by Alex Jane
Justin was watching the tables filling up with them as he pulled steaming hot glasses from the tray he had brought in from the kitchen—filling the shelves ready for the rush that would be coming soon enough once the working day ended for most people. There were some college kids, who looked barely old enough to drink but whose IDs checked out, giggling away in the corner. There were the obligatory two or three old-timers wearing baseball caps and plaid, paying no attention to anything other than the newspaper in front of them as they sipped the solitary beer, which they seemed to make last for hours at a time. Three bikers, along with Joel, had taken the spot at the large table in the center of the room. Justin only recognized them vaguely, but he could tell from the patches on their jackets and the tattoos on their arms they were part of Joel's crew. They weren't the kind of guys from the TV who ran guns and drugs. He was pretty sure one of them worked part-time at the library and another ran a doggy daycare. Like Joel, who was a paramedic, they enjoyed the style and the bikes and the camaraderie of being in a club but that was all. Didn't mean that anyone who messed with them or theirs didn't walk away unscathed though.
"You finished with the glasses yet?" Tyler asked from his perch at the end of the bar, not looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. Justin had to smile. He had often wondered how his uncle had managed to acquire the sixth sense that pinged anytime anyone working for him started to lose focus. When he was at college he missed the way Tyler quietly ragged on him constantly. He could have really done with the occasional gruff, "you finished that reading yet?" when he'd had a deadline looming. Tyler was never harsh, but the quiet tone the big man had was always enough to make Justin hop to it. When Kyle had first started dating his mom, Tyler had wasted no time in taking Justin under his wing, bringing him to the bar to train him up to be one of them, getting him to help out in the kitchen as he and all his brothers had done when they were Justin's age. He figured imparting the knowledge and teaching discipline and care was Tyler's way of showing love.
"One more rack and I'm done," Justin said, getting back up to speed.
Tyler put down his pen and looked over at him. "Big strong boy like you couldn't bring them all at once?"
Justin huffed out a laugh and raised one eyebrow. "Only if you want me to drop them like last time."
"You were fourteen last time," Tyler mumbled and went back to his paperwork.
"Yeah, and I'm still paying you back out of my pocket money." He wasn't, but he liked to bitch about the fact Tyler had made him pay for the damages himself, as well as clean up every shard of broken glass, although he hadn't so much as raised his voice to him. Justin could never claim to have been coddled as a boy, but he'd been lucky to have such good role models in his life. He'd also never dropped another glass again.
"When you're done with that, I need you to go upstairs to the store and bring down a fresh stack of blue coasters."
Justin frowned over at his uncle. "Really?" It was hardly an unusual request, but being that things were about to get busy and they were still waiting on Cherry to arrive for her shift, it seemed a little unnecessary.
Tyler glanced up, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, really. You got something better to do?"
Justin actually had a list of things he'd rather be doing, but he thought he shouldn't bring it up right that second, not with the tetchy mood Tyler always seemed to be in this time of year. "Nope. Nothing I'd like better," Justin said and swung the rack down from the bar as he twisted around and sashayed back to the kitchen for the last of the glasses.
The upstairs storage room had been Justin's favorite place to be at one time. The cellar was cold even in the summertime and stank of hops and stale beer. But up the stairs and through the faded red door was something of a sanctuary among the boxes of kitchen supplies and bar snacks. He liked sneaking up there even better than going up onto the roof, hiding away by himself in the cool when everyone else was up there, barbecuing in the sun.
He was a little surprised, then, when he walked into the room, not expecting to find the lights on, or Roman sitting there alone, scrolling through something on his phone.
The two of them flinched and froze when they saw each other, locking eyes like two rabbits caught in each other's headlights.
"What the hell are you doing up here?" Justin said breathlessly.
"Um…Twitter," Roman said, almost phrasing it as a question as he held up the screen as evidence.
"I didn't mean…" Justin shook his head and rolled his eyes more at his own reaction than at Roman's, walked across the room, and started to pull boxes down from the shelf. "Does Tyler know you're up here?"
'I guess so," Roman replied. "Joel told me to come up for a while." When Justin looked over at him quizzically, Roman shrugged one shoulder and he looked a little embarrassed. "A couple of guys were giving me a hard time. He thought if I took some time out, they might leave and go bother somebody else."
"Giving you a hard time about what?" Justin was almost afraid to ask. Being a gay man in a less than accepting sport was bad enough. Being gay and black…Justin couldn't even imagine how tough things could get for Roman, even though he'd caught a glimpse or two during high school. But clearly Roman could tell he was worried and quirked his lips into a smile to break the tension.
"About my choice of team. Apparently, it would've made more sense for me to have signed under Ellington."
Justin had to snort at that. He knew more than he cared to know about baseball simply through osmosis even though it wasn't his sport of choice. It was hard not to pick up on a thing or two with a major league baseball star in the family and having dated one in the making. "Yeah, that would have made a lot of sense. Ten years ago maybe, when they had a chance of taking the pennant. Besides, you'd be all wrong for them. It's way too hot to play baseball in Arizona."
