6
Tom Carlile
I kiss him deeper, deeper, deeper, my mind suddenly blooming with possibilities I’d shut out of my head months ago. Can it be true? All along, he loved me. All the tears I cried, all the nights I went out to chase my sadness away, all of it was for nothing. Because all along, he was waiting in this apartment for me, loving me back. Wanting me, like I wanted him.
It’s the craziest thing in the world, but the look on his face tells me the impossible has happened – I found love in the most hopeless place possible. I was just too stupid and self-centered to realize it.
Kissing him desperately, running my hands all over his body in a way that is making my soul explode, I slide over with him a few feet, and collapse onto the couch together.
“Always,” he keeps saying, hungrily sucking my neck and licking my lips and kissing my forehead.
“All along,” I gasp, running my hands through his hair, which smells even better up-close than I’d always dreamed – like my Mamaw’s lavender bathroom soap, actually. Holy fuck, I can’t wait to get to know his whole body now. Every inch of his skin, every blemish, every scar, every eyelash – I want to get to know it all. Every day, every moment – I want to spend it all with him.
We get more intense, and I rip off his shirt, touching his chest for the first time. He slides me out of my jacket and shirt, too, and soon I know where this is starting to go.
But wait. Things like this only happen in movies. I need to be cautious. We have so much to talk about. Everything in the world, really, starting from day one.
When we come up for air, I realize we’re kind of in a spooning position – my back is to him, and he’s nestled in the arm of the couch.
“Wait,” I say. “Hold on. Before…before anything else happens…tell me more.”
“Alright,” he laughs quietly. “I have you in my arms, that’s all I need for now. And tell you what, exactly?”
“Tell me when it started,” I demand, squeezing his arm in a way I have dreamed about a million times, but never done in real life. “This makes no sense, and I want it to make sense, so I can trust it.”
“It started the first day,” he says. “The first moment.”
“Fuck,” I say, kissing his arm. God, I could kiss this arm forever. “You felt it, too?”
“I did. When I looked at you, it was like seeing a ghost or something. A ghost I desperately wanted to fuck.”
“God,” I laugh. “Oh, and guess what? I was lying when you asked me about my reaction when we first met, a while back,” I confess. “I was a little wary of having a straight roommate, sure, but that look on my face at the bottom of the stairs – you stunned me. I was blown away by you. That’s why I looked at you like you were a crazy person.”
I feel from the lift in his cheek that he is beaming. “I can’t even believe you’re saying these things. Promise me you’re not making it up?”
“I love you, Evan Ruiz,” I say simply, and that seems to calm him. “I’m the one who can’t believe it. When you felt all this, you were also…straight, right?”
He tenses. I’d never asked him about the full extent of his sexual history. I know a lot of straight guys who had a few gay experiences growing up, and never told anyone. Sometimes I wondered about him – all the time, really – but this part of it makes no sense to me. How could our “insta-love” have been mutual when he’d never liked a guy before? No matter how many times I pointed my mental gaydar machine at him and tried to figure out if he was secretly closeted, I could never get a clear picture.
“That’s what I didn’t understand,” he says soon. “I’d never felt it – not once. Never checked a guy out, nothing. So in the beginning, I didn’t even know it was love – I thought there was just something wrong with me, something that made me not able to function around you. Do you think someone can suddenly switch?”
“Not at all. What’s more likely is that you might’ve felt a few things when you were a kid, and then started pushing it down and denying it as a defense mechanism to protect yourself. So by the time you grew up, you were repressing something that you didn’t even consciously know existed.”
“But I don’t remember doing anything like that…”
“Didn’t you say that most of your memories from before your dad’s death have been lost?”
“Wow. Good point…”
“All I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to be straight or gay, A or B, this or that. And you don’t have to freak out about what it means, either. But no, I don’t think someone just wakes up one day and is suddenly gay. It’s most likely something that was in you, that you’d just never explored. Gay isn’t a cold you can catch. Last year this movie came out called Gay For You, and the whole premise was that this jock character was somehow ‘only’ gay for one guy, and was ‘straight’ for the rest of the world. It was dumb and offensive, because sexuality isn’t a switch you can turn off and on. If it was, I probably would’ve chosen a way easier path. People just are who they are. All you can do is accept them, and yourself.”
He just thinks for a moment. “Ugh. There’s still so much I don’t understand,” he says soon. “I only started exploring my possible attraction to guys…well, recently.”
“And just who did you explore with?” I ask, suddenly jealous, and he laughs.
“Oh, nobody. I didn’t mean it like that. It was just – porn, and fantasies, and that sort of thing.”
“Good,” I say, kissing his bicep. Then I try to fish for some compliments. “Keep helping me understand. What did you like so much about me, anyway?”
“Everything,” he says simply, dazed. “The way your personality has a top and a bottom, a high point and a low point, whereas mine just lives in the middle. You balance that out so well. You feel…in a weird way, you feel like home to me. Even going to the grocery store, I would treasure the feeling of knowing that when I came home, you’d be waiting for me there. You were like a partner to me, even though you weren’t.”
I squeeze his arm. “You do have a point. We started doing everything together, even eating meals. We were almost like partners, or something.” Then the uneasiness creeps back in. “And…just to make sure. You’re sure you’re okay with me? With the way I’m, well...you know…”
“What?”
