Chapter Six

The apartment was quiet. Cam was most likely asleep, but Jean-Paul found himself unable to settle down. He looked over at the digital clock on his side table…one twenty-two. He needed to be up again in five hours if he were to be on time for work. The day before he had just managed to squeak in on time, and though he knew he didn’t have to, especially since Cam had found his way home on his own, he wanted to spend the extra few minutes driving him to the university.

He turned over on the bed again, settling on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. The fan he had had installed cast eerie shadows from the light of the clock on the ceiling above it. He had not had a sleepless night in a while, and usually they were the result of a nightmare. But he had not even fallen asleep to dream. He reached up to fix the pillows at his head. He knew why he was awake. His body still ached from the hard-on he had been sporting since they had come back from their evening walk.

Cam had no idea of how much he tempted Jean-Paul with his relaxed vibe. It was as appealing to Jean-Paul as his good looks, his voice, his very essence. They had sat on the balcony talking desultorily of this and that, whiling away the rest of the night, before Cam had asked for the Wi-Fi password and gone in to print his work for the next day’s session. And though Jean-Paul had been relieved when he walked away, his body couldn’t seem to stop itself from leaping at the sight of the other man’s wide frame and masculine gait.

Even now, the picture of him stepping into the light of the living room from the dark balcony, his whole body suddenly illuminated, was seared into Jean-Paul’s memory. And it had stirred his body, which meant he had not followed Cam indoors until he had seen him go into his office. Then he had hurried to his room and hid until Cam went to bed. Now, two hours later, he was still wide awake, and his cock was still half hard.

Rolling out of bed, Jean-Paul pulled on his discarded shorts and walked silently out to the kitchen. Maybe another glass of wine would calm him down. He poured the rest of the bottle from dinner into a wine glass from the dishwasher and put the bottle in the recycling bin. Then he went back out to the balcony, needing to ensure that Cam wasn’t awakened by his nocturnal wanderings.

The American was undoing him, unravelling his tightest controls, unmanning him. His thoughtfulness in bringing home wine, the flowers he had ordered, his offer to cook...all of this showed a man he could lose his heart to if he just let go. He spoke French like a native, enjoyed French cuisine, loved to cook, was passionate about his work, loved his parents… That last thought made Jean-Paul rub his hand absently over his heart. Parents...he had them once, and a twin. He had loved them all. They had been such a close-knit, happy family. And then it had all been taken away from him in one terrible, inexplicable tragedy.

He swallowed some wine to ease the pain that bloomed in his chest. Twenty-five years is a long time to carry an emotional wound so deep it had crippled him. Only in the last ten had he begun to climb out of the pit he had fallen into when he woke up in the hospital alone, broken, and scared. And after all these years, he was still alone, still broken, and even more afraid.

He would never have what Cam still had with his parents.

Sighing heavily, he thought about how it would be to be with Cam without being open to discussing his family. Cam was like an open book, and Jean-Paul had been so closed off for so long that he didn’t think he could relax enough to open up to him. And yet, somewhere deep inside, he wanted to open up to the American...he needed to, because he felt an affinity with the man he had never felt with anyone else.

“Can’t sleep?”

Cam’s voice, unexpected on the late-night air, startled him out of his ruminations. It was almost as though his thoughts had awakened Cam, who stood backlit in the doorway, his long hair loose around his shoulders, the knee-length shorts and tank top he wore doing nothing to dim his sex appeal.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” he answered, not responding to the question.

“No. I couldn’t sleep, either.”

Cam sat across from him on the balcony, his hands clasped between his knees as he sat forward in the chair.

“Maybe it’s because it’s a new bed, and I’m not as wiped out as I was the night I came, but I just couldn’t find a comfortable place to fall asleep. And I was reading till after midnight to help me along.”

Jean-Paul smiled. “Perhaps I need to tire you out more tomorrow after dinner with a longer walk.”

Cam chuckled. “Not sure I’m up for that, either. Where were you planning to go, anyway?”

“I think walking the Mall would be quite nice. We can drive and park the car at one spot, wander around the monuments and memorials and then return to the car. Perhaps we should do the mall immediately after work, then go to dinner at a restaurant. There are some great ones in the area.”

Cam looked up at him, and though he could not see his eyes, he could feel the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds great. We’ll meet here, like before?”

