Chapter 10

 

 

October

 

IN THE time it takes Rex to struggle to his feet and pull me up by my armpits when he displaces me, the following thoughts run through my mind in no discernible order.

1. Rex’s boyfriend just got home. Rex has a boyfriend. Partner? Lover? Whatever. Some dude just told Rex to fuck him, ergo: bad news.

2. You are such a fucking idiot. How could you possibly trust him? All the sweet talk, gentle touches, and soft kisses were just to mess with you, or to get in your pants, or both. Oh god, you let him fuck you. You told him about Colin. About Richard. Seriously, could you possibly be more fucking gullible?

3. Rex is short for Rexroth? How did I not know that?

Then a fourth thought fights in, and it’s in a voice that sounds a lot like Ginger’s. It says, Don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know what’s going on yet. Give Rex a chance to explain. Rex is not Richard. But that thought doesn’t have a chance because Rex walks over and flips on the lights and this guy is… beautiful.

His face is Scandinavian perfection and he’s dressed like a model. He has high, sharp cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, ashy eyebrows over blue-gray eyes, a square jaw and delicate chin, and a pouty mouth. He’s about my height, but he seems taller. His blond hair is longish and tousled and he has a tiny beauty mark over his lip and another next to his eyebrow, as if he were the model for beauty mark piercings. He’s stunning and I hate him on sight.

I can’t fucking believe it. I confess to Rex how I found Richard with another man; Rex’s… someone shows up right after. It really couldn’t be clearer. If I were teaching the book of my life in class right now, I would use this moment as an example of irony. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.

“Oops,” he says, looking at me, his eyes sparkling. “Didn’t know you had company.”

“You didn’t see the car out front?” Rex asks, tilting his head. The model gets a mischievous expression on his face and smirks at Rex, then looks back and forth between us.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I figured it was yours. Not like you ever have any company except me.”

His voice is deeper than what I’d expect from someone so pretty. He’s not feminine exactly, just kind of androgynous in a rock star/model sort of way. He doesn’t seem fazed in the least. I realize I’ve been staring at him with my shirt off, so I extract it from where Rex shoved it between the couch cushions and pull it on. It’s inside out, but I refuse to acknowledge that. I can only hope that my expression right now is the unimpressed one I give the lead singers of bands who assume I know who they are, the rich guys who slum at the bars in my neighborhood, sure they can pick up anyone, and the students who think they’re getting one over on me.

My brain has kicked into survival mode and all that matters right now is making it out of this house without either Rex or this guy realizing that they’ve had any effect on me whatsoever. Show nothing. Reveal nothing.

“Hi, Marilyn,” the man says, looking right past me. Marilyn trots over to him and lets herself be pet. He bends down and rubs her belly. So, if he knows Marilyn, he’s been around pretty recently—at least since this summer when Rex rescued us.

“Don’t be a dick, Will,” Rex says. “This is Daniel.” Rex holds an arm out to me, but his eyes are anxious.

I intentionally pause before walking slowly over to them.

“Hey,” I say, nodding and holding out a hand to Will. Will’s grip is strong and his calloused hands don’t quite match his pretty face.

“This is my friend, Will,” Rex says, his emphasis on friend a little too deliberate. “Will,” Rex says pointedly, “I didn’t know you were coming to town.”

Will seems to forget I’m there the second he lets go of my hand. He studies Rex’s face and gives him a long once-over.

“Did you have a migraine?” he asks, and my heart starts beating in my ears. This guy knows Rex. There’s no way they’re just friends, or even fuck buddies.

“I’m fine,” Rex says, waving him away. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. “Daniel took good care of me.”

The warmth from Rex’s hand and his words helps a little, but he’s laying it on pretty thick. The last thing I want to do is leave Rex alone with Will, but my instincts are screaming at me to get out of here. I can’t stick around, not even to see what’s going on. I’ve got to get away before I do something I can’t live down, like cry or give this Will guy the satisfaction of seeing that he’s gotten to me. I awkwardly pat Rex on the hip and duck out from under his hand, pulling my shoes on.

“Daniel, don’t go,” Rex says.

“Oh, no, well, I have to teach in the morning, and it’s getting late, so. I’m gonna head home.”

“No, worries, Dan,” Will says cheerily, “I can take it from here.”

I stand quickly. This guy’s stupid perfect face—I want to smash it with my fist. Rather than take a step back like most guys do when I’m in fighting mode, though, Will just smirks at me lazily and yawns. Rex puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me around, no doubt sensing bad energy between us.

But he’s not looking at me like he’s pissed that I want to punch his friend in the face. He’s looking at me with satisfaction. Like I finally did something right. Like maybe he likes the idea that I’m jealous. Oh shit, I’m so fucking jealous.

“Later,” I toss over my shoulder at perfect, stupid Will’s face. Then I fist Rex’s T-shirt in my hand and drag him down toward me, kissing him hard and deep. When I let him go, he sways, looking a little stunned. I smile at him and walk past Will out the front door.

 

 

AT LEAST I didn’t have the nightmare last night. Because I didn’t sleep at all.

My heart was pounding with adrenaline the whole drive home, but within about a minute my satisfaction at having laid claim to Rex in front of whoever the hell this Will guy is faded to stomach-clenching anxiety and I cursed myself for choosing a dramatic exit over sticking around and finding out what the story was. Those kinds of exits always seem so satisfying when I read them in books, but I guess with an omniscient narrator no one really needs to stick around for the down and dirty parts.

Finally, around six in the morning, I drag myself out of bed and stand in a hot shower, deciding to get some coffee and walk around for a bit in the hopes of shaking off the stressful weekend and everything to do with Rex and Will before having to act like a grown-up all day. I shake out my gray button-down and pull on gray corduroys and my wingtips. I really need to go shopping. I only have about ten articles of professional clothing and I’ve been swapping them around, but pretty soon someone’s going to notice that I always wear the same thing. I pull on my only sweater, a thin red V-neck that Ginger gave me, in a Hail Mary play that the color might make me feel more awake, hoping it doesn’t look ridiculous. Ginger said it looked great with my hair, but I think it might just make me look like I’m early for Christmas.

I grab my jacket and turn up the volume on New Order, deciding to wander a bit before heading over to Sludge. I’m immediately glad for my sweater, no matter how Christmassy, when the wind starts to blow. I definitely need to get a heavier coat. Maybe this weekend. My mind wanders to Ginger and how sometimes, on chilly days, I’d get us both hot chocolates and we’d climb the fire escape to the roof of her shop, looking down over South Street, the streets of beautiful old houses to the north, and the Italian Market to the south. I like my hot chocolate with vanilla and Ginge likes hers with cinnamon, and the smells of them would mix with those of the burger joint on the corner, the falafel cart down the street, the exhaust from cars inching down South Street, and the scent of rotting leaves and stale popcorn that always seems to drift through the streets as fall gives way to winter.

