by Willa Okati
“Samoas,” Gavin blurted. “Um. I like those. Not the mints.” Oh God.
Ford shrugged. “More for me, then, and I’ll remember Samoas for next time.”
Now that Gavin’s words had started, they didn’t seem to want to stop. “You’re assuming there’ll be a next time.”
There. Finally a reaction that wasn’t all good cheer and sunshine. It wasn’t what Gavin had anticipated, and immediately he thought -- no, he knew -- it wasn’t what he wanted, not really. This was surprise and -- oh no -- hurt. Gavin couldn’t live with that look of shocked woe. It felt far too much like stomping on a puppy. Given that it came from a man the size of a moose, the mental comparison was a little staggering, but still.
“Please don’t say that. Not yet?” Ford asked, earnest as anyone Gavin had ever known. He took Gavin’s hand in his. “And let me finish the story first? Usually I’m the one interrupting everyone else.”
It had been a day of strange occurrences. Gavin was the one to obediently pipe down, though he wanted to laugh at the oddity of it all. How did Ford keep doing this to him?
“There’s not much left to tell, promise. Except, and this is the fun part, when one of the Girl Scouts gave me my change. May I also point out their uniforms -- green, and money -- green. I dropped a penny and went after it.”
Gavin frowned. Who chased down a penny?
Apparently Ford did. He brightened as he went on. “And where that penny came to a stop was near a green-topped trash can. And… um… maybe this isn’t too flattering, but I saw a business card that’d fallen out of the trash. And it was one of yours. Led me right to your office.” He beamed. “Ta-da.”
Gavin shook his head, then nodded to the terrace in silent inquiry.
“Oh.” Ford slapped his forehead. “That was just guesswork. I knew the service elevator had to come out right about here, and you smelled like fresh air when I met you last week. Besides, I figured you were the kind of guy who liked to hang out in quiet places, and I don’t know when I last saw a smoker in this part of town. Now. There.” Ford spread his hands, clearly waiting for Gavin to be impressed.
He was. In a way. Gavin thought carefully about what he wanted to say, in the least number of words. “It’s a good story. But it’s all fan… fan…” He swallowed. Ford waited. “Fantasy. Subconscious cues coming together.”
Ford should have been offended. It’d been Gavin’s intention. But was he?
No. On the contrary, Ford took Gavin’s hand and raised the back of it to his lips. Over Gavin’s small gasp, he pressed his mouth to Gavin’s knuckles and looked up over them to murmur, “It doesn’t matter if you believe. I do.”
“Why?”
Ford’s blazing smile returned in full force. No. Greater than. The zeal of a true prophet. “Because it’s true.”
Gavin almost wanted to nod and smile and go along with the craziness. Almost didn’t make the cut. This was one thing he couldn’t give on.
“I’m sorry,” he said, focused on his now-almost-empty cup, from which he’d been drinking without noticing. His mouth tasted of sweet spice and smooth cream. “I don’t -- I… Ford, it’s not…” He tried again. “All this stuff you make up as you go along -- it’s pretty, but it’s not real.”
Ford frowned for the first time. Sort of. Gavin didn’t think Ford would be capable of a real frown -- his face wasn’t built on the right lines for anything but varying degrees of humor. But the look on his face was close enough to make Gavin wary of impending fallout.
He waited for the hammer to fall. The “screw you.”
Instead, all Ford said was, “Why are you so set against believing me?”
Gavin shook his head, silent again.
Ford shifted position. Still frowning, ever so slightly, still not angry. More… concerned? As if a solid grasp of practical reality were a bad thing?
Minor irritation got Gavin’s tongue working again. “I just don’t like the idea of anything being out of our control.”
“Our?”
“Humans’.” Gavin lifted his chin in a nod out toward the city, the world, and all the people in it. “Me too. I guess.”
“Guess?”
“Stop answering questions with questions,” Gavin muttered.
Ford grinned without shame and relaxed, easing his legs out in a long, long stretch. “Hey, it’s keeping you talking, isn’t it?” He tapped the side of his nose. “Sorry. I’ll be good now. Well, as good as I can be. But what I’m getting here is that you don’t want to believe in anything that can’t be measured, counted, weighed out. Like feelings.”
