Rewind Boxed Set

by Rowan Shaw

"Tomorrow?"

  "Yes, let's go grab lunch."

  "Don't you have to work?" I asked.

  "I need to eat like everybody else." He shot a lazy smile. His orgasm must have been unbelievable to make him look that high and loopy. He was so handsome lying in bed, raking his dark hair into a wild mess, it took all I had not to ask him to come back to my house.

  "I have to be back home at one," I explained. "I have a piano lesson."

  "Shit. I'm working till twelve. We won't have enough time." He thought for a minute while wiping his cum off with a tissue. "Join me for dinner. I can order take-out."

  I shook my head. "If I come to your place, you know what's going to happen."

  "I won't touch you. I promise."

  I knew I shouldn't accept. I wasn't strong enough to resist him if it was just him and me alone in the room.

  "Let's eat out. I'll treat," I compromised.

  "You don't trust me? I can behave."

  "It's not you I don't trust."

  He did nothing to hide his smugness when hearing my confession. "I'll agree if you spend Saturday afternoon with me. The whole afternoon."

  "I can't. My daughter is coming to my place."

  "Sunday?"

  "She's staying the weekend."

  He nodded and chewed on his lip. "The following weekend?"

  "Okay."

  "And tomorrow evening, too?"

  "Fine."

  His shoulders sagged as he beamed at me. "I need to hit the sack. I have to wake up early."

  "Bonne nuit."

  He moved graciously, fully naked, and hovered over his phone to send me an air kiss before shutting down the communication while I stayed there, wondering what had just happened. I enjoyed his presence far too much, and it was starting to freak me out.

  Chapter 23

  BRANDON

  When I received a message a few hours before my date with Patrick, I got a bad feeling he was canceling. My suspicions were confirmed as soon as I read the first line of his text. He had to work later than expected and was asking if we could still hang out the one weekend. Before I could reply, my phone rang.

  "I am so sorry," he said the moment I picked up. "I have a last-minute client. I can't turn him down. He's been dealing with something, and I have to take him tonight."

  "It's okay." I was disappointed, but I appreciated how professional and hard-working he was.

  "Is there anything special you want to do that weekend?"

  I reclined on my couch and picked at a loose string from my shorts. "I've never been to the Fort de Douaumont."

  There was a slight pause before his suave voice came back on. "Okay. That's a tad depressing, but I'll take you wherever you want. Have you visited any other WWI vestiges in Verdun?"

  "Not yet."

  "I'll make a list, and we can visit as many sites as you want."

  "Do you know anyone who fought in the war?" I asked.

  "Not that I met in real life. My great-grandfather was long gone by the time I was born. My great-grandmother lost three brothers in that war, though."

  "I'm sorry. We don't have to go if it's too depressing for you."

  "Mon lapin, this entire region is filled with war cemeteries, memorials, and trenches. It's not something we can forget even if we wanted to."

  "Right."

  "We can visit an American cemetery if you want. They're everywhere."

  "Sure." I didn't feel like telling him my mom wasn't originally from the US. Only my dad was, and I often tried not to think about him.

  "I think it opens at ten A.M.," he said. "Can I pick you up at eight? We can go for breakfast somewhere first."

  "Sounds great." I wanted to ask if there was any way we could meet before then, but I didn't want to give him the wrong idea, so I kept my mouth shut. We'd be FaceTiming again anyway. I had to satisfy myself with that.

  "Are you going to bed early tonight? Can I text you?" he asked as if reading my mind.

  "Do you mean text or sext?"

  Patrick let out a laugh. "Both."

  "Yes, you can text me." It was a bad idea. Even if it wasn't sex per se, I had to remain cautious. I liked him too much already, and I didn't want to get used to the idea of him being around, even virtually.