Up there on the roof is where I first told Ginger a secret: that after a spotty high school career of teachers who thought I was a loser punk with an attitude and skipping more classes than I went to because the teachers were idiots, I desperately wanted to go to college. Ginger smiled at me and said, “Of course you should go; you’re the smartest guy I know.” It’s also where she told me about her older brother who’d killed himself when she was fifteen after their father walked in on him having sex with another boy. For a while after that, I worried that the only reason she wanted to be friends with me was because I reminded her of her brother or something.

Part of me wants to tell Ginger about the whole Will thing in the hopes that she’ll tell me it’s nothing, but it’s way too early to call her. Will. There was something slightly off about that guy. Or, not off—just something that didn’t quite add up. Guys that pretty are usually so used to getting whatever they want that they’ve never fought in their lives. But Will didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by the threat of a fight. Maybe he was just so sure of his primacy with Rex that he didn’t care? He did seem pretty concerned about Rex’s headache. Still, not really possessive the way a lover might be—more… what? Annoyed, maybe, that Rex was in pain? I’m not sure.

Out of nowhere, someone grabs my shoulder and I wheel around and grab them around the neck.

It’s Leo, and he looks terrified.

“Shit, Leo,” I say, brushing him off and ripping out my earbuds. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, man.”

“Um, I was yelling your name, dude.”

I’ve got to stop listening to my music so loud.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“No worries!” he says, looking cheerful again. “So, how was Detroit? Did you go to any shows? How was your conference? What was your talk about again?”

Jesus, it’s too early in the morning to have that kind of energy.

“Detroit was fine. I didn’t have time for anything but the conference. My paper went fine. It was about—”

“Oh, I remember. About turn of the century sensationalism in American newspaper illustration, right?”

I only remember briefly mentioning anything about my paper when I stopped in to Mr. Zoo’s on Friday. I assumed Leo was just being polite when he asked, and I can’t believe he understood what I was talking about, much less remembered it.

“That’s right. How do you remember that?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Not that hard. Sounded interesting.” He’s bouncing a little, whether with energy or to keep warm, I’m not sure.

“What’re you doing out so early?” I ask.

“Oh, just wandering around,” Leo says. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“Then I saw you and figured I’d come say hi. Hey, you wanna get a coffee? I know you always go to Sludge before class.”

“How do you—? Never mind. Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

Marjorie greets me with a suspicious smile when I walk in the door with Leo. With no energy to resist her, I bite the bullet.

“I’ll have a Daniel, please.”

She looks disappointed for a moment, then smiles widely, as if she’s beaten me. And maybe she has. I don’t even have the energy to care.

“Ooh, yes, me too,” Leo says.

“Dude,” I say, sharing a look with Marjorie. “You’re already bouncing off the walls; the thought of you ingesting that much caffeine actually makes me fear for the safety of this town and everyone in it.”

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, coffee has a… whaddayacallit… paradoxical effect on me.”

“Huh?” says Marjorie.

“It, like, chills me out,” Leo says.

“Well, glory hallelujah, pour the kid some coffee,” I mutter.

A stocky kid in trendy clothes comes in behind us. Leo’s bouncing increases and his elegant nostrils flare.

“Two Daniels!” Marjorie announces gleefully, putting the drinks on the counter.

There’s a snort behind us.

“Trying to be just like your boyfriend, Leo? Good luck with that,” the guy in line behind us scoffs.

“Shut up, Todd!” Leo says, spinning around to look at him and almost knocking both coffees over with his backpack.

I put a hand on Leo’s twitching shoulder and turn to the kid behind us. I stand, looking at him. It’s the same vaguely threatening, totally unimpressed look that I gave Will last night, and this kid folds almost immediately, looking down at the expensive shoes I’m sure his parents bought him. Now that’s what’s supposed to happen.

“Excuse us,” I say calmly, sliding money across the counter to Marjorie and taking the coffees. I walk out the door, certain Leo will follow me.

“Ha!” Leo says, grinning, elbowing me as we get outside. “That was awesome. You just looked at him and he practically shit his pants. How’d you do that? I mean, you’re not even that big a guy and everyone’s terrified of you. You’ve got to teach me that.”

I decide to ignore the part about everyone being terrified of me, because I don’t even want to know.

“Well, first of all, you have to believe, one hundred percent, that you could take them out if it came down to a fight,” I tell him. “If you don’t believe it, they won’t either. That kind of confidence does 80 percent of the work for you. You look sure you could kick their ass, they’re gonna be thinking they have something to worry about. Second, you have to not give a shit. And it’s got to come from the inside out. If you’re faking it, they’ll know. Then the rest of it’s just staring at them. If you know you could win a fight and you don’t give a shit, the stare will do the rest of the work for you. Here, show me.”

I square off with Leo, taking his coffee. He’s only an inch or so shorter than me, but being that skinny, you’ve got to look all kinds of threatening to be taken seriously. I remember.

Leo laughs nervously, scuffing the toe of his Vans on the pavement.

“I’ve, um, never been in a fight.”

“What about the day I met you?” I’d kind of assumed that getting picked on was a regular occurrence for him, but maybe not.

“Oh, yeah, well. I’ve gotten my ass kicked, sure. But I’ve never actually thrown a punch.” He blushes and his eyelashes lower.

“Well, you’ve done the hardest part. It’s a lot easier to hit someone than it is to take a punch. I can teach you, if you want.” Wait, no. Is that irresponsible? But the kid’s got to learn to take care of himself or who knows what might happen to him.

“Whoa, really? Hell yes. Teach me!” He does what is, perhaps, supposed to be some kind of martial arts punch-kick combination and nearly takes out both coffees again as he lurches toward me, light brown hair falling into his eyes.

“All right, Karate Kid. Some other time, though. If anyone sees us I’m going to look like I’m corrupting a minor.”

“I’m not a minor; I’m eighteen. Hey! Wasn’t his name Daniel?”

“Who?”

“The Karate Kid!”

“Call me Daniel-san and live to regret it,” I tell him with a growl.

I hand him his coffee and we keep walking. My phone rings and my heart lurches when I see that it’s Rex.

“Sorry,” I say to Leo and wave the phone, turning my back to him.

