by JD Chambers
“But you’re coming around to it?” he says with a watery grin.
“Oh, I’ve been there for a while now. I’m not going to lie. We still need to talk about those things and what they mean for us, but I realized that whatever it is, it isn’t worth missing out on you.”
Zach hiccups into a laugh, and I rush forward to kiss his doubts away, but stop just before we touch. “Is this-?” Zach throws his arms around my neck to pull me the rest of the way in. I usually try to be gentle when we kiss, but I haven’t had my lips on him in days and he seems to be feeling the same. His tongue plays against mine until he sucks it into his mouth and I groan.
It’s fully dark now, but there are still park lights on that keep us from being private. “We should … wait,” I say between kisses, and Zach pulls back and glances around guiltily. I bring the back of his hand to my lips. “We’re good. Just not the most appropriate time and place for a boner, you know?”
He blushes and I set my lips against his cheek. “You know I can feel the heat through your skin when you blush?” He shakes his head, sending soft curls springing against my face. I can feel my chest crack wide open as he settles against me.
22
Zach
“I don’t need it, you know,” I say, trying to be brave even though I don’t want to talk about this. But I want Craig, and if it’s something he needs to discuss so that we can be together, then we’ll discuss it. “It’s just that different people have different kinks, and that happens to be mine. But we could never bring it up ever again, and I’d be totally fine with that.”
It’s not exactly the truth, but I’ll make it be if it means keeping Craig. My back is to his chest as we cuddle together on my quilt, but I can still feel his frown, even if I can’t see it.
“You shouldn’t have to hide what you want,” he says, “but I’m honestly not sure how to be in an open relationship. Or if I’d even be okay with that.”
“Oh god, no! I don’t want an open relationship. Random hookup sex is the last thing I’d want,” I say, twisting in his arms to face him.
At that moment, two kids run past, chasing their wiener dog with sparklers in hand. It suddenly occurs to me that we are in public, in a park, and this probably isn’t the best place to be having this conversation. I look at Craig and he’s cringing too.
“Maybe it would help if you tell me exactly what it is that you want. Or what it is you like about …”
“Playing Parcheesi?” I offer.
Craig’s brow furrows. “That’s a reference,” he says and I nod. “Damn it, I know it’s going to come to me.” I can’t help the snicker that slips out, and he rolls his eyes. “You will not best me at this game.”
“Fine, but no Googling. You only get the reference if you remember it unaided.”
He’s gone silent, and I wait. And wait.
“So back to Parcheesi? Or I can call it something else if that’s going to bug you too much.”
“No, no. I’m with you now. Explain it to me.”
I turn back around and he tucks his arms around me. I can feel his breath behind my ear and I shiver, pulling his arms tighter around me. Deep breaths. No pressure. Who am I kidding? So much pressure.
“I’m really not sure if I’m going to explain this right, because on some level, I don’t even really get it. But I’ll try.” I feel him nod against me, but he doesn’t say anything. Just waits for me to continue. I try my best to collect my thoughts, but it’s terrifying. I’m sure if Craig wasn’t holding me so tight, I’d be trembling. “I don’t want to play Parcheesi with you sometimes, and a different guy another time, and someone else another time. I want to only play Parcheesi with you. But I like the idea that, maybe sometimes, you enjoy watching me play Parcheesi so much that you want to bring in other people to join your side. Because, you know, sometimes, some people share the things they have with others because it fills them with a certain amount of pride to see other people enjoying the things that they have. And it makes the person you’re playing Parcheesi with feel good, knowing that you think they’re so good at something that it would bring you joy and pride and pleasure to share the game with others. And because the player is yours, he loves knowing he gives you that when you share him. That it isn’t because he means so little to you, but because he means so much.”
I’ve rambled on so long that when I finally stop for a breath, it comes out shaky and uneven. But I’m so scared right now, I can’t stop the nerves from spreading to every part of me. My shaking limbs. My staccato breathing.
“Oh, Zach,” Craig breathes into my hair before placing his lips lightly against my neck again and again.
“Please say something,” I whisper into the air that’s suddenly filled with the loud booming of the first firework, and I know that his response will have to wait for the fireworks show to be over. Fuck.
Craig’s hand strokes up my neck and along my jaw, making me turn my head toward him. He captures my mouth and holds me still. His lips brush mine, soft at first, then wet lips prod mine and he strokes my cheek until I open to him. I turn in his lap and clasp my arms around his neck, refusing to release him, even when his mouth releases mine and travels down to nip at my jaw and neck. He whispers my name over and over between bites, until I choke on a sob and he jerks backward.
Craig’s eyes search mine, his hands still cradling my face and his thumbs wiping away the tears that I’m so embarrassed have slipped out. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says into my ear, but it sounds like a whisper with the booming around us. “I’ve got you. We’ll figure Parcheesi out. As long as we’re playing it together, as boyfriends or partners or whatever you want to call it, that’s all that matters to me.”
I don’t see a single one of the fireworks. I spend the entire show in Craig’s lap, clinging to him like I’m afraid he’ll turn into smoke and slip through my fingers.
23
Zach
“I don’t want to lie to him.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Ben says as he stumbles with a shoe hanging off his foot. “Damn it, have you seen my other shoe?”
“But what if he asks how you’re doing? Or tries to bring you some chicken soup?”