Roman smiled. "You say that like you know something about it?" he teased.
"I played," Justin said, defensively, his voice a little high.
"Sure you did," Roman said, laughing. It wasn't unkind, only playful, but somehow even that hurt Justin.
He narrowed his eyes at Roman. "Are you drunk?"
Roman sat up straighter and shook his head just a little. "No. I wouldn't drive, but I'm not drunk."
It was pretty clear to Justin that he wasn't being completely truthful. He might not drive, sure, but there was something in Roman's eyes and the way he swayed slightly as he adjusted his seat that looked familiar. Tapping his finger a couple of times on the box under his hand, Justin wondered for a minute whether he wanted to get involved with whatever was going on with his ex. Then, sighing, he abandoned what he was doing and slouched over to Roman, slumping down onto the crate next to him.
"How are you doing really?"
Roman looked at Justin for a moment almost as if he didn't recognize him. Then he chuckled to himself, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I'm guessing if I tell you I'm fine that won't cut it?" The question was rhetorical but Justin crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head in a way that seemed to get across fairly well that, no, it wouldn't.
"I don't know what to tell you," Roman said, looking past Justin, staring into a dark corner of the room. "I really thought things were going okay, that my parents had accepted me, who I am. It wasn't as if we were talking about it, but I thought that meant they at least stopped fighting me." He paused and looked Justin in the eye. "You know, they tried to make out to me that it would be like a vacation? They had all these brochures and were telling me all about the center and the electroshock therapy, excited as if we were going to Disney World or something. They actually wanted to pay for me to go for my birthday, can you believe that?"
Unfortunately, Justin could believe it. He had always supported Roman, supported the fact he didn't want to quit on his family even though they seemed more than ready to give up on him. He'd had to smile through gritted teeth more than once as Roman had told him how much he loved them and how they were really trying to understand. Just
in had never been entirely sure what was said behind closed doors, but all the evidence pointed to them not really trying at all. It had been his worst fear that one day he would wake up to find Roman shipped off to be brainwashed or worse. That was probably why he reached out for Roman in the moment, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding him tight.
It didn't cross Justin's mind that hugging him was a wrong move, especially when Roman held him back just as tightly. Something about the situation was rather like old times, but Justin figured enough water had passed under the bridge for them to be worried about what a hug could mean. That was until Roman sighed and, for a second, Justin thought he felt the brush of lips against his neck. The fact he didn't hate the idea was warning enough, and he slowly pulled away, easing himself from Roman's embrace.
"You are the bravest person I know," Justin said. "I also know you did the right thing. They can't change themselves any more than you can change."
Roman looked at him with wonder. "I don't know. You seem to have changed plenty."
"Me? I'm not the one who's going to be the man to step into Chase Meadows' shoes."
"Yeah, well, that hasn't happened yet," Roman grumbled, glancing at his feet for a second before looking at Justin with sincerity and not a little scrutiny in his eyes. "But you have changed. You seem so serious now. Is that because you gave up dancing? I really thought you wanted to be cheerleading until you were too old to walk."
"I don't miss it," Justin lied. "Not really. And I still dance, just not competitively. I couldn't keep it up with my workload. And I get to work out with the squad at college, training and helping out with the choreography sometimes. Quite a few of them come to the gym I work at, so I get to put them through their paces there too."
"Is that still what you want to do? Can you make a career out of stretching cheerleaders' hamstrings?"
Justin laughed at that. A lot of people—boyfriends in particular—might not have been quite so understanding with him being the only boy on the high school cheer squad. But Roman had always found a way to make a joke about the fact his boyfriend got to put his hands all over the most attractive girls in school and not sound like a jealous asshole.
"I guess anything is possible if you work hard enough for it," Justin said with a cheeky smile.
He'd hoped for mildly flirtatious and friendly and felt entirely taken aback when Roman asked, "If I told you I wanted to kiss you, would you be pissed? Because I really want to kiss you."
Justin fought the urge to nod and lean in, instead slowly drawing away. "I don't think that's a very good idea." It wasn't a good idea. Everything about it screamed mistake. But even as he said the words and pulled back, the idea of pressing his lips against Roman's one more time made him feel warm all over.
"It could be," Roman said as he edged a little closer.
Justin shook his head slightly, although he managed to stay in his seat and not leap up and sprint for the door. "No. It really wouldn't. For so many reasons."
"I know, but I can't think of one when I look at you." Roman sounded so sincere, Justin's resolve started to crumble at the edges. "Sometimes I can't even remember why we broke up in the first place."
Justin frowned at that and looked away. "You know why. And it's the same reason why kissing you now would only end badly."
"Was being with me really so awful?"
There was no way Justin was going to put up with that kind of manipulation. He did leap up then, and went back to what he'd come up there for—angrily tearing open the boxes he'd already gotten down from the shelf, looking for the coasters Tyler wanted. "You don't get to say that to me. You don't get to play the victim after everything that happened." It was amazing after all this time how angry he could still get.
