Fever Pitch

by Heidi Cullinan

  Marius’s voice gentled. “Nobody’s mad at you.”

  Aaron’s throat got thick. “I’m so lonely. Even with all you guys around, even though everything is good, sometimes I’m so lonely.”

  “Which is why I’d argue you shouldn’t sleep with Baz.”

  Aaron started to object, to say he wasn’t sleeping with Baz yet, but of course he wanted to, and he was pretty sure but for Damien it would have happened. He knew where the dance-floor flirting was going, where all of it was. Obviously everyone had known. His throat threatened to close in embarrassment.

  Marius chuckled. “It’s cool, man. Relax.”

  “How can I? Basically I was acting like a whore.”

  “You want to know how many times a chick ground on me at the bar and I followed her home my freshman year? I get it.”

  “But you think it’s a bad idea.”

  “Baz has been my roommate since day one. I know how he operates. I get why. I don’t think you’re on his same page, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  They were almost to the door, and Marius fiddled in his pocket for his keys. “It’s your call what you do with him. Just don’t think Baz is going to be a boyfriend. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t think he can be one, not anymore.”

  There was a story there, and it reminded Aaron of the day Baz had hunted Elijah down, the day they carefully never discussed. Clearly Marius wouldn’t be sharing any stories tonight. It was just as well, because once Aaron saw the saggy couch in the corner of the living room, his rum-soaked body forgot all about getting off and yearned only for sleep.

  He woke in the middle of the night, mouth tasting like rotten ass, head and gut complaining loudly. After a trip to the bathroom, he meandered into the kitchen to look for water.

  Baz sat at the table in a pair of boxers, hair standing on end, a mug of tea in his hand. For the first time since Aaron had known him, his sunglasses were off. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled. “Hey, you.”

  Aaron rubbed his arm. Baz’s eyes were pretty, but sad. “Hey.”

  “You should go to bed.” This was what Baz said, but his tone urged Aaron to stay right where he was. Or better yet, come closer.

  The sadness in Baz’s gaze gave way to lust.

  Aaron was thirsty, but he wasn’t thinking about water anymore. He thought about Baz, the way Baz looked at him. The way Baz touched him. He thought about how long it had been since Hickey Lake, yet how much it still hurt and ached to think of that night. How Giles was so damn polite with him and nothing more.

  How Baz was right here, clearly wanting to fuck.

  Aaron longed to knock the night at the lake out of his head. He wanted to have sex—sex with a guy who wasn’t going to be weird on him after. He wanted to get laid. He wanted to suck cock. He wanted to get licked again. God, he wanted to be fucked, straight up. He wanted it all.

  He wanted to stop feeling so hollow inside, so lonely even in a room full of people.

  They started with a kiss—one second Baz had a snarky grin on his face, and then his grin was gone, those soft, spicy lips teasing and tasting at Aaron’s. He pulled Aaron’s clothes off with startling ease. After sliding the briefs down, he held Aaron’s ass in his hands. The grip, firm and commanding, made Aaron shudder.

  This was everything Aaron wanted. Baz murmured soft, sweet things to Aaron, and wicked ones. He told Aaron to suck his cock, and Aaron got on his knees. He worried he’d do it wrong, as this was his first time, but Baz was wonderful here too.

  This had to be the start of something real this time. Being with Baz made Aaron’s body hum.

  Baz was a Walter Aaron could have.

  Baz blew Aaron too, laughing wickedly as he discovered how much Aaron enjoyed being rimmed. He laid Aaron on the kitchen table, pushed his thighs open and went to town. Jesusgod, Baz was almost better than Giles, and Aaron hadn’t thought that was possible. He let himself go, giving over to everything he’d been holding back. Baz took it all.

  “You’re so sexy, honey. You’re butter melting in my mouth.” Baz licked up Aaron’s taint and grinned. “Sure hope I get to take your ass someday.”

  “Take it now.” Aaron pulled his legs wider, offering himself. It was right. It had to be. “Fuck me. Right now.” Let me not feel so alone.

  Baz’s eyes were dark beads in the shadows. “You sure you want to give up your first time for this?”

