Chapter Two
Taz stared at his computer long after he’d shut down his browser, equal parts thrilled and terrified and not sure which one was going to win this time.
He’d joined the chat room six months ago out of sheer loneliness, needing to establish some sort of connection with other human beings, without the awkwardness of face-to-face meet-cutes. No one wanted to look at him for long periods of time, not even his own dad.
Not that his dad, Peter Callahan, avoided looking at him, exactly, but Taz remembered what it was like before the acid. When he’d been a good-looking athlete with a ton of friends. Now he was a guy folks either stared at in fascinated horror or they avoided looking at altogether. Considering his dad had only ever known him with the acid scars, he did a better job meeting in the middle.
Peter visited several times a week, bringing him cold groceries and things he couldn’t get off Amazon. Treating him like a human being with thoughts and feelings, reminding Taz there was someone out there who cared about him.
Taz tried to stand, to go get the two sodas he’d promised to bring to this meeting with Will. Even thinking Will’s name made him smile. Taz had surprised himself by initiating the voice chat, and then immediately wondered why he’d waited so long. Will had an addictive voice. Soft without being weak. Strong, even when he sounded upset. And his laughter made Taz’s heart flutter.
Will was also the first person he’d told about the scars who hadn’t stopped messaging him right away. He still wanted to meet Taz in person, and that scared the holy hell out of him. As much as Taz craved communication and contact beyond his father, he didn’t want to get his heart broken again.
You’re just friends, moron. You’re having dinner like friends do. Don’t make it bigger. Give him a chance to run away before you hand your heart over like a desperate idiot.
He got his body to cooperate and stood from his desk chair. Stretched, since he’d been sitting for about two hours straight. His work-at-home job as a transcriptionist had been a godsend—one more thing to thank Peter for—and he loved his ergonomic chair, but all that sitting had given him a pooch he’d have tormented his own damned self over in college. Sometimes he really missed the energy of the gym. The teasing, the camaraderie, the push to do better. Hell, he even missed the smells of pit sweat and funky socks.
Once, a few months ago, he’d considered one of those gyms open twenty-four hours, hoping he could go in at some obscure hour when maybe no one would be there. The instant the girl at the desk saw him, her expression sent him fleeing. He never went back. When he told Peter about the total failure, Peter had encouraged him to order whatever he wanted in terms of home gym equipment.
Taz had yet to take him up on that offer. He’d cost Peter so much money already.
Now he kind of regretted that. His shirt was loose enough that maybe he’d only look stocky, instead of flabby. Not that he expected Will to cruise him at all; he’d already been warned about the scars.
He strode across the small living room to the attached kitchen. Rustled a plastic bag out from under the sink and put two cans of cold root beer in it. It was off-brand, but he thought it tasted the same as the popular stuff, and hopefully Will wouldn’t mind. He stopped in the bathroom to take a piss and comb his hair into neater waves. Making himself presentable without actually looking at his broken skin had become a kind of game since he’d moved into this apartment.
The row of prescription bottles on the counter mocked him with their sheer number. He wasn’t due anything for a few hours, but walking to the park was going to do a number on his anxiety. He tucked one of the bottles into his jeans pocket, in case.
Then he plunked a Blue Rocks cap on his head and stared at the front door of the apartment for a solid minute. Muscles frozen. Heart fluttering.
Cruel, hateful people were on the other side of that door.
So is Will. He’s funny and nice, and he’s waiting for you.
A roast beef sandwich was also waiting for him, fresh from a deli Will recommended, piled with all sorts of great things. Even if all he got out of this was a sandwich and a conversation, he could live with that. It was more than he’d had in a long fucking time.
Move your right foot forward. Good. Left foot next. Good. Keep going.
The mental exercise got his limbs to loosen, and he palmed his keys as he reached for the knob. Turned it. Pulled it open.
“Push through it, Zachary, you aren’t a quitter!” Words spat at him by his wrestling coach during a particularly brutal training run. He’d been recovering from a chest cold, which had diminished his lung capacity, and he’d fallen behind the other runners.
“I’m not a quitter,” he said to the empty hallway beyond his door. He stepped out, then locked his door behind him.
Sounds from other apartments drifted to him. Voices and noise that could be televisions or music. The hall smelled like old cigarettes and mildew. It was stifling. He wanted fresh air. Needed fresh air. So he started walking again.
