by R. Cooper
“That’s always been there.” Rocco’s voice was rough too.
He had said that before. Iz supposed he must not have believed it then, because it hadn’t made him warm like this, warm like he was in bed with Ronnie and touching him.
Iz opened his mouth but had too many questions. He had to breathe, and think, and wet his lips which continued to feel dry. “Will you tell me about him? How he kissed you? Where were you? Did he say anything? Did you touch him?”
“Fuck.” The awe had not left Rocco’s voice.
“I’m starting to think I really do unnerve you.” Iz’s fingers hovered over Rocco’s mouth. “It’s not my business. That’s what you should have said.”
“I’m starting to think it is your business. Or that I don’t mind if it is.” Rocco came forward until the pads of Iz’s fingers brushed his lips. He watched Iz steadily and didn’t appear upset when Iz gasped and pulled his hand away. “He was waiting for me when I got off work, focused and almost shaking—how he gets when he’s determined. You’ve seen it. I thought he was going to tell me off.”
“And he didn’t.” Iz shut his eyes to picture it.
“Asked if we could talk. Walked with me to his place. Got me in his room, closed the door, said, “Sorry, but can I?” and kissed me.” Rocco didn’t stop sweeping his fingertips over Iz’s cheek, although Iz didn’t think he was crying anymore. He gripped Rocco’s wrist tightly. “More?” Rocco wondered, hoarse when Iz nodded. “I think he meant to talk first, but he kissed me, and I’ve wanted—he kissed me, and I kissed him back. We kissed against the door and then in the middle of the room and then on his bed. He was smiling by then but still shaking.”
“So you kissed him again?” Iz guessed breathlessly and opened his eyes.
“Yeah.” Rocco’s lips were soft with a smile. Iz thought of them pressed to Ronnie’s, and Ronnie clumsy and emotional and laughing with him before initiating more kisses.
“Sexual compatibility is important for people who are into sex,” Iz whispered. “That is really another argument in your favor. ‘Your’ meaning the two of you. It also sounds pretty.”
Rocco considered Iz for several moments. “It really doesn’t bother you.”
“I don’t know.” Iz was hot now, not only from his tears and the warmth of Rocco’s hand. “I suppose I need to think about it. Are you going to date him—oh. Are you asking for my permission to date Ronnie?” He shook his head once. “Is that why you came here? You shouldn’t give me that sort of power. It’s not my place to say.”
“And that concerns you now?” Rocco demanded. “Little late, Iz. How about, before I answer that, I get the reason you aren’t dating him.”
Iz noticed Rocco’s glaring omission. “Or you?”
The way Rocco darted a look away and huffed almost hid how his mouth was still curved. “Or me,” he agreed at last.
Iz rubbed his cheek against Rocco’s palm. “I told you, this is the solution that makes the most people happy.”
“And I don’t believe you,” Rocco returned. He was so quick and efficient when he chose to strike. Iz’s breath stuck in his throat. Rocco did not give him time to form an argument. “You said Ronnie and I are alike in viewing ourselves as unlovable, or at least hard to love. I’d say there’s a reason you understand that. Do you think you’re trouble?”
“Not particularly worth the trouble,” Iz corrected. “But that’s irrelev—”
“That’s what I thought.” Rocco cut him off. He nodded slowly, frowning a little. “This actually makes things worse,” he added in almost a murmur. He focused on Iz, studying him with an expression Iz couldn’t define, before placing his other hand on Iz’s shoulder. He raised it to Iz’s neck a moment later, pushing the scarf down to touch bare skin. Then he leaned in and paused, making his startling intent more obvious until Iz tilted his head up.
“That,” Rocco whispered softly, pulling back from the kiss just enough that their lips still touched when he spoke, “was worth some trouble.” Iz blinked his eyes open, which had fallen shut despite the brief, gentle kiss. His arms were over Rocco’s shoulders. Rocco kissed the corner of Iz’s mouth while Iz was contemplating this. “Nothing but that would be worth some trouble. He’d say so too, if you ever asked him.”