  How did he know it was Aaron’s first? “I’m sure.”

  Baz stroked Aaron’s thigh lazily before letting his thumb circle Aaron’s hole. “How about we play around first, see how it goes. How much have you had in your ass, sweetie?”

  “A few fingers.” Aaron flushed in memory.

  Bending, Baz kissed Aaron’s cockhead. “Let me get some slick and see if we can’t expand your horizons.”

  Aaron didn’t lose his nerve when Baz left. He lay on the table, legs still pulled back, cool air on his ass. He wanted this. Everything felt so good, all the shadows chased out of his head. He wanted them gone for good. Baz was better than Giles. So much better. This was how it had been for Walter and Kelly. Baz would be the same, and it would all be okay.

  When Baz returned, he sat on a chair and drew Aaron into his lap, making him straddle Baz’s legs. After a goose-bump-inducing kiss, he pressed slicked fingers into Aaron’s ass, first one, then two. Aaron groaned against the burn, trying to pull his thighs wider, take more of Baz in.

  “Fuck,” Baz murmured between nibbles of his lip. “You’re a born bottom, baby.” He groaned with Aaron as a third finger went in. “You sure you haven’t been sitting on fire hydrants?”

  Aaron could barely speak, too intent on fucking himself on Baz’s hand. “Oh God. I need—ohgod.” He clutched at Baz’s shoulders and kissed him hard and desperate. When Baz broke away, he sucked at his neck. “Please—please.”

  Except somehow that was when it ended. Baz still fingered him, but the tone changed. Instead of putting on the condom he’d brought down, he grabbed their cocks and jerked them together the same way Giles had. It was hot, coming with three of Baz’s fingers jammed into him, but it wasn’t what he wanted. It hurt, too, when he tried to nuzzle Baz after and felt himself quietly pushed away. Worse, when Aaron looked at him, Baz averted his gaze.

  Aaron panicked. “Did I do something wrong?” The thought of losing not just Baz but the refuge of the White House left him cold.

  “No.” Baz still couldn’t look at him, though, and when he touched Aaron’s arm, it was lingering and sad. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  Aaron didn’t sleep, only lay awake on the couch with his stomach in knots until at five he headed to his dorm. Elijah was there, and he sat up briefly when Aaron opened the door.

  For a moment their eyes met, but Aaron glanced quickly away, worried at what his roommate might see.

  He fell asleep in his own bed at eight and slept until almost noon. Elijah was gone when he woke, probably to church.

  Aaron played the scene in the kitchen over and over in his mind, trying to find the point where he went wrong. Had he done something embarrassing? Was it because he hadn’t brushed his teeth? Was he gross?

  Had he liked it too much? That one felt as if he’d discovered the corner of the truth, but it made him despair.

  He couldn’t even be himself during sex?

  Why did this keep happening? Why, every time he tried for something more than friends, did he mess it up?

  Why couldn’t he figure out what he was doing wrong?

  At one he couldn’t take it anymore. He showered—brushed his teeth—and went to the White House. He’d ask Baz what he’d done wrong. He wasn’t doing what he had with Giles. Or Tanner. No more of this. He’d get it figured out.

  Except Baz wasn’t there, Marius said.

  “Took a cab into the Cities. He was in one of h
is moods, so I expect him to wander in tomorrow night in time for choir rehearsal, smelling like a rotten bar and covered in hickeys.” Marius held the door wider and motioned to Aaron. “Come on in. Damien made popcorn.”

  Aaron backed away, too rattled by Baz’s departure to do anything else. He’d left? To go whoring?

  What the hell had Aaron done wrong?

  Marius called after him as Aaron ran, but Aaron didn’t answer. He got away as quickly as he could, not wanting anyone to witness his breakdown this time.

  He was fucked up. It kept happening, and he was the common variable. Something about the way he acted during sex with guys was wrong. He went round and round trying to ID the technique, the…something driving them off, not wanting to speak to him after, taking months to at best be awkward.

  He couldn’t think of anything. Nothing at all.

