by Hayden Hunt
“Here, I’m going to set this on the floor,” he told me. “If you’re feeling like you’re going to be sick, just lean over and grab it, okay?”
“Okay,” I answered. I was grateful because I was pretty sure there was no way I was actually going to reach a bathroom in this state.
“And here’s some water,” he said, putting it on my side table. “Try to drink it all before you fall asleep tonight. It’ll help with the hangover tomorrow. But don’t drink it quickly, you need to sip it.”
“Okay,” I agreed, reaching out for it to take my first sip.
“Is there anything else you need?”
He was so sweet. That was all I could keep thinking… that he was really sweet to me.
I didn’t know why, though. This was all stuff Chelsea would have gladly done for me. She was always really nice when I wasn’t feeling well too. But for some reason, I never felt enthralled with her for it.
But being taken care of by Aidan? It felt so much better. I was genuinely comforted in a way I haven’t been since I was a kid.
When Chelsea took care of me, I allowed her to make me soup and bring me water and then prayed she would leave the room quickly and leave me to myself. But I didn’t want Aidan to leave at all. In fact, I wished he would climb in bed with me and cuddle me until I fell asleep.
Fuck, why was I thinking like this? He was a dude. I was a dude. I shouldn’t have been craving his comfort this way.
I guess it was just the alcohol. It was probably compounding on the fact that I felt so lonely lately. Not having any kind of romantic comfort in my life, it made sense that I’d latch onto the first person that was available.
“Okay,” Aidan said suddenly. “I’ll go ahead and leave you alone now. But just call my name if there’s anything you need.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.
As he reached the door of the room, I called out. “Wait!” I said quickly.
“Yes?” he asked, turning around fast.
“I, uh… Could you stay with me?”
“Stay with you?” He raised an eyebrow.
Damnit, I knew I shouldn't have asked.
“I’m sorry, that’s weird. I just don’t want to be alone feeling like this right now. You don’t need to stay though, if there’s other stuff you’d rather be doing.”
“No, that’s no problem at all.” He smiled. “I’ll stay.”
In the corner of the guest bedroom there was a large fabric armchair. He grabbed it, pulling it close to the bed. When he sat on it, he kicked his feet up on the bed to lean back.
He was so close to me but, right now, it didn’t feel close enough. I wanted him in bed with me so bad. My drunken self almost asked him, but that would have been a huge mistake. Hell, he might kick me out of his house for thinking I was drunkenly coming onto him like that.
Not that he’d be offended or anything. Obviously, he was gay. Hey, maybe that was why I kept thinking these things? Maybe just the knowledge that he was gay was putting ideas into my head.
Either way, I wasn’t going to bring it up.
“You’re a really nice guy.” I smiled at him after staring for far too long.
I couldn’t help it; he was so nice to look at it. He had a very nice face. It was very angled, and he had a strong jaw, but his eyes were the real killer. They were piercing.
Altogether, his outer look didn’t seem to match his personality at all. He had this rough and tumble look about him, but he was a total sweetheart.
“Thanks.” He laughed. “You seem pretty nice too.”
“You’e helped me a lot tonight, I continued.
“What? You mean getting you water and a pot?” He laughed. “Any decent person would do that.”
“Even more than that,” I told him. “You’ve helped me figure out shit about Chelsea. You made me think about some emotional shit I’d never considered before.”
“I’m really glad to have helped.” He smiled, and just looking at his smile comforted me. “But is this really the first time you even considered that you might not want to be with Chelsea?” he asked.
“Honestly, kind of,” I admitted. “I don’t know. Like I said, I avoided all of my emotions as much as I could. And I haven’t had anyone to talk to about them. Nobody who could snap me out of this hole I’ve been in.”
“Seriously, nobody?” he asked. “You have no family? No friends?”
I shrugged. “I have my parents but we’re not close. We pretty much just see each other on holidays. You know, maybe they’re part of the reason why I’m so closed off. They weren’t very emotionally supportive with me when I was growing up. I can probably count on one hand the amount of times they said ‘I love you’ to me.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” He frowned. “I’m not really close with my parents either, but they were very supportive and nurturing as I was growing up.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “If they were nurturing, why aren’t you close with them now?”
He sighed. “Well, they don’t exactly approve of me being gay. I mean, they’re not awful like some parents. They never tried to disown me or gave me a lecture about how I’m going to hell. It wasn’t like that at all. They just kind of quietly disapproved. It was something we never talked about and, slowly but surely, it drove a wedge between us. They try to still be nice around the holidays, like your parents, but other than that I think they spend most of the year pretending I don’t exist.” He laughed awkwardly.
“Seriously? That fucking sucks,” I muttered. “I think that’s worse than my situation. I mean, it’s one thing if it’s just not in your parents’ nature to be emotional, you know? But to be loving and have that change just because they found out you’re gay? That would fucking sting.”
“Yeah… it does,” he admitted. “But that’s what I was expecting. They’re real religious, you know? Like most people in this town.”