Gavin wondered if it were actually possible for a man’s face to catch on fire. He stared fiercely at the brickwork beneath his feet and kept his mouth shut. Ford made him want to talk. Made him want to confide in the man. Gavin didn’t do that with anyone, not anymore. He wouldn’t start again with Ford.
“Things are starting to make sense now.” Ford scooted forward, following when Gavin drew back. Yet he was still gentle, and though Gavin’s breath grew short, he didn’t find himself afraid.
So strange.
Ford lifted one hand and touched the back of it ever so lightly, so carefully, to Gavin’s cheek. Just as he had before, and it affected Gavin no less. Was it the same for Ford?
Not that Gavin could ask. All he could manage was to stare, deeply, into Ford’s eyes, mesmerized by their depth this close-up.
“If you don’t let yourself feel anything, then you don’t get hurt,” Ford said, studying Gavin with an intensity that made Gavin’s hands shake. “But then you don’t feel anything good either, do you? Don’t you love anything, even that F1 cross of yours?”
Gavin was about to be kissed. For the first time in three years. He knew it. He didn’t want to want it, but God help him, he couldn’t tamp down the desire for Ford’s lips on his.
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you don’t feel love,” Ford said. His breath tickled Gavin’s lips and chin. “Aw, Gavin. How can you live that way?”
Gavin stiffened. “Don’t pity me.” He tried to get up.
Ford caught him and pulled him back down, still easy, still careful of his strength. “That’s the last thing I feel. Trust me on that.” His touch lingered. With a jolt, Gavin thought he saw -- so odd, so unexpected -- the difference between superior pity and plain kindness. “Go out with me tonight. Give me a chance, Gavin.”
Don’t do this to me.
“I can’t,” Gavin said, knowing Ford wouldn’t take no for an answer without a fight. Donny never had. Gavin hadn’t thought about fighting him, and with Ford he didn’t want to, and so he knew he should. “Stop asking me.”
“Sh.” Ford turned his hand to cup Gavin’s cheek. “Look, if I’m scaring you --”
“It’s not --”
“Gavin.” Ford drew his thumb up Gavin’s temple. “I’m not dumb, okay? I know I come on strong, and I know I’m kind of scary looking.”
“You’re not,” Gavin blurted. He couldn’t tell which of them was more surprised -- Ford to hear it or himself to say it. But it was true. Ford was a bruiser to match all bruisers, but he had the heart of a marshmallow. Scary? Yes. But not in his looks. Gavin gathered his strength to finish. “That’s not why.”
Ford’s caress grew hesitant. “Are you sure? I get enthusiastic sometimes. Especially when I’m happy -- and I am, with you. But I promise I won’t ever hurt you, not if I can help it.”
Gavin had to say this. “Not wanting to doesn’t mean you won’t.”
“No,” Ford agreed. “Doesn’t mean you won’t hurt me either, you know.”
Gavin blinked. He’d never thought of it that way. He licked his lips and could not help but notice how the movement drew Ford’s attention back to his mouth.
“I could fall in love with you,” Ford said, shocking Gavin’s eyes open wide enough to take in every gleaming facet of Ford’s smile. “Actually… I already have.”
Gavin’s mouth fell open, not in preparation for a kiss, but for
the words that wanted to pour out. It wasn’t the stutter or the shyness that stopped him this time. He pushed as far away from Ford as possible and pressed his back to the wall, shaking his head emphatically.
“Gavin --” Ford reached for him.
Anything could have happened then. If they’d been left alone. But as Gavin’s luck ran, precisely then was when the terrace door was thrown brusquely open without a care for the old glass. Roger ambled as casually as he pleased out into the open air, bringing with him the sharp stink of new ink and old grudges.
* * *
“What?” Roger asked, stretching elaborately. “You think you’re the only one who can eat lunch out here?”
Good God, the playground mentality of that man. Nothing but nosiness. Roger didn’t even have a sack lunch or a café bag with him to back up his lie.
Ford’s arm went firmly around Gavin’s shoulders. Gavin hated himself just a little for immediately feeling better, but not as much as he was grateful for the same.