“Zach, I really don’t think your boyfriend is the type to bring me soup.” He snarls the word “boyfriend” because even though I’ve forgiven Craig for freaking out on me two weeks ago, Ben still hasn’t.
I lean down from my seat at the kitchen table to look across the living room. “Over by the piano. Craig wouldn’t tell Ted. Although I don’t know why you won’t tell Ted, either. You have a degree and a teaching certificate. He can’t possibly expect that you’ll want to work at a video game store for the rest of your life.”
Ben sits on the piano bench to tie his shoes, and I’m surprised I don’t have to do it for him, he’s such a bundle of nerves.
“I know, but if I tell them about the interview, then they’ll ask how it went. There will be expectations. If I don’t get the job, then I’ll feel like shit when everyone finds out. I’d rather just keep it to myself for now, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, and stand up to help straighten his tie and smooth out his coat. “You look great. Very professional. And you’re an amazing teacher and musician and if the principal can’t see that, then it’s his loss.”
“Thanks, man.”
He starts to head out the door and I chase after him with my leather binder. “So you can take notes on their questions. It will make you look scholarly.”
I feel good to know that he’s laughing as he leaves. Is this how mama birds feel when their babies fly the nest? Given that he’s older than me, I doubt Ben would appreciate the analogy, but I think it’s appropriate.
I settle back into my spreadsheets, which I’ve moved from my room to the dining room table because I have too much paperwork that I need to spread out. I planned on fixing breakfast while I work, but the hours pass so quickly that by the time I get the text I was expecting from Craig at eleve
n, when he’s due in to work, I realize I could have easily skipped lunch too.
Craig: How’s Ben?
Zach: I’m worried he’s going to hurl at any minute.
At least that isn’t a lie.
Craig: I’m sure you’re taking good care of him. Will you be free to hang out tonight?
We’ve been hanging out almost every night since the fireworks. Every once in a while, Craig has a gaming party, or I have work, but we try to get together because I miss him when he isn’t around. And I feel really silly about that, given that it’s still early in the relationship, but what can you do.
We also spent a lot of that time talking about my fantasies, what it is that I like, and what it is that he’s willing to do. First and foremost, we agreed that if we are even considering this, we need to go to the doctor to get tested and also talk to them about PrEP. No fun unless it’s safe fun.
We also agreed to go slow, which makes complete sense to me, and I’m surprised Craig even thought it would be a sticking point. I’ve never expected any of my fantasies to play out in real life. Wanted, yes, but never expected. So it would be totally crazy for me to get all demanding and impatient now.
I guess Craig’s still extra sensitive, even though he assures me he’s as into the idea as I am. Maybe a threesome, or picking someone at the club, and then seeing how we feel after that. It’s kind of nerve-racking to be talking and planning for something like this, but we both learned the hard way that communication about this kind of stuff is crucial. I’m still reeling from that fact that he’s willing. It’s probably another reason I’m already as invested in our relationship as I am, but I’ve never felt this kind of connection before. With or without the crazy sex.
I’m about to text him back a yes for dinner when the front door slams shut, startling me from my gooey, loved-up haze. Ben’s pulling at his tie and already kicking at his shoes, grumbling as he goes down the hall.
“How’d it go?” I yell after him.
He’s not exactly quiet as he tosses his things around in his room and emerges a minute later in soccer shorts and a tank top.
“I need a run.”
Uh-oh. “That bad? But you were so prepared.”
He sinks into the chair beside me and dramatically flops across my work papers. I feel so bad for him that I don’t even try to stop him. Or pull them out from under him and sort them into neat piles, which is totally not what my hands are itching to do right now. Instead I run my fingers through his hair, combing around his ears in a gentle repetition, the kind my mother used to do when I had a headache.
He whimpers and leans so I can pet at a better angle. “I froze. They asked me why I wanted to be a teacher, and instead of my canned answer, my brain short-circuited and I ended up telling them the story of how I flooded the bathrooms in the fifth grade.”
I’ve heard the story, and if he told it like he usually does, I’m sure they would rather hire Pennywise than Ben at this point. I grind down on my tongue to keep from laughing. If it was just to keep him from killing me, I wouldn’t care, but he looks so seriously defeated right now, I think it would just make him sadder. And I can handle murderous Ben, but not pathetic Ben.
“Do you need some cinema therapy? I’ll make popcorn with chocolate pieces.”
“Don’t you have to work?” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes and then to my computer.
“I can take a break. Just give me a sec.”
Zach: Rain check for tonight. I think I’m going to be tending to Ben. Tomorrow at your place?
“Texting lover boy?” Ben teases. “Tell him to bring Mal over with him. That would make me feel better.”
I smack the back of his head on my way to the kitchen. “Oh my god, I should have known you couldn’t stay in a funk for more than five minutes. Craig isn’t coming over because that would give away that you aren’t really sick. And I’d rather not see Mal, thank you very much.”
“It wasn’t their fault your boyfriend is a dick who used them to make you jealous while he was figuring his shit out.”
“Honestly, I should leave you to your misery for that comment. But alas, I’ve already promised you movies, and I’d really hate to break my promise. It has absolutely nothing to do with needing a work break.”
Ben grins and settles himself on the couch, clapping his hands and bouncing in place. At