Very Late Blooming

by Hayden Hunt

  To my shock, it was Gabe. He was standing at my door, holding a bottle of wine, clearly expecting to meet some people, and here I was, standing before him in my pajamas with leftover Chinese food on the table.

  Shit.

  If I hadn’t made a bad enough impression yesterday, I surely had now.

  He looked around my apartment, clearly seeing there was nobody around. Confusion crossed his face.

  “I’m sorry, you said to come over Wednesday, right…? Did I get the day wrong or—”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t, I… Uh, it’s kind of a long story. Something happened with one of my friends and we kind of had to cancel,” I lied. I didn’t know why; in my head it sounded better than ‘I was hungover.’

  “Oh, okay,” he said, looking somewhat disappointed.

  “I’m so sorry, I would have let you know, but I completely forgot I mentioned it to you.”

  No, I hadn’t. But again, that sounded better than ‘I assumed me hitting on you pissed you off and that you wouldn’t show up.’ I didn’t want to specifically address the awkwardness between us the other day.

  “You know, I know I’m not exactly dressed for company but you can still hang out if you want. If you have nothing else to do. You don’t have to, I know it’s no get together but we can watch some TV and crack open that bottle of wine.”

  “Yeah, sure. That sounds great.”

  He totally caught me off guard. First, by coming over here at all. And then again by agreeing to hang out, just me and him?

  Maybe I had really misread him the other night. Perhaps I didn’t scare him off with my flirting. At least, this wasn’t how most straight men would react to their masculinity being threatened. He might have really been in a rush to unpack, who knew?

  “Do you have a wine bottle opener?” he asked as he stepped into my apartment.

  “Of course, one second,” I said, going into one of my kitchen drawers and handing it to him. I was glad he was the first one to suggest opening it up so quick. I was pretty nervous about this whole thing, and a little alcohol would help.

  Apparently he was on the same page as me, because after I grabbed two glasses of wine and poured them, he downed his glass immediately. I wasn’t the only one who needed a little liquid courage.

  I laughed. “Another glass?” I asked.

  “Yes, please.” He smiled and held out his glass.

  I also drank my glass fairly quickly. It probably wasn’t very responsible of me to drink at all. Just a few hours ago, I was reeling from a hangover. But I told myself I’d take it easy tonight. And a little alcohol helped a hangover, right? This glass of wine would be like my Bloody Mary.

  We sat down on my couch and I brought the glass of wine with me, seeing that he was already sipping on his second glass. Only a few seconds after sitting down, he was pouring himself another glass. In a way, his obvious nervousness made me a little nervous.

  “So, how are you liking the complex so far?” I asked him.

  “Oh, it’s good. People are nice, it’s quiet and clean. I like it a lot.”

  “Good, glad to hear it. Yeah, I’ve never had any problems. What brings you here, by the way? Why’d you choose these apartments?”

  I thought I was just making small talk but again, I managed to make him grimace at one of my questions.

  “Actually,” he said, already sounding kind of buzzed to me, “this place kind of found me.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  He stared at me seriously, as if trying to figure out how to answer.

  “I’m sorry, if this is some kind of personal situation you don’t have to tell me at all…” I said politely.

  “It is,” he admitted. “It’s so personal that I haven’t spoken to even a single other person in my life about it.”

  “Well, then, don’t even worry about it. I totally get why you’d be uncomfortable—”

  “No.” He stopped me. “That’s the thing, I’m not uncomfortable. I haven't told anyone, but for some reason I want to tell you.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s all been a little much for me to keep in quietly.”

  “Well, you can,” I told him. “If you want to vent, feel free. Really, you’ll get no judgement from me.”

  The conversation was getting real heavy real quick but I liked it. I hated small talk. I hated the fact that humans forced themselves to say the bare minimum in order to look normal. We kept parts of ourselves hidden, always afraid to go too far with something. Well, I didn’t believe you could go too far in talking to another person.

  I liked my conversations to be more real. And I was thrilled that this might be one of those awesome, genuine conversations you got to have very rarely with a complete stranger.

  He nodded, as if he’d decided. “Okay, here’s the thing. Ever since I was a teenager, I dreamt about being successful. A huge point of success for me was supposed to be getting my first property. And I’ve done that now.”

  I wasn’t following. “Which is great! Especially at your age…”

  “But I didn’t earn it,” he confessed. “And it’s coming to me at the most tragic point in my life and… It just feels like shit.”

  “I’m so sorry…” I said softly. “But surely you did earn it, Gabe.”

  He looked at me, not breaking eye contact. “I didn’t. I inherited it. It belonged to my grandma. She passed away.”

  My jaw dropped as this all hit me at once. That meant the old lady who lived here before him… Was actually his grandmother? And she passed? I had no idea and I kept bringing it up… No wonder he cringed every time I called her the ‘older woman who lived here before.’

  “Oh my God, Gabe, I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s fine, shit happens…” he said, now brushing off the thing that was so tragic to him he hadn’t even bothered to tell anybody else.

  “Don’t do that,” I told him. “Don’t downplay it. Obviously it’s deeply painful for you.”