“Feminine,” I say, embarrassed. His response is indignant.
“Tom, are you crazy? You are fine with me. No, you are perfect.”
I just process this for a moment. “I still can’t believe your reaction to all that…the first time I put on a super ‘gay’ outfit, I was sure you were going to be weirded out, and stop talking to me because you were straight. And you loved it! You laughed and laughed and laughed!”
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? My mom is a hippie therapist. It’s not like I was raised in the Confederacy. I was never taught to hold those things against people.”
“But it surprised me so much. And Evan…”
“What?”
I blink away a tear. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me, how special it makes me feel. I’ve never felt this…seen. Even my own parents would tell me to change out of tight jeans or stop lisping. Never in my life…ugh. I just…I really appreciate it, that’s all.”
“Don’t. I’m just doing what anyone would do. Loving you. It’s nothing special.”
“But it is,” I laugh through a choked voice. “I was just shocked by it. I didn’t expect it from…someone like you. Your friends…when I met them, they were just…well, awful…”
“I know. And I’m starting to realize I was living a sort of lie all along. I never even really liked them, and you made me realize it more and more.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me about all this in the beginning?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asks. “I was terrified. I had a female friend once, her name was Katherine, and…yeah. She developed feelings, and I didn’t know. It wasn’t pretty. I had no idea what to say when she told me she’d fallen for me. I was nice, but there’s nothing you can say in that situation.”
“Well I don’t blame her. I would’ve fallen, too. Or…I guess I did.”
“Ha. But yeah. The whole sexuality part – that was very hard to understand. The hardest. And…still is.”
“Be honest. You’ve never liked a guy before? Or hooked up? Or anything at all? No summer camp experiments, no sleepover jack-off sessions? I’ve been on the hookup apps long enough to know how many quote-unquote ‘straight’ guys are looking for some dick every weekend when they’re drunk and their defenses are down.”
“Honestly, no. I scanned my memory going back forever. I knew something was going on with me, I just didn’t know it was this.”
“It was hard for me, too,” I tell him soon. “Not that I can relate to being sexually curious, but it was so hard to tell if what I felt was one-sided. I knew I loved you from the first few weeks, but I was sure it would never happen. That’s why I started acting so weird. I didn’t want to get too attached. And every guy I ever went on a date with? I was trying to forget about you.”
“Ha! And all along, I was obsessing over it, thinking you were out living your best life and not even thinking about me…”
“Oh, every moment I thought of you,” I say quietly. “Every single moment.”
“And I can’t believe I never knew it…”
“How could you not know, though?” I ask. “Everyone knew it. My friends knew it. My mom knew it!”
“I could ask you the same question. I was so sucked up in my own mind, trying to deal with this…”
“True.”
“Oh my God, it feels so good to be holding you like this,” he says soon, holding me tight. “This has only ever happened in my dreams…”
“You’re telling me. Where is Oprah? Did she just grant me my one true wish? Is a fairy godmother about to pop out? This cannot be happening.”
“But it is,” he says. “And not to sound weird, but already it feels…right. Just holding you, I feel like I just walked into my childhood bedroom or something. It’s hard to even explain. Is it the same for you?”
“Yes,” I say soon. “I always wondered whether we would ruin our dynamic somehow if I ever tried to touch you like this. It’s not like that at all. I feel even closer to you right now. The shoe fits, you know?”
“I can’t explain how much I agree.”
He spends a few minutes kissing my neck up and down, stopping at my ear or collarbone here or there. It takes everything in me not to just jump on my knees and give him the blowjob of a lifetime, but we’re already moving at the speed of light, and I don’t want to make it even more heightened. Any more emotion or stimulation right now and I would probably melt into a puddle on the floor.
Oh, but how sweet it will be to taste his cock for the first time…
“It’s funny,” I say soon. “When I met you, I was a fucking mess.”
“Why?”
“Gay men can be very intolerant of femininity, which makes no sense, I know, but they are. At the time, all I heard from guys was ‘you’re too swish, you’re too sparkly, you’re too whatever.’ And then I met you, and you only liked me more as I revealed more of myself…”
“I guess I was already attracted to femininity,” he says, contemplative. “You didn’t change that. The girls I dated were always very traditional in that way. Maybe I just found it in you, regardless of gender. So it didn’t matter.”
“Jesus, this is a mind-fuck.”
He pulls me closer. “I know. But I trust it like I trust my iPhone alarm.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those things never let me down. They’ve never malfunctioned once. I set the alarm and just fall asleep. You won’t let me down, either.”
I just nuzzle him.
“Tom?” he asks soon.
“Yeah?”
“Do you believe in…soulmates? Do you believe someone can walk into your life and turn it upside down forever, change it for good?”
“I want to,” I say after a pause.
“Well I do.”
“How?”
“Because you’re that person, Tom.”
I can’t respond to that one – I am putting all my effort into trying not to burst into sobs. It’s all almost too much to process at once.
But how does he feel about all this? I know he’s pouring his heart out, but does he feel as natural as I do right now? Or is he still silently wondering about the “gay” part of it all?
Did my friends have a point when they warned me about the “never fall for a straight guy” rule? Or can love really work between two people, no matter the gender?
If he asked me right now, I would become “official” with him and stay that way, probably forever. But how is he really feeling? What’s really going on beneath that beautiful hair of his?