by Alex Miska
“Just hand it to me like I’m an adult,” I told him. He was oddly reluctant, so I looked at the bottle. “Binaca? Really?”
“I didn’t know what to do. You were really freaked out in the car and… well, it worked, didn’t it?” he asked sheepishly.
“It did,” I admitted. “Now, we’re going in there to enjoy some time with my cousin. We might decide that eating amongst strangers would be better for our digestion, but… I need to at least go in there.”
“Good!” my grandfather said from down the hall. “Now get yourselves down here. I’m getting hungry and I need to get to know your young man a little better, Davey.”
Grandpa took Hunter’s arm when we reached him and immediately began regaling us with a dramatically hilarious tale of my cousin’s and sister’s antics at my aunt’s sixtieth birthday party last year. We filled our plates at the buffet as we listened.
“Only half of that’s true,” I warned Hunter after the story came to its glorious conclusion.
“Ah, but which half is fact and which is fiction?” he asked.
“Knowing Grandpa, the fiction would be the part where he innocently sat back and just watched it all unfold,” I said.
“David! Are you accusing me of orchestrating their shenanigans to ensure they were perfectly timed?” Grandpa exclaimed. He shook his head and mournfully told Hunter, “The things my grandson thinks of me.”
My cousin pulled me aside as soon as I’d filled my plate at the buffet, leaving Hunter alone with the old coot. “So… my attempts at matchmaking appear to have been successful!”
“Matchmaking?” I asked her, and Brooke rolled her eyes at my naivete.
“Of course matchmaking. Remember, I heard all about him from Tonya –before and after their breakup– and then you began to wax poetic about him…”
“No. No no no. There was no waxing,” I argued, though we both knew I talked about Hunter far too often AND drove ten minutes out of my way every night to buy decaf coffee.
“Whatever. I cooked up this whole bakery boyfriend recipe and it worked, and that’s all that matters. Now, tell me everything. Does he still have that precious flower?” I glared at her in shock and she just held her eyes wide… as if Innocent Eyes ever worked on me.
“Flower?” I growled.
“Ummm… I may have been talking to his friend Julian? I tried calling Hunter at Moore Delicious last week about the ties, and Julian answered and… well, we’ve been texting. He’s a riot and helped me stay sane with all the last minute wedding stuff and…”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you through all this. I wish I could have helped more. I should have. I-”
“Oh shut up. You weren’t in a position to charm my mother into taking a back seat and, honestly, that wasn’t why I mentioned him. The point is, Julian approved of my meddling and I heard about all the teasing he did because he’d been denied a chance to properly confuse his brother. Please tell me Hunter took Julian’s advice about pejazzling!”
“Pejazzling? Do I want to know what that is?” I asked, enjoying the trip down the rabbit hole of Brooke’s innermost crazy.
“It’s like bedazzling for a guy’s-”
“No! Hunter didn’t pejazzle,” I said and immediately wished I could take my words back.
“I knew it!” Brooke squealed quietly. “I wonder who’ll get to the altar first, you and Hunter or Tonya and Brock. Despite his name, Brock seems like a winner too. And I totally orchestrated that relationship too!”
“Stop stop stop, Babbling Brooke. We’re not really in a relationship, remember?” I reminded her, and tried to ignore the ache in my chest because this weekend’s performance was almost over. “I appreciate your help, I really do. And this was really a wonderful weekend, all things considered. But Hunter told me himself that he doesn’t date men.”
“There’s a first time for everything, as you probably already know. Please don’t make assumptions. And don’t give up.” A single, beautiful tear trailed down Brooke’s face, but I knew she couldn’t cry on cue (she’d spent years trying to figure out how to make that happen).
“I’ll do what I can. If nothing else, I have a new friend and was able to be at your wedding without being flayed alive,” I assured her. I tended to expect the worst when it came to relationships, but Hunter seemed just as shaken by this as I was. “Now, your parents are giving us filthy looks. Maybe you should leave this terrible influence alone and go say hello to the rest of your family. Including your new in-laws.”