His entire journey from the apartment to the sidewalk across from the park was an exercise in stop-and-start techniques. In visualizing himself moving so he could cross the street before the light changed. Keeping forward motion, attention straight ahead, ignoring every single person he passed.
No one ran screaming, so that was something.
He waited for the signal to change so he could cross the street to the park. He was on the bus stop side, so Will would be diagonal from him, the farthest point away. The earnest way Will had admitted to lying about his height came back to mind and made him smile. He really didn’t care much what Will looked like, as long as he stayed as kind and friendly as he’d been online, once he’d seen the monster he was eating with.
Other pedestrians began streaming down the crosswalk. Taz kick-started himself into going with the flow, just another person heading home after work or out to dinner with friends. A normal fucking person.
The small park took up a section of a block that had once all been housing, in a neighborhood effort to get more green areas into their city. The grass was a sickly green, but the trees were growing strong at the far end, and the playground equipment wasn’t rusty enough to be dangerous. Someone had even planted a few flower beds inside old tires here and there.
Instead of walking as the crow flies, he stuck to the perimeter, away from the scattering of kids and various others enjoying the hot July evening outdoors. Two metal benches faced each other beneath the shade of three closely planted trees, and a small, slim figure was pacing between them.
Taz checked the time on his phone—6:50. Shit.
Ice dropped hard in his belly, threatening to keep him rooted to the ground. He was late and if that was Will, he looked frantic.
I’ve already fucked this up. Fantastic.
And he couldn’t get his goddamn limbs to move. Adrenaline spiked, putting a bitter taste in his mouth. His heart raced. This whole thing had been a huge mistake.
Maybe-Will turned a neat pivot, his hands clutching a white paper bag, and he froze. Seemed to look right at him. His entire body seemed to wilt with...what? Dread? Relief? From the distance of about thirty feet, Taz wasn’t sure.
The boy strode toward him, his lean body perfectly advertised under a pair of well-fitted jeans and a green dress shirt that looked tailor-made for his coloring. Shaggy brown hair, as advertised. The closer he got, Taz saw more details. Wary brown eyes. Scuffed loafers on his feet. And fuck, he was small. Barely came up to Taz’s shoulder, and he wasn’t exactly a giant. He also brought with him the intoxicating scents of meat, pickles, and something soapy.
“Taz?” the boy asked.
That voice.
“Yeah.” Taz cleared his throat hard. “Yes. Hi. Will?”
“Yup.”
His gaze lingered on Taz’s face, and for the briefest moment, Taz forgot there was anything ugly to see, because Will smiled at him. He didn’t flinch or grimace or look away fast. He held eye contact, no guard up, but his anxiety was clear in the way his fingers trembled against the paper bag.
“I’m late,” Taz said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be.”
Will nodded. “Was it hard walking here?”
“Yeah. My episodes are more like freezing up. I can’t make anything move, not even to protect myself. I have to work to get going again.”
“I’m kind of the opposite. I go into full-on shaking, shivering, caught in dark moments mode. I fucking hate it.”
“Me too.”
“And how sick are you of people who don’t understand saying, ‘But at least you’re alive’?”
Taz snorted. “So true. Platitudes don’t help.”
“Not really.” He held up the bag. “Hungry? They might be a bit soggy, but I’m starving.”
He bit back the boneheaded instinct to say he looked like he was starving, because rude. Will also hadn’t put a lot of oomph in that statement, which suggested he wasn’t actually all that hungry. Taz was, though.
“Definitely,” he replied. “I brought drinks. They might be kind of warm now, though. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I’ve drunk worse things than warm root beer.”
Taz chewed on that as Will led him over to one of the benches. He put the bag in the middle, so Taz sat on the other side and watched while Will emptied the bag of two wax paper–wrapped sandwiches, some napkins, and a plastic, twist-tied baggie with two giant green pickles in it.
“I love their dill pickles,” Will said. “I got another one in case you wanted one. I wasn’t sure, but you asked for pickles on your sandwich, so...” He trailed off, his cheeks pinking up.
“I do, thanks.” The thoughtfulness made him like Will even more than he already did. He unwrapped his sandwich, mouth watering at the thick stack of roast beef, lettuce, tomato, pickles, sweet peppers, raw onion, and mayo, all pressed between two pieces of thick-cut rye bread.
