by Rachel Kane
I wanted to be pulled. Pulled, pushed, dragged, I wanted not to be the one who had to make the choice.
Foolish thoughts. No matter what you do, you always make a choice. Lying back and passively accepting his love was a choice. But so was sitting up and returning it, grasping his head with my hands, kissing him so deeply that we both might suffocate from this passion.
“I’ve given up so much,” he said with a gasp, and I answered him, “No, no,” as though we were having a conversation, but it wasn’t a conversation, it was simply the boiling off of our fears and hesitation, letting them bubble out, steaming into the air, driven by the heat of our bodies, bodies which had half-shed their clothes, our growing awe of each other captivating, distracting.
You look so different now.
So do you.
I like you better now.
A stray tendril of bashfulness, like a strand of hair falling in front of the eyes, ready to be brushed away.
I’m not—I don’t think I can—
I don’t mind. Do it. I love it when you do.
Things I had not experienced in a thousand years. The heat of my excitement, cooling rapidly on his open skin. We hardly even needed to touch. We wanted to. We wanted contact with every inch of our bodies, yet the electricity was almost too much to bear, two pent-up desires finally released from years of hiding, the dam breaking, first a crack, then a gush and then the flood, overwhelming us.
I think—do you have any—
I do, I do, they’re in the—
Help me put it on—
I will, do you think I should—
His hand on my ankle, arranging me as though I were modeling for his painting. Still Life With Condom. Preparing me.
Is that too cold?
Kiss me first.
The first moment, the first touch, my body tensing from fear, from the time spent untouched, as though it had forgotten how this happens, forgotten what to do.
The path of most resistance, yielding under his touch, softening as he explored, each careful step forward.
Oh god, Theo. Oh god.
I missed you, Micah. I missed this so much.
Suddenly there were no words at all. There was nothing left to say. The world opened up before us, my ankles crossed over his back, my hips meeting him halfway, words shredded into gasps and half-syllables.
I want—I want—
Everything I needed was right here, his hands on either side of me, the sweat of his chest dripping down onto me, like paint dripping onto a canvas, the creation of something new where before there had only been blankness.
My teeth against my lower lip. Eyes open just enough to see the love and passion on his face. All the emotion that had been boxed up, delayed, held back, now ready to explode.
I closed my eyes again because there was no room left for vision, for hearing, for anything but the sensation of his body in mine.
My world had filled up, and now was spilling over. Back in the land of bodies, my cock was seized by the way he pounded me, unable to restrain itself, coming, coming, as he began to come as well.
But in the world of my heart, the world of my soul, what came was a sense of connection I had been missing for years. A sense that there was someone out there who needed me as much as I needed him. Someone who was made for me, and without whom I was empty.
Theo filled me up, and the multiplicity of meanings there made me laugh and clutch him close, both of us out of breath.
“What are we doing?” I asked him, smiling up at his glowing, blissful face.
He shook his head. “I wish I knew. God, I wish I knew.”
17
Theo
Did the sun shine brighter this morning? Was the world somehow cleaner, sharper-edged with the blur of uncertainty and doubt wiped away? Had, in fact, the entire universe shifted in our favor after last night?
No.
No, as far as I could tell, the main thing that had changed was that my neck and back were fractured in about fifty different places from sleeping on this tiny pull-out of Micah’s.
“How do you stand it?” I asked, remembering fondly the plush bed back at Harrison House, as though it were already receding into the mists of time. I sat up and rubbed my neck.
Micah, unlike me, looked spry and energetic. Fresh out of the shower, he had a white towel wrapped low on his waist, treating me to a view of the curve of his hips and the tiniest bit of hair peeking out.
“Do you know how seldom I’m here?” he asked. “I think I spend more time showering at the gym than in my own bathroom.”
I rose up on my elbows and craned my sore neck to look behind him. “I don’t blame you. I have shoeboxes bigger than that bathroom.”
“There’s a ton of work today,” he said, running his fingers through his wet hair. “But we should catch up, maybe dinner?”
His hand hesitantly reached down for his towel. Like he was about to yank it off and use it to finish drying his hair.
That moment’s pause charmed me like nothing else. He was bashful. Even after last night. For that shy look on his face, I would have spent a hundred nights sleeping on this uncomfortable sofa.
“Don’t even mention work,” I said. “I’m supposed to be far, far away right now, guiding Val through the social niceties of a three-martini breakfast. When he realizes I’m not showing up, he’s going to blow.”
Maybe Micah had come to his senses about the whole embarrassment thing, because now he did reach down and open his towel, pulling it up to rub against his wet hair. I caught a view of his cock, just before he spun around.
Honestly, the view of his ass was just as nice. Muscular, firm, but with just a little bounce to it. I’m not a connoisseur but I know what I like.
“So…you’re not going back to work?” he said. “Is that wise?”
“After the weekend we’ve had? I need a damn break.”
