by Chase Connor
That was it, though, wasn’t it? After a long time, I began to realize that I was definitely gay and not asexual. I just couldn’t get sexually aroused by people who wanted to have sex with me because I was Jacob Michaels. I wanted someone to want to be with me and have lots of sex with me because I was Rob Wagner. Or Robert Wagner or, hell, even Robbie Wagner. I wanted someone to want me for me—not all the glitz and glam and things they believed because PR and the media had told them to believe them.
Lucas likes Rob Wagner. A lot.
Was that why I was so drawn to Lucas? He had been attracted to me when I was just Rob Wagner in high school? He didn’t care that I had become a celebrity and famous the world over? He didn’t care that I had played concerts and performed on the most revered and storied stages all over the world. He didn’t care how much I got paid for a single movie. He didn’t care if I had won any awards or knew so-and-so or what kind of car I drove or if I had a big, fancy house. The first question he had asked about my acting career was whether I had gotten to see the Northern Lights while shooting in Finland.
Just invite him over. Nothing has to happen. Nothing has to be assumed.
When I walked down the stairs, my room was in perfect order and I was wearing long underwear, jeans, a t-shirt, sweater, wool socks, and hiking boots. A suitable outfit for a cold Ohio day. Oma would be pleased. In fact, when I walked into the kitchen, hugging my arms around myself, she was at the stove, dressed similarly to myself and making breakfast.
“It’s twenty-damn-degrees in here, Oma,” I grumbled as I went to the fridge for orange juice, then remembering I hadn’t picked any up as promised the day before, frowned as I opened the door.
Orange juice. Oma never failed.
“I turned the damn furnace up ya’ titbag.” She grumbled back with a smile on her face. “I didn’t have it cranked that high because I thought they was lying about this cold front coming in. It’s damn near the end of March and it feels like the beginning of January.”
“You aren’t lying.” I agreed as I poured a glass of juice.
“Now they’re saying we might get one last snow tonight before all is said and done.” She shook her head. “Can you believe that shit?”
“Well…yes.” I laughed as I put the orange juice back in the fridge and poured myself a cup of coffee. “And you shouldn’t have a problem believing it either. You’ve lived here over a hundred years.”
“Sit your ass down at the table before I kick it.” She jabbed a gravy covered spoon at the table with a laugh.
Following her command with a chuckle, I sat down and sipped at my juice, then switched to my coffee. I needed something warm and comforting on such a cold day.
“You know how to start a fire?”
“Are you thinking of arson, or…”
“In a damn fireplace, ya’ idiot.” She rolled her eyes even though she was amused. “I was gonna put a fire in the fireplace after breakfast, but if you know how, I’ll put you to use for once.”
“I can probably figure it out.” I shrugged. “It’s been a minute since I’ve used a real fireplace.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Most the ones I’ve used were gas and turned on with a button or the turning of a knob.”
She waggled her head.
“Now, I’ve made some biscuits, good ole sausage gravy, bacon…”
“Oh, good. Heart attacks all around.”
“…and you’re gonna eat all I give ya’.” She snapped. “You’re still too damn skinny and I don’t want you to look like this come spring. I wanna be able to take you out in public without getting looks. At least, not for the wrong reasons. Also, if you’re going to be tumbling in the sheets with Lucas all the time, you need the extra calories.”
“Ew.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is.” She shrugged. “Besides, the food will help warm ya’ up. Nothing like a thousand calories at breakfast to raise your body temp.”
“I suppose.” I chewed at my lip.
Oma looked over at me with a frown.
“What?”
“Just come out with it, ya’ asshole.” She waved the spoon in the air. “I can tell you got something on your mind. So just say it or ask it or whatever you need to do.”
I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. How was it that Oma could always tell from one thing I said or one look I gave that I had something weighing on my mind? I guess she wouldn’t have been my grandmother if she couldn’t read my behavior.
“It’s nothing really,” I replied. “I just woke up and thought about texting Lucas to invite him over for…I don’t know. No reason. Just to invite him over.”
“So?”
“That just seemed a little odd is all.”
“Robbie,” Oma chuckled, “once you’ve seen a man’s balls, it’s hard to call anything else awkward, right?”
“Oma.”
“Well, hell. If you can see that, you can surely invite a man over for breakfast or coffee or just to have a nice leisurely chat. Not much is more awkward than a ballsack, Robbie.”
“From the owner of a ballsack, and also your grandson, I ask that you never utter the word ‘ballsack’ again in your life.”
“All’s I’m sayin’.” She shrugged. “I mean, you two are…friendly…he’s my friend, he can be invited over without it being weird. I don’t want to see you two going after it, though. My heart couldn’t take that.”
“Oh, you volunteer at the LGBTQ center, but two guys smoochin’ is too scandalous for ya’?” I teased.
“It’s not because it’s two guys, ya’ dipshit. I’m just old and ain’t gettin’ none myself. I don’t need to be reminded that those years are behind me now. Your Oma is dried up like a prune.”
“Ew.”
She waggled her head.
“You could always give Mr. Barkley a call.” I grinned evilly.