It tasted ten times better than it looked, and Taz was four solid bites in before he realized Will wasn’t eating. He had a half sandwich in his hand, something pale like turkey or chicken, but he was staring at Taz. And not in the “ew, gross” way that he expected from people nowadays, but in a “you fascinate me” kind of way. It made his skin prickle.
“Am I being noisy or chewing with my mouth open?” Taz asked.
“No, sorry. I’m just...taking you in.”
Taz flinched.
“No!” Will winced at his volume. “It’s not the scars. I mean, I see them, sure, but it’s all of you.” Despite being embarrassed, Will gave him a full once-over that had Taz paying closer attention.
Had Will seriously just cruised him?
Taz glanced at his rounded belly. “Well, there’s plenty of me.”
“Meanwhile, I’m skin and bones. What a pair, huh?”
“Yeah.” He waited for Will to start eating before he attacked his own sandwich again. Will took small bites, chewing each one carefully before swallowing. Actions by rote to get the food down, instead of savoring every bite the way Taz did. He adored all the sharp, tangy flavors in his mouth, all the textural contrasts. “Don’t like your sandwich?”
Will shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s a sandwich.”
“You could have gotten something different if you don’t like sandwiches.”
“It’s fine. It’s food, right?” He took another small bite of pale meat, white bread, and nothing else that Taz could see. Chewed it slow. Swallowed. Almost bored with the whole thing.
Taz had never had much of a brain-to-mouth filter before the acid, and it hadn’t developed any after. “Do you have an eating disorder or something?” It came out gentle, not accusing, but Will still flinched.
Good guess.
“It was a lot worse when I was sixteen,” Will replied, not making eye contact. “After the, uh, abuse stopped. I hated eating. Took months before me and my shrink finally figured it all out, and then it started getting better. I was able to focus on food as necessary fuel, instead of something that could hurt me.” He finally looked up, his dark eyes sad. “I wish I could be the guy who scarfs down a burger and fries with his buddies then goes back for a hot fudge sundae, but I’m not. Doubt I ever will be.”
Taz eyed the other uneaten half of his sandwich, his stomach suddenly unhappy with what was in it. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is, right? I’ll never be a competitive eater, and you’ll never be America’s next top model.”
The instant laughter that burbled up from inside Taz surprised him, when all past teasing about his scars had always produced anger. Except Will wasn’t mocking him or pointing out his flaws. He was teasing him in a gentle way that said Will accepted they both had huge flaws, and that was okay.
“That’s good,” Taz said with a grin, “because I look awful in high heels.”
Will’s eyebrows arched. “And you know this from experience? Something I should know about, young man?”
Taz laughed again, and goddamn, it felt good. Sure, he laughed at sitcoms and funny movies, and sometimes his dad even told a good joke. This was different. This was...flirty. And a hell of a lot of fun. “No, sorry, no cross-dressing skeletons in my closet.”
“Shame.” Will licked crumbs off his fingers with a pretty pink tongue, then put about two bites’ worth of sandwich down on the waxed paper. He grabbed the pickle bag. “Speaking of closets, you came out senior year of college?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t really want to head down this particular branch of memory lane, but he could take a fast detour. “In high school, there were a few casual things, but nothing serious. Enough to know I liked guys and girls. I dated girls my first three years of college, partly because I was worried that coming out as being into guys too would affect wrestling. I had a scholarship, so I didn’t want to do anything to ruin that, you know?”
“Makes sense.” Will slid the tip of a fat pickle into his mouth and held it there.
Taz’s heart skipped. Blood pumped into his dick at the very suggestive way Will slowly bit into that fucking pickle. “Uh-huh.”
Will put more force into it, and there was an audible crunch. Juice dribbled down his chin.
Fucking Christ.
Taz grabbed a napkin and dabbed at Will’s chin.
Will’s eyes sparkled. “So what prompted you to come out?”
Had Taz been talking about something? Oh. Right. “Charlie.” The name chilled some of his arousal and left him cold. “We met sophomore year and became good friends very quickly. We were definitely attracted to each other, but I was dating someone at the time, and cheating was never my style. Junior year I got dumped, so I met up with Charlie at a party to commiserate, and we ended up back at the dorm fucking. The chemistry was great, and we wanted to keep it going, but Charlie was out and I wasn’t.”