“Undermining,” Iz said faintly. “Sneaking beneath foundations. You—that’s not—” He lowered his arms and pulled back. “Even if you were right,” Iz licked his lips, “even if you were, it doesn’t make me wrong about this. You have each other now.” The beat of his heart was loud. His voice wasn’t. “But thank you for thinking of me.”
“Polite Izzy?” Rocco snorted. “You wouldn’t pull that shit with Ronnie. He’d see through it.”
“You’ve wanted him a long time, longer than you wanted me,” Iz continued, undeterred. “You should be with Ronnie. He’ll make you smile and you’ll be loved and—you two did talk, didn’t you? Or did you come here directly after kissing him?” Iz touched his mouth and became almost unbearably warm at the possibility, as though their kisses mingled. “Does he know you’re here?”
“I came here to see if that was real. Not to—whatever you’re thinking. Or maybe I did. Everything is not how I thought it was.” Rocco clenched his hands into fists. “You’re going to be hurt.”
“Will it bother you? That’s something. Not precisely a comfort.” Iz moved farther away from him. “You may have to distract him, but I’m sure you’ll manage. I want you to be all over him. I want him to tell you all the time how much he likes you. He’s worried about school, but you probably know that. I have no idea what you’re worried about, but I’m sure he does. Bookends.”
“And that’s it?” Rocco tossed his head.
“You sound like him,” Iz noted aloud, and stood up. “Anyway, what other choice is there?” Iz had given it a lot of thought, and the romantic movies were quite clear.
Rocco was frozen, except for the movements of his eyebrows as something went through his mind. Whatever it was, he didn’t share it. “What did he say when you left him?”
Iz crossed his arms. “What did he say when you did?’
“Ah.” Except for a lingering rush of color in his face, Rocco had gone blank and protective again. “He said—” But Rocco didn’t share that either. “Are you kicking me out now?”
“As you once implied, I’m better at a distance.” Iz glanced to the door, then down. Rocco got up. “Are you going to tell him you kissed me?” Iz asked before Rocco could take a step.
“Yes.” The short answer was breathtaking, somehow. As if there was no doubt. As if Ronnie would ask the same way Iz had, and Rocco would answer.
Iz bit his lip. He counted to ten, then twenty. “I hope to stay friends with you,” he finished, the kind of formal that got people laughed at in prep schools where they taught French, especially when those people were already laughed at for everything else. “But I’ll understand if that’s not possible. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t finish. He had nothing else to add.
He wondered if Rocco was counting too. But eventually, Rocco went to the door.
“We talked. About us. About you. That was inevitable. He said he wouldn’t blame me for choosing you, but that he didn’t think you’d offer.” Rocco sounded calm, or at least level. He had one hand in his pocket. Iz didn’t lift his gaze higher. “He knows you better than you think. And he told me to kiss you—if you were willing.”
That made Iz look up. “Why would he say that?”
Rocco shook his head. “If you want to know, you’ll have to ask him. I’d say he wanted me to be sure, but he knows I am.”
“Sure of what?” Iz didn’t want to sound baffled and frustrated, but he couldn’t help it.
“This might be the kind of answer you need to find on your own, Izzy, because you won’t see it any other way.” Rocco opened the door to leave but stopped halfway out. “Don’t take too long, though. He won’t like it… and neither will I.”
He ducked out without
another word, leaving Iz to stand there and wonder.
Chapter Nine
He saw them together a week later when he was in the passenger side of Giselle’s car as they waited at a red light. An unexpected cloudburst meant most pedestrians dashing through the crosswalk, holdings bags or magazines over their heads. Rocco, all height and breadth, long sports duffle across his back, was immediately recognizable, even with his hood up. Ronnie was close to him, carrying both of their book bags so Rocco could hold a free local paper over him. He was laughing, even with his hair sparkling and anything but dry. They both took their time, walking close with their eyes barely on the pavement in front of them.
Then the light changed and the car moved but Iz watched them for as long as he could.
