Bailey slept like shit and woke far earlier than he wanted. He couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. Landon had been into it. He’d been so sure of that—the way Landon hadn’t pulled away after they bumped heads, the way he’d leaned into Bailey’s touch, and the way he’d eagerly returned the initial kisses. They’d kissed a long time—Bailey had hardly been looking at his phone clock, but he’d bet fifteen minutes or more—but somehow everything had shifted when they’d fallen back on the couch.

Landon had been scared, and Bailey hated that, couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong other than that he’d been big and clumsy as usual. His father suffered from panic attacks, and he was pretty sure that was what had been happening to Landon, despite his denials. And Bailey had caused that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You suck.

The internal refrain kept up while he had some cereal. His mom always got his childhood favorite with marshmallows whenever he visited, and he was grateful for the comfort that morning. He settled in to edit pictures on his laptop in his mom’s living room. His old room felt too stifling, too quiet, too many reminders of other times he’d been awkward and ungainly. Of course, the photos he had to edit were all of Landon. Which started up a fresh round of disgusted self-talk.

Next to him, his phone buzzed with a message. He’d messaged Rachel earlier to make sure she’d gotten home safely. Finally, she’d replied. Made it back just in time to help Mom get up ;) I got lucky!!! Tell me you did too???

Bailey groaned. Was there an opposite of lucky? Like all hope squashed out, unlucky, fucked up good? But he didn’t want to ruin Rachel’s good mood as she’d had a really tough time of it, what with moving back and her mom’s illness. Go you, he typed. Not lucky here, but don’t worry about me. So happy for you.

Seeing shot after shot of Landon’s bare ass just was not working for him, but he was on a tight deadline for submitting the pictures. No choice but to soldier through. He came upon one from the atrium where Landon had such quiet vulnerability in his eyes that it almost broke Bailey’s heart. Something had hurt him in the past, and Bailey hated not knowing the story, not knowing how he’d made things worse, what he could have done different.

His favorite shot of Landon was one where he was dancing in the science stacks, looking back at Bailey over one shoulder. The guardedness was still in his eyes—that never seemed to fully leave—but he’d had a silly grin on, body loose, tongue just barely poking out. He was the embodiment of naughty fun, and he was going to look amazing in the calendar. He had a way of making the viewer feel like they got to witness a secret. It felt like sharing in a very private moment, like the watcher alone had caused him to dance.

Right as Bailey was about to start beating himself up again for thinking that he’d managed to sneak past Landon’s reserves, his email chimed. Landon. Bailey hadn’t expected to ever hear from the guy again, so he clicked the open button with shaky fingers.

Hey. I just wanted to apologize for how I freaked out on you last night. That wasn’t fair to you. Also, I realized that I never signed the model release yesterday—I printed it before the library, but then never gave it to you. I found it in the front seat of my car. I was wondering if we could meet somewhere for coffee? My treat. Maybe near your folks in Glendale? I can give you the release, and maybe apologize again?

Part of Bailey, the petty, wounded part, wanted to tell Landon to stuff his apology. But he somehow knew that this wasn’t a case of Landon being a jerk—the guy was rather clearly dealing with something, and Bailey wasn’t one to kick a guy when he was down. Besides, he really did need that model release. He dashed off a quick reply with an address for a coffee place on Maryland and suggested they meet in two hours. He needed time to shower and to get a few more of these photos ready to show Landon. Oh, and to brace himself for the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me” speech that he’d been on the receiving end of a time too many.

By the time he ducked under the familiar blue awning of the coffee place, he was far more nervous than he had any right to be. The pictures were looking good, and as to rest of it, he’d just have to see. He found Landon already in line in front of the large counter with the name of the coffee place above it in scroll letters.

“You came.” Landon licked at his lower lip. He sounded more than a little surprised. He was wearing a faded blue-and-gray plaid shirt, and something about the baggy fit and the messenger bag over his shoulder made him look younger, more uncertain.

“Yeah. I wanted to show you the pictures I’ve been working on.” Man, this was awkward. So stilted.