“You could always turn that chair over and sit down on it.” She growled.
I laughed.
“Maybe I’ll invite him over, then.” I shrugged as Oma grabbed a plate from the countertop beside her and started making a plate. “He could have lunch with us or something.”
“Text him for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes as she ladled gravy on top of biscuits. “If he ain’t busy and gets over here soon enough he can have some biscuits and gravy.”
“Is there sausage or anything in it?”
Oma looked up suddenly with a smile.
“What?”
“Considering his dietary needs, huh?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“That spells out caring.”
“I can spell other things if you like,” I grumbled.
Rolling my eyes, I reached into my pocket and found nothing. I had left my cell phone upstairs in my room on the bedside table. For a split second, it pained me to not be able to text Lucas and tell him to come have breakfast with us. That thought immediately coming to mind just pissed me off. I was starting to get pissed that my mind would immediately think such a thing so quickly and easily about someone whom I was just…well, I didn’t know what to call the thing Lucas and I had going on, did I? Were we “seeing each other”? “Dating?” “Fucking?”
No. That last one was crude and we definitely cared about each other as people, so “fucking” was reductive. Maybe “friends with benefits” or something? We were definitely becoming friends, if not already friends, and there were definitely benefits to that, so maybe that was the best term. Then again, I wasn’t sure how I truly felt about Lucas. I knew that my body was drawn to his. In fact, every time he popped into my head, I felt aroused. Not physically of course, but I felt that fluttering in my lower abdomen that was a signal that my body was pleased by the thought.
Also, I was irritated with myself that I was being such a whiny little bitch about the whole thing. Maybe I didn’t vocalize every thought I had, but I definitely had some inner turmoil over the entire situation. That was high school type behavior and I just didn
’t want to admit that my brain possessed such abilities. Then I’d remember that werewolves were real and Oma was a witch and wonder why I was wasting valuable thoughts on something like whether or not Lucas and I had a real relationship forming.
Andrew. That was a problem.
Why hadn’t I thought about Andrew and that whole situation more since it had happened? No, plainly said, why wasn’t I spending more mental energy on dissecting the new knowledge that Andrew was a werewolf? That werewolves were real? Why hadn’t I thought about going to see Andrew during the light of day to speak to him? I needed to tell him what I thought of him. I needed to ask questions. Ultimately, I needed to let him know that next time I would ask Lucas—or whoever was driving—to back up and hit him again. I needed to have a confrontation with the guy I had been on a date with who had tried to force himself on me and then, I guess, murder and eat me.
What do werewolves do when they attack someone?
Do they just attack the person?
Do they turn them into werewolves?
Do they eat their victims?
What…exactly…had been Andrew’s intent in werewolf form?
Did he even know?
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just use my phone.” Oma rolled her eyes as she slapped the plate of food down in front of me. “Text the boy and get him over here so you can stop frothing at the mouth.”
“That’s not what I was thinking about, Oma.”
My grandmother picked up her phone and tapped on it for a second then set it back down in the same spot.
“There.” She put her hands on her hips. “I texted him for God’s sake.”
“Okay.” I shrugged and picked up my fork. “But that wasn’t what I was thinking about, either way.”
I looked down at my plate and saw that it was completely covered in split in half biscuits, drowning in creamy gravy and slices of bacon to the side. Looking at all of the heavy food made my stomach churn a little. Partly in a good way at the thought of Oma’s delicious cooking, but also from thinking about how my gut would feel an hour after eating it.
“What the hell were you stuck in your head about then?” She asked as she walked over to the stove to make her own plate. “You sure have been thoughtful lately. Wish you’d been like that a decade ago when you packed up and ran off in the middle of the goddamn night.”
“Oma…”
“Oh, just tell me what you was thinking then.” She stopped me.
Oma’s phone dinged. I reached over and looked at the screen.
I’d love to come have breakfast. Be there shortly. That’s what Lucas had responded. He hadn’t even asked what we were serving.
“I think I need to talk to Andrew, right?” I responded as I set Oma’s phone down. “Lucas is coming over.”
“Good,” Oma said. “And why the fuck do you think you need to talk to Andrew? He done messed up. That ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”
Oma filled her plate and came to sit down across from me, immediately grabbing up her fork and cutting off a piece of gravy-laden biscuit. She stuffed the bite in her mouth with a satisfied, nearly orgasmic expression.
“Because I have questions.”
“What questions could you have?”
I thought about that.
“You’re just curious ‘cause you found out he’s a damn werewolf.” She shook her head before stuffing another bite in her mouth. “Let that go, Robbie. It ain’t gonna lead nowhere but trouble. He tried to attack you, Lucas stopped him, he learnt his lesson, it’s over.”
Andrew had said some things over dinner that I had questions about that were starting to come back to me. It was like experiencing a trauma—which I guess nearly getting attacked by a werewolf was trauma—and my mind had shoved details out of my mind in the moment. Like temporary amnesia. Now I was starting to remember the details of our conversation over dinner at the Indian restaurant. Things like how he thought I smelled. He had said I was “intoxicating”. Lucas had recently said the same thing.