  He buried his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “It is, honestly. She was really the only person in my life who cared about me.” He looked up, eyes widened with regret. “Wow, that makes me sound depressing.” He laughed awkwardly.

  “Like I said, I’m not here to judge. Really, don’t worry about that.”

  He nodded. “It’s just that I haven’t made a very big effort to make friends. And she was the only family I had who really cared about me.”

  “Really? You don’t have any siblings or parents that you talk to…?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t speak to my parents. Or, rather, they don’t speak to me. I’m an only child.”

  “Why won’t they talk to you?” I asked bluntly.

  He shook his head. “It was stupid. Something I did in high school… It was a giant misunderstanding but they never saw it that way. So they disowned me, never to be spoken to again.”

  “Seriously? You’re their only child and they disowned you?” My heart broke for him. This was unfathomable to me. My parents were always so supportive of me. “They didn’t even speak to you after your grandma died?”

  “Nope. They weren’t talking to her either, simply because she refused to end her relationship with me. Since high school, she’s been a surrogate mother to me. She was really everything to me. She was so kind… I can’t think of a sweeter person. When it felt like my life was falling apart, she was always there for me.”

  “Gabe, I’m so sorry,” I said seriously, reaching my hand out to hold his comfortingly.

  Just this small touch seemed to set him off. He started to burst into tears.

  I slid to his side of the couch and wrapped an arm around him.

  “Gabe… Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He wiped his eyes, his voice still hoarse with his tears. “It’s just that… I didn’t know how much I was dying to tell somebody. I feel so bad, doing this to you now. I’m crying at a complete stranger’s house. But I’ve kept this so tightly inside that it was eating away at me. I don’t think I even kn
ew that it was. But I feel it all now… I’m so lost without her.”

  I pulled him close and his head fell onto my shoulders.

  “You don’t need to be embarrassed at all. This is what being a human is all about, you know? Having these kinds of connections. Even with complete strangers, if that’s what it takes. You’re human, you need people. And I’m so, so sorry that you lost your person.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “For what it’s worth, she really did seem like a lovely lady.”

  “God, you’re nice.” He let out an awkward chuckle as he wiped his eyes, pulling his head off my chest. “Seriously, I can’t believe I was such an ass to you that first night.”

  I laughed. “Don’t mention it, seriously, you’re clearly going through a lot. It makes even more sense now.”

  He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “This is weird for me. You know, it’s not that I don’t have friends simply because I can’t make them…”

  “I figured that.” I smiled at him. “You seem socially aware, you’re a decent looking guy. I never envisioned you had trouble meeting people.”

  He nodded. “That’s the thing, I don’t. It’s just that I don’t really care to socialize with people. I’ve never fostered any friendships, or relationships for that matter. I keep to myself. I do it on purpose.”

  “Okay…” I said softly, unsure where he was going with this.

  “I've never wanted to have any connections with people. I’ve never had the desire to talk to a complete stranger about my life, let alone cry on his shoulders. So this is strange. You are strangely easy to talk to. Why is that?”

  I laughed. “I’m not sure, honestly.”

  He continued to look at me very seriously.

  “What?” I asked.

  Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me.

  5

  Gabriel

  It felt so good.

  I was so drunk, having bought the wine bottle with the highest alcohol content I could find. I wanted to be drunk to come to this get together tonight; I didn't want nerves to hold me back.

  And clearly, now that my lips were on a complete stranger’s, they weren’t holding me back at all.

  God, kissing him felt so fucking good. It was like a jolt of electricity through my body. His lips parted to allow mine to intertwine with them and I felt a connection I’d never felt before. Well, maybe once before, but not for a very long time.

  I didn’t think about anything. I let my mind go blank as our lips danced with one another. Over and over again, we pushed in and pulled apart. I savored every second I got to taste him.

  And then it hit me all at once… him. I was kissing him, a man.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  I pulled away immediately and the shock of what I had just done must have registered on my face because Oliver looked at me with confusion.

  “What? What is it?” he asked.

  I stood up. “I’ve got to go.”

  “What?!” he asked in surprise.

  “I need to leave now, I just remembered…” But my drunken mind couldn’t piece together an excuse.

  “Just remembered what?” he pressed.

  “Remembered… remembered that I have to go,” I said as I rushed to the door.

  “Wait, you, uh, forgot your wine!” he said. I was pretty sure it was just a desperate excuse to get me to try to stay.

  “Keep it!” I yelled as I slammed the door behind me.

  I bounded down the hall and to my door, fumbling with my keys to get into my apartment. I didn’t know why I was rushing. What did I think was going to happen? He was going to come chasing after me and force me back into his apartment to kiss more?

  Kissing that I liked, I might add.

  Shit, no, why was this happening? Why was I feeling this way? It was high school all over again.

  I shut the door behind me and I realized quickly why I wanted to be back in my apartment. A part of me wanted to lock myself in here and pretend that I’d never left. I wanted to act like tonight was some bad dream that I needed to wake up from.

  But it wasn’t a bad dream. It wasn't even bad. It was really, really good, actually.