Roger smirked at them. “How cozy is this? Lovebirds all snug in their nests. You’re a big son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
“Careful now,” Ford said. Rumbled. He didn’t look like such a gentle giant now. “That’s my mama you’re talking about.”
“Come on. It’s just an expression. No harm, no foul, right?” Oblivious or reckless? Hard to tell. Probably both. Roger took a seat across from Gavin and Ford where he could leer at them at his leisure. “I wonder how that works out when you fuck. Someone must be damn good in the saddle.”
Gavin resigned himself to Ford’s jumping up and giving Roger precisely what he deserved -- and frankly, what Gavin didn’t think he’d mind watching -- a solid punch in the nose. Given the size differential, one such blow would likely land Roger flat on his back.
Once again, Ford surprised him. Gavin thought perhaps he should learn to expect that. Ford stayed put, even cuddled Gavin closer, and chuckled. “Actually I prefer to bottom.”
Gavin’s jaw dropped. Roger’s eyes bulged. And Ford? Ford guffawed at Roger’s reaction.
Roger puffed up indignantly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Ford sighed. He patted Gavin’s hand and stood. Up. Up some more. Gavin stared. Ford might have been stooping before, rounding his shoulders, because unless it was the angle as seen from below, he’d be damned surprised if Ford at full stretch didn’t edge closer to seven feet than six. And wide? As broad across the shoulders as two of Gavin, with powerful legs. Not to mention biceps easily strong enough to tear a New York phone book in half.
“You were saying?” Ford asked mildly. “Oh, and you might not know me very well, since you’re asking all these questions, but I know you.”
Roger had paled at the sight of Ford the Bear rising to his full mass, but to give the little weasel the small amount of credit he deserved, he had the guts not to cut and run. “How’s that?”
Ford’s grin grew a tad fiercer, giving Gavin a glimpse at the warrior he’d compared Ford to before they’d met. One buried deep, deep beneath his basic nature, but the one who compelled him to never, never, never give up or lay down arms without throwing his all into whatever task lay before him.
He moved in front of Gavin to protect him. Gavin leaned awkwardly to a side to see past. Whatever might be about to happen, he wanted to watch.
Roger’s nostrils flared. “Don’t stand there and try to impress me with your posing. Either tell me how you know me or fuck off.”
“Stepped in any unexpected potholes lately?” Ford asked, as innocent as the halo around a painted saint. “Maybe after you cut in front of a line of women and then ducked under a scaffold? Maybe stepped in a little payback shaped like a pothole?” He turned to wink back at Gavin, who grinned -- grinned! -- despite himself.
Roger fumed, rendered speechless. There was a first.
“Bad karma, man,” Ford said, clicking his tongue at Roger. “It’ll get you in the end. Or in the shin.”
Roger scoffed. “You’re insane.”
Gavin couldn’t disagree. Yet, amazing himself, he didn’t want to, and he had started to enjoy the absolute hell out of this.
But now Roger had begun to roll up his sleeves. For God’s sake. Surely he wasn’t stupid enough to try taking a swing at Ford? Without thinking, Gavin jumped to his feet and between them.
Roger sneered at him. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish, pretty boy?”
Gavin’s flush this time was not one of embarrassment but anger, backed up by an immense rush of pride he felt from Ford behind him. “You can try me and see. Or you can act like the professional you’re so proud of being. Go back to work.”
Maybe that hit home. More likely, a second’s cooling down made Roger comprehend that if he went up against Gavin, then Ford would be there at his back, and if he got a taste of Ford, he’d be pounded into jelly.
Roger glared at Ford as if hoping looks could kill. “This isn’t over.”
“Suit yourself,” Ford said amiably, sitting back down and pulling Gavin with him. He had a surprisingly -- or perhaps not so much so -- comfortable lap.
Roger snarled at him and departed just as he’d come, with a bang and a slam and a great flourish of diva drama.
Ford stayed quiet for three beats after Roger was gone before he cracked up. “Holy cow. I thought he was going to pop a vein.” He jostled Gavin playfully.