What does Oma smell like?
I smelled the air, pretending that I was clearing my nose. Everything just smelled like food. I couldn’t pick out a particular scent on the air that could be attributed to Oma’s person.
“I just want to know why he acted the way he acted.” I shrugged, trying to play it all off.
“’Cause he’s a damn werewolf, that’s why!” She jabbed her fork at me. “You mind my advice and just push that out of your mind, Robbie. Andrew is no good and you don’t need to put up with his shit.”
“This from the woman who described him as a ‘sweet boy’ just last week.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I mean, he seemed pretty contrite the other morning.”
“Nothing like a fist to the face to do that.” She snorted.
We ate in silence for several minutes before I heard the front door open and close. Oma looked up expectantly as my stomach fluttered again. I took a big bite of biscuit as footsteps sounded in the main part of the house. My mouth being full when Lucas entered would keep him from trying to kiss me in greeting in front of Oma and I wouldn’t be expected to have anything intelligent to say upon his approach. Lucas entered the kitchen, looking just as delectable as he had the past few times we had…hung out?...and it made me wish that we had met at his house instead of him coming to Oma’s.
“Well, good morning there, Lucas.” Oma cocked an eyebrow at him and then shot a glance at me.
Stuff it, old lady. I thought to myself.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wagner,” Lucas responded. “Thanks for inviting me over.”
“You’re welcome, Lucas.” Oma started to stand.
“I can fix my own plate.” He gestured for her to sit. “Good morning, Rob.”
I smiled around the mouthful, gesturing at my bulging cheeks with a finger, before giving him a nod. He winked back at me. Oma grinned at that and went back to eating her food. As Lucas prepared himself a plate of biscuits and gravy, I ate my food slowly and thoughtfully, trying to keep my mouth full but not eat quickly or appear anxious. Oma kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye as she ate her food.
“Guess Jackson didn’t need you in the store today?” Oma asked. “How’s that old bastard doing?”
I frowned at my grandmother.
“Grandpa’s fine,” Lucas responded from his spot at the stove. “Thanks for asking. He said to tell you to wait at least three days after tomorrow before you start digging or planting. You should be good to plant then, though.”
“Tell him thank you so much for his damn expert advice.” She waggled her head. “Always tellin’ me how to run my damn garden like I ain’t been doin’ it since he was learning to play with his pud.”
“Oma!” I gasped around the mouthful of food.
Lucas just chuckled.
“Well, he’s an asshole.” Oma waved me off with her fork before popping the last bite of her food in her mouth. “If he ain’t tellin’ me what to do one way he’s tellin’ me another. Hope he falls in the shower with them rickety ole legs of his.”
Lucas guffawed as he slid the ladle back into the gravy skillet and headed over to the table. Oma raised from her seat, her plate suddenly empty.
“You boys finish your breakfast.” She said suddenly. “I’m gonna go in here and get a fire going and get my feet toasted up.”
Lucas sat down in the chair next to me at the table, giving me a wink as Oma rinsed her plate off and deposited it in the sink. A few seconds later, Lucas and I were alone at the table and I didn’t have the first clue what to say to him. Which was odd, all things considered. We’d had meals together. Done…other things together. Surely, I could figure out something normal to say?
“Did you sleep well?”
That wasn’t it.
“Did I sleep well?” Lucas grinned goofily at me as he stuffed a bite of food into his mouth. “Is that what you wanted to say?”
“No.”
“Did you want to ask me if I slept well without you i
n bed next to me?”
I couldn’t help but blush slightly and grin as I looked down at my plate.
“I think that’s what you wanted to ask me.”
Crossing my arms, I placed them on the table in front of my plate, ignoring my food as I swallowed the last bite I had taken.
“What if I did?”
“Then the answer is that I slept okay, but I would have slept better if you had stayed over and slept with me.” He shrugged. “But that’s moot now.”
“Who would be the big spoon if we slept together?” I leaned in conspiratorially. “You or me?”
“We could take turns.”
“I want first watch.”
“I’d let you have anything you wanted.”
“Anything?” I leaned in closer.
Who was this person I was becoming? I was mooning over some guy at Oma’s table, acting like a lovesick teenager who was experiencing their first sexual relationship.
Who really gives a shit?
“Yes.” Lucas looked me in the eyes as he shoved another bite into his mouth. “Anything, Rob.”
I considered this.
“Why?”
“Because something inside of me tells me that I want to do it.”
“What if that thing inside of you told you to burn down an orphanage?” I was only partly teasing. “Would you follow that instinct, too?”
“Apples to oranges.” He shook his head with a smile. “Wanting to do anything to make someone happy and burning orphans alive are not even on the same spectrum, Rob.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “What if I wanted you to burn down the orphanage?”
“Are you the type of person to ask that of me?”
“No.”
“Then it’s moot.”
“But would you?” I egged him on playfully.
“Okay, okay.” He relented. “Maybe I wouldn’t do absolutely anything you wanted. But pretty close.”
I smiled.
“You enjoy this banter, don’t you?” He grumbled.