“I already spent time with them. Now, I’ll say hello to my dear grandfather, who just happens to be sitting with my cousin Tonya and her new boyfriend. And –look at that– your soon to be boyfriend is sitting there too!” she exclaimed, winking, and flounced over to the table.
I grabbed one more mini-quiche from the buffet and, before I could make my way over to my date, my uncle grabbed my arm in an iron grip. His face was beet red in anger. “You’ve already ruined my daughter’s wedding. Can’t you have the basic decency not to poison our family brunch, too?”
I wanted to tell him that our family appeared to lack basic decency. I wanted to say that my presence didn’t poison anything, his hatred did. I wanted to point out that I’d be sitting in the corner, only sitting with people who chose to share my table. But I couldn’t choke out more than a simple, “No.”
I broke away from my uncle’s grasp and walked slowly to the table, my hands shaking so badly that I had to take care not to spill anything. Hunter stood, took my drink from my hand, and kissed me on the temple.
“Ignore him,” he murmured in my ear once we sat down, and handed me a napkin. “This is a table filled with people who love you. You are not alone.”
“How are you always prepared for my oh-so-manly tears?” I asked, gesturing with the napkin.
“Your grandfather reminded me to grab extra napkins for you in case somebody said something funny,” he said with a grin. Of course, he said it just as I took a sip of my orange juice, so I started coughing and everyone laughed at my distress.
The rest of the meal was truly a pleasure. I would be forever indebted to Brooke for taking the time to make this family moment happen, and for helping me live out my months-long fantasies involving this delicious engineering student. Maybe Moore Delicious had a gift basket I could send her.
After brunch, we both hugged my sister, cousin, and grandfather goodbye, gathered our bags, and climbed into my car with forced cheer. Every mile we drove was another mile closer to reality… a reality in which we didn’t have a relationship.
When I pulled into a rest stop an hour later, Hunter leapt over the console and straddled my lap, his mouth closing over mine in a desperate, hungry kiss. His butt honked the horn until I somehow had the presence of mind to slide my seat backwards. He ground against me while our tongues quested and dueled. He must have untucked my shirt, because his hands slid up my chest, his skin searing mine.
Hunter whispered something against my lips before claiming them again. I wasn’t entirely certain, but he might have said, “I’m not done with you yet.”
And then I was drowning in him.
I needed David like I needed to breathe. It was as though every kiss, every caress just addicted me further to this man. Feelings were probably heightened because we’d barely slept, but the idea of letting him go at the end of this weekend made me want to cry. I pushed David’s shirt up and removed my own before working on opening our pants.
I was afraid he’d stop me but, instead, he groaned, reached into my briefs, and pulled out my needy cock. I bared his own hard member, batted his hand away, and took us both in my fists. David tore his mouth away from mine to watch as the sensitive undersides slid deliciously against each other, the friction of my hand eased by precum. He fucked up into my fists, against my cock, and I kissed his neck. One of his hands tangled in my hair and the other clutched my ass, urging me onward, as pleasure spiraled higher and h
igher…
“Hun…” he gasped, the motion of his hips frantic and uneven, his cock pulsing in my hand as he came. His shuddering breath sent me tumbling over the edge…
I rested my head on David’s shoulder, panting heavily. He reached into the glove compartment, and the honk of the horn when my ass hit it made us both laugh. He cleaned us off with some tissues while I continued to hide my face against him. I started this, I wanted this, but… it hadn’t ended with the giddy happiness of last night. Our gestures were sad, mournful… one last moment of togetherness before we said goodbye.
My hopes had been buoyed by his cousin, who had urged me that what David and I had was real. It was possible that this sadness wasn’t mine alone, but it was equally possible that he was saying goodbye to a simple, enjoyable fling… and maybe even feeling a little sorry for me. After all, how many times had I made a fool of myself with this man, with the Naked Kitchen Adonis?
David didn’t kiss me again, and I awkwardly climbed off him.