“Or I can pick you up on the way from work and we’ll go directly there.”

“It’s a date!”

Cam’s words, spoken innocently, stirred the hunger that Jean-Paul had been resisting even more. He knew Cam meant nothing by them...how could he, when they were barely even friends? And though he knew Cam was gay, Cam knew nothing of his own preferences. None of the rationalizations did anything to calm his body, which had awakened again at the sound of Cam’s voice. He was hard, his body hot, his heart pumping the blood faster through his veins. And Cam seemed entirely unaffected by whatever was in the air making him crazy. He would not be the first to leave this time. Running away once for the night was more than enough. They would go in together, or he’d sleep on the balcony...it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’d better go back in and try to catch some Z’s.”

Cam must have read enough in his silence to make him feel uncomfortable. Jean-Paul would have preferred not to make his guest feel bad, but he was in preservation mode. He had to reel in the lines that had already been loosened from the mooring of his self-control. Friends was all they’d be...that had to be his mantra.

When he woke the next morning, it was to the doorbell ringing. It was six thirty. Who the hell was calling at this early hour? Pulling on his shorts and a silk robe, he went to the door and looked through the peephole. Cam stood outside. Mon dieu! If he were already up, he had gotten less than four hours of sleep. Would he be a wreck in his seminar later? Was he a grouch when he didn’t get enough sleep? What was he doing out of the apartment?

Realizing he was still staring and not opening the door, he moved back and let Cam in.

“Morning! Sorry to wake you but it didn’t occur to me to ask for the keys so I could come back in without disturbing you till it had closed behind me.”

Cam was sweaty, which probably meant he had been to the gym. The scent of sweat and man was overpowering in the small hallway, but all Jean-Paul wanted to do was inhale. Cam clearing his throat shook him out of the stupor his sex-addled brain was sinking into. He blushed – he seemed to be doing that a lot around Cam these days – and said, “It’s okay. This is when I normally get up anyway.” He looked him over once more and added, “Did you go down to the gym?”

“No. I went for a run. I didn’t sleep too well, so I figured I’d start wearing myself out with a longish run. I ran to where we walked yesterday, ran around the pool, then ran back.”

“Next time, wake me and we’ll run together.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had even had time to process them in his head. And Cam’s surprised look meant he hadn’t expected them either. But now they had been said, he couldn’t unsay them. Nor would he retract the invitation. The onus was now on Cam to act. What he did would determine what Jean-Paul did next.

“I’ll do that.” Cam turned toward his bedroom, saying, “See you in a few.” Then he disappeared through the bedroom door.

At seven sharp, as he was stepping out of his bedroom, Cam appeared in the doorway of his. Jean-Paul took in the dark-wash jeans he wore with a white button-down cotton shirt, open at the collar. He couldn’t see whether or not he had any hair on his chest, but the rolled sleeves of his shirt showed a thin layer of silky blond hairs, lying flat against his skin. His watch contrasted nicely with the color of his skin. The black hiking boots on his feet put the finishing touch to a strong, masculine look that sent Jean-Paul’s heart racing.

“I don’t want you cutting it so close today,” he was saying as they walked into the kitchen. “I’ll get the breakfast fixings, while you handle the French press. I have a Keurig at home...that’s the extent of my coffee expertise.”

Jean-Paul chuckled, glad of the lighthearted comment about the coffee to help him not fall over in shock at Cam’s first words. How he knew that Jean-Paul had been almost late he would never know, but that he wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again said this man would look out for him when he needed it...if he let him.

“Okay.” He could muster no other words just then.

He went and did as he was bid while Cam toasted the rest of the baguette from dinner and dropped a dollop of butter on each piece. Cam took the platter and the jar of jam to the table, on which, Jean-Paul noted, he had left the tablecloth. Then he returned for the individual plates, two glasses and the orange juice in the refrigerator.

When the coffee was done, Jean-Paul took it out to the table and they sat to a plain feast of bread and butter with jam, hot coffee–this time Cam had it with creamer–and juice. They were ready to go at seven-thirty, and Jean-Paul let Cam walk ahead of him out the door so he could watch the way he held himself erect, and see the strong legs striding away toward the elevator. Je suis dans la merde! He knew he was in far deeper than he had meant to be, and it was only the second full day of Cam’s stay with him.