He always hated this part of the story because it had been so fucking selfish of Taz. “He agreed to keep us a secret until I was done with wrestling senior year. He stayed in the closet for me, pretended we weren’t together even though we were. So after the team didn’t get the win for nationals, I came out. I kissed Charlie in the gym, in front of everyone.”
“Wow.” Will licked the pickle. “That was brave.”
“Seems stupid, looking back. It pissed someone off enough to throw acid on us.”
“How badly was Charlie hurt?”
“Barely. Small spot on his arm. Mostly it hit me.” Taz had been the one suffering, and Charlie had fucking walked away.
Will’s eyes went wide.
Guess I said that out loud.
“He dumped you while you were in the hospital?” Will asked. “What an asshole!” That shout got a few heads swiveling in their direction. Will didn’t seem to notice the uptick in his volume. “Who does that?”
Taz shushed him. “I loved him, but it’s not like we’d exchanged rings and vows for better or worse. He couldn’t handle the hospital and all of the local media attention, so he got out. I don’t hate him anymore.”
“That’s because you’re a decent person.”
“Maybe. He did break my heart, though. Hard.”
“Someone should go break his face.”
Taz blinked hard. “You’re a fiery little thing, aren’t you?”
Will glared. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No. I’m trying to figure you out, that’s all. I like you. Hell, you’re the first new friend I’ve made in two years.”
“Me too. I mean, I know people. But I don’t do this. Meet up and hang out. Getting personal with new people is...problematic.”
“Who are you telling?” Taz smiled, and finally Will’s face softened. “I never really thought I’d make a friend by commiserating over anxiety attacks and past violence.”
Will shrank down a bit. “I still don’t want to talk about that. My past.”
“I wasn’t asking. I made a statement, that’s all. And I’m apparently doing a shitty job of saying I’m glad we started chatting, because I like you and I like having a friend.” He might as well go for it. “Plus, you’re hella cute.”
Will’s lips twisted into a sexy, almost taunting smile. “Cute, huh? Cute like puppies are cute?”
“Cute like I want to reach over and kiss you. That cute.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been flirting so hard, but he liked Will and it felt so good to be around someone he genuinely liked—and was attracted to. Male or female, he hadn’t felt that draw in too damned long. But what if Will didn’t feel—
Will leaned in. “So kiss me, big guy.”
His heart kicked up. He took in Will’s slightly parted lips, curious how they’d feel against his own. How Will’s lean body would feel pressed up against his. What he’d taste like.
Charlie tasted like mint and chocolate, and then everything was on fire.
The world went briefly gray, and Taz’s entire body seized up tight.
* * *
Will was mentally kicking himself for flirting so hard with Taz, especially when he was on a no-sex diet for the next couple of weeks, when Taz’s already pale skin went a ghostly shade of white. His whole body seemed to go rigid, his gaze distant. Frozen someplace else.
Crap, Taz was having some kind of episode. Will replayed their conversation, trying to figure out what he’d said to freak Taz out so badly.
Kiss. Public park.
“Fuck my life.” He’d have clocked himself upside the head for being so stupid if he wasn’t afraid of someone in the park calling the cops on two nutcases sharing sandwiches on a bench. The last time Taz had kissed a guy in public he’d ended up in the hospital, and Will was all fucking casual about kissing him in a park surrounded by people.
Total strangers, and not a gymnasium full of classmates and fans who might give a solid damn about Taz’s sexuality, but still. It hadn’t made a difference to Taz’s brain.
And he didn’t know Taz well enough to bring him back from wherever he’d gone. Touching him while he was out of it might very well end in a bruise or two, and Will didn’t want that on Taz’s conscience. He definitely preferred his own active meltdowns to this quiet, frozen statue his friend had become.
He moved their trash out of the way and scooted a few inches closer on the bench. “Taz? Can you hear me? It’s Will. Taz?”
A slight flicker in Taz’s eyes. Not much, but he could work with that.
“Listen to me, okay? You’re in Wilmington. We’re in a park in the city. No one’s going to hurt you. Taz?”
Taz’s breathing sped up so fast Will nearly shoved the empty paper bag over his mouth and nose. Then Taz shook himself all over. Blinked hard several times. His skin kept that awful pallor, but he looked at Will and seemed to actually see him again. He dropped his chin to his chest and told his lap, “Fuck, Will, I’m sorry.”
Will tilted his head. “What for? It was my fault.”