Ah, but the thing about Micah, one of the things I had let slip out of my memory, was how responsible he is. As he tugged on his underwear, obscuring the great view I had, he turned back around and said, “So what are you planning? Dropping your whole life? Isn’t that just going to make more trouble?”
I laughed. “Why don’t you come over here and see how much trouble I plan on making? But what about you? How can you just…get dressed? After last night? Don’t you want to lounge around and talk, and get caught up, and maybe do that thing again where you—”
He was buttoning his shirt cuffs. “Of course. But there is a very angry criminal out there, a man whose villainy is matched only by his inept record-keeping, and if I don’t defend him, someone else will get the job.”
I suppose I was thinking of this as a vacation, and was surprised by his eagerness to leave me. But even that surprise felt so much better than I’d felt in years. There was something luxurious about lying here, considering whether to be angry with him, a half-real show of pique at his going. Your foot goes to sleep, and the first thing it feels when it wakes up is pins and needles, but if you’re honest, there’s something that feels good about the pins and needles, compared to cold numbness.
“Is there anywhere to buy art supplies around here?” I asked. “Doesn’t have to be fancy, just…anything?”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“I have this urge to draw. Painting is beyond me right now, I know, it’s going to take so much practice to get back into shape, but… A pencil or two. Some good paper. I’d sell my half of the company for it.”
“Pencils aren’t quite that expensive,” he said. He leaned down and gave me a kiss. “My old neighborhood…the one I lived in with my ex, it had all those kinds of shops. Lots of good browsing. You’ll find something. I’ll text you the directions. You’re lucky, you know that?”
“I feel lucky.”
“I mean, about work. Being able to take off like this, with nobody asking questions. I wish I could do that.”
Laughing, I slid my foot off the bed onto where my pants and shirt we
re in a little pile. “My phone is on silent. I’m sure Val has been blowing me up all morning. But he can wait.”
Micah’s look was puzzled, and I knew I better not say anything else; he might give me a little lecture on responsibility. A lecture that would have left me tingling, would have forced me to drag him back to the bed.
“I am going to see you again tonight,” I said.
“Is that a question, or a promise?”
“A little of both.”
I walked to the neighborhood he was talking about. Walked. Corinth was a bustling little town—a city, to give it its due—and was working very hard this morning, although to me, everything seemed in miniature. The cool air of the morning stung my nose, made me wrap my jacket more tightly around me. I was wearing yesterday’s clothes, and felt rumpled and wonderful and free.
Look at this place. The roads with only two lanes. You could actually park, if you wanted to.
Growing up, I hadn’t spent a lot of time in Corinth. Mother always frowned on it. I suppose if we needed a bag of oats for a horse, we might drive there, she’d say, things like that. We had Harrison House, and the outside world was always much further away than Corinth. So I didn’t know this city the way Micah did. It all felt very new to me. A toy-town, whose grime seemed charmingly well-planned, where that fast-food cup next to the sidewalk seemed like it might have been planted there, just for that ambience of careless litter.
I reached the neighborhood, slightly out of breath; cold weather had always done something to my lungs. Mother used to make me take an inhaler with me when I was little, and I remember never daring to use it if anyone was around. They might make fun of me. Except Micah, of course. Can I try it? Making a face when he tasted the bitterness of it in the back of his throat.
Sitting down would be a good idea. No sense in walking around wheezing. I would have a coffee, maybe, and try to figure out where the art store was.
Which meant taking out my phone. Which meant seeing Val’s messages.
I set my phone on the counter next to the window, and set my latte next to it. I shook in a single packet of sugar, watched the crystals hiss and sink their way into the foam. Val would have to be considered. He would have to be listened to, and answered.
Something had changed in me last night. This wasn’t a vacation from my real life, it was an inflection point, a moment where a decision had to be made.
If Val were in this situation—which he never would be, I don’t think Val has ever dated anyone, man or woman, at least no one that he has ever mentioned to me—he would be very organized about it. He would probably make a list.
Data point: Being with Micah makes me feel real. Like I’ve been hiding under a thick blanket for years, and now it has been ripped off. The world is brighter, a feast for the senses, now that I’ve been with him.
Data point: Or maybe that’s just because I haven’t gotten laid in a while, and this is just postcoital bliss posing as an existential change. Maybe Micah is laughing at me right now, for swooning over him when he’s thinking of it as a one-night stand.
This is why I was no good at the business side of business…that second data point caught me short, sent me into deep thought, staring down into my coffee, full of doubt. I’m sure there were third and fourth points to be made, but now I was consumed with worry.
What if Micah didn’t feel the same way? What if feeling like this after such a short time was ridiculous?
I picked up my phone. I’d text him.
Yeah, okay, and what would I say? I like you, do you like me, Y/N/Maybe.
No faster way to run someone off than to appear needy five minutes after you’ve slept with them.
Micah had promised to see me tonight. That was enough. I could have confidence in that.