  When my phone beeped again, I smiled, thinking it was him wanting to add something, but it was only Madame Marchand canceling her piano lesson at the last minute again. It'd been three times in one month already. Though I charged for all the sessions cancelled with less than twenty-four hours notice, the constant change in my program could get irritating. I sighed and told her I'd see her next week. This left a hole in my schedule for the next hour. I decided to use my spare time to browse the Internet for places to visit with Patrick.

  It didn't take me long to realize he was right. The number of memorials, trenches, destroyed villages, and WWI museums around Verdun was almost overwhelming. I doubted a full day would be enough to visit everything, but that would give us a reason for another date. I hated that I had to wait almost two weeks to see him again.

  Chapter 24

  BRANDON

  I'd be lying if I said waiting that long didn't feel like dragging agony. I couldn't explain the bubbliness I felt around Patrick. He made me laugh harder than anyone ever had, and it was growing into an addiction.

  When he took me to a teashop in downtown Verdun before our trip to Douaumont, the various scents of pastries made me salivate before we even got to sit down. The place was cozy, the walls made of dark painted wood, its golden designs of royal lilies detailed to a fault. The booths were made of magenta leather, the black tables of metal. Three women were sitting farther away, laughing while savoring some pastries, and a man had just walked in to order a cake.

  "How was work?" I asked when we sat close to the entrance door.

  "It was all right. I'd rather not talk about it."

  I knew he was held to confidentiality anyway. His job wasn't a topic we ever really brought up. I was still to contact Docteur Bernard for a therapy session, but I felt less and less likely to do it.

  "So what are we visiting today?" I asked after another glance around.

  "The fort first," Patrick replied, "since that's what you wanted to see, then the ossuary. If we have time, we can go to the Citadel. We'll see. Otherwise, we can do another trip some other time."

  I'd looked up the ossuary online and found out it was a large monument with the names of lost warriors inscribed all over the interior walls. There were unknown soldiers buried underneath, too, but their shared tomb wasn't sealed from view. According to my research, we would be able to see their skulls and bones through a transparent glass. When Patrick said the date was rather morbid, I hadn't realized that was what he meant.

  "So should I consider this a real date?" I asked. "This is the second one already, and you keep talking about the next time we'll meet."

  We'd spent every evening on FaceTime chatting and even watching a movie or two together before jerking off to each other's videos. So far, he'd held on to my request not to seek sex, but the more time we spent together online, the more I regretted that decision. Being around him in person made it so much harder to resist my longings.

  After a few seconds of reflection, Patrick ran his tongue over his teeth, his green gaze intensifying. "We can call it dating if you want. It's a bit strange for me to date a guy I'm not allowed to touch, but I'm trying my best."

  "I appreciate that. Have you been meeting other guys?" I hated to ask, but I had to know.

  "I don't know how you do things in the US, Brandon, but in France, once you start dating someone, you don't go around railing other people. That's cheating, whether you're fucking your date or not."

  "So you're basically my boyfriend?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "It sounds a bit middle-schoolish said like that, but yes, I guess that would make me your boyfriend. Just know that when I date someone, I don't go around for sex. That's not how I work. I make it clear if it's just a hook-up t
hing. If I want to fuck around, I don't commit to a guy."

  His words made me feel better and helped me relax.

  "So you're over the fact that I'm bi?" I asked because that was still bugging me too.

  "Let's just say I'm adapting to the idea. It's not something that'll prevent me from seeing you." He gave me a look and shut up when the waitress came to take our order of tea and pastries that she wrote on a notepad before retreating back to the counter.

  "I'm not sure how things will work between us if you're not willing to come out, though," Patrick said. "As you know, I've already been there, done that. I still don't understand why you won't do it if your parents are open-minded."

  My parents... That was something else Patrick didn't know about me. He had revealed so much about himself already, I felt bad for holding back something so personal.

  "I don't have a father," I acknowledged reluctantly. Even after so many years, it was still a sore topic for me.

  He narrowed his eyes. "But I thought you said—"

  "I said 'family.' I never said anything about him specifically."