He was right about that. We lived in a very conservative town. Most people here were pretty openly anti-gay.
“We’re behind on the times,” I told him.
“Big time,” he agreed.
“How come you don’t leave?” I asked.
He gave a sheepish smile. “How come you don’t?”
This confused me in my drunken state. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re asking me why I don’t leave because this place isn’t conducive to my happiness, right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Well, it doesn’t seem conducive to yours. How come you haven’t left?”
I didn’t have an answer.
He sighed. “That’s the thing about towns like this, isn’t it? You get kind of stuck here. I have the bakery, I have the way I live my life, and I can’t imagine changing it. Sure, I could sell the place and start a business elsewhere, but I don’t. Probably for similar reasons you don’t leave.”
“It’s comfortable, I guess,” I agreed.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “The same kind of comfortable that you get with Chelsea, right? The kind of comfort that isn’t comfort at all. You know, I think the word you mean to use is ‘familiar.’ Everything here is familiar. It’s what we know. And perhaps we’re scared to know anything different.”
Fuck, this resonated with me. He was right. I’d stuck around with this life because it was what I knew. I’d been afraid to branch out because this felt like all I had.
“I mean, what if we go out into the world and fail?” I ask. “That’s the real fear, right? That we might go out on a limb and the branch will break?”
“Pretty much.” He laughed. “It’s no good, though. There isn’t much here for me anymore. Especially not with my romantic life. There is no room for me to grow.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Can’t you date around here? I don’t think you’re the only gay guy in this town.”
“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “But I think I’m one of very few. Most of the men who are out around here, I’ve dated. And it
hasn’t worked out with any of them. I think there is a considerably smaller gay population here than other places. Maybe because in a religious town like this, gay men are afraid to accept who they are and tell other people. Or maybe it’s just that nobody wants to be gay and live in a town like this, so they move. I don’t really know. All I know is, my prospects are low.”
I stared at him awhile, wondering if I should ask my next question or leave it be.
“What is it?” he asked.
“How did you know you were gay?” I asked.
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I wished I could take it back. Why would I ask that? It sounded like I was trying to figure out if I was gay myself. Which, of course, I wasn’t.
Was I?
“I guess it’s really something I’ve always known. The things I felt for men, I’ve never felt for women. I definitely tried to date women in high school. I wanted to be ‘normal’ so bad when I was a teenager. So I did my best to be into women. But I felt nothing for them. No matter how pretty, or how great of a girl they were, there was never a spark with any of them.”
I felt a lump in my throat.
That was exactly what had happened with me and Chelsea, wasn’t it? She was a great girl, she really was. She was kind, she was funny, she was extroverted, and she did her best to bring out the better part of me. She was a good partner.
And I should have been in love with her. But I wasn’t. I loved her, I loved the person she was and everything she’d done for me but I wasn’t in love with her.
Was this why? Those high school relationships with no spark that Aidan was talking about, had I just got forever stuck in my high school relationship with no spark? Never to realize that I could feel differently with another person?
Fuck.
“Is something wrong?”
Yes, I wanted to say. Everything was wrong.
All these years, I told myself there was no spark because I was comfortable with Chelsea. All relationships reached a stage of comfort, that’s what I’d always heard. And that was probably true, though I imagined the comfort in other relationships was more genuine.
But I had completely ignored the fact that there was never a spark between us. I never was passionate about being with her. At least in the beginning, there should have been some romance.
I had convinced myself that the whole ‘spark’ thing was fake, too. I told myself that chemistry like that was just something that they showed in Hollywood romance movies. Nobody really felt like that for another person.
How dumb I’d been. I knew right now, in this moment, that was simply not true. And I knew it because finally, for the first time in twenty-five years, I was feeling that spark.
I could feel it as I stared into Aidan’s eyes.
“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just feel sick again.”
I didn’t want to tell him the truth, not now. It was a little much for me to take in. I had to think about things. And, like Aidan had said, it was best not to make big decisions when you were completely wasted.
“You poor thing.” Aidan frowned. “Here, roll over.”
“Roll over?” I asked nervously.
“Yeah.” He smiled. “trust me.”
“All right,” I said as I switched positions so my back was facing him.
Without warning, I could feel his hand graze my back and he gently started rubbing it for me.
His touch sent chills down my spine. Fuck, I wasn’t going to be able to deny this anymore. How many times had Chelsea rubbed my back like this? And I’d never felt a thing. And now I had the chills from a complete stranger.
This was it. This was that chemistry people were always talking about. I never knew how good it could feel. And now that I felt it, I wasn’t going to let it go. I almost said something to Aidan about this. I almost confessed to him that I was feeling a connection that I thought couldn’t exist between two people.
But I was too drunk and getting too tired. I couldn’t put the words together. And with Aidan’s comforting touch, I could feel myself falling fast asleep.