“Hi,” I say.

“Daniel.” Rex’s deep voice makes my heart pound. “I need to talk to you.” I don’t even realize my hand’s in a fist until I hear my knuckles crack.

“Mmhmm.”

“Listen, about Will. He showed up last night without telling me he was coming to town, okay. And you don’t have to worry about him. Not at all.”

“Look, Rex, it’s not a good time to talk right now, okay? I’m with Leo and I’m about to go to my office. Can we talk about it later?”

Rex’s voice is clipped when he answers. Annoyed? Anxious? I’m not sure, but I know I’m both.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Can you come over tonight? After you’re done with work? I’ll make us some dinner.” Damn it, the magic words.

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Hey, how’s your head?” I try to sound casual, like I’m just checking in on a friend.

“It’s much better. Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice and the knot in my stomach loosens a little. “Tonight,” he says again, as if he’s afraid I won’t remember. “Whenever you’re done, just come on over. You can work here, if you want. I’ll be home by three.”

“Okay,” I say again.

“Oh, and Daniel, I, um, I have the Internet—you know, in case you weren’t sure whether you could work here today because you need it. I have it now, so….” He sounds a little embarrassed.

“Oh, you do? Well, that’s… okay, cool,” I say. I guess he decided he needed it after all.

“I’ll see you later,” Rex says, his voice even deeper.

“Bye.”

I turn around to find Leo practically in my face. I forgot he was there.

“Are you dating Rex Vale?” Leo asks, his eyes wide.

“Would you quit eavesdropping!”

“I ain’t been droppin’ no eaves, sir, honest,” he says, in a dopey quasi-British accent.

“What are you—?”

“Hello! Sam, from The Fellowship of the Ring? Have you seen a movie released after 1985?”

I grumble something, feeling seriously old.

“So? Are you? Dating Rex Vale?”

“Kind of,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

“Oh shit, you totally are.” He groans. “That is so incredibly hot.” He looks me up and down and smiles that smile that’s going to get him laid or laid out, depending. Me, I kind of want to punch him, but part of me can’t help but be a little impressed. He’s really elevated this whole small-town-gossip thing to an art form. It’s like he watches television and movies and then goes out and slots people in his real life into the roles. Hell, it’s probably what I would’ve done if I’d grown up somewhere like this where nothing happens.

“What do you know about it?” I ask him.

“Um, just that Rex is, like, the hot carpenter and you’re the hot tattooed bad boy and I’m seeing tools and—”

“Stop, stop, stop! Jesus, Leo. Ground rule: don’t ever talk about sex with my boyfriend again, got it?”

“Oh my god, he totally is your boyfriend,” Leo says softly. “Okay, fine, sure, no problem. I will totally not talk about you and Rex having sex—whoa: poetry.” The look on his face says, very clearly, “You can’t stop me from thinking about it, though.”

“Whatever,” I mutter. “I think some old boyfriend of his is back, anyway, so it probably won’t last long.” I sit down on the bench at the edge of campus, picking at the sleeve on my to-go cup, and Leo sits beside me, knee jiggling up and down. I can’t believe I’m talking about my romantic problems with an eighteen-year-old. Honestly, though, it’s like I’m talking to a younger version of myself, anyway. Besides, when I was eighteen, Ginger definitely told me about hers. Of course, at eighteen I had a job and my own apartment, hovel though it was.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m going over there after class today. I guess I’ll find out what the deal is then.”

“No way does he like someone else more than you, Daniel,” Leo says sincerely.

“Don’t say shit like that, man; you don’t know. No one knows why anyone likes anyone, and it’s a total fucking mystery why Rex likes me.” I shake my head, frustrated.

“Well, what’d he say on the phone just now?”

“That we had to talk.”

“That all?”

“That I didn’t have to worry about Will and that I should come over tonight. And that he has the Internet now.”

“He didn’t have the Internet? That is insane. Wait, is he, like, way older than he looks?”

“He’s not old. He just said he doesn’t need it that often so he goes to the library when he does. Watch it, kid.”

“So, why’d he get it?”

“How the hell do I know? He started using it more, I guess. Or maybe now that it’s winter he doesn’t want to drag his ass to the library just to check his e-mail.”

“Dude, he totally bought you the Internet!” Leo says, socking me in the shoulder. “That’s so romantic.”

I stare at him.

“Come on, it’s obvious. You use it, right? So, he got it for you. Aw, man, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

I have to call Ginger right away and tell her that I have found the human being that we would create if we ever had a child.

 

 

ONCE I apprehensively gave Leo my phone number after he extracted a promise that I’d teach him to fight this weekend, I went to prepare for class. It’s a miracle I didn’t bungle both my classes given how distracted I was. I couldn’t stop thinking about Will, and wondering what Rex was going to tell me when I got over there this evening. And, I can’t lie: a tiny part of my brain kept running over and over Leo’s idea that Rex got the Internet for me.

As I leave my office around four, I can’t decide whether to take Rex up on his offer and go right over to his house or go home, change, and drive over later for dinner. I take two steps toward my apartment and then find myself reeling off in the other direction, toward Rex’s. It’s only a few miles, and a walk is just what I need to clear my head before I hear whatever he’s about to tell me. The air’s warmed up a bit and the sun is shining. The leaves are brilliant colors and everything smells clean. If there’s one thing I’ll say for Holiday, it always smells pretty good. There’s no stink of fumes or garbage, and everything smells alive.

I’m just thinking how pretty the walk is when the skies open and it starts to rain. Then pour. Secure in the knowledge that my laptop won’t get wet—my case is waterproof—I kind of enjoy it.

But when I knock on Rex’s door, I know I must look like a drowned rat because he takes one look at me and pulls me inside, shaking his head.

“Daniel, don’t you ever check the weather?” he chides, and I shake my head. I’m shivering now, and he drops my bag on the mat and pulls off my sodden jacket. I kick off my shoes.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he says, eyes flashing. He shakes his head at me in frustration. “Come here,” he says and leads me to the bathroom, reaching over my shoulder to turn on the shower. I’m having major déjà vu of the first night I was here, in February, when Rex took me into that bathroom to look at my bruises. My cheeks heat a little, still embarrassed at how strong I came on that night. Doubly embarrassed if it turns out that, not long after, Rex was fucking Will, probably telling him about the pathetic loser who threw himself at him. I can see Will’s perfect face smiling, enjoying the idea that his man is so irresistible. My hands fist and Rex jerks when I squeeze him.

“Sorry,” I say.

He sticks his hand in to test the water, then reaches for my sweater to pull it off.