  "I'm sorry I misunderstood." His contrite tone made me feel even worse. I hated how people acted like it was their fault I didn't have a father when in all reality they had nothing to do with the piece of trash I was forced to call my genitor. "It's okay."

  "May I ask what happened?"

  I hated having to talk about him today. The mere thought of him usually angered me to the point of ruining my day. But I should be honest with Patrick. He had rehashed his painful history with his ex. Now was my turn.

  "My father—or I guess I should call him the sperm donor who led to my birth—left my mom when I was seven years old. He was cheating on her with another man."

  Patrick's eyes bulged.

  "She didn't know about the guy at that time. As if that wasn't enough, my father found some random woman to have an affair with as well. He was seeing them both simultaneously behind my mother's back."

  Patrick stared at me, tongue-tied.

  "So, you see, you're not the only one who doesn't trust bisexual men. My mom doesn't either. And until I realized what I was, neither did I. Now how am I supposed to tell her I'm one of them?"

  Patrick grabbed my hand to run his thumb over my skin. "You're not responsible for his actions."

  "Maybe, but I'm not responsible for your ex's actions either, and yet, you didn't take too well to the news."

  "I'll give you that. And I'm sorry I reacted like an ass."

  Before he could continue, the waitress returned with a pot of black tea and a plate covered in éclairs, tiny millefeuilles, pains au chocolat, and some small strawberry pies.

  "I thought the French drank coffee," I commented, eyeing the tea.

  "We do, but I wanted to try something different." He poured me a cup before serving himself once the waitress left. "Did your mom kick your dad out?"

  "She did. But him cheating wasn't the worst of it. When it happened, he'd spent two years out of work while my mom busted her ass to provide for the three of us. He was nailing that guy while my mom was at work. In their own bed."

  "Wow. That's..." Patrick shook his head, his green eyes hardening.

  I dropped a sugar cube in my tea and stirred it around, trying hard not to let my anger show. "She only found out the truth when she caught them in bed together one day. The two of them plus that woman I told you about. My mom had to come home early because I was sick, and my dad wasn't answering his phone to come pick me up from school. She walked in on the three of them fucking."

  "You were there too?" Patrick took a sip of his drink and flinched. "Wait a minute to drink. It's hot."

  I handed him the plate of pastries, and he chose one of the miniature millefeuilles.

  "I didn't see them, but when we arrived, they were definitely loud. I was too young to know what the sounds meant, but I'll never forget the look on my mom's face when we climbed up the stairs. She put me to bed and asked me to please not leave my room."

  "That's disgusting."

  My jaw tightened just from remembering everything. I'd spent many years trying to suppress it all from my memory, but it was all still clear as day.

  "He didn't even fight to keep her when she kicked him out. He left with that man and woman that day and never came back. I never saw him again. My mom only heard from him when it was time to file the paperwork for the divorce. He gave her full custody without a fight. She got the house too. She never asked for financial support to take care of me. She didn't want to be anywhere near him. She believed I was better off without someone like him for a father anyway. Though he'd left her everything, we moved to another place. She couldn't stay in that house anymore."

  "And you never heard from him again?"

  I picked a pain au chocolat and dipped the tip in my teacup before taking a bite. "He only tried to contact me once. When I was still in the US, he found my name somehow and called me. He wanted to meet up. I was in my twenties by that time."

  "I can't believe he had the gall to call you."

  "I have no idea why either. Knowing him, he probably needed some money or something. I don't know. I blocked his number."

  I bit into my pastry, the warm tea seeping into my mouth before I chewed on the buttery crust and thin piece of chocolate hidden inside.

  Patrick took his spoon and stirred his drink for a while, looking at me intently. "Do you hate him?"

  "I don't hate on dead people, and he's dead to me now."

  "How did your mom cope?"

  "She was depressed for a long time, but she's a rock. She bounced back on her feet and took care of me by herself. It was like he'd never existed."

  "Did she meet another man?" he asked.