“Do you need a drink or a snack?” he asked.
“Not really, we don’t have to go inside,” I said quietly, concentrating on pulling my shirt back on, tucking myself away, and zipping my fly. “How about I drive the rest of the way?”
“Sure, thanks,” he said. We climbed out of the car and traded seats, and I suggested he close his eyes for a while. I wasn’t sure whether he slept, but we were silent the rest of the way back, only the radio playing quietly in the background.
When I pulled up in front of my apartment, I forewent kissing him and instead squeezed his arm and murmured, “David, we’re here.”
He opened those beautiful blue eyes and smiled warmly at me. We both got out of the car, and I grabbed my bags out of the back. He stood by the driver’s side door and I handed him his keys.
“Would you like to come inside for a bit? Meet Frodo? Relax a bit?” I offered. His eyes gleamed and he smiled cautiously, and then I added, “After all, the weekend isn’t over yet.”
He closed down then, at my indication that I was suggesting more than friendship. “No, thanks. But I need to get back home now. Do some laundry, unwind, maybe get to bed early since I haven’t gotten much sleep in a while…”
“Okay, I understand,” I said, and I did. He was letting me down gently. After all, I’d freaked out and then given him ‘my precious flower’ anyway… God, I was so pathetic.
He said yesterday that he believed I was bi. But there was still so much stigma attached to it. Yes, I could be faithful and content with whatever packaging a partner had. No, I wasn’t partially closeted or temporarily curious. But there was no way to prove any of that, and I understand why he wouldn’t want to get involved.
Or maybe I was doing David a disservice. Maybe David enjoyed my company, but a guy not yet finished working his way through school might not be someone he was looking for. Or maybe I was Mr. Right Now. Or he wasn’t in the market for a relationship. It didn’t really matter, the answer was the same. The weekend was over, the ruse successfully completed. After all, he was pretty up-front about the fact that all he wanted from this arrangement was a wedding date that would piss off the family that disowned him.
We awkwardly attempted to hug, but my hands were full, so he just clasped me on the shoulder. I couldn’t meet his eyes, but he offered an earnest, “Thank you.”
And then he was gone and Sean was opening the door and Frodo was snuffling excitedly around me, because basset hounds didn’t really hop around like other dogs, and I began to cry. Sean hugged me and told me everything was okay and listened to my very drawn out story about the weekend. He told me not to give up, that something might still happen. He said my boss’ nosy brother Julian and David’s cousin Brooke had been texting incessantly before Moore Delicious closed this afternoon, and that they were convinced we would get married and live happily ever after in a castle in the sky… I kind of lost track of Julian’s fantasy halfway through the retelling, but I could have sworn it involved a wedding in which we rode unicorns that pooped sparkly rainbow ice cream for all the guests.
Sean and I wound up eating pizza and ice cream and watching Netflix for hours until I started to fall asleep on the couch. He sent me to bed and cleaned up after us before going back to his place. Of course, no matter how exhausted I was, I wound up lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Once Sean had left and Frodo was absolutely certain there would be no more dropped food to scavenge, Frodo pushed open my door and walked up his doggie ramp to join me in bed. He lay his head on my chest and looked at me with the most mournful of hound dog eyes.
“Don’t take it personally, Frodo,” I told him, rubbing up and down his long back. “It wasn’t that David didn’t want to meet you. He loves dogs. Or at least, he always wanted a dog but his sister was allergic.”
Frodo sneezed.
“Exactly! Just like me! Goodbye Tonya, hello Frodo,” I explained unnecessarily. Frodo knew his origin story, but he liked to be reminded of how he came to live with me. “So it wasn’t you. He didn’t want to come in because he didn’t want to fool around with me. And I get it, I do. But you’d have liked him. And wow, let me tell you about his cousin Brooke, because you’d have loved her too…”
I talked to Frodo until, eventually, we fell asleep in the wee hours of the night.
BROOKE: You are an idiot!
BROOKE: You need to fix this!
BROOKE: You’d better answer your phone!!!