He kept a prudent silence as he unlocked his car and they got in. Cam was just as quiet, and he adjusted the radio so he could listen to the morning show. It would ease the uncomfortable–at least on his part–silence. When he stopped at the campus, Cam turned to him.

“I’ll meet you back here?” When he nodded, Cam added, “What time?”

“Unless I have an emergency, four thirty will be fine.”

“Later. Have a great day.”

Cam exited the car, sketched a salute and walked away. Jean-Paul watched him go for a few seconds before driving off. This time, he made it in to work with time to spare. Was that what it was like to have a partner at home? Someone who cared about you, who considered your feelings, who tried to meet your needs, to make your life more pleasant? What had he chosen to avoid by closing himself off to the world?

Those questions would have to wait for a more opportune time to be answered. He had quite a few meetings today, and he was determined to be done on time to meet Cam by four thirty. Not that they had a date or anything like that...at least that’s what he told himself as he walked into his office to face the day.

When the day finally ended, a little after four in the afternoon, Jean-Paul sat for a moment in his car to catch his breath. He could still make it to their meeting spot by four thirty, but he didn’t intend to appear to have hurried to get there, even in his car. He liked Cam–a whole lot, it seemed–but he needed to keep his focus on what was possible. Friendship...that was possible, and that was what he would work on.

He saw Cam before the American saw him, and that his heart leapt in his chest displeased him. But he pasted a smile on his face as Cam climbed into the car. It wasn’t his fault Jean-Paul seemed to have lost control of his emotions. He would enjoy their outing, enjoy dinner afterwards, and make nothing more of it than building a real friendship for the first time in more years than he could recall, and the first in his ten months in the States.

“You had a good day?” he asked, noting the pleased look on Cam’s face.

“I did, thank you. I got a lot of new ideas for teaching the subject, and even one or two for training the staff. Yeah...it was a productive day.”

“I am glad.”

“How about you? Met any new high school French teachers today?”

Cam’s chuckle warmed him from the inside out. “I did not,” he returned. “I had a lot of meetings about new education projects, yes, but this time none included high schools.”

“Pity. I mean, now you’ve met me and my kids, you know that high school teachers and their students aren’t all that bad.”

“If you are an example of what I should expect, then you are right, mon ami.”

“I know they can be pretty intimidating, but for the most part, kids are okay people. And there’s so much we can learn from them about fearlessness and living by a code. Even if their codes are often fucked up, they stick by them unless they can see a better way to go. Unlike a lot of adults, who live their whole lives in the gray of indecision or the black of fear.”

Jean-Paul found himself caught up in the eloquence and passion of Cam’s words. “So what color is the kids’ passion?”

“Red,” he answered immediately. “It’s the color of all passion whether it’s love and lust, or anger and hate. They all come from that same source.”

“I suppose we are all teenagers at heart, no?” The way he had been feeling around Cam would certainly seem to prove that to be true.

“Yes. But we’ve let being grown up choke the passion, or bury it in responsibility. The only time we seem to want to let it out is to fight or fuck. It’s nice to be around kids. They help keep me in balance.”

Jean-Paul couldn’t think of the last time he had wanted to fight. But since meeting Cam, he had begun to think a lot about fucking, more so than ever before. The hookups he experienced had been few enough that he had not bothered to remember them...they were too eminently forgettable. Somehow he knew, though, that anything he did with Cam would be unforgettable. Best to avoid going down the road of memories that would never be uprooted by either time or distance.

“If we can manage to avoid fighting and fucking on demand, perhaps we will manage a better balance, eh?”

He thought his statement was sufficiently nonchalant, but he could feel Cam’s eyes on him as he turned into a parking garage. He pocketed the ticket and they walked out, Cam keeping pace with him as he set off. They wandered around the Mall, taking pictures at the US Capitol, the Smithsonian museums, and passed by the Washington Monument to the World War II Memorial, where Jean-Paul took some pictures of Cam on both their phones. They passed by the Holocaust Museum and took in the Lincoln Memorial again.

Seeing these sights at night always filled Jean-Paul with awe. Seeing them with Cam was special, because for the first time since he arrived in the city, he was sharing them with a friend.

“This is incredible!”