  "No, I think she'd had enough of a taste. But I never heard her diss on men or queers."

  Patrick ate his millefeuille in silence, then rubbed his hands together to drop the crumbs.

  "Is that why you had trouble accepting yourself?" he asked. "Because of him?"

  "It's tough realizing you have so much in common with someone you spent your life despising."

  "You only have your orientation in common with him and some genetics. That doesn't mean you're like him."

  "And yet, you didn't hesitate to put all bisexuals in the same bag when your ex betrayed you," I reminded him.

  His eyes creased slightly. "I guess I have my own demons to work with. How is your mom doing now?"

  "She's all right. She's had trouble dealing with me and Wei moving here. She's never guilt-tripped me, but I still feel awful about it. She has some family there. My uncle and aunt. She's actually my dad's sister. My mom's an only child. When my aunt heard what my dad had done to my mom, she disowned him. And my mom's really social. She has lots of friends. But still. It's hard living far from her."

  "And you moved here when you were still with your ex?"

  "No, I moved here for my daughter. When Ling got a job here and she told me she was moving, I moved too. We were already divorced, but there was no way I was leaving Wei. Wherever she goes, I go. It was complicated to get the paperwork for me, but we did it. Then Ling met Eve, and they're practically married now. They've talked about tying the knot a few times. I'm not sure what's holding them back. Eve is basically Wei's second mom."

  I bit into my pastry, savoring the melting chocolate on my tongue, and took another sip of tea.

  "I guess that explains why you're so reluctant to come out to your family," Patrick said. "Why didn't you tell me during your session?"

  "I wasn't ready to talk about him."

  "I understand. There are things about me and my ex that nobody knows. Not even my best friends."

  "Will you tell me someday?"

  "Maybe. Though probably not."

  The topics were getting too heavy for me. I didn't want to crash before we even visited the places we were supposed to see. "Are you going to the fair next weekend?"

  "Probably. My parents invited me for lunch. It's a
tradition. I'm not sure why the fair is in late October this year. It's usually in May. It's getting cold out, especially at night. It makes no sense."

  I shrugged and finished my tea. "Who knows?"

  "Are you going?" he asked.

  "Yes, I'm taking Wei. Based on what Ling said, she's been talking about it all week."

  "Maybe I'll see you there."

  I gave a nod, and we ate our breakfast until there were no pastries left on the plate. Patrick brought up various topics that he kept light as if he had sensed my need to cheer up. Whenever he burst out laughing, the sound of his chuckles made me smile. He was so unrestrained today—his joy deep and genuine. I couldn't help but snort whenever he cracked up at his own jokes before he would stop and look at me intently, his beautiful green eyes not wavering once when he grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers together.

  "You're not flinching back," he commented.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that you are a closeted man who doesn't mind being touched in public by another man. That's something already. You might be closer to coming out than you think."

  I hadn't thought of that. I didn't even think about other people judging us when I was with him.

  "The next step will be kissing in public," he added with a wink, then looked at his watch. "I don't mean to rush you, mon chou, but it's already past ten o'clock. Are you ready to go?"

  I nodded and insisted upon covering the bill this time since he'd paid for our outrageous meal the one evening. I watched as he stood and put on his black coat and gray scarf, then followed him out after wishing the waitress a nice day.

  Chapter 25

  PATRICK

  "Bonjour, mon chéri," my mom greeted me with two wet kisses on the cheeks when I arrived for lunch the following weekend. "Oops, lipstick."

  She rubbed my skin with her thumbs and stared at me with her intense green eyes. Her black hair was cut shorter than when I'd seen her a few weeks ago, and she'd put a bit too much makeup on.

  "You look tired. Are you sleeping enough?" she asked, scrunching her face into a frown that deepened her wrinkles.

  I replied with a vague "yes," hoping she wouldn't try to dig further. I wasn't going to tell her Brandon and I had been sexting until three A.M. almost every night this week. I'd been good, though, and kept my promise not to push for sex.