“I can do it,” I say absently, pulling the sweater off from the bottom. He takes it from me and lays it out on the sink. Then he reaches for the buttons on my shirt. “I got it,” I say.

“Daniel, stop,” Rex says, his voice exhausted. I look up at him. “Please, let’s not be back here. This is my fault. Because of Will. I know. But, come on.”

I narrow my eyes at him expectantly. Rex looks at me exasperatedly, but there’s warmth there too.

He steps closer to me and closes the door so Marilyn can’t come in and drink the toilet water. He reaches for me and I step away from him.

“Well?” I finally say. Rex sighs.

“Will and I used to date. Years ago. But that was a long time ago. We’re just friends now. But, every now and again when he comes to town, we’ll—”

“Fuck,” I finish for him.

“Yeah. But that’s all it is.”

I look up at him, trying to read whether it’s true in his face. He meets my gaze intently, but he seems irritated or something.

“It didn’t seem like that’s all it was to him,” I say.

Rex snorts.

“Yeah, well, Will is contrary that way. But believe me, that’s all it is. He just likes to be alpha dog.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Interesting.”

Rex blushes.

“Look,” he says, running his hands up and down my ribs. “I know it was real bad timing last night. It must’ve seemed bad, what with everything you told me about Richard. But, Daniel, you have to know that I would never do that.”

I let out a breath and nod.

“I love undressing you,” he says. He kisses my neck, his mouth warm against my cold skin. “You always shiver just a little, and your nipples get hard.” He strips my shirt off my arms and pulls my T-shirt off. Then he runs his thumbs over my nipples and my stomach clenches. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses my mouth and I put my arms around him tentatively.

He undoes my pants and pulls them and my underwear down. He nudges me into the hot shower but doesn’t close the door, and my eyes are glued to him as he strips and gets in with me.

He puts me under the water and rubs his hands up and down my arms to warm me up. Then he washes my hair, careful, as before, that no soap gets in my eyes. I lean back into him, my sleepless night catching up with me, and he wraps his arms around my waist. I turn in his arms to kiss him. As our mouths move together, Rex pulls me toward him, cupping my ass and squeezing with both hands. A bolt of arousal shoots through me. I press kisses up his throat, standing on my toes to reach his mouth again.

Rex kisses the same way he seems to do everything else: with a combination of confident power and gentle sweetness that completely gets to me. He pushes me against the wall with his body, tipping my head up so he can keep kissing me as we grind together. He cups my hip in one hand and runs the other between my cheeks to find my opening. His wet fingers slide inside me and I groan, the heat of his body and the heat of the water mixing with the heat of his fingers inside me to make me a little dizzy. Rex groans when I run my hands down his muscular back to pull him closer to me. His ass is tight as he rocks against me.

I look up into his eyes, the dark lashes clumped with water. I run my fingers across his hole and he shudders. I push gently and he winces. Is it in pain or arousal? His mouth is open and water is running down his jaw, glistening in his stubble. His thick hair is in dark swirls. He looks amazing, like he’s standing under a waterfall in some exotic vacation spot I’ll never visit. I rub a finger against his hole gently, just teasing, and he shudders and gasps.

“Good?” I say against his open mouth. “Or no.”

“Good,” he says, nodding, then he drops his head down onto my shoulder. A jolt of arousal rocks me. I reverse our positions, pushing him into the wall, and squeeze his ass in both hands. Like every other part of him, it’s meaty and muscular and gorgeous.

When I feel him relax, I delve inside him again, my finger sliding in as he sucks in a breath. We thrust together as the water falls over our shoulders like the rain outside. Rex’s hands are at the small of my back, as if to stop me from pulling away, and his head is lying back against the wall. I slide a second finger into him and he whimpers as I stroke over his prostate, his hole clenching down on my fingers.

“Oh fuck,” he says. “It’s been so long.”

Good. A picture of Will fucking Rex in this shower flutters through my brain and I shake my head to clear it, latching onto Rex’s nipples as I explore him with my fingers. His heat is addictive and I push closer to him, our erections sliding together and my fingers sliding deeper inside him. We both groan and Rex grabs our cocks in his big hand, bending his knees a little so we’re the same height. I take the opportunity to slide a third finger inside him and he cries out, his hand tightening on our erections. Everything feels liquid as he works us together, and I massage his prostate with my fingertips, his jaw clenching in pleasure.

“Kiss me, please,” Rex groans, and pumps us even harder. I can feel my orgasm creeping up the base of my spine. I grab Rex’s face in my hand and slam our mouths together, my tongue sliding into his mouth as I push my fingers as deep as I can. He gasps into my mouth and begins to tremble. His thighs are shaking and his stomach vibrates against mine as his ass spasms around my fingers. I press into his prostate and he tears his mouth away from mine, his groans echoing in the small shower. His hand stutters and then heat thicker than water hits my chest and drips down my stomach. Rex’s mouth is open and every one of his muscles is clenched, like some kind of glorious animal caught midjump. Then he lets out a shuddering breath and relaxes, his hole fluttering around my fingers.

“Daniel,” he breathes, and he pulls me flush against him and kisses me so sweetly. He twists one hand in my hair and keeps stroking my erection slowly, watching my reactions. His eyes are molten gold, framed by dark lashes, and he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me up. I lift my chin for another kiss, but he just keeps looking at me, his strokes getting harder and faster, and my breaths turn to gasps. Just as I’m about to come, he slows down a little and I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration, reaching for him as I shudder back from the brink. Instead of keeping me upright, Rex lets me melt into him and pulls me up so I can thrust against his belly. He holds me up with a hand under my ass and seals his other hand over my erection, encouraging me to thrust against him.

The warm flesh and firm muscle drags over my shaft as I hump against him, and he pulls me firmly to him. I cry out, the feeling both familiar and strange enough that I can’t quite anticipate what’s coming. The stretch in my legs and ass is making my balls tighten and tingle. I reach up and put my arms around Rex’s neck so I can have more control and he holds me to him with one hand, the other finally palming my erection and stroking me hard and fast. I gasp and bite down on his shoulder as my orgasm blasts through me, jumping in Rex’s hand as he strokes me through the aftershocks.

I can smell Rex’s scent even with the water rushing down, and his skin smells like home. I squeeze him around the neck and his arms come around me, pulling me into a hug.

We both let out deep breaths at the same time and slump against each other, our hips still flexing a little, drawn together. When I look up, there’s a soft look in Rex’s eyes and he pushes my wet hair back and kisses me on the temple and then the mouth. There’s just something about Rex that makes me feel so safe, so content. I’ve never felt anything like it. I know we have things to talk about, but in this moment, I’m so happy I can hardly breathe.