I could also have confidence that Val was going to chew me out. I scrolled through his voicemails; Val never texted.
“Okay,” I said after I’d dialed his number. “Let’s get this over with. Go ahead and yell at me.”
“I do not yell, Theo.”
“I’ll come in tomorrow, I promise. Or the next day.”
Silence on the line.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told you where I was going.”
“I knew where you were going,” he said finally. “I just didn’t know you would let it interfere with your responsibilities here. Although I suppose Micah has always had that effect on you.”
I glanced around the coffee shop. “I don’t want to have that conversation right now.”
“When Father died—”
“Yes, that’s exactly the conversation I don’t want to have. Look, we’re the bosses, okay? Nobody’s going to yell at us if meetings have to get pushed around.”
“The Missouri acquisition is very important for our numbers this quarter.”
“Then you meet them. Take them out for drinks, get them sloshed, talk about golf—”
“I don’t know anything about golf.”
I sighed. “Look, just grab some of the sales guys, okay? Take Tom and Will. They’ll know what to say.”
Another pause from him, long enough for me to take a sip of my cooling coffee. Then: “What is going to happen with you, Theo?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Are you leaving the company? Are you running away with Micah?”
“I’m not running anywhere. I’m just… Look, you were there this weekend. Things are fucking tense. I need a break. I want to catch up with Micah. Talk about old times.”
“You were fighting with him this weekend.”
“Ugh, would you just trust me? I wasn’t fighting fighting.”
“Oh. It was like a mating dance, then.”
“Could you be a little more condescending?”
His long sigh made me realize something. He was upset. I mean, yes, I knew he was upset about me being missing from work, but that wasn’t the whole story. Val wasn’t good with emotions, and certainly didn’t know how to communicate them like I would, but he was my brother, and by now I’d learned a thing or two about him.
“Okay, out with it,” I said, “what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t like change, Theo. You know that.”
“Do I ever.”
“Mother and the house. Mother and her boyfriend. You and Micah. Me, alone here in the office. It’s very confusing.”
“Look, I’m going to give you some advice.” How’s that for a change? “Your weekend was just as bad as mine. Make the Missouri guys wait. It’ll drive ‘em nuts, but will keep them in their place. They want us to shovel money at them, right? They’re not going to get mad at you. If they piss us off, we don’t buy their company, and they have to find a new buyer. We’re in the driver’s seat.”
“That is a lot of mixed metaphors.”
“What I’m saying is, you’re allowed to take a day off if you need to.”
“I don’t need a day off. I need everything back the way it was. I need you here to help me.”
Sometimes I wanted to shake him. “I’m not going to be there today, right? So take the day off. Close down shop. Everyone can handle the business without us for a day. I’ll come back to town tomorrow, I promise, and then we can get to work.”
Although now that I’d said that, it felt like I was promising to take part in the dreariest future ever.
The shop around me was warm, and it smelled good, like pastry and ground coffee beans, with murmuring conversation not rising to the level where I had to notice it. It was an old building, and I suspected the tiles on the floor, and the patterned tin ceiling, were older than me. It was comfortable here.
There was nothing comfortable back at work. Oh, it was expensive. My ergonomic desk chair had been designed by experts to maximize comfort and spine stability, but it wasn’t like this. A friendly sort of shabby, a little run-down, the corners worn off from gentle time.
I didn’t want to go back to work.
I had to, but I didn’t want to.
“I will cancel the meeting,” said Val. “Goodbye, Theo.”
“Wait, wait, are you okay? Just tell me you’re okay.”
But he had already hung up.
I don’t know how it happened that I, the flighty young artist with his head in the clouds, somehow became the sole person holding my family and the business together, how I became indispensable to everyone around me…but I could feel that weight settling back on my shoulders, with the realization that I hadn’t felt this way last night, in Micah’s arms. Hadn’t felt it this morning, even with Micah insisting he had to re-enter the real world.
If I thought I’d missed him before, the pain now was sharp, acute. A jab in the heart that left me breathless. No inhaler for this, just the bitter aftertaste of knowing I’d have to leave him again, at least long enough to return to my real world.
It made me that much more impatient to see him again, to see him now.
I finished my coffee, and looked up his office address on my phone.
18
Micah
They looked at me differently here. Their eyes, their glances, the way they turned their heads away: I was the enemy.
I wasn’t used to this. Normally when I represent clients, opposing counsel is friendly. We might be on different sides in the courtroom, but deep down we’re on the same side: The law, versus everything else. We’re the ones keeping it together, keeping the system running, making sure there’s a little fairness in the world, a little justice.
Not here. They looked at me like I was on the wrong side. I was a force for chaos, for crime, the steady drip of evil eroding away all the certainty and lawfulness of the city.
“You’re out of your league,” said the man sitting across from me. Jay Mahoney, of the state attorney’s insurance fraud office.
“How so?”