4
Aidan
I woke up early the next morning and Miles was still asleep in my guest bedroom. I considered waking him for a moment, but my own pounding headache told me I should probably let him asleep. If I was having a hangover, I couldn’t imagine how he was going to feel when he finally woke up. He was a lot drunker than I was.
I know he said he had work in the morning, but I doubt he’d be in any condition to go. If I was him, I’d call in sick. Hell, I wished I could call in sick. But I had a few appointments to schedule at the bakery today that couldn’t be handled by my employees. I liked to do all meetings about custom orders myself. That was the only way I could guarantee there wouldn’t be any mistakes made.
Despite my headache, I decided I’d get started on making a big breakfast. Thought maybe it’d be helpful for Miles. I knew when I was hungover all I wanted is a plate of food and a long nap.
I kept it simple, though. I made pancakes, some bacon, and some scrambled eggs.
He still wasn’t awake when I finished so I went ahead and started eating myself. Hopefully he’d wake up in the next two hours, since that was when I needed to go to the bakery and I really didn’t want to just wake him up to force him out of my house. It felt rude.
We’d had a pretty weird night last night but in a good way. I’d never had a night like that with another person.
Don’t get me wrong, I was a pretty open person and I liked to be very forthright about my problems with my friends. But I’d never been so open and honest with a complete stranger before.
I was sure the alcohol helped, obviously it took the edge off, but I didn’t think it was only the alcohol talking last night. It was more than that.
There was something about the way that we interacted specifically. We had a good little thing going on between us. I’d be honest, I liked him. I was alway open to making more friends and he could be a good one. Plus, he seemed like he really needed it in his life.
And, okay, I might as well admit it to myself, too. I had a bit of a crush on him already. How could I not? He was sweet and cute, and we were able to talk so well with one another. He was pretty much exactly what I was looking for in a romantic partner.
But he wasn’t gay. So that was never going to lead to anything. No, he’d be only my friend. And I was fine with that. I’d shove my feelings down; it wasn’t the first time I’d had to do that for a straight guy and it wouldn’t be the last. I would have no problem being respectful of his boundaries.
I may have to stay away from the alcohol, though. It was strange; last night I almost felt like he might like me back. Now, in the sober light of day, I knew that couldn’t be true. He wasn’t a gay man, he was only a man who had been stuck in an unhappy relationship for a long time.
But, Lord, how good it felt to be touching him. Even with my boyfriends in the past, I didn’t think I’d ever had a moment that felt as intimate as that. Him feeling sick, me caring for him, it felt very close.
Fuck, I hoped I didn’t make him uncomfortable with that. What might have felt like closeness to me might have made him cringe. I didn’t think most straight guys relished another man touching them that way.
But he must have enjoyed it too, right? He fell asleep faster after I started doing that. It must have given him some kind of comfort.
Or, uh, maybe he fake fell asleep because he was so uncomfortable he wanted me to leave. Damnit, there was no way I could get rid of this paranoia right now.
As I finished my plate, I heard his voice coming from the living room.
“Hey there,” he said groggily.
“Hey.” I smiled at him. “Want some breakfast?”
“Seriously? After being hammered last night you got up early and cooked breakfast? Who are you, Superman?”
I laughed. “Yeah, but alcohol is still my kryptonite. I’m not feeling too good myself. But I’m sure not nearly as bad as you.”
&nbs
p; He collapsed into one of my kitchen chairs. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve had a hangover this bad in my life. I don’t even want to know how drunk I was.”
“You don’t remember last night?” I asked, really hoping that wasn’t the case. If it was, I would have to feel like even more of a creeper for coming onto him.
“Oh, no, I do. I just didn’t have a good grasp of how drunk I was. One second I’m feeling fine, the next second you have to half carry me to the guest bedroom.” He sighed. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”
“Don’t even worry about it, we’ve all had them.” I stood up and got his plate out of the microwave. I’d put it in there so it would keep warm for a while.
I put it in front of him and handed him the syrup too.
“Thanks so much,” he said. “You’re a life saver.”
“Not a problem at all.”
“Seriously, thanks so much for last night. I’m sorry if I was a total mess. I just want you to know, I’m not usually this much of a disaster,” he said as he took his first bite.
“Really, it happens to all of us.”
It felt odd, being sober now and not having our inhibitions lowered anymore. We were talking a lot more formally to one another. I wasn’t even sure if I should bring up some of the stuff we talked about. He probably wanted to keep things a lot more casual between us now.
But that felt wrong. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wanted to keep up the openness and the honesty. So I took a risk that might have been crossing a line.
“So, now that you’re sober, have you decided what you’re going to do about Chelsea?”
I said it as if we’d been close friends for years, and not two people that hung out for the first time last night.
“Actually, yeah, I have. I feel the same as I did last night.” He sighed. “It’s going to suck, though. I do realize that more today than I did last night. But I’ve got to do it. I can’t stay in this relationship. It’s not fair to her. Like you said, someone will love her like she deserves.”
“And you too, you know,” I added.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