  And that was what fucking confused me.

  I’d already figured this out years ago. I wasn’t gay. I knew I wasn’t gay.

  And I still didn’t believe I was. I didn’t kiss him because I was gay. I kissed him because I was drunk and starved for attention. And nobody had been able to show concern for me like he did in… I didn't even know how long.

  Yes, I did. Since my grandma passed away.

  My eyes started tearing up again.

  That was all this was. I was drunk, emotional, and acting on all the loneliness that had been building inside me for years.

  But it didn't excuse this kind of behavior. I thought I had shut this shit down years ago. I learned my lesson once… or so I thought.

  I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I wanted a shower. I wanted to wash away the streaks of tears, rub away the taste of his mouth on my lips. In my mind, if I got clean, I might be able to forget this night ever happened.

  Actually, maybe I’d wake up tomorrow morning and really not remember. I was pretty drunk after all. Hey, maybe I’d wake up and find that this mistake was all just a dream. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  But as I stood in my shower, the hot water running down my back, a part of me didn’t want to forget. I had just had the most passionate kiss of my life, and I wanted to remember it. As much as it bothered me, I couldn’t help thinking about how enthralling his lips were.

  It made no sense. I was both disgusted with myself and obsessed with Oliver. It was such a weird mix of emotions. I was so upset and so happy at the same time.

  I started feeling pretty nauseated in the shower. Likely a combination of the alcohol and getting way too hot in the shower. Either way, I quickly hopped out and wrapped a towel around me.

  It was when I finally stepped out of the shower into my steamy bathroom that I realized how drunk I was.

  Have you ever had that moment? You’ve been drinking, and you’re wasted but not sure just how wasted, and then you look into the bathroom mirror while you’re by yourself and you can just see the drunkenness on you. Your reflection feels weird, you realize how off you feel, and you know that you are way drunker than you intended to get.

  That was the exact moment I had after I wiped off the steam from my mirror.

  I fumbled around with my towel, doing my best not to fall flat on my face. As soon as I dried off, I stumbled into my bed.

  By this time, the room was spinning. I mean it. It was whooshing around me, and I could already feel my head beginning to pound. I didn’t even bother to get into pajamas, which was strange for me because I actually really hated sleeping naked.

  Tonight it didn’t matter, though. It was easier to collapse into bed than find a pair of pajamas. Besides, I was hot.

  I lay my body on top of my covers, not feeling like climbing into them quite yet. I told myself I’d get under them in just a few minutes, no matter how tired I became.

  But a few minutes never came because I knocked out like a light. Thank God, too, because I hated that sensation of the world spinning around me.

  When I awoke the next day, it was with a pounding headache. For a moment, I had forgotten all about last night and was wondering why I was laying naked and cold on top of my blankets.

  But the memories soon flooded back to me. I was not fortunate enough to forget everything I’d done.

  I groaned in embarrassment as I replayed in my head the moment that I had leaned into Oliver and kissed him. Now that there was no alcohol to cloud my judgement, I was even more humiliated.

  I had cried on his shoulder too, hadn’t I? God, what was I, five? Apparently I regressed to toddler age if you got a little bit of alcohol into me.

  But okay, fine, this was what I was expecting to feel. I expected my anxie
ty about the event to increase when I was sober. I knew it would hit me like a ton of bricks.

  What I didn’t expect was the other feeling that was swirling inside me. Behind my humiliation, I could feel a sense of satisfaction. I was still reveling in the pleasure of what I’d done, in a small way.

  I knew I had mixed feelings last night, but last night I was still drunk. I thought for sure when I sobered up, I wouldn’t have any positive feelings at all about what happened.

  But a part of me was still thinking about Oliver. About how cute he was, about how his lips felt against mine, and the connection there was between us…

  I needed to stop. I needed to push him out of my head.

  And that was what I tried to do for the next few hours while I made breakfast and watched some TV. But no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, all my thoughts kept coming up Oliver.

  It was more than just the kiss. The kiss was good, don’t get me wrong. But that wasn’t the only thing that felt so good last night.

  It was the way he comforted me. I loved being able to lie on his chest while he stroked me softly and whispered words of comfort. I felt safe in his arms. I felt like myself while I cried to him about what was hurting me.

  That was the more intimate part of our meeting. The kiss was good in its own right, but it wasn’t nearly as intimate as me spilling my feelings out to him.

  I liked it. I couldn’t deny that anymore. There was no more alcohol inside me to convince myself otherwise. What I did with Oliver felt good. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, that wasn’t going to change. He just plain made me feel good.

  It still bothered me. I still wanted to ignore my feelings but I didn’t know if I could. Even now, I wanted to go over to his apartment and see him. I needed to apologize for how weird I got last night.

  And maybe, just maybe, I wanted to kiss him again.

  I wouldn’t go over there, of course. I was fighting the feeling. But I didn’t know how long I could keep fighting it.

  He lived right there, right next door. How could I move past this when I knew he was right on the other side of the wall? How could I avoid my longing when he was within arm’s reach?