by Witt, L. A.
“Oh yeah. The antiretrovirals were shitty for a while until the docs found the right dose and the right med, but thank God I was diagnosed around the time some of the newer drugs were coming out. Early on, it was pretty bad—the shit I took in the beginning was fucking miserable. But then the good stuff came available, and my dad had insurance that actually covered it, so things got a lot better. My viral load’s been undetectable for years. Aside from the ARS there at the beginning, I’ve never really had any symptoms.” He scowled. “Well, except for side effects from the drugs, but those have been all right for a long time too.”
“Good. Good.” I exhaled. “Man. I just can’t even imagine. Seventeen . . .”
“Yeah, well. Sixteen-year-olds don’t always do bright things. As my dad always says, play stupid games? Win stupid prizes.”
Frowning, I caressed his face. “I don’t think having sex as a teenager qualifies as playing stupid games. Hormones are what they are.”
“They are, but . . .” Jesse sighed, lowering his gaze. “Thing is, I knew the risks. I went to one of those schools that actually taught about condoms and HIV and everything. But my boyfriend told me he was a virgin, and I stupidly believed him. And since we were both”—he made air quotes again—“‘virgins,’ we didn’t need to use condoms. So, we didn’t.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“That was about my reaction. Thank God I was diagnosed early, before I’d been with someone else, or I might’ve infected them.” He shuddered.
I swallowed. “What about him? I assume you told him?”
“Of course.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Naturally, he accused me of giving it to him even though he was the lying manwhore, but at least he got tested and . . .” He waved a hand. “Hopefully he got treated and started using rubbers.”
“Hopefully.” I studied him. There were moments when Jesse seemed so young, almost boyish, but then there were moments like this where he seemed years beyond his age. Which I supposed made sense—getting that news when you were barely old enough to drive was bound to age someone. I didn’t want to think about how almost-seventeen-year-old me would have coped. “You must get a lot of people who don’t take the news well.” I cringed. “I’m sorry I was—”
“Stop.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Quit beating yourself up. Now that I know what really went through your mind, you had every right.”
“Still.”
He kissed my fingers again. “It’s fine. And yeah, the reactions can run the gamut. Doesn’t bother some people. Others get weird about it. Guys I try to hook up with can either be cool or run screaming for the hills. And to be honest, if it bothers them, I think I’d rather they be a dick and run off.” He fidgeted like the conversation was making him uncomfortable. “It’s a lot easier to take than being in bed with someone who’s trying really, really hard not to show how much you disgust him.”
“I’m sure.” I still felt like an asshole for how I’d made him feel that first night, but I didn’t apologize again.
Jesse moistened his lips. “You want to know what hurt the most after I tested positive?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“My parents kind of freaked out, and they ended up letting it out to my grandparents. Which . . .” He sighed. “I wasn’t thrilled about that part, but . . .” He waved his hand. “Anyway, the thing that hurt? My grandma wouldn’t kiss me on the cheek anymore.”
If it had been possible, my heart would have literally snapped in two right then. I didn’t know what to say, so I just slid closer to him and draped an arm over his stomach.
He watched his fingers trail up my forearm. “Before that, she was one of those grandmas, you know? And I’d always hated it because she’d just grab my face and give me a huge kiss on the cheek, and she had this lipstick that was almost impossible to get off. But then when we went to see her after we found out I was poz . . .” He chewed his lip. “Up until then, I’d been really scared, and I was freaking out that I was going to die. And I’d kind of assumed nobody would want to sleep with me again, but I was totally okay with that at the time because that was how I’d gotten it, you know?” He swallowed. “But when my grandma wouldn’t do the thing she’d done every time she’d seen me from the time I was an infant . . .”
I laced our fingers together. “I can’t begin to imagine. And I can see why you took my reaction the way you did. I can’t really think of a reason why you shouldn’t have.”
“Once bitten,” he whispered. He was quiet for a few seconds before shaking himself and meeting my gaze. “You had no way of knowing, though, and I’m really glad you didn’t let that be the end of it.”
“Me too.”
“I know you’re not disgusted.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “Some guys will humor me enough to kiss me until they can tactfully bow out, but they’re sure as hell not going to bottom without a second thought.”
I squirmed at the memory of taking his thick cock. Caressing his cheek, I said, “They’re idiots.”
He met my eyes and a smile slowly formed. “I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be one of them.” Inching closer to me, he snaked his arm around to my back. “’Cause I kinda like what happens when we end up naked.”
I laughed as goose bumps sprang up all over my body. “Yeah. Me too.” As his thigh brushed mine, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Maybe we should do this again.”
“Go another round tonight?” He lifted his chin for a brief kiss. “Or see each other again after this?”
“Yes.”
Jesse laughed softly and kissed me for real, and I slid a hand up into his hair as he slid his tongue into my mouth.
Yeah, we were definitely doing this again.
And not just tonight.
Chapter 15
Jesse
“I’m going to go out on a limb,” Lydia said with a smirk, “and guess you and your boy made up last night?”
I glared at her over my coffee cup. “Don’t you have . . .” I flailed a hand in the general direction of her art room. “Arting to do?”
