by Riley Hart
“Of course, I’ll go with you. I’m going to show you that you can trust me, Travis.” He doesn’t voice what I see on his face…that he needs me to show him that he can trust me too.
31
Gary
The party crowd is gathered on the balcony behind the Hartley Inn, a large “Happy Birthday, Liz” banner hanging across the back entrance. Everyone’s dressed like they just got out of church. Travis looks adorable in his fuchsia button-up and powder-blue bow tie. His impressive biceps fill out his rolled-up sleeves nicely. Since we started hitting the gym together, I’ve noticed he fits his clothes even better than when we first met. But as good as the top looks on him, I can’t keep from glancing at his ass, tight in the black dress pants he wears. His clothes are always so right for him. He knows he looks good and he flaunts it. In my gray button-up and black tie, I look like I’m getting ready for a funeral. I’m dressed so plainly because I’ve always worked to blend in with everyone. That’s always been my goal…until I met Travis. Since we started hanging out—since he started forcing me to see I’m more than I give myself credit for—I’m starting to feel more and more uneasy with the old me. Even these clothes feel wrong. Like with our sex, I want to explore. I want to experiment. I want to do something wild and different. Not just keep pretending to be this guy I’m not.
Travis and I stand in a line at the bar.
“You okay?” I ask Travis as he glances around uneasily. I figure he’s either scoping the place out for his brothers or nervous about running into his parents. Maybe both.
“I’m fine,” he says.
Being here with him, for something I know is so important, gives me some hope—hope I’ve had since he said he didn’t want to lose me the other day. That he thinks about me all the time. That I make him want to try. Could this really be happening? Could he actually like me as much as I like him? I’m in shock, a little bit. After our fight, I sure as fuck didn’t expect him to come running to my office to tell me he was feeling something for me. Ever since that happened, I’ve been excited but scared as shit. Maybe he’s just not a relationship guy. Maybe even though he wants to make this work, he doesn’t have it in him. He can’t force himself to be someone he’s not, and I wouldn’t want him to because I like him for who he is, not for someone I want him to become. What if this whole fake relationship thing confused things for him as much as it did for me?
That’s not my biggest concern right now. If anything, my relief about Travis’s confession has transformed into tension on Travis’s behalf over this party.
“Hey, Travis,” comes a man’s voice from nearby.
I turn and see two guys walking along a brick path that wraps around the house.
As they approach, Travis says, “Hey, guys, this is Gary. He’s my…well, he’s my Gary.”
I figured he was going to introduce me as his friend, but I like that he didn’t. Maybe I even like it a little too much.
“Hi, Gary, I’m Martin and this is Malcolm. I’m sure you’ve only heard amazing things about us.”
Even though I recognize their names, it’s nice to put faces with them. Up close, it’s easy to see their differences from Travis. They have blond hair and brown eyes—not the dark hair and beautiful hazel eyes like Travis.
“Mom called and said they’re going to be a little late,” Malcolm says, giving Travis a heads-up. Both of his brothers keep glancing my way, like they can’t believe Travis brought me here.
Welcome to the club.
“But everything’s going to be good,” Martin assures him with a broad smile, but I can see the tension in his expression. Like he’s really not confident about that. “Remember what I said: if they have a problem, they can leave. It was nice meeting you, Gary. But I gotta go get these bobby pins to Liz or she won’t be coming out of the bathroom for her own birthday party.”
He pats Travis on the back, and Malcolm excuses himself as he trails behind his brother.
I can only imagine how Travis felt growing up with the two of them, who I’m sure he loves, but seem more connected at the hip than he does with either of them. Hell, their names both even start with the letter “M.” It’s like his mother was trying to single Travis out.
As we reach the front of the line at the bar, Travis orders a cocktail and drinks it quickly, as though he needs it to work up the courage to face his parents. I sip on mine, but as we step out of line, I notice he’s still distracted.
“It’s gonna be fine,” I assure him. But that doesn’t seem to help. Judging by the look in his eyes, I don’t even think he heard me.
I take his hand.
“Hey,” I say.
His gaze shifts to me. It’s the first time he’s made eye contact with me since we got here.
His tension dissolves. And as always, I love being captured in his gaze.
“I’m right here if you need backup.”
He almost looks shocked by my words. Like I snuck up on him. He must be really out of it.
“Thanks,” he says curtly, scanning my face.
“Do I have toothpaste on my lip?” I ask, licking my lips.
He chuckles.
Even though I don’t know why he’s acting this way, I’m glad he’s starting to relax a little.
I keep trying to think of something to say. Some way of putting him at ease, but that’s the best I’ve got. I keep his hand firmly in my grip.
When he finally turns away, he looks around and something catches his eye.
I follow his gaze to a woman who stands outside the French doors that lead to the terrace. Her hair in curls, she wears an olive-colored dress. Clutching a purse close to her, she stares at us. And judging by the shocked—maybe even horrified expression on her face—I can tell this must be his mother. A man steps onto the balcony behind her. He has that same blond hair as Malcolm and Martin, but his is much thinner—with a few long gray strands in it. He plays on his phone before he notices the woman and follows her gaze to us.
