were mostly shot. When the movie ended, he shoved himself up out of his chair and stumbled backward into Ethan’s arms.

  Ethan caught him and solicitously stood him on his feet, and Jonah smiled at him in gratitude and hoped he couldn’t hear Jonah’s heart lion-roaring in his ears. The heart thundering and palm sweats didn’t get any better when they got outside and Ethan told him, “Here—let’s get your sister in the car and I’ll rub on that a little, okay?”

  Jonah must have made a sound, something, because Ethan bumped his shoulder and muttered, “Don’t go there, please?” before turning around and grabbing his empty bottle and the empty popcorn container. He’d neatly stashed the shreds of silver wrapper and the little rolls of glue that held the label on in the first place inside the bottle.

  “Yeah, fine, but you’re the one who’s going to have to rub my ass!”

  Ethan laughed this time—not a giggle, a full-out openmouthed laugh—and Jonah was torn between wishing he could just die so he could stop wanting so badly and hoping he could at least get his ass rubbed first.

  It was a crisp night, but not too cold, but Jonah still turned his mom’s little Corolla on and pumped the heater full blast.

  “Jonah!” Amelia complained.

  Jonah shook his head. The coughing fit in the bathroom had scared him. “It’s been foggy all day—you need the heat.”

  “Great. Life in a sauna,” she grumbled.

  He sighed. A few workouts did not a fantastic attitude make. He shut the door and turned around to Ethan, who was looking at him with understanding.

  “She’s sort of bucking the system, isn’t she?”

  “You recognize the signs?”

  “Been infected, suffered through it, been a carrier,” Ethan confirmed with sort of an enviable insouciance. If Jonah hadn’t been able to pinpoint that lying thing in his voice, he would honestly believe this thought didn’t trouble the guy with the Roman god face and the affable smile.

  “Ooh, this is gonna be tricky. Look, at the risk of setting us off again, I need you to turn around and put your hands on the car, exactly like I’m going to frisk you, okay?”

  “Really?”

  “For serious,” Ethan said, not smiling even a little.

  “You know the whole world is going to think you’re molesting me, right?” Jonah said with a wink, but Ethan didn’t flirt back.

  “Being molested requires a power imbalance and a sense of humiliation. I would never do that to you, Jonah, okay? Do you want this?”

  Wow—of all the times for the guy to get serious. “Yeah, sure, hold on a sec.”

  Jonah turned around and made sure his crotch was below the window line, because he was pretty sure some stuff was going to happen that he was very sure he never wanted his little sister to see.

  Ethan crouched down, and Jonah felt big hands circling his calf through his jeans. God—they were hard and insistent and they dug into that achy, sore muscle until Jonah let out a little groan. He hadn’t even known that part of him was tight until he felt the warmth of Ethan’s hands soaking through his skin and into his indignant sinews.

  “That’s… oh God. That’s really sort of wonderful,” he confessed.

  Ethan grunted. “Jeez, you don’t have a lot of mass, but what you’ve got is tight. Take it easy when you start, okay, Jonah? I mean, it’s great that you want to work out, but don’t hurt yourself.”

  Those magnificent hands moved up to the muscle starting right above his knees, and Jonah had to work to stay standing. He mashed himself up against the car until the cool metal started seeping into all points south, and even then, that was more of an arousal than a deterrent.

  “Omigod….” Jonah moaned, trying to keep it soft. Ethan’s hands were magic, and there, right inside his thigh, running up to his glutes—that was perfect.

  “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked, pausing.

  “Don’t stop!” Jonah begged. “Damn, that thing has been killing me.”

  Ethan chuckled, and his face was close enough to Jonah’s backside that he actually f
elt Ethan’s breath on his upper thigh. “Yeah, I’ve strained that one. It can fuck up your day, all right.”

  “Not to mention your fucking, probably,” Jonah muttered.

  Ethan’s chuckle reassured him that yes, they could joke about that, even though he admitted to being a hookup and nothing more. “Yeah, that too. Okay, I’m gonna reach around—let me know if I make you uncomfortable, okay?”

  “Not a”—oh God, Ethan splayed his other hand against Jonah’s thigh—“problem.” He closed his eyes.