  Because it’s you who’s fucked up. It’s not what you did. It’s you. There’s something wrong with you that goes all the way down. You can’t fix it. You can’t stop it. You’re alone because you’re so fucked up nobody can get close to you.

  The tears Damien had stopped at homecoming came roaring back, threatening to spill over at any moment. Aaron drifted onto campus, fixing his gaze on the sidewalk to avoid eye contact with anyone, routing himself behind a building. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know what to do.

  His phone rang. It was Damien, but Aaron canceled the call, too mortified to answer. His carefully hoarded tears spilled over. When he saw people coming, he ducked behind a Dumpster and sank to the ground, tucked into a ball.

  Despair beat at his skull, urging him to let it drive his pulse into the stratosphere, to burn everything out but the white heat of hysteria. He remembered what Baz had said about emotions—yes, he wanted to get high. He needed to get high on something, anything. He had to escape this. He could not keep feeling this way.

  He wanted to die. He wanted to climb into the Dumpster and be taken out with the trash. He wanted this to end, wanted out, wanted off the bus. He wanted to be old enough to buy his own alcohol, to go drink until he saw nothing, felt nothing, was nothing. Until he was dead.

  He wanted to go home. Except he didn’t have one. Not the one he was looking for.

  He didn’t remember deciding to make a call. It was as if his phone simply appeared in his hand, drifting there of its own accord. He wasn’t even sure who he was dialing, not until he selected the contact. He had a moment’s fear that this too would end in failure, but when the familiar voice drifted into his ear, the dam broke.

  “Walter,” he choked out, and then all he could do was cry.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took a long time for Aaron to be coherent enough to answer his friend’s frantic questions. He didn’t want to tell Walter what had happened, because this was exactly what Walter had warned against, but after a few pitiful evasions he told Walter the truth. He was broken and awful and nobody wanted him, and someday Walter would see it too.

  “That’s never going to happen.” Walter’s voice was almost sharp.

  “I think we’ll be okay as long as we don’t sleep together. That’s when they leave me.” Aaron choked back a sob. “I want to be with somebody. Not just sex. I’m always waiting for people, and they never come. When they do, they leave me.” The words didn’t make sense out loud, but it was so hard, so painful to put the solitude he felt inside into words.

  “Baby, honey, hold on. We’re almost there.”

  Aaron blinked. “You’re almost where?”

  “To Saint Timothy. We’re merging onto 94 now. Give us another ten minutes.”

  “You’re coming here?”

  “Of course I’m coming there. Kelly too. Where are you? Where should I go to find you?”

  The whole world peeled away, strange and hot and off-key. “But you can’t come here. You’re busy.”

  “Nothing right now is more important than you.”

  Walter kept talking to him, and technically Aaron answered, but all he could hear were those words, ringing in his head. Nothing right now is more important than you.

  No one had ever said that to him before.

  The minutes bled by, and the next thing he knew he had wandered to a side street at Walter’s direction—and then there was Walter’s bright blue car. Walter climbed out, tall and dark, his brown eyes full of concern. Kelly appeared too, slighter of build and blond, neatly pressed and perfect as he bit his lip and looked to Walter for guidance on how to proceed.

  Walter opened his arms, and Aaron rushed into them.

  Walter held him tight, murmuring reassurances. Eventually he herded Aaron into the backseat, coming in after him as Kelly took the wheel. Though Aaron lost it when he realized the song playing softly in the background was “Titanium”.

  When they got concerned, sensing something specific had set him off, Aaron confessed, “This was our song.”

  Kelly startled. “It was? Oh God, it’s the song we—”

  “Kelly,” Walter interrupted, his tone a gentle warning.

  Kelly went all melty with empathy. “Got it. No more Sia.” The song stopped, and soon a gentle Disney soundtrack wafted over the speakers.

  It was weird, but much improved. “Where are we going?” Aaron hoped they were taking him back to Minneapolis. He’d get a job and help with rent. He’d stay out of their way, if only they’d talk to him sometimes, help him not feel so completely alone.

  “There’s a park up ahead.” Kelly pointed to a Garmin mounted on the dash. “I thought maybe we could be a little more comfortable there. Plus there’s a lake. Maybe there’ll be ducks or geese to watch. Though it’s probably too cold.”