That’s them. They have to be.
Travis’s hand shakes against mine. I doubt it’s from nerves, though. More likely the pent-up anger he’s held in for so long—toward his mother, toward his father…well, stepfather.
I want to soothe him. I want to pull him out of this. To shake him and tell him that they don’t matter. That nothing they think about him matters. But I’m distracted by the foul expressions on their faces.
Suddenly, it hits me.
We’re still holding hands.
I would pull away just to protect Travis—so he wouldn’t have to deal with their judgment—but a lot of good that’ll do us now.
“I’m still here,” I whisper so he knows he’s not alone.
I’m not even sure he can hear me.
He looks like he’s checked out. Like he’s back at that night when they walked in on when he was so vulnerable and made him feel so ashamed for who he is.
“Trav,” I say.
He snaps out of his daze and turns to me.
“This is gonna be even more interesting than I thought,” he says.
“Like Martin told you, if they have a problem, they need to leave. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
He grips my hand. “You’re right. I’m not going back to that night. They’re not going to make me ashamed of who I am ever again.”
“Come on. Let’s just have fun.”
I smile at him, and it takes him a moment, but he smiles back. “Yeah,” he says before guiding me around the party. He doesn’t let go of my hand even as we start chatting with Malcolm and some of his friends. I glance around occasionally as we socialize, noticing that his mom and dad keep eyeing us as they make their way around, laughing and chatting up other guests like nothing’s wrong, but clearly, they’re not okay with us being here.
After we meet Liz and her friends, we head to the front yard for a breather. When we head back through the house together, Travis’s mom and dad step inside through the back door.
“Travis,”
his dad says, his face reddening, as though he’s been holding in all his hostility and rage while he and Travis’s mom put on their most hospitable performance for the rest of the party.
“Yes?” Travis asks, and I can tell by the tone in his voice that he wants this encounter to happen.
“We need to have a talk,” he says.
“By all means.”
His dad leads us into an adjoining room.
I’m amazed at how brave Travis is, willing to stand up to his parents who he knows hate him for being gay.
I admire him for that. I’m a fucking coward. Here I am worrying about what my parents will think of me when he already knows what his think and is still willing to get into a fight with them about it.
As soon as we enter the room, Travis’s dad blurts out, “It’s one thing to come here. It’s another for you to bring that with you.”
His dad’s face is red from rage…some deep-seated anger he has against us for who we are. It’s easy to see how a man like this would have looked after he caught Travis with some guy pants-down in his apartment.
“That is my boyfriend,” Travis says in as serious a voice as I’ve ever heard come from him.
Now my face is filled with heat for a whole other reason. Travis just called me his boyfriend, and we’re not even pretending for Steven’s money or to piss Peter off.
It shouldn’t feel so good to hear him say that, especially under these circumstances, but it’s reassuring.
It reminds me I care way too much way too soon. Travis told me he’s feeling something too—that he can give it a try, but he can’t understand where I’m at…he’s not capable of caring the way I do.
No. He’s just trying to piss his father off. Get revenge on him for what a bastard he was to him all those years ago.
“And you’re gonna show my boyfriend some fucking respect,” Travis continues.
I’m excited about him calling me his boyfriend again, but terrified by his tone. He sounds like he’s about to launch himself at his dad and beat the shit out of him.
This is Travis’s revenge. For the night when he couldn’t fight back. For all those years when he didn’t get the chance to let him know exactly how he felt.
His dad’s face is even redder than before, and he steps to Travis, saying, “I don’t know where you think you get off bringing your abomination of a relationship into a respectable party…for your family. I raised you as my own and this is the thanks I get?”
Travis tenses up at that last part.
“Really,” his mom adds. “This is not appropriate, Travis. Some of your family is here, too. And you’re making a spectacle, holding hands, so everyone will be talking about us.”
“Mom! Dad!”
I turn to see Martin standing in the doorway, Malcolm right behind him.
Martin’s face is tense.
“What’s going on?” he asks, though it’s clear by the expression he’s making that he already knows the answer.
His mom and dad eye each other uneasily.
“Martin, I don’t think it’s appropriate to have these two coming in here, making a mockery of your relationship and—”
“Seriously?” Martin asks, glancing between them and us. “This isn’t about you guys,” he says to their parents. “This is about what I want today, and I want Travis and his boyfriend here.”
Will people stop calling me that? This certainly isn’t going to make whatever the fuck it is we’re doing make any more sense. Things are complicated enough as it is.
Travis grabs my hand again, clinging tightly. I know he’s probably doing it to prove a point, but it gives me some confidence. Makes me feel like I’m not on my own in this horribly awkward situation.
I’ve been such a coward all these years for not telling my mom and dad the truth. Here Travis is, so brave and standing here fighting for me…for us…and even if it’s just because he’s trying to make a point, it reminds me of how stubborn I’ve always been about not telling my parents how I feel…who I really am.
32
Travis
I should leave. It’s not fair for Martin and Liz that this shit is going down now, but it’s so fucking typical of Mom and Dad to do it here—but to do it out of the way because God forbid they make a scene. People might not think we’re the perfect family they want everyone to believe we are.