Chapter Ten
The group chat told Iz nothing except that Damien had taken too many courses and was stressed, Ali hated his coworkers, and Patricio and Eric went on a small road trip to a neighboring town for some unexplained reason that was most likely mundane, although the mystery kept it alive on the chat for several days. The discussion and theories was distracting, almost deliberately so, but Iz was conserving his energy these days and stayed away from the chat so he wouldn’t ask questions.
Patricio was silent on all subjects but school. Iz had considered asking him for more information, but the sight of Ronnie and Rocco making eyes at each other in the rain had stopped him. He doubted he needed to know anything else. They were together. They were physically demonstrating their interest and devotion to each other. That was enough.
Iz did not have bad thoughts. Or at least, he did not allow the bad thoughts to win, though it took an exhausting amount of effort. He painted his nails Lilacs-in-June and Apple Blossom White and told himself he was scary, and brilliant, and only a bit freakish. He reminded himself that someone like Ronnie loved him as he struggled through extra credit work he didn’t care about and drifted through two on-campus guest lectures. He used depilatory cream because some days shaving was too much, and he stared at the circles under his eyes and wondered if it mattered whether or not he was beautiful if two particular people did not care.
Those were perilous moments.
He forced himself to get up in time to do his hair properly before class. No messy buns. No ponytails. He ate oatmeal for breakfast, every day, even if he forgot lunch and dinner. He sat outside if it was sunny, and returned to the library when it was not, so no one could say he hid in his bedroom.
He did not go out with his friends. He did not visit or talk to anyone for long, except Giselle, who set him down in front of a period drama miniseries that lasted for hours as if that was any kind of distraction when Iz could barely focus.
He did note that the concept of romance in period dramas was markedly different from modern romantic comedies, but still was not sure why Giselle thought he would enjoy watching someone take four hours—a year, in the series—to fall in love. The kiss at the end had been a surprise, although he might have seen it coming if he’d paid more attention.
Isolation was not good for his state of mind. Iz was going to have to arrange some time with the others, but the more he contemplated it, the more he knew he’d have to eventually discuss why he wasn’t hanging out with the group. It would help if he knew for certain that Ronnie and Rocco were publicly together.
Yet the chat continued to lack even a hint of anything, and he shied away from the idea of asking Ronnie or Rocco. He was not supposed to be in that picture. Even if he wondered if they would have seen the end-of-the-series kiss coming, if Ronnie would have made peanut butter toast with his oatmeal, if Rocco would approve of Iz’s small amount of self-discipline.
Iz was going to have to do better if he wanted to see them soon. He hoped everything would be calm by the end of the semester, or, if not, then by the start of the fall term. Over the summer, he could work and study and train himself not to think about kisses, and Rocco’s hands, and how hot Ronnie’s skin had been, and the two of them smiling in the rain.
Patricio texted him back in the middle of Iz getting lost in that memory again. Iz had his phone on silent before he ever came into the library, but the buzz against the table made him glance around at the few people in this section with him.
Friday night meant the library was abandoned except for the desperate and the sexiled and the most studious. No one at the other tables even looked his way.
Patricio was at work again, and wouldn’t be off in time to get dinner. Iz had already known that but answered that he could get something whenever he went home.
Lots of the tables around him were dark and empty. One girl had headphones on as she read, probably to block out noise. Two boys were in the far corner by the window, arguing quietly about a project. Someone older, either a grad student or a senior, was passed out at his table, tired or stoned.
There were probably a few parties tonight. Iz’s friends would be busy anyway. Rocco and Ronnie, if not with them, would be somewhere private.
Iz studied his nail polish and sighed before texting Patricio again that he was at the library, and that he was fine.
Patricio answered immediately, which was unusual when he was at work and possibly on the floor with customers. That’s where I guessed. Eric wanted u to hang out so u could calm Rahim. Official date with Hot Nurse. Rahim must not feel comfortable enough to panic around Hot Nurse yet. It was definitely more than a hookup if Rahim was that worried about his reaction.