"You broke up with me remember?" Roman said as he got to his feet. "You were the one who didn't want to try to work things out."
When he started to walk over, Justin held up a warning finger and shook his head. Although, the warning was as much for himself as it was for Roman. Justin had never wanted for them to break up, not really. But he had been so angry, and too many harsh words had passed between them for him to be able to see the way back. In the end, breaking up seemed like the kindest thing to do for both of them, with Roman leaving for college and them having no time to patch up their argument.
"We agreed," Justin said firmly. "We agreed it was the right thing to do."
Roman took another step towards him. "Was it though? Can you really look me in the eye and tell me that you've been happy these last few years? Because I haven't. I've missed you every goddamn day."
Justin didn't mean to but the derisive laugh popped out before he could stop it. "Oh really? And what about your new buddy, Brendan? He seems to be filling the void pretty well. Or should that be your void?"
The surprise on Roman's face morphed quickly into a triumphant grin, and Justin realized too late that he'd managed to give the game away. "It's okay, baby," Roman cooed, gloating and loving it. "You don't have to cyberstalk me. You can send a friend request if you want."
"I figured you would have blocked me," Justin mumbled as he rooted through one of the boxes, having forgotten what he was looking for when his cheeks had started to burn with embarrassment.
"Brendan's just a friend," Roman whispered next to him, and Justin realized he was very close, almost close enough to touch.
"It doesn't matter," Justin said, his voice just as quiet. "It's too late. We've both moved on. We can't go back now."
He looked up when Roman's hand brushed his shoulder, the firm but gentle pressure of his fingers sending shivers through his body as they ran down his arm. "Who says I've moved on? God knows I've tried," Roman murmured as he drew Justin towards him. "And when have you ever been afraid to change your mind?"
As Roman's voice softened, so Justin melted into him, letting his body curve against Roman's, allowing his chin to tilt up when Roman's hand cupped his jaw, and giving up the fight completely when Roman's lips met his. It was everything it had been before, and more. They had kissed a thousand times and yet everything about this was new and exciting. Justin had fantasized about this kiss over and over and yet nothing could have prepared him for it. Or for the fact he would be the one to ruin it.
Whatever burst of emotional strength allowed him to raise his hands—placing them against Roman's chest and gently pushing him away—Justin was less than grateful for finding it. Roman didn't fight him, although his lips lingered as long as they could against Justin's skin before he took a half-step back with the look of utter devastation on his face.
"It's not right," Justin said, feeling just as broken as Roman looked. "Not like this. Not when you have all this shit going on right now. Not when you've been drinking. That crap isn't fair on either of us."
"I still love you," Roman said, surprisingly strong and sure, and Justin couldn't find any reason to doubt him.
"Maybe. I just don't know if that's enough anymore."
Justin was glad he'd turned away when he heard Roman's footsteps and the slam of the door. He wasn't sure whether he could've watched Roman walking away from him in anger again.
He took a minute, wrapping his arms around his chest and holding himself tight as he closed his eyes against what he'd done. It was suddenly very lonely in the storage room and for the first time he didn't want to be there. It only took a couple of minutes to find what his uncle had sent him on a fool's errand for. Then he snapped off the light and headed back downstairs.
As he walked into the bar, not relishing the prospect of having to face Roman, he caught sight of Joel hurrying towards the open front door, clearly running after Roman who must have just walked out. Joel, at least, had the good grace to throw Justin an apologetic look before he left too.
Justin didn't say a word to Tyler when he moved back behind the bar, only slammed down the bag on the bar top in front of him. Tyler seemed more surprised by the outburst than the fact Justin went straight over to the optics and poured
himself a large measure of tequila.
Justin downed the shot, looking Tyler in the eye the entire time. "Did you know he'd be up there?" Tyler didn't speak or move but there was something in his expression that had Justin cursing him under his breath. "I expect this shit from dad and Chase," Justin said, his voice raised. "I don't expect to have to put up with it from you."
Tyler did react then, sitting more upright and clasping his hands together. "You ever think maybe we'd ease up if you talked to us? No one has been able to figure out what the hell happened between the two of you in the first place. You seemed so happy together. It makes no sense you should be apart now, the same way it made no sense then."
Justin laughed. "For a guy who's been single the entire time I've known him you sure seem to know a lot about relationships all of a sudden." It was pretty evident that he had gone too far, without even needing to see the hurt look that came over Tyler's face. "Shit. I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Tyler held up his hand and shook his head, a slight smile curling his lips. "You may be a pain in my ass but you're not wrong, kid. I should definitely know better. We worry about you both. And having you in the same place at the same time—you can't blame us for trying."
When Justin chuckled this time, there was no bitterness in it. "I think you underestimate my capacity for being a bitch when someone tells me what to do."
"You were never a bitch," Tyler said affectionately. "Spirited maybe." A grin passed over his face briefly before he schooled his expression into his usual frown. Gesturing with his pen, he waved Justin down to the other end of the bar where there were customers walking over. "Better hop to it. Cherry called and said she was going to be fifteen minutes late."