“Travis…this day is about Martin,” Mom tells me. “You’re making it about yourself. If you didn’t flaunt your boyfriend it would be one thing.”
Her words are sandpaper, rubbing raw the thick skin I’ve tried so hard to keep. “Flaunt him? Jesus Christ, I’m holding his fucking hand!”
“Lower your voice,” Mom says between pursed lips.
Of course. Someone might overhear. “I care about him. He’s my boyfriend. Is that so bad?” I realize then that he really is. Maybe this started out as some fucked-up lie, but it’s transformed into something else. I tried to keep it contained, but this shit grew anyway, and I realize I want more. I’m scared, and I might fuck up, but I really do want more with him.
“It’s not right, Travis. Don’t ask your father and me to accept it.” Mom crosses her arms, blocking out all her emotions the way she’s so fucking good at…and I’m tired. So fucking tired.
“Mom. Dad. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Martin tells them, but I can hear the pain in his voice. As much as I fucking hate it, as much as I really want to be here for Martin, I can’t come between him and our parents.
“No,” I say before they can reply and feel Gary squeeze my hand in support. “I’m just going to go.”
“Stay,” my brother tells me, but I shake my head.
“I won’t be good company anyway. Tell Liz I wasn’t feeling well and I’m sorry I had to go, okay?” I turn to walk away, but I’m stopped by the fact that Gary won’t budge.
I turn back to see him looking at my parents. “You don’t deserve him. Either of you. He’s a good man. The kind of man who sees someone struggling and jumps in to help. The kind of man who would stick up for someone just to help make them feel better about themselves. He makes me feel like I can do anything. Like maybe I’m something special. You don’t deserve him, and one day, you’ll regret the way you’ve treated him.”
And then it’s Gary who’s moving and me who is rooted to the floor. My chest feels full, like it’s reached capacity because of the man standing beside me right now. I know how hard that had to be for him, for Gary to draw attention to himself…and he did it for me.
“Who do you think you are? Don’t talk to my wife like that, you—”
“Stop right there. Don’t say another word to him. Gary, let’s go.” I toss a look of apology to my brothers and then Gary and I are walking out of the building. My whole body is shaking by the time we make it outside. The second we’re out the door, I’m backing Gary against the brick building, and I’m on him, my mouth devouring his.
I grind my pelvis against his. My fingers dig into his hips and his hand knots in my hair. In this second, I think I would crawl inside of him if I could.
I’m hungrier for him than I’ve ever been for anyone before. The desire is so strong it overpowers any fears or worries or overthinking.
“Jesus, I need to be inside your ass, Gary. Please…I’ll beg you if I have to.” I’ve never begged for sex in my life, but in this moment, I would do it. For him, I’d get on my fucking knees and beg.
“Yesss,” he hisses out just as a car drives by and honks at us. “Maybe not here, though. We’ll likely get arrested,” he teases. I chuckle as I grab his hand and tug him away.
Then we’re in my car and parking at Metropolis. I nearly drag him to the elevator, and once the doors close, my mouth takes over his again. There’s a slight taste of vodka on his tongue, but he smells like Gary and feels like Gary, and Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing my goddamned mind over him right now.
When the elevator dings, we’re practically running down the hallway, laughing as we make o
ur way to my condo.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks as I unlock my door.
“Don’t know, but I know I’m about to get in you.” I wink at him, and he laughs at my ridiculous cheesiness.
We fumble our way into my apartment. I feel this overwhelming giddiness that would embarrass me if I wasn’t so fucking needy for him.
Nothing else matters in this moment—not Steven or the money. Not my parents or the fact that I’m scared to fucking death that I can’t be what Gary needs.
I’ll try. I can’t not try.
“You look so fucking hot in this bow tie,” he says as he starts to loosen it on our way to my room.
“I’ll wear it for you again.”
“Just for me? Aren’t I lucky?” He gives me shit, and then we’re pulling at each other’s clothes, and I’m running my hand over his bare skin, loving the feel of his flesh against mine.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” I ask him as I lay him on my bed. Lying on top of him, I nuzzle my face in his neck. “I wanna take you rough and dirty, slow and sweet. I can’t decide which one I want more.”
“Oh fuck. Jesus, that’s sexy.” Gary trembles beneath me.
I kiss my way down his chest. He arches off the bed as though he can’t get close enough to me. “Travis…”
I squeeze his hips, lean over and let my tongue circle the head of his meaty dick.
Kneeling between his legs, I push them back. “I missed having this hole.” I rub my finger over his pucker and Gary damn near lurches off the bed. “Missed fucking it. Tasting it. I don’t know if I want to fuck your ass or eat it.”
Gary’s breathless when he says, “Fuck now. You can do whatever else you want to it later.”
He looks at me, my eyes on him as well, and I can’t hold back the truth that rolls off my tongue. “I missed you too. Not just fucking you. I’ve never had that before.”
His eyes water, and I’m so damn scared I’m doing the wrong thing. All this shit is bottled up inside me; it’s there waiting to burst free, but what if I fuck it up? What if I hurt him? What if he hurts me?