 

 

“DO YOU need to work?” Rex asks.

“Oh shit!” I run over to my bag. In my relief that there was no way my computer would be ruined by the rain, I didn’t think about all the papers I have in there. I pull open my messenger bag, which is sitting in a pool of rainwater just inside the door, and sure enough, some rain got in.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I pull out the stack of paper proposals from this morning, the papers clumped wetly together, and start to peel them apart, cursing myself for not springing for the bag with the roll-top. Fortunately, only the top third of the stack is wet and the ink isn’t smeared, but if I let them dry stuck together they’ll be unreadable when I pull them apart. I start laying out the wet sheets on the floor. Marilyn, curious, trots over and starts nosing at them.

“Here,” Rex says. He spreads two towels over the coffee table and moves the papers there, holding Marilyn off with a word.

“Thanks,” I say, grumbling at my bag and the papers and the rain.

Rex is laughing softly.

“What?” I say.

“You’re just cute, that’s all.”

“What? No way. Why?”

I put the last paper on the table, their wet tops fanned out to dry. Rex is grinning at me. He shrugs a little.

“You’re just…. Sometimes you’re so professional, and you look real intense while you’re working. Then, the next minute, you show up here drenched, with all your papers wet, and you’re a mess.” He steps closer to me, and the soft look is back. “Sometimes, you’re sweet and nervous and you look at me like you have no idea what’s going on. And the next minute you’re all… prickly.” He swats my ass.

“Hey!”

“And sometimes,” he continues, tilting my face up, “you’re so damn sexy I could just kiss you for hours.” He kisses me, and I can feel myself relaxing into his arms, when he pulls away and looks at me again. “Then, I don’t know. There are moments when I think you could kick my ass if you were mad enough.” He looks at me assessingly, but I don’t say anything. I wonder if I could.

Just to be sure it didn’t get wet, I take out my laptop case and look inside. Nope, my piece of crap computer is totally dry, thank goodness.

“So, do you need to work? I have the Internet now, if you need it.”

I look at him, curious.

“Why’d you decide to get it now?”

Rex looks a little embarrassed, but he says, “Well, you said you use it a lot, so I got it. I thought maybe you could do some work here instead of the library. And I know you don’t love your place, so….”

Holy shit, Leo was right.

“You bought me the Internet.”

“Well, in a manner of speaking.” He fidgets. “Is that—I mean, is it useful to you?”

“You….” I don’t even know what to say. I can hear Ginger in my head, yelling at me to just act normal, act like myself, don’t overthink every little thing. What would I say to Ginger? What would I say to Ginger?

“You’re so fucking nice,” is what comes out. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Rex laughs and grins at me. Yes! I said the right thing. Note to self: just pretend Rex is Ginger. Wait. That’s a terrible idea in several contexts.

“You’re welcome,” Rex says, and runs his hand through my drying hair, which probably looks like I got stuck in a thresher. “So, do you? Need to work, I mean?”

I do. When I regard the paper proposals drying on the table, though, my stomach growls.

“Well, they’re wet just at the moment,” I say.

“So, dinner?”

I nod and follow Rex into the kitchen. He starts pulling things out of the fridge and the cabinets. I never know what he’s making until he puts it on the table, but I kind of like not knowing. It’s like watching one of the cooking competitions he loves where you get the big reveal at the end.

“Can you cut things up and listen at the same time?” Rex teases. At least, I think he’s teasing. He pushes four apples, a knife, and a cutting board in front of me.

“Oh god, this isn’t one of those things where you’re going to put fruit in all the food, is it? I keep seeing, like, cherries in all the salads here. It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Traverse City is the cherry capital of the world. They find their way into almost everything up here. But, no. I thought we’d make an apple crumble for dessert. Seems autumnal. That’s the word, right? Autumnal?”

“Yeah. You bake too? Damn.” Why is that kind of turning me on? Something about Rex’s big hands and thick shoulders making delicate pastries in a white apron is crazy hot.

“Well, I don’t do anything fancy. But this is easy. So, just take the cores out and the cut them into chunks, okay?”

I nod, and he starts doing… whatever else he’s doing, cutting and sautéing and slicing a million things at once.

“So, how’d you end up here, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“In the cherry capital of the world,” I say.

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” I say when he doesn’t continue. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s okay. I just—no one’s ever asked before. It was because of Jamie, actually. He was from here, originally. Well, near here. I’d only ever lived in hot places when we met and I used to complain about how I hate the heat. When it was really hot and we’d be in the park or have to walk in the sun, he’d tell me stories about the winter in Michigan. The snow, and how he and his brother would build forts out of it and drink hot cocoa in there. It sounded magical to me. I’d never even seen snow in real life.”

Rex smiles at the memory, his hands gone still and his eyes distant.

“Jamie told me he’d take me to Michigan with him one day for a real Christmas—he said Christmas without snow didn’t even really count. So, I just kind of made my way here after my mom died. I was doing odd jobs. Fixing stuff for folks. I got here just before Christmas one year. I love Christmas,” he says sheepishly.

He starts stirring again and continues.

“Anyway, I lived around here for a few years, really liked it. Then I was walking one day and I saw this place.” He chuckles at the memory. “Man, it was a fall-down mess. Half the wood was rotten and the kitchen was a disaster. I asked around, found out the guy who lived here died and the county was going to tear it down. I convinced them to let me rebuild it instead. Took a while.”

He’s running his hand along the countertop as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“Jesus. You built this cabin?”

He nods.

“Most of it. A bit was salvageable.”

“That’s… amazing.” Rex smiles. “I guess now that I look at it, it does seem like a nicer kitchen than you’d expect to find in a cabin.”

“You have much experience with cabins?”

“Um, no.”

I turn back to the apples, unsure of what to say so I concentrate on cutting them into chunks while not chopping off any parts of myself. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to build your own home. It must be amazing.

“So, about Will,” Rex says, and my knife skids off the skin of the apple and thumps onto the cutting board, coming within a millimeter of my finger. Rex’s head snaps up.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” I shake my head. “Here, give me that,” Rex says, and takes my knife, tests it on his thumb, and hands me a smaller one. I open my mouth to say something, but he says, “I think I need to sharpen that one; this one’s sharper.”

I go back to cutting the apples up, but Rex is watching me now, probably worried I’m going to require his emergency services. When I look up, though, his gaze is fond. And he seems a little bemused.

