CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The ride back to Patrick’s was filled with a silent tension. While he looked out of his window watching the world go by, I sat watching him seem to drift away.
I waited for him to blow up once we got into the apartment but that didn’t happen. I’d almost prefer some kind of blow to this silence, though on second thought, I have no interest in bringing fists into the relationship.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m just tired,” he says. “I think I had too much to drink.” He goes to the bathroom and leaves me in the living room.
I try to get comfortable but I can’t. I’m suddenly on edge and find myself pacing around the place. First to the kitchen, then the living room, then back to the kitchen.
He’s back from the bathroom and is standing in the hall. “You’re making me nervous,” he says.
The part of me that always has to do something bubbles up. I decide to throw it all out there. If this is going to end badly, it’s better to say it all and skip to that part now. “Let’s talk,” I say.
We sit on the couch. The few inches between us seem too much a chasm. I scoot closer. “I love you,” I say. “Or I think I do. Maybe I’m falling in love with you,” I say. “Whatever it is, I’m feeling more for you than I am about a job in Berlin.”
“Can I be honest?” He asks.
“No,” I say.
His dimples appear then vanish. “Look, I don’t know how I feel,” he says. “Let’s say I’m equally confused.”
“We can be confused together,” I say.
“I don’t want you throwing away opportunities on my account,” he says. “And we just met. I don’t want you regretting throwing this away for me.”
“Better to have loved and lost, right?”
“Sounds painful to me.”
“Some things hurt just right,” I say with a smile.
There’s a fleeting glimpse of a dimple.
“Don’t write me off,” I say. “That would hurt more. In the not right kind of way.”
“You know I really missed you this week,” he says. “I don’t know that I could permanently go through that.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I say.
He laughs. “Do you have a manual of clichés you’re getting this all from?”
“Rachel,” I say.
We laugh.
“If I had to pick right now I’d choose you,” I say.
“I wouldn’t let you you do that,” he says. “That’s not fair to you.”
“Can I choose what’s fair for me?”
“You’re stubborn,” he says.
“When it comes to what I want, yes,” I say.
“I can be stubborn too. I won’t let you throw anything away for me.”
“So, let me get this straight. I can’t not take the job, and if I do you’ll want to break up?” I look at him and laugh. “You realize that’s Guano logic and makes no sense, right?”
He looks at me then laughs.
“Maybe Rachel can get you a job at the company,” I say, joking.
I can see that the sane Patrick is back. It turns me on and I kiss him. But I still get the sense that something is wrong. “What is it?” I ask.
He answers with a deep kiss and before I know it I’m on my back with him on top of me. The second round of welcome back sex has begun.
“I’m hungry,” I say an hour or so later. “Can we order something?”
I try to move from the bed but he holds me again. I lay my head on his hard, hairy chest, listening to the thud of his beating heart. His pulse is even sexy.
He rubs his hands through my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he says. “But if I do…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he holds me against his chest a bit longer and just breathes some more.
I run my fingers up and down his chest and torso. Hairs wet with sweat contour and outline his abs. I take a deep inhale and kiss him. His musky scent and salty taste overwhelm my senses. I lose myself and hold him close.
“So tell me about this job,” he says. “And your ex. Kevin mentioned there was a past.”
“That’s how you kill a moment,” I say. I let out a loud, angry, breath. I’m pissed at Matthews. “He told you that?”
“Relax,” he says. “You already said something about it. But that was before you were going back to it.”
I try to get up but he holds me again. “Don’t be mad,” he says. “Let’s get all this out in the open. Leaving the baggage, remember?”
“He still has a big fucking mouth,” I say.
“And yours is filthy,” Patrick says. “I like it.”
He kisses me.
“Don’t be mad,” he says again. “So tell me about the job. And the ex.” He shifts in the bed. “Wait a sec,” he says, “I wanna say something first.”
I look at him. He’s smiling and I think I know what he’s going to say. As I wait for him to say it, the shock and smell start to hit me.
“I think I love you too,” he says quickly. “And I farted.”
He hops out of bed and runs out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I try to follow but realize he’s on the other side of the door holding it shut.
I laugh and nearly choke on the putrid air and his confession of love, though the mix of both confuses and nearly kills me.
We spend the rest of the weekend getting up close and personal. I learn that Patrick has 22 tattoos hidden in his sleeve and that each one means something.
Through several rounds of Never-Have-I-Ever, we learn that we’ve each slept with exactly one woman, both in college. Amanda, his ex who has the pizza place and turned out to be a lesbian. And with me Rachel, though it was more of a drunken experiment that confirmed our status as friends and mine as gay.
I’ve also learned that Patrick has a thing for jock straps, which I now own three of in red, black, and white.
He also has a thing for Rugby and plays in a league. After seeing him in his uniform, I’ve also developed an appreciation. He also wanted to be a comic book illustrator at one point did an entire superhero comic book. It wasn’t supposed to be gay but we both agree it’s pretty much gay porn.
We both have jealous streaks and tempers, though he says his temper is pretty hard to rouse. Neither of us has an interest in an open relationship because of this, and because we both have a high value on loyalty and commitment.
He’s huge on spooning and I spend the nights locked in his grip. It’s hot and sweaty but in just the right way. We’re both big on contact, him more than me when it comes to being out in public, but I’m getting used to the idea and the feeling. It’s hard to imagine having an ocean in between us.
The biggest realization has been how much of a family person he is. He’s the oldest and looks after Cass and their younger brother Jay, not that they necessarily need looking after.
I also know that his alcoholic dad is a tough spot for him. I don’t bring it up; it’s not my place to pry. His final comment on the matter was that some people are just better off dead.
I wake up Sunday night cold and alone. Patrick isn’t there, only his pillow and his scent. I can see that he’s not in the bathroom, but see the light from the hall under the bedroom door. I get up to check on him and find him pacing in the living room.
“Everything alright?” I can see that it’s not. “What is it?” I ask.
He paces some more, which scares me a bit. “I’m thinking,” he says, which would be okay and understandable were it not 4 am.
“Thinking about what?” I ask. My first thought is the guy threatening to sue.
“How can we make this work? I don’t want to lose you.”
I sit on the couch. He joins me. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “Except back to bed, hopefully. With you.”
My attempt at levity fails.
I realize he’s overly worked up about this, the same way I get when I’ve been thinking or dreading too long and can’t get ahold of Rachel.
He lays his head in my lap. I stroke my fingers through his hair, something else I’ve found he likes.
We’re up for the next hours talking and thinking.
“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” I say, straight from Rachel’s book of clichés.