Iz texted back, Ok. And then didn’t know what else to say since he wanted to go over to Eric’s and also flinched from the thought. They would probably all watch movies Iz had never heard of if they decided not to go out. Though Iz had never heard of a lot of movies.
He briefly considered looking up The Creature from the Black Lagoon. He dropped his phone instead and then leaned on the table to hide his face in his arms and close his eyes. No sleep came, of course, and after a few minutes, he sighed.
A tremor carried through the wood as someone pulled out the chair on Iz’s right. Iz jerked upright and then sucked in a breath when Ronnie sat down next to him and Rocco silently took a seat across the table.
Ronnie clutched the strap of his bag, still on his shoulder. His puffy jacket looked comfortable, although the hood was bunched around his neck as if he’d thrown his coat on in a rush. His lips were soft, almost smiling, but he didn’t speak.
Rocco’s leather jacket and the zip-up hoodie beneath it were open, revealing a buttoned flannel and not a t-shirt. Iz would have said Rocco was on his way out, but he had a book bag as well. He regarded Iz without even a hint of a smile.
He sat, quiet and nervous, and Ronnie was so worried and patient. Iz put his hands on the table, his thumbs caught in the holes he’d cut there to keep his sleeves down and his hands warm, and could not stop himself from beaming.
“You’re here,” he whispered in total surprise and basked in Ronnie’s answering grin. Rocco huffed a little in relief and sat back in his seat. “What are you doing here? Are you here to study? On a Friday?” Iz put his head up as something occurred to him, then leaned in to help keep his voice down. “Is this a study date? I didn’t think those were actual dates. TV shows make them seem like excuses to make out.”
“We missed you.” Ronnie was radiant, but maybe Iz had been without him so long he’d forgotten the full power of his glow. “We haven’t seen you.”
Iz blinked away an uncertain frown and looked at Rocco. He received a patient, gentle look in return.
It took a few seconds for the rush of heat in his cheeks to register. Emotional arousal could do that, make him blush for no obvious reason. But whatever the exact cause, it was clearly about these two being here.
“Did you want to see me?” Iz doubted they had forgotten his mistakes. “I didn’t think I was needed,” he explained, first to one, then the other. “Or wanted. I looked it up—new couples have a honeymoon period. It’s a time of intense hormones and a high that’s been compared to opiates. They don’t r
eally have the emotional space for others.”
“Couples?” Ronnie didn’t comment on the rest of Iz’s small info dump.
“Aren’t you? I know some people hesitate to use the ‘boyfriend’ label too soon. But you aren’t Rahim and Hot Nurse. You’re Ronnie and Rocco. You’re best friends and in love and you’ve been waiting for each other.”
Rocco briefly closed his eyes. Iz must have embarrassed him again. Ronnie only squeaked, then turned it into a cough.
“You look very good,” Iz told them. “Ronnie, is that your blue shirt under the jacket? That’s one of your good shirts. And Rocco’s in a flannel that makes his eyes especially warm. You’re both dressed up. Are you on your way somewhere?”
That left them momentarily silent. Then Rocco crossed his arms. “Getting rid of us?” he asked gruffly. Ronnie stared at Iz with wide, hurt eyes.
“No!” Iz insisted, and only then realized they were teasing. He tugged at his sleeves. “No,” he said again anyway, but calmer. “I’ve missed you. Ronnie more, but only because he and I used to hang out together more. But you too. You’re always a steady presence on the edge of my awareness.”
“Like a cloud?” Rocco said it pointedly, though Iz didn’t quite follow at first.
“Yes,” he answered finally, nodding. “I like the clouds and the sun.”
“You two talking poetry?” Ronnie wondered. He didn’t sound upset about it, more pleased.
“Possibly.” Rocco frowned and inclined his head to regard Iz seriously. “Is Ronnie the sun? Oh, of course, he is.”
The sound Ronnie made could not be turned into a cough. He glanced between Iz and Rocco, then ducked his head. “Wow,” he said to the table.
Iz turned to Rocco, who smirked.
As if he knew that, Ronnie covered his face with his hands. “Stop,” he moaned.