“Oh yes. Plenty. But it can wait until I’ve finished giving you a hard time about limping in here with your eyes barely open.”
“I’m not limping.” I stretched a bit, wincing at the ache in my left hip. If I was this sore after three very athletic rounds in my bed, I could only imagine how Garrett felt today. The guy was plenty fit and limber, but he’d bottomed all three times. And he had like fifteen years on me. He had to be feeling it today. I just hoped he agreed that all the aches, twinges, knots, and stiff spots were so worth it.
Lydia cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to her. “You’re aware that you’re grinning like an idiot, right?”
Well, now that she mentioned it . . .
I coughed and schooled my expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” She laughed, but then she turned serious. “You guys did work things out, though?”
I nodded before taking a deep swallow of coffee. “There was, um . . . He was right. There was more to the story.”
Her eyebrow arched the same way it did whenever I tried to bullshit her. “After what you told me, I’m a little hard-pressed to believe he had any excuse.”
“He does.” I rolled my stiff shoulders. “He’s . . .” I hesitated, not sure how much I should tip Garrett’s hand to my boss. “Just trust me, okay?”
Lydia pursed her lips.
“Trust me,” I insisted, putting up my hands. “I don’t want to go into detail because I don’t want to share his business, but he made sense, and he also spent the whole night apologizing.” I paused. “Well, when he could talk, I mean . . .”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, and her expression softened. “Okay. As long as you guys are on the same page.”
“We are.”
“Good.” She finally smiled. “I trust your judgment. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will. Now get to work before the boss catches y
ou slacking off.”
Lydia laughed. “Brat.” Then she went into her art room and I got to work. As I was straightening a display that some marauding kids had jostled, my phone buzzed. I glanced around. My bosses didn’t mind me texting on the clock as long as I didn’t abuse the privilege, but I didn’t need someone glancing over my shoulder if things got racy. Which they hadn’t yet with Garrett, but after last night, I suspected they would.
Safe from prying eyes, I checked the message.
Can barely move today. Do it again? ;)
I shivered. Racy texts, right on schedule. When/where?
He responded before I’d even pocketed my phone. Have to work late tonight, but I’m off tomorrow. Want to try that Italian place again?
My heart fluttered as I wrote back, Definitely. Esp if we go somewhere afterwards. ;)
As long as “somewhere” means getting fucked like that again.
Oh. It does. It absolutely does.
* * *
It was weird to walk back into Il Trovatore with Garrett. Our first attempt at a date in this place had ended in disaster before the breadsticks had even arrived. Judging by the texts we’d been exchanging since yesterday, this attempt would end with bruises and orgasms. Just the way I liked it.
I suppressed a shiver as I took my seat. We were three tables over from the place we’d sat before. Another couple was at that table, gazing at each other lovingly while they talked over wine and steaks.
We did have the same waitress, though, and she gave us a wary side eye as she came to take our drink orders. I tried not to look as embarrassed as I felt. It wasn’t like we’d made a huge scene the other night. I’d gotten up, made it halfway through storming out before Garrett had tried to stop me, and then finished storming out. I had no doubt people had noticed, and Garrett must’ve been mortified, but it wasn’t like we’d had a screaming match in the middle of the dining room or something.
The waitress must have caught on fast that all was well between us now, because by the time we’d finished ordering our drinks, she’d visibly relaxed. It wasn’t like we were the first couple to make a scene in public, then show up again like nothing had ever happened. Okay, we weren’t exactly a couple, per se, but she didn’t know that.
I didn’t mention her reactions to Garrett. The less said about the other night, the better.
After we’d ordered dinner and gotten our drinks, I met his gaze across the table. “So, how are you settling into living here?”
“It’s . . . an adjustment. The lack of traffic is a bonus.”
I laughed. “Oh yeah. And the traffic has actually gotten a lot worse since Wolf’s Landing showed up.”
“Worse?” His eyebrow arched. “Than what? An old lady in a station wagon?”
“Basically.”
Garrett smirked. “Oh, that must’ve been a hardship for all of you.” He put a hand over his heart and sighed. “Going from two cars on the road to six.”
“Seven,” I corrected. “In a town this small, that makes a difference.”
Our eyes met, and we both laughed.
“Well, horrendous traffic aside,” he said, “I do like it. It’s a switch, but I like it.”
“It’s a nice little town. That’s why I’m still here.”
“I can see that. I don’t know if I’ll stay in that apartment, though. It’s okay, but . . .” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. It just feels temporary, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah, I get you.” I took a quick drink, and as I put the glass down, added, “If you do decide to move, places are a lot cheaper outside of downtown. Especially outside the city limits.”
“Not much to rent out there.” He absently thumbed the edge of the placemat. “I’m not sure I want to buy anything quite yet.”
“Understandable. I’m actually thinking of buying later this year. I’ve got money saved up for a down payment and all that, but I’m waiting until after the networks announce their cancelations.”
Garrett cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
“I’ve been hearing rumors that Wolf’s Landing is getting canceled after this season. If it does, there’s going to be a huge exodus from Bluewater Bay.”