“What?”

“It’s not brain surgery, sweetheart,” he says. “You can just cut them up.” I look down at the cutting board. My chunks of apple are perfectly uniform. I cut the apple into rings and then strips and then chunks. Wasn’t that what he asked for? I look back up at him, puzzled.

“Never mind,” he says. “They’re great—they’re perfect. I just meant, you don’t need to try so hard to make them perfect. It doesn’t matter if they’re all the same.”

“Okay,” I say, but I don’t really know any other way to do it.

“Never mind,” he says, and pats my shoulder.

“Okay, so about Will?” I prompt.

“Yeah. I just… he’s my friend. A good friend. And I don’t make friends real easy.” He sounds sheepish. “I don’t want my friendship with him to be a problem for you. That’s all. And I didn’t know he was coming to town. Sometimes he just shows up. If I’d known, I would never have let him just come over like that.”

“How long did you date?”

“About a year.”

“That’s a long time.”

“I think we both knew it was never going to be anything permanent,” Rex says, and he sounds a little sad.

“Why?”

“We were just too different. And Will was never going to stick around here, you know? He couldn’t wait to leave. I’m surprised he stayed that long. He got a job offer in New York and he took it. He stops in here when he goes to Chicago. His sister still lives nearby, so he comes to visit.”

“And to see you.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Do you still—I mean, if he hadn’t left, would you still want to be with him?”

Rex pauses, like he’s sincerely considering the question.

“Will and I had fun together,” he says slowly. “I met him at a time when I needed someone who didn’t take things too seriously. But, no. I don’t think we’d be a good fit in the long run.”

“What’s he do in New York?”

“He does graphic design for a publishing company.”

“Like book covers, or what?”

“Yeah, for… I don’t remember what the company is.”

“Hunh, that’s cool,” I admit reluctantly.

“He’s a cool guy, Daniel. I actually think you’d like him.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “You were something last night.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, nervous he’s about to call me on being a possessive psycho.

“I thought you were gonna drop him.” He’s smiling, so I guess that’s not a terrible thing? “Will likes to mess with people. Find the things that get to them and then push those buttons.”

“What a charming trait,” I mutter.

“Well, you know a little bit about ways to push people away too, don’t you?” Rex says gently. Is that what he thinks I do? Is that what I do? I never thought about it because I’ve never had anyone to push away.

“Here,” Rex says, tossing me a lemon. “Put the apples in that bowl and squeeze half of that over them, okay?”

He gets out butter, brown sugar, and some other stuff that he puts in a mixer.

“So, I thought maybe we could all have a drink. You, me, and Will.”

I cut the lemon in half and squeeze it on top of the apples. Rex reaches in and pulls out a bunch of seeds.

“Sorry,” I say.

“No problem. I forgot to tell you about the seeds. So, what do you say?”

Do I want to meet Rex’s ex-boyfriend slash sex partner? No. Because he seemed like a dick and I can’t stand the idea of watching him touch Rex.

“When was the last time you slept with him?” I ask. “Am I allowed to ask that?”

“Of course, Daniel. The last time was, I guess, in the spring. April.”

That’s when he met Marilyn, I guess.

“Listen, if you don’t want to, I understand. But he’s my friend and I’d really like you not to hate each other.”

“He hates me?” God knows what that asshole said after I left last night.

“No, of course not,” Rex says. “It would just be nice if you got along. That’s all I meant.”

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, but Rex just opens his arms. “I kicked him out right after you left. He’s staying with his sister.”

“But he usually stays with you?”

“Sometimes.”

I sigh. I know that my answer here is important. The question isn’t actually do I want to have drinks with this douchebag, right? God, I need to go to dating elementary school. So, what’s the question? Ginger, what’s the question? The question, the Ginger in my head supplies, is do you trust Rex? He’s asking you to make his life easier and if you trust him, then you should do it. Right.

“Okay, drinks,” I say. “I trust you.”

I get another of those warm smiles.

“Great,” he says. “Should I call him and tell him to come over tonight, or is later in the week better?”

“No, he can’t come over tonight,” I say, swatting him in the stomach. “My clothes are wet and I look like a rag doll in yours.”

“Mmm, I love the way you look in my clothes,” he growls, leaning down to kiss my neck and collarbone where his shirt droops.

“Well, I feel ridiculous,” I say, but I lean into his warm lips.

“Hmm, vanity,” he teases. “A whole new side of Daniel.”

“I’m not—mmhmm.” He kisses me before I can protest.

“I know, baby. You just want an even playing field.”

“Well, he looks like a fucking model, so I’d at least like to be wearing pants,” I snap, irritated just thinking about Will’s stupid face.

“He’s got nothing on you,” Rex says. Note to self: Rex is either a liar or blind. But very sweet. I kiss him again.

“Okay, how about tomorrow night?” Rex asks between kisses. “We could meet somewhere near campus and you could just walk over right after class.”

“Fine,” I say, distracted by his warm mouth.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and he pushes me against the counter and attacks my mouth.

 

 

I’M DISGUSTED with myself. I’ve been nervous about having drinks with Rex and Will all day. I mean, hell, I’ve poured drinks for major musical celebrities and attended lunches with academic ones, and I’m nervous to meet the guy Rex used to date? What the hell?

My stomach is tight with anxiety. I stayed at Rex’s last night and made some toast—okay, burned some toast—there this morning, but aside from that, I haven’t been able to eat all day. Even if I could’ve, I haven’t had time. A journal article I submitted around the time I had my interview here got rejected this morning and I had to spend a whole chunk of unexpected time reformatting it so I can send it out again to another journal, which is depressing, but not unexpected. Between that and Will showing up, I really need that drink.

I’m a couple of minutes early when I get to the pub a few blocks from campus, so I grab us a table, praying that I don’t run into any students, and pull out the readers’ reports that the journal sent with my rejection letter. I’m having a furious internal dialogue with one of the idiot’s comments when a hand falls on my shoulder and I jerk around to grab it.

“Oh, hey,” I say to Rex. “Sorry.” He puts his other hand on my shoulder and gives them a squeeze.

“No problem. Hi.” He leans closer, but hesitates, and I can tell he’s not sure if he can kiss me in public. Ordinarily, I’m fairly disgusted by couples who are all touchy-feely in public, and I’ve certainly never been one of them, but some equally disgusting primal neurotransmitter is screaming at me to lay claim to him in front of Will, so I tip my head back, inviting his kiss. His mouth is warm and he smells like Rex, which makes the tightness in my stomach unclench a little.