Cam’s exclamation resonated with him, and he loved the awe he could hear in his voice as he marveled.

“Human beings are so creative, so intelligent, with the capacity to share such beauty with the world. Why would they turn to hatred and war when they can create these structures and sculptures?”

Jean-Paul listened to his musing, which echoed the thoughts he often had when he walked the Mall at night. And he wondered how, in a country brimming with such talent, and in a city teeming with ingenuity and creativity, hate often showed so open a face. He would never understand.

Eventually they walked back to the car and Jean-Paul drove to a favorite restaurant of his that served Spanish food. They decided it was too late to eat a heavy meal and settled for tapas, cocktails and a rich dessert. And because he knew that Cam would object if he paid for the whole meal, he agreed to split the bill fifty-fifty. Then they drove home, full of good food and more liquor than they probably should have had. After five cocktails, he was feeling just a little more than giddy, but he liked the buzz he had going on. It had helped him to relax and enjoy being with the man for whom he was fighting his attraction. He could watch Cam sip his cocktail or lick the sauce off his spoon without tensing up at the way his body reacted to the sight.

And his body had been reacting in a most pleasurable way. Thankfully, only he knew how the buzz of the alcohol and the attraction he was feeling had settled in his cock, keeping it half hard even after they got back into the apartment. It was just after ten, and he didn’t know whether or not Cam had homework, but he didn’t want the evening to end just yet. So, he sauntered into the kitchen and pulled two beers from the refrigerator.

“Let’s have one more before bed,” he said, and led the way out to the balcony.

He sat close to the railing and beckoned Cam over with the beer, handing him the bottle when he sat next to him.

“Did you have a good evening?” He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear, but whatever Cam said would no doubt please him.

“I did. Thanks for the tour. Where are we going tomorrow?”

“I think it would be nice to go across the river and see what we can see. I can drive, or we can take a tour bus. Which would you prefer?”

“Is there parking?” There was that independent American thing coming out again. It was becoming quite an endearing quality to Jean-Paul.

“There is.”

“Then let’s drive. Well, you’ll be driving, so it’s up to you.”

Jean-Paul chuckled. “Then we will drive. But we must get to Arlington before seven, which is when it closes. Shall we eat out again?”

“No. I’ve got this. Tomorrow we’re ending an hour early for those people who want to do a DC tour and a show after. I’ll just need the key to get back in.”

“Done.” Jean-Paul raised his bottle in a salute and took a big swallow.

It did not escape his notice that Cam had chosen to spend time with him, instead of with his colleagues. The thought sent his heart leaping. The sense of intimacy wrapping around him was new to Jean-Paul. It felt like he and Cam were in a relationship. Maybe he was just a little bit tipsy so everything was magnified. Yes...that’s what it was. Too much alcohol, not enough food to soak it up...that wasn’t a good combination when paired with steadily rising sexual attraction. He drained the rest of his beer and tried to stand, so he could get away from the temptation that was Cam.

Instead of standing, though, he toppled sideways, landing ingloriously in Cam’s lap, their faces inches apart. He was close enough to smell the beer on Cam’s breath as he laughed at Jean-Paul’s predicament. Close enough to feel the puff of air on his lips with each word that Cam spoke.

“Little bit tipsy, are we?”

A drunken giggle escaped him as he tried to right himself. “The cocktails are always very good at that restaurant. They also pack a powerful punch.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. You have work in the morning.”

Cam rested his bottle on the floor next to his chair and grabbed Jean-Paul by the arms, helping him stand. Then he rose as well, picked up his bottle and held Jean-Paul by the elbow as they walked together back inside. He knew he should be embarrassed at having to be led to bed like a small boy, but he was enjoying Cam’s hands on him too much to notice and was drunk enough not to care.

“Here you go.” Cam opened his bedroom door for him. “I’ll take this,” he added, relieving Jean-Paul of the beer bottle. “Still want me to wake you for a run?”

He considered the question. Maybe a run would do him good before work. At the very least, it would help ease whatever hangover he woke up with.

“Oui.”

“Okay, see you at five thirty.”

Cam stepped away to the kitchen, and Jean-Paul closed his door and leaned against it. He supposed he ought to be grateful nothing more had happened than an accidental spill onto Cam’s lap. At least he hadn’t kissed him...yet.