  “Maybe the swans are still there.” Walter’s tone suggested an inside joke. Kelly met his gaze in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  A wave of self-consciousness washed away Aaron’s relief. “I’m so sorry you had to come all this way.”

  Kelly glanced over his shoulder. “Of course we came. It isn’t even an hour. Not all this way.”

  “I should have listened.” Aaron dug his thumbnail into his palm. “Walter told me not to—” He couldn’t finish. “I’m so stupid. So stupid.”

  “You aren’t stupid.” Walter, who had never stopped holding him, stroked his hair. “You’re just fine.”

  “I shouldn’t have done anything with Baz.”

  The tenor of Walter’s voice changed almost imperceptibly. “Can you tell me, hon, what happened? What exactly did he do?”

  With deep embarrassment, Aaron told them about his other breakdown, about Damien finding him. He explained about going over to the White House at homecoming, about how Baz had started flirting and Aaron had made out with him the night before. How Aaron screwed it up. Again.

  “I didn’t tell you because I was scared if I talked about it out loud it would evaporate, but it doesn’t matter. I still fucked it up. I just don’t know how. Why won’t anyone tell me what I do wrong? Don’t say it’s not me, because it is. It can’t be anything else.”

  “It is something else.” Walter’s voice was tight. “God, this is karma. This is fucking karma.”

  Kelly, who had pulled into a parking space, turned around. “You weren’t that bad, I’m sure.”

  “I was.” Walter bit off the words. “I was worse.”

  “Then fix it now. Help Aaron. Make it right.”

  Walter shifted on the seat so he could speak directly to Aaron. “You know how girls complain guys only want one thing? They go crazy trying to read the tea leaves, to cut through the bullshit to see if this is real or if this is another user asshole. Some of them have some pretty killer systems in place to sort the losers to the side. Well, here’s the thing. With gay men? The system kind of sucks. It’s two guys. It’s so easy to have sex it’s not even funny. Easy sex is great. Except we aren’t always as detached from it
as the stereotype says we should be.”

  “I just want to know what I did wrong,” Aaron said, trying to drag Walter back to the pertinent point.

  “What did you do wrong? You cared. You wanted it to be a real connection. You didn’t simply want to stave off the need for affection for a few hours. You wanted something real. Something that mattered.”

  “So I was a girl. I’m the girl.”

  “You’re not a girl—and for the record, there’s nothing wrong with girls, so don’t talk like that.” This came from Kelly, and a bit testily. “I wanted the same thing as you. I hadn’t had sex with anyone, and I wanted it to be special. That’s not a girl thing. That’s a people thing. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting it.”

  “It hasn’t ever been special for me.” Aaron felt rotten. So hollow and wrong. “I didn’t want to fake it anymore. I didn’t want to talk myself into girls again, but every time I try to be real with a guy it goes to hell.”

  Kelly and Walter exchanged a powerful, personal glance, telling a story Aaron couldn’t read. It made him so hungry he felt inside out.

  “It feels real when you care.” Walter’s gaze never left Kelly’s. “About caring who you’re with. It hurts because it’s real, because it’s hard to be brave enough to reach for something you want.” He squeezed Kelly’s hand, then turned to Aaron. “I was never as brave as you. Not until Kelly, and he had to all but drag me by the hair into a relationship. I was one of the assholes who bled off lonely one trick at a time. You said I didn’t have to drive all this way, but I did. Because hearing you so upset made me realize I have no idea how many guys I left feeling the way you do.”

  Aaron couldn’t imagine Walter ever making anyone feel like this. “You didn’t mean to hurt them. You couldn’t.”

  “I doubt Baz meant it either, or Giles. In fact, in Baz’s case in particular, I’d say he figured out he was fucking up in time. He got you off and got out. That’s why he didn’t fuck you. Not because there’s something wrong with you.”

  It would be so wonderful to believe Walter. “I’m the one who’s there every time. It has to be me. Even though Giles is nice now, it’s still awkward and weird.”