  Ethan used his knuckles to dig into his backside, and Jonah’s whole body relaxed from the pain at the same time his skin tingled, and his cock woke up thinking, Holy crap! Man-god hand, just to the south! Did you hear me, soldier? I said man-god hand, just to the… to the… just….

  Ethan dug in with his knuckle again and Jonah wiggled his hips—

  And Ethan’s hand brushed his cock through his jeans.

  Jonah moaned and sagged against the car, and Ethan bounced up like he was on springs. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, you….”

  Jonah turned around, his eyes almost rolling back in his head when he realized that persistent, irritating cramp in his ass was gone. “Hey, it’s okay.” He offered up a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it. I sort of… wiggled. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Ethan was four feet away from him, arms crossed in the light from the sodium lamp of the parking lot.

  Jonah took a step forward and Ethan took a step back, hands out.

  “I didn’t,” he said, hands out. “I just… I don’t ever want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, okay? I just—”

  “Jesus, Ethan, if you keep walking backwards, you’re going to end up in the street. Stand still, okay?” Jonah took a couple steps toward him, relieved when he stood his ground, jaw jutted defiantly, eyes glaring out defensively from under an almost heavy brow.

  “This is not a bonding moment,” Ethan said, and Jonah got close enough to touch his face gently.

  “Of course not,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “This is a friend reassuring a friend that he didn’t do anything wrong. Can you live with that?”

  Ethan took a deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to spazz—”

  Jonah kissed him.

  He looked so frightened, so sad, and Jonah had seen him shaking. Jonah… well, geez, there was one really good way to show him that his touch hadn’t been unwanted, right?

  Ethan opened his mouth in surprise, and Jonah took his advantage and pressed in, and then Ethan… oh God. Fucking Ethan just wrapped arms like cannons around Jonah’s slender shoulders and pulled him tight. Jonah was surrounded by hard body, animal warmth, and a subtle, dark aftershave that couldn’t quite mask the smell of his skin. And he tasted like… damn. Like vitamin water, for one thing, but underneath that he tasted like warmth and spice and human being. A good, decent human being, Jonah was sure of it.

  And then he groaned, sagging a little, overwhelmed by the heat and the gorgeous physicality of the man, and Ethan pulled back and hauled in ragged breaths while Jonah leaned his head against Ethan’s shoulder and tried to remember his own name.

  “Your little sister is in the car,” Ethan said at last, logically. “And you gotta go.”

  That was impetus. Jonah had to admit it. That was reason enough to step back and try to remember who he was and why they were there.

  “There’s a comic-book store off of Auburn,” he said, fighting to think. “Ever been there?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, I don’t know the city that well. My family lived up in Folsom. I just came down for work.”

  Jonah blinked. He knew Ethan had gotten kicked out, but…. “Your family moved?”

  “My sisters. They’re going up to Portland by the end of the month.”

  “What about your mom—”

  “Can die cold and alone and I don’t give a fuck. Jonah, you don’t want into my life, okay? But yeah, I’d love to meet you at the comic-book store. That would be great. What’s your work schedule like?”

  “I’ll text you,” Jonah said, his head swimming a little. “Maybe three days. I can take a bus—”

  “I’ll come get you after work if you want,” Ethan offered. “Is this your mom’s car?”

  “Yeah. Special occasion.” Jonah looked around the parking lot. “But I don’t see your Mazda around. Where’d it—”

  Ethan beeped his remote, and an older car, a hybrid, painted gold, beeped, and he cast a sheepish look at Jonah. “It was mostly vanity anyway,” he said softly. “Looking forward to that text.”

  And then he walked purposefully toward his car, leaving Jonah to back up and hope that Amelia still let him into his.

  She did, but not without wolf whistles and applause.

  “Jesus, Jonah, that was awesome. If you’d gone after Connor whatshisface like that in high school, you wouldn’t have kept your V-card.”

  Jonah grimaced. Yeah. There was such a thing as too close. “Connor whatshisface would have outed me and then beat the shit out of me,” he told her, which was nothing but the truth. “Ethan… well, he’s gay, for one thing.”

  “And another?”

  “He’s… I don’t know. Just….” Jonah shook his head. “There’s something sort of broken in him.”

  “So you thought you’d fix him with the magic kiss?”

  Jonah sighed. “Yeah, well, it hasn’t worked for all the guys he claims to have slept with. He’s probably right. I should probably back off.”