The next time the phone rang, I gave in and answered it. “You know, I could have been sleeping.”
“You weren’t sleeping,” my cousin said. “Now tell me what happened when you guys got back so we can fix it.”
“Fix what?” I asked. I knew what she meant, but I wasn’t sure what she knew or how.
“I thought you liked dogs,” she said.
“I do like dogs. I love dogs. My dream is to come home from work every day and get buried in litters of puppies.” They were the simple dreams of a simple man. A squirming pile of puppies sounded really good right now. One day, I’d create a pregnant dog rescue and connect it to a psychiatric clinic and people would travel hundreds of miles for weekly puppy therapy and…
“You’re not listening to me. You’re thinking of the Cooperative Canine Clinic again? You know when you start thinking about that you go off on a tangent until you’re crying about how elderly dogs with dementia need to come in for therapy too, and that isn’t really productive right now.”
“I didn’t get that far.” Thank goodness. Because then I would have been really depressed. “Now what’s going on? Why are you calling me and asking about dogs?”
“Why didn’t you want to meet Frodo?” she asked, and it took a moment before I understood.
“I’m sure Frodo is a charming hound and I would have melted all over his sad eyes and droopy jowels, but that wasn’t what Hunter was really asking,” I explained to her. “And how do you know about all of this? Please tell me you didn’t install a bug in my car. Or a GPS tracking device.”
“No, I got a text from Julian who got a text from Sean who said that Hunter was upset all evening and… You need to tell me what happened, because I’m getting everything third-hand… or is it fourth-hand? Doesn’t matter. I should hear it from you.”
“Wait. Hunter was upset?” I asked. “I mean, I knew he wanted to keep fooling around today but… it would be too hard to let go, you know? And he made it pretty clear he just meant for today.”
“That sounds like the exact opposite of what… tell me the whole conversation.”
“It wasn’t really a conversation,” I wracked my brain for the exact wording of Hunter’s invitation, and related it to her as best I could. I’d been guardedly hopeful when he asked me in, but then the invitation devolved into a ‘Netflix-and-chill’ pseudo-hangout. “When he added that the weekend wasn’t over yet, I realized that it was just sex. And I was already too attached. I couldn’t keep saying goodbye. I figure I’ll hav
e to see this week if he wants to be friends or misses me and is willing to consider a relationship or… I don’t know…”
“Okay, so he asked you to come in and meet his dog and spend some time together. You were your usual tongue-tied self. And then he tried to explain away the invitation by suggesting the weekend wasn’t over yet and you decided that ‘Meet Frodo’ was code for having sex? I could see the misunderstanding if you didn’t know that Frodo was a dog, although naming your dick after a hobbit wouldn’t really be the best choice. I’d choose a giant or at least someone as tall as a human-” Brooke was the queen of tangents.
“You think he really just wanted me to meet his dog?” I asked, feeling insanely hopeful and also like a total asshole for ditching him and also afraid she just had things wrong but still-
“Yes. He wanted you to meet his dog and hang out for the afternoon. He might have wanted to fool around too, but he really just wanted you to come in. We all thought that you’d get to his place and he’d ask you in. Then you’d smile and say yes, you’d share a meaningful look. Then you’d go in, meet the dog, chat with his roommate, and soft music would play because the real relationship was starting… It was the perfect, simple conclusion to the story you’ll tell your children and grandchildren. Why would you mess this up for all of us?”
“Ummm…” I really didn’t know what to say to that. I’d fucked up. In front of a very nosy, meddling audience. “I’m an oversensitive idiot? I need to fix this.”
“THANK GOD!” she shouted into the phone. “Okay, admitting you have a problem is the first step to healing. Is there anything special you can do? Like, sky-writing or a cookie-cake or a flash mob or…”
“Let’s save the flash mob for a time I screw up five years ago,” I snapped because, seriously, did anyone even do flash mobs anymore? Besides, Hunter would need something simple but thoughtful. “Do you really think he likes me? That he wants something?”