“No, it’s not. It’s my stupid fucking head.”
“Hey. Hey.” He waited until Taz met his gaze, hating the misery in his green eyes. “Dude, we’re both mental cases, and maybe this is three years of therapy rubbing off on me, but I’m smart enough to recognize triggers. I shouldn’t have told you to kiss me while we’re sitting here in public.”
Taz seemed to study his face while he got his breathing under control. Some color came back to his cheeks, too. “It’s so stupid, though, to freak about a kiss. I bet I wouldn’t have if you were a girl.”
“How do you know that? Have you flirted with or kissed a girl since the—” The what? Accident was wrong, but words like assault or attack were too strong for their conversation. “Since the incident at college?”
“No.”
“So you can’t be sure if it’s specifically boy kissing that’ll trigger you. Could be any sort of public kissing or displays of affection.”
Taz frowned. “And what do you suggest I do to figure it out? Hit up a bar, flirt with a girl, and see if I freak out?”
“That wouldn’t be my first instinct, no.” Will hated the idea of Taz getting with someone else, guy or girl. But they were friends, and Taz’s dating life wasn’t his business.
Except I want it to be.
He liked Taz. A lot. When six thirty had come and gone with no Taz, Will had started to panic. Seriously panic. He’d second-guessed every part of their earlier online conversation, trying to figure out how he’d fucked up, how he’d scared Taz off. He’d cursed himself for not getting Taz’s cell number beforehand.
And just when he’d resigned himself to being stood up, he’d looked around and spotted a baseball-capped man in dark jeans and a blue band shirt, holding a plastic grocery bag. He was standing perfectly still near a garbage can, still too far to properly see his face, especially with the hat casting shadows, but something inside Will had responded to Taz. In that first moment, he’d known without a doubt that Taz was someone he wanted in his life.
Taz was tall and wonderfully soft around the middle, like someone who’d be crazy comfortable to curl up with in bed. Thick auburn curls peeked out from beneath the ball cap’s rim. And he had adorable freckles all over. His hands and up his arms. His neck and cheeks and forehead.
The scars had captured Will’s attention briefly, because he couldn’t help but see them. Taz’s left cheek and part of his chin had a bumpy, waxy look that descended onto his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. But it wasn’t scary or awful. The scarring wouldn’t be all that noticeable if not for the lack of freckles on half of his face.
Plus he made Will laugh when so few people could.
He loved that Taz had trusted him enough to be honest about how he’d gotten the scars, and Will had hated this Charlie jerk instantly for dumping Taz when he’d needed him most. And then they’d flirted and the whole conversation went to hell, because Will was a horny idiot.
Taz dropped his head into his hands, muffling his words. “We were having such a good time, too.” He snapped back to attention. “We were, right? I mean, I was having a good time.”
Will smiled, because episode or not—”This is the most fun I’ve had with another person in forever. Period. To be honest, when I got home today and got hold of my panic attack, my first instinct was to see if you were online.”
That made Taz’s lips twitch. “Really?”
“Yes. I knew you’d understand and let me vent. I knew I’d feel better. And I meant it when I said you’re the first real friend I’ve made in pretty much forever. I don’t want to risk our friendship by flirting you into anxiety attacks, so I’ll dial it back.”
“I started it when I called you cute.”
“I made it worse by daring you to kiss me.”
“I wanted to.” Taz picked at the inseam of his jeans. “I just couldn’t stop the damned flashback.”
“Is that what happened just now? A flashback?”
“Yeah. Flashbacks are different for everyone, or so I’m told. I’m not back there reliving the attack frame by frame, or anything. I get caught up in the emotions. All the joy from being out with Charlie, then the blinding pain and fear, not really understanding what’s happening or why it hurts so much. All those feelings freeze me up and I get stuck.”
“Makes sense.”
Taz grunted. “It still sucks, though.”
“Well, I have to admit, it does bruise my ego that the very idea of kissing me sends you into an episode.” Will’s light tone and exaggerated hand gestures did their job: Taz smiled.
“Sorry to bruise your ego, then,” Taz said, laughter in his voice. His entire body seemed to relax more as they moved past the dark moment. “Tell me how to make it up to you.”
Taz was no longer a faceless name in a chat room. He was a real person Will wanted to get to know better. He was safe.
Will leaned in, heart beating a little bit faster. “Invite me back to your place.”