“Good. What do you want to drink? I can get our orders while you grab a table? Maybe in the back?” He pointed at the more private tables in the rear of the L-shaped room.

“Iced mocha for here. Rachel always loves how they do them in mason jar glasses.”

“Neat.” Landon gave him a tight smile. Bailey snagged a table that opened up as two women left. He set up his laptop, both to show Landon, and also to have a shield of sorts between them. A few minutes later, Landon arrived with Bailey’s mocha and some sort of smoothie for himself.

“You want to see the pictures? I’ve been editing all morning.” Bailey forced his voice to be cheerful.

“Sure.” Landon glanced around as he took the seat opposite Bailey, eyes wary like censors might be standing by. However, Bailey had the screen angled to the rear wall for privacy, and the shop was quiet for a Saturday, no one that close to their table. And honestly, the pictures were very tasteful—far more explicit stuff populated all the social media accounts Bailey followed.

“Here’s my favorite.” Bailey showed him the playful one. “I’m sending in a selection for the calendar people, but I really like this one.”

“Wow. I…uh…wow. Do I really look like that much of an exhibitionist?” Landon rubbed his jaw. His mouth looked torn between smirking and frowning. “I mean I seem like I’m having fun.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was pretty fun.” Bailey meant more than just the photograph. He’d thought the whole evening was pretty fun, right up until he caused Landon to have some sort of panic attack.

“It was.” Landon sighed. “I liked the dancing. And the joking. And talking. You made it so that I forgot I was naked. You made me comfortable.”

“Until I didn’t.” All the bitterness from the lectures he’d been giving himself all morning seeped into his voice. No sense in sugar-coating the truth though. “And I know you said in your email that you wanted to apologize, but really, it should be me. Clearly, I read your signals way wrong, and that’s on me, not you.”

“No.” Massaging the back of his neck, Landon stretched. “It’s not you. It’s me. I did want to kiss you. I like you. A lot.”

“I like you too.” Bailey decided to focus on that part instead of the “it’s me, not you” he’d heard a zillion times before. “But how did I mess it up? If you wanted the kissing, I mean? I know I’m clumsy—”

“You are not.” Landon managed a small laugh. “I have panic attacks. It’s not your fault that the change in position triggered one. Anyone else, and you would have been fine, I’m sure.”

“But I don’t want anyone else. I want you.” Despite everything, Bailey really did. He liked Landon as a person a great deal, liked his sharp wit and their shared interests. “And I want to know how to avoid making you uncomfortable. My dad has them too, but it’s usually situational—like highway driving or flying or big presentations at his work. It was the change in position for you, you said? Like claustrophobia?”

“Kinda. I’ve definitely had small spaces bring one on before.” Landon paused, chewing on his lower lip.

“So theoretically, the opposite position, you on top would have been okay? Or maybe taking things super slow, more upright kisses?” Bailey could be down with going as slow as Landon needed if he wanted to try again.

“I don’t know.” Landon shrugged and looked away. “Hard to say.”

“Ah.” Bailey sighed. He’d been on the verge of starting to hope, but… Yeah. He really needed to learn better.

“It’s not you—”

“So you keep saying. But the truth is that I’m a big, clumsy guy who made something that should have been pleasurable into something painful for you.”

“You’re a nice guy—”

“Trust me, I hear that a lot.” Bailey scrubbed at his hair.

“When I was nineteen, I was sexually assaulted.”

Bailey blinked. Landon had delivered the words with a flat affect, simply tossing them out there. Fuck. What was he supposed to say now? His mouth opened and closed a number of times.

“It’s okay. People never know what to say, which is why I don’t usually tell, but you are a nice guy, and you deserve to know the truth.”

“What…” Bailey stopped himself from finishing the question. That would be rude, right? Asking what had happened? Fuck. He wanted to be empathetic, say the right things, not be an ass.

“It was a college party. Frat house. Not even at my school. There was this guy I liked, and he was supposed to be there. My best friend thought it was a stupid crush, so he stayed back to work on a project. Back then, I had this real thing for jocks. So my crush wasn’t there, but this big football player was. I was drunk off my ass, but there’s a good chance he—or one of his friends—put something in my drink. I only remember bits and pieces after meeting him.”