He grimaced. “Could mean a nasty blow to the economy.”
“I know, and it’ll probably be rough for a while, but Forks recovered after Twilight left, so . . .”
“Fair point. Hmm. I hadn’t thought about waiting to see if the show’s renewed. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“At least right now, everything in this town revolves around the show. There’s a reason the newspaper includes the ratings every week.”
Garrett whistled. “Seems a little precarious, basing an economy around something that could go away overnight.”
“If you think about it, any town’s economic base could implode.” I shrugged. “Everett and Renton are pretty diverse, but let’s face it—if Boeing ever closed, the whole western half of the state would be in a world of hurt.”
“That’s true. Very true.” He paused, idly playing with the edge of his placemat. “So I’ve heard a lot of people say Bluewater Bay is small enough, everyone knows someone involved with the show.” His eyebrows rose, silently asking for confirmation.
“Oh yeah. Definitely. I actually know a lot of people because the cast and crew come into the shop all the time. In fact, that’s how I heard about the cancellation rumors. A couple of the actors were grumbling about it the other day. I hope it’s not true—the ratings are still good, and they’re not even halfway through the books—but it’s really expensive to produce. So, we’ll see.” I paused. “Filming goes on hiatus pretty soon, and Carter’s leaving for a couple of months to shoot a new film. Levi just came back from shooting another film in Canada. Everyone’s hoping that’ll put the two of them back on the radar of the mainstream audience and hopefully draw them to Wolf’s Landing.” I stopped again, realizing I’d been rambling. “Sorry, I’m—”
“Don’t apologize.” He smiled. “You really do get the inside scoop on this stuff, don’t you?”
I laughed. “Well, like I said, the cast and crew come around a lot. Plus Ian—my bosses’ boyfriend—works on the set. So, we hear a lot of it. And Carter was at almost every gaming tournament while Levi was gone. Poor guy was going crazy.”
“And now he’ll be gone.”
I nodded. “So I figure we’ll see Levi around the shop more.”
Garrett straightened. “Oh really?”
“Mm-hmm. Carter’s gotten him into gaming, and he’s as much a comic book dork as any of us.”
Garrett blinked, lips parting. “Levi . . . is a gamer? And into comics?”
“Yep.” I grinned when the pieces came together. “You’ve got a bit of a crush, don’t you?”
He instantly blushed and cleared his throat, glancing shyly around the restaurant as if someone might have overheard.
“Dude.” I waved a hand. “I don’t know many gay men who aren’t into him. And Carter, for that matter.”
“Carter’s hot and all, but Levi?” Garrett shivered. “Good God. I’ve been into him since the first Chad Eastwick movie.”
“Who hasn’t? But, uh, don’t ever mention that to him.”
“Why’s that?”
“Levi has, shall we say, a love-hate relationship with Chad Eastwick. The character put him on the map, but it also got him typecast for a long time.”
“Ah.” Garrett gave a slow nod. “That’s why he retired for a while, isn’t it?”
“Yep. So it’s kind of a sore spot for him.”
“Duly noted. Not that I expect to meet him anytime soon.”
“Honey.” I flashed him a wide grin. “You hang around me, you’ll end up meeting him. Especially if you play cards at the shop.”
“Oh. Good to know.” He paused. “And actually, I might do that anyway. Believe it or not, after I came by the other day, I dug out my collection of Magic.”
I sat straighter. “Did you?”
; He smiled, the expression caught somewhere between devilish and sheepish. “I haven’t played in a while, but going through the cards, the rules came back to me pretty fast. I mean, I might still be kind of rusty, but . . .” He half shrugged as he reached for his glass. “I’ve definitely got the itch to play again.”
“Oh really? You want to play sometime? With me, I mean?”
Garrett’s smile made the room spin. “Hell yeah. If you can handle getting your ass handed to you by an old guy, that is.”
I sputtered. “It’s gonna be like that, is it?”
He just winked.
Chuckling, I said, “Let’s do it. I’ve always got a few decks ready to roll. So, you know, whenever you’re game . . .”
He grinned over the rim of his glass. “Bring it on.”
“Oh, I will.”
“You must have a hell of a deck,” he said. “Having an employee discount on cards, and getting all the latest expansions . . .”
“I do, yeah.” I paused, suddenly a bit sheepish. “I, uh, probably shouldn’t work at a comic and game shop, honestly. I’m lucky my paychecks make it out the door.”
“But you get a discount, right?”
“I do,” I admitted, “but I still probably spend more at the shop than I would if I wasn’t there forty hours a week.”
“Eh.” Garrett shrugged. “It’s obviously stuff you love, and if you’ve got enough money saved for a down payment on a house, I don’t think anyone can judge you for indulging in comics and games.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
Right then, the waitress returned, balancing a large tray on her arm and shoulder. She carefully set our plates in front of us—chicken cacciatore for me and a delicious-looking eggplant parmesan for Garrett.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” she asked.
Garrett looked up at her. “Could I get another Coke, please?”
“Of course.” To me, she asked, “What about you, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, thanks.”