  Amelia smiled at him, and he grimaced and backed the car out to take them home.

  “What?” he asked, irritated.

  “How’d he kiss?”

  Jonah sighed and let himself enjoy this part. “Exactly like he looks like he’d kiss. Like a fuckin’ god!”

  Damn. Her entire life, he, his mom, his dad—they’d all lived to make her laugh. He treasured her laugh as they drove home in the darkness, but at the same time, he yearned wistfully for just one more kiss.

  THE comic-book store turned out to be a great time-suck—but too expensive for Jonah’s taste. They wandered the aisles, looked at the artwork, and talked randomly about Marvel vs. DC.

  “I wish they sold manga or yaoi,” he sighed, looking at the latest issue of Batman. God, the Dark Knight got really frickin dark! Looking sideways, he bumped shoulders with Ethan. It was an experiment. Ethan bumped him back, and he made a mental note of it.

  “There’s a used-book store in Roseville that has stacks of it,” Ethan said. “Maybe we can go on Thursday.”

  “Not tomorrow?” Jonah leaned into him, ostensibly to put the comic book back in the rack, and he was unsurprised when Ethan leaned back into his space. Interesting.

  “Naw—tomorrow I’m going shopping with the guys from work. Chase is coming home from the hospital in two weeks, and Tommy wants to throw him a welcome-home party. It’s important.” Ethan picked up a comic book still in the wrapper. The glare from the cellophane obscured the bright purples and reds, as well as the title, and Ethan skated his fingertips across the surface. It crinkled under his fingers in one spot and he worried it again, smiling unconsciously when he hit that spot again and again.

  “Okay. Well, I’m off Friday—can we go Friday?”

  Ethan thought for a second and continued to crinkle the cellophane. Jonah put his hand over his fingers, just to still them, and Ethan stopped and smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

  “Yeah,” he said. “After my workout. Hey, you want to work out together? That would be cool!”

  Jonah grimaced. “Yeah, uhm. No.”

  “No?” Ethan put the comic book back, touching that spot wistfully, and took a step away. “Why not? I work out with my guys from work—they’re really awesome, and—”

  “And they’re all models, Ethan,” Jonah explained patiently. “And I’m not. I’ve got skinny legs, a sunken chest, and a soft stomach. Maybe we can not put me in the same room with all your hot friends, okay?”
/>
  Ethan gaped at him blankly for a second and then blushed. “Uhm, yeah,” he said, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’ll, uhm, pick you up for lunch, then.” He took a step away, and then three, and then he moved around to the other aisle.

  Jonah let out a sigh. God, he was so hard to read sometimes. But if Jonah had to guess, he’d say he just hurt the guy’s feelings, and that had not been his intention at all.

  He brought it up in the car as Ethan drove him home.

  “I… I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole,” he said, wondering if this topic could possibly be more awkward. “I… I mean, they all look as good as you. Tommy, Dex, that Kane kid who’s obsessed with the fucking snakes. I’d just… you know. I mean, I’d rather just go to my gym and try not to be embarrassed there.”

  Ethan grunted. “You must think we’re all pretty fucking superficial, Jonah. I wish we were. I mean, I wish the nice bodies were all that mattered. It would make shit easier.”

  Jonah had watched him when his friends came in. He hung over their shoulders, gave them hugs, and generally piled on top of them like a puppy. But with Jonah, every touch was a careful waltz. Jonah touched, Ethan touched back, but not before. It was like he kept a respectful distance or something. Jonah had been practicing, getting into Ethan’s space, seeing if he could get Ethan to linger. Okay, so they’d be friends. Jonah wanted to be one of the friends he hung on, one of the friends he’d wrap in an over-the-back hug and dig his chin into a tender shoulder. Jonah wanted to be a touching friend, and he thought maybe the pretty body was the ticket into the club.

  Or had.

  “No,” Jonah lied, feeling stupid and callow and like he made way too many assumptions. “Okay, I just want to know what it takes to be in your club.”

  “Our club?”

  “Yeah. The ‘Ethan touches everyone except Jonah’ club.”

  Ethan pulled up to a stoplight and grimaced. “I’ve known them for a while,” he said. “We… we sort of work at a job where your physical boundaries get compromised really easily, so we just don’t have them. I don’t… I mean, especially after the other night, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”