“Oh…wow. That’s awful.” Bailey still wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to be saying. “Please tell me the guys got prison.”

“No.” Landon shook his head. “I didn’t remember enough to identify anyone, and while an anonymous witness got me to the ER, no one would come forward and name names for the cops who investigated. And the cops weren’t all that diligent either.”

“Fuck. That sucks.” Rage filled Bailey, made his hands clench. Bastards should not have gotten away with their crimes. “You deserved better. System is so fucked up.”

“Thanks. Anyway, since then I’m kind of…messed up when it comes to sex.”

“Totally understandable.” Bailey wanted to reach for Landon, squeeze his hand, but he wasn’t sure whether that would be welcome. “Is there anything that makes it better, though? I’m not saying that because I want to try again—I do—but more than that, you deserve whatever it takes to make that part of your life good.”

Landon sighed, a sad, resigned sound. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay? It’s a lot easier with people—of any gender—who are smaller than me. I get really nervous around big guys, ones who look like they could hold me down or ones who crowd me. I thought maybe that issue was less, but…” He finished with a shrug.

“Oh.” Bailey wasn’t sure what else to say—he didn’t exactly have a magic shrinking machine, but he also wasn’t going to minimize Landon’s experiences or what he needed to cope. And he had a feeling that promising not to crowd Landon wouldn’t help any either. Trust was a funny, fragile thing.

“I wish it wasn’t the case. I like you. A lot. More than I’ve liked anyone recently, actually.”

“But a lot of that attraction was when you thought I was a woman.” Bailey kept his voice gentle.

“Actually, no.” Landon blushed. “I was plenty turned on gaming with you and watching videos on my couch. It’s more like my body and my brain battled it out, and the fear part of my brain won, but I can’t deny that I’m into you.”

“I’m into you too.” Bailey gave him what he hoped was a nonthreatening smile. “And for what it’s worth, I want to be your friend, even without anything more. But if you did ever want to try something again, we could go as slow as you need, avoid things that trigger you.”

“That’s just it.” Landon groaned. “I’m never sure exactly what’s going to bring on a panic attack. Like I can say that you on top of me will probably do it, but I’ve also had it happen with something as simple as being backed into a wall or being held too tight. And that’s not fair to you—”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? Fair’s not really the point here. What happened to you wasn’t fair. It’s not fair that you have to deal with this fallout. Fair to me shouldn’t even enter into the equation. When I say I’d like to try again with you, I mean it. And even if you don’t want that, I’d still like to be your friend. I like you. All of you.”

“I like you too. But I’m not sure where that leaves us…”

“Friends? Look, I’m only in town this weekend, and maybe we could get some food, talk more. Then next week, when I’m back in Portland we can be email and Space Villager buddies. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that right now. You know where I stand, that I’d like to try kissing again, but whether we ever go there again can be entirely your call, and not one you have to make right now.”

“You really be up for hanging out more? I mean I pretty much kicked you out last night.”

“My dad has done some pretty freaky stuff when in the middle of a panic attack, but I’ve learned that it’s not him talking, it’s his anxiety disorder. I’m not going to blame you for having a panic attack last night. And while I really, really hope I don’t trigger one again, I’m not going to be mad at you if it happens.”

“Possibly more of a when, not if.” Landon offered him a wry smile.

“Then we deal,” Bailey said firmly. “Because I want to be your friend, and that’s what friends do. I’m not the kind of guy to give up on a friendship just because things get complicated.”

“I’d like being friends.” Landon’s smile this time had a shy cast to it that melted Bailey’s heart. “Dinner tonight, if you’re free?”

“You’re on.” Man, he could fall so easily for this man, but he needed to temper his expectations. Landon might never feel like kissing again, and he needed to work on being okay with that. He’d said he’d be okay with simply being friends, and he needed to mean that, but man it was hard when Landon grinned at his answer, hope flashing in his pale blue eyes.