“What are you doing?” Will asks as they sit down, gesturing to the readers’ reports, which, for some arcane reason, are printed on legal-size paper.

“An article I submitted for publication just got rejected and these are the notes from people telling me why,” I say, when what I meant to say was, “None of your business.” Oops.

“The strengths of this essay are that it is clearly written and that its author takes an imaginative approach to the—” Will reads from the top of the page before I notice what he’s saying.

“Hey, fuck off,” I say, pulling the paper away and stuffing it back in the envelope.

“Will,” Rex says, disapprovingly, and pulls me into his side.

“Hey,” Will says, hands up, “at least it’s clearly written and imaginative. That’s more than I can say for about 90 percent of the stuff I read.”

Rex glances down at the envelope curiously. “Do these people have the final say?”

“For journals, yeah. They send your piece out to three people in your field and those are the readers. It’s just so frustrating because I read the comments that they make and it’s obvious that they didn’t read the whole article, because they say that I didn’t do things that I totally did. Just, in the second half. Anyway, whatever. It was a long shot to begin with.”

“Let me get the first round,” Will says, “as someone technically in the publishing industry, to express my sympathies that basically everything involved in it is crap.”

I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or not.

“Thanks, Will,” Rex says. Then, to me, “I’m sorry, baby.” He squeezes my hand and I shake my head. His clothes smell like pine and I take a deep breath of him.

“Were you in your workshop today?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You smell so good,” I say, as Will comes back to the table with a beer, a whiskey, and a martini. He puts them down in the center of the table and gestures to me. Is this some kind of test? Like, I’m supposed to guess what drink Will thinks I’d want? What the hell? Rex rolls his eyes, grabs the beer, and slides the whiskey to me. Will sips his martini and looks at me across the table. I stare back at him and down my whiskey like a shot.

“So, what do you think of Holiday?” Will asks. “You’re from Philly, right?”

I nod. “It’s okay. I like how clean everything is here. It smells kind of green. And the woods by Rex’s are beautiful. There’s not much going on, but I can’t lie. It’s nice to be able to walk around here and not worry about if it’s safe or not. I feel like I could walk through the woods in the middle of the night and be fine.”

Unease flickers in Will’s expression, but he just nods.

“Yeah,” Rex says, “unless you meet any serial killers, right?” He bumps my shoulder with his.

“I only said that once,” I mutter. Out loud, anyway. “Did you grow up here?” I ask Will.

He nods.

“I left for college but came back for a few years after to stay with my sister. That’s when I met Rex.”

“Where did you go for college?” I ask. I mean where did he live, but it came out the way all academics say it: tell me your pedigree. Let’s see if my school was better than yours.

“NYU,” Will says.

“So, you like New York?”

“Yup.” Will drums his fingers on the edge of the table in a fidgety gesture of boredom and I’m reminded of why I don’t like small talk.

“Here, I’ll get the next round,” I say, though Rex still has half a beer left. “Gin?”

“Vodka,” Will says. “Dirty.” He waggles his perfect eyebrows.

Rex is looking back and forth between us like a betting man at a dog fight. I nudge his knee and he stands to let me out.

“Can I have a Corona?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He starts to say something to Will as I walk away from the table.

“Can I have a Corona, a gin martini, dirty, and a Maker’s Mark, neat, please?” I ask the guy behind the counter.

“Is the martini for the guy who was just up here?” the bartender asks.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“He was drinking vodka before. Is he switching?”

“Oh no. Thanks. I meant vodka.” God, am I drunk after one whiskey? I guess it was a double.

I put the drinks down and Rex slides over to make room for me in the booth, resting a hand on my thigh when I sit down.

“Thanks,” he says. He’s downed the rest of his first beer. I smile at him. God, he really is so nice.

“Cheers,” Will says.

Will and Rex start talking about someone who lives in town, filling me in on the backstory, and I sip my drink a little slower. But it’s official. I’m basically drunk. Damn, I’ve turned into a lightweight since I moved here. Not that that’s a bad thing. Honestly, tending bar makes it pretty easy to be drunk whenever you want to. And I don’t want to end up like my dad, working all day and then drunk on the couch watching sports all night.

I wonder how he is. And my idiot brothers. I haven’t heard from them since I called the last time, no surprise. At least Colin hasn’t sent me any more nasty texts. My mind drifts to my dad’s house, the smell of Rex’s beer making it easy. When I was in middle school, before Sam moved out, I’d do my homework at the kitchen table while my dad and my brothers watched sports in the living room. I wanted to be able to see them so it felt like I was part of the family, but if I sat too close someone would eventually step on my schoolbooks or spill a beer on my homework. I ended up not turning in a lot of worksheets because they reeked of beer.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been spacing out, but Rex is handing me my phone, which is ringing. It’s Leo. Rex is looking at me with curiosity and a little concern.

“Hey,” I say, and Leo’s rapid-fire speech jolts me to awareness. He wants to take me up on my offer to teach him to fight on Friday, if I don’t have plans. He says that part like since it’s Friday night I must be going out or something, but where the hell does he think I’d go around here? We can’t do it in my apartment because there’s no room, and we certainly can’t do it where anyone would see. “Hold on,” I tell Leo.

“Hey, Rex,” I say, looking up at him. “Um, would it be okay if I have Leo come to your house on Friday night and we use your yard?”

“Who is Leo?” Rex asks, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“I didn’t tell you about Leo?” I push the phone against my chest to muffle it. Rex shakes his head, his expression studiedly neutral. “He’s this kid I stopped from getting beat up the other week. He works at Mr. Zoo’s.”

“You’ve been to Mr. Zoo’s?” Will says, like it’s strange.

“What do you need the yard for?” Rex asks, puzzled.

“Um, I told him I’d teach him to fight.”

Will buries his face in his martini glass to hide the fact that he’s laughing.

“Why does he need—Yeah, of course,” Rex says politely, though I can tell he’s nonplussed. “Feel free.”

“Thanks,” I tell Rex, smiling.

“Hey, come to Rex’s,” I tell Leo, and give him the address. “Can you get there or do you need a ride?”

Will is laughing outright as I hang up the phone.

“You’re teaching some kid to fight?” he says. “Who are you, Mr. Miyagi?”

“Would everyone stop it with the damn Karate Kid references!” I say. Rex and Will exchange a look.

“So, who is Leo?” Rex asks again.

I tell them about coming across Leo in the park and about the kids who were picking on him.

“But he’s a kid,” Rex says. “Like, a child?”

“He’s eighteen, I think,” I say.