Gavin found himself nibbling at the ragged edge of his thumbnail. “Would you have… If he’d thrown a punch, would you --”
“No.” It was the first time Gavin had ever seen Ford without a single trace of humor in him. “I don’t use my fists. Ever. The size of me? I might kill someone. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”
“You’re the one talking about living in fear.” Gavin regretted that the second it was out. They weren’t the same thing at all, and even he knew it. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
“It’s okay. Just so you understand how things are.” Ford sighed. “Moving on.” His lips came to rest just over Gavin’s ear. “I promised I’d be good about the compliments, but can I say how hot you are right now? Because I really, really want to.”
Gavin squirmed. Only a little. Abashed pleasure filled the space shy embarrassment usually ruled. He shook his head and was glad Ford couldn’t see his face.
Thoughts unlike any he’d known in years raced through Gavin’s head. He wondered… He wondered if…
He still didn’t believe Ford’s chattering about signs and omens and things that were meant to be. He had more than enough to make him wary and keep him there.
But…
When Ford’s arms were around him, and Ford’s chin nestled into the crook of his shoulder, it grew harder and harder to remember that. Ford smelled wonderful, a mix of fresh air and soap and warm skin. So warm all over, melting through Gavin and making him feel… he didn’t know what.
Unfamiliar. Scared. But good somehow. He couldn’t keep up.
Hesitantly, so hesitantly, Gavin let himself slide one hand over Ford’s. Ford gave a small start, a rich chuckle, and hugged Gavin just that much closer. “You’re amazing,” he said, honest awe shining through.
A brief pause.
Ford pressed closer, his cheek to Gavin’s, and began to move in a light swaying motion that made Gavin want to close his eyes and sink in deep. He thought he knew what Ford was about to do next.
For once, he was right. Ford toyed with Gavin’s fingers, stroking them from nails to knuckles, his touch as light as a feather. Gavin had to smother a startled giggle as he visualized a gorilla balancing a teacup in its palm.
“I’m not going to break, you know.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to take the chance.” Ford laced his fingers loosely with Gavin’s and squeezed. “Is that better?”
It’s a start, was what Gavin meant to say. Nothing came out. He settled for a sigh and leaned his head back, only for a moment, on Ford’s shoulder.
“I’m
going to ask you again,” Ford said, enveloping Gavin with body heat and enthusiasm for life and something darker, something sensual that made Gavin catch his breath.
“Ask me…?”
“Go out with me,” Ford coaxed. “One date. Tonight. Give me a chance.”
Such a bad idea. So impossible to stop it.
Gavin bit his lip. One date couldn’t hurt. Could it? Just a taste to satisfy the craving, and then he could be done with the lot. “I have issues,” he blurted instead of a simple assent.
Ford’s full-body chuckle vibrated through Gavin. “I noticed. And I’m still here. So what do you say?”
Now or never. Okay. Just… once. Gavin nodded, and though he’d grown rusty at giving this kind of answer, he hoped it’d come out right. He breathed in deep and let the word out on his exhale.
“Yes.”
Ford’s hug, unexpected even from where they were sitting, squeezed the rest of the breath out of Gavin, jarred loose a startled laugh. Ford let go immediately and guided -- or was it allowed? -- Gavin to turn around in his arms to face him. Mesmerize him.
So intently, the way Ford gazed at him. As if Gavin were already his whole world. Unreal. “Can I kiss you?”
Donny had never asked. Donny had only took. “Yes,” Gavin said and found it easier this time. Maybe too easy. Careful. Watch yourself.
Easier said than done when Ford’s lips were on his.
Gavin would think later that a man who never stopped using his mouth might be counted upon to be a skilled kisser. At the time, he was caught and held beneath the surface of the tide of Ford’s affection. Sensation after sensation. Gliding slickness of tongue, press of lips, and Ford’s hands on his face, keeping him still and guiding him at the same time.
Gavin’s toes curled in his shoes. Was that him whimpering and straining en pointe to drag Ford farther down into his hold? Maybe, because that was Ford rumbling in satisfaction and doing exactly as Gavin had hoped.
Gavin decided he was glad when Ford finally drew back -- too soon. He held Gavin up by his arms until his knees steadied. What was he supposed to say now? Maybe nothing. Nothing needed to be said. And maybe that would spoil it. Pop this precious bubble of time that somehow rose above reality. This couldn’t last. Gavin was sure of it.