“Oh my god,” Will laughs, looking at Rex. Will points a finger at him. “You’re jealous! Rexroth Vale, you are totally jealous of a teenager.” Then he stops laughing and pouts. “Hey! You were never jealous over me.”

Rex rolls his eyes and turns to me.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I never get any trick-or-treaters out that far anyway.”

“Trick-or… oh, that’s what Leo was talking about. Are you sure it’s okay? If you have plans or—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I don’t.”

“Thanks,” I say, and rest my shoulder against Rex’s. “So, do people go all out for Halloween here?”

“Not really,” Will says. “Well, maybe some of your students will; I don’t know. They do an early trick-or-treat thing for the kids so everyone’s home before dark. No fun if you ask me. But, then, I prefer tricks to treats anyway.” He winks at me.

“Did you go trick-or-treating as a kid?” I ask Rex.

“Naw, too shy,” he says. “My mom would usually bring home one of those plastic pumpkins from whatever bar or diner she was working in, and some candy. You?” he asks me.

“Oh hell no. Ring a stranger’s doorbell in my neighborhood and you would’ve gotten shot.” I wait for Will to chime in about whether or not he went trick-or-treating as a kid, but he doesn’t say anything. He gets up and gets another round, Rex waving no to a third beer.

“There are these ghost tours in Philly,” I tell Rex. “You know, like haunted history stuff. And one year, Ginger and I followed the tour to see the route, then on Halloween, we dressed in all white and Ginger did this makeup so we looked dead—she’s really good at makeup—and we hid in this one old graveyard in Old City that the tour went past. And when the tour guide started talking about the ghost of some elder statesman who supposedly haunted the graveyard, we jumped up and ran at the tour group. They all screamed and everything. It was perfect. But then, this old guy came running after us dressed in, like, a rotted potato sack with this long, bloody hair, and we screamed and ran. I guess he was supposed to be there to scare the tour group and we totally fucked it up.”

Will has slid another drink into my hand while I’m talking and I sip it absently. I scoot a little closer to Rex, staring at Will. He’s not so intimidating.

“Daniel,” Rex is saying. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Um, at your house?”

He shakes his head. “That was a piece of toast. I think you need to eat something. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” I say, as my stomach gives a loud growl. “Do you guys want?”

“Fries,” Will says. Rex shakes his head. I order at the bar and stop at the bathroom. When I get back it’s clear they’ve been talking about me—or, Will has been—because he stops midsentence.

I slide back into the booth and lean my head against Rex’s shoulder just a little bit because I’m so tired all of a sudden. He puts his arm around me.

“So all it takes are a few shots of whiskey to turn the porcupine into a kitten, huh?” Will says. Is he talking to me? Rex’s arm tightens around my shoulder.

“I don’t like you at all,” I say to Will, who grins at me. It seems to break the ice, though, because by the time the food comes we’re all chatting about different places we’ve lived and Will asks me about teaching.

It’s funny: Will is kind of a messy eater. He crams fries in his mouth like the kids I used to hang out with in diners, and it looks odd with his refined face and expensive clothes. I only notice it because I used to eat that way too. I grew up guarding my plate against my brothers and eating as fast as I could. It’s one of the things I worked hard to fix when I noticed the other grad students at Penn didn’t eat like me.

I eat about half my BLT and fries and push the plate over to Rex, who started eyeing it as soon as the smell of bacon hit his nose. He squeezes my thigh.

“You don’t want any more?” he asks, like he always does, and I say “I’m done,” just like I always do, and I have this weird picture in my head of that exchange happening a thousand more times. I shake my head, which is all fuzzy, though I feel better now that I’ve eaten.

Will is watching us, his greasy fingers leaving prints on his martini glass.

“You want to get out of here?” Rex asks me when he finishes the food. His eyes are warm and his stubble is a little longer than usual because he worked from home today. It looks soft, and in the light of the pub, I can see the red in it and a few strands of silver at his temples. I nod.

Outside, it smells bright and cold and Rex puts his arm around me again.

“I’ll walk you home,” Rex says, though you can almost see my apartment from here.

“Go to bed, old men,” Will calls, waving behind him as he walks in the other direction without looking back.

Rex and I amble toward my house.

“Wait, how old is Will?” I ask, registering the old man comment.

“Twenty-six.”

“Wow, so you dated when he was only, what, twenty-two?”

“Yeah, he’d just finished college.”

I unlock the door and for once my apartment doesn’t feel too oppressive. I left the window open a crack, so the ramen smell has dissipated, anyway. Kicking my shoes off and dropping my bag on the quasi-fixed kitchen table, I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth twice. Nothing makes the day feel distant like the taste of toothpaste. I wander back outside and Rex has locked the front door.

“Do you want to stay?” I ask him. “I don’t know if you can leave Marilyn alone, but….” I stand near the bed and pull my shirt off. I’m definitely a bit tipsy because all I can concentrate on are the lines of Rex’s body and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m some kind of treat he lets himself have sometimes. He walks closer and I can smell the spicy pine scent from his woodshop. He runs his hands down my arms and pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he says. “I know you weren’t crazy about the idea. And I know Will acts like a child sometimes. But he’s just defensive with new people, you know? Never wants to show his hand first.”

I like how Rex explains things, like he sees the truth in why people do things. Even shitty things. He rubs my back softly.

“You’re welcome.”

“I can stay,” he says, “if you want.” I nod against his shoulder and pull his shirt off, breathing in the smell of his skin.

“You’re so tired, baby,” he says. “And maybe a little tipsy?”

“Maybe a little,” I allow. “Sorry it’s so cold.”

“Isn’t the heat on yet?”

“Um. No.”

“Did you call Carl?”

I groan. I can’t believe I gave him that opening.

“Daniel!” he says. “It’s going to be really cold soon. You need to—”

I put my hand over his mouth.

“Do you need anything?” I ask, removing my hand.

“Can I use your toothpaste?”

I kiss him on the mouth.

“Mmm,” he says. “Can I use it from the tube?”

I nod, and pull my pants and socks off before getting into bed. This bed is shitty; I feel a little bad making Rex sleep on it, though I’ve definitely slept on worse. His bed is so comfortable. My mind is drifting, picturing us on a bed the size of a room, when Rex slides in beside me, and pulls me to him, nestling my head in his neck.

“Sorry my bed’s so uncomfortable,” I murmur.

“It’s worth it,” he says.

I swallow a lump in my throat and turn my face farther into him.

“I just like you so much,” I say. “How do you do that?”

And I think he answers, but I’m already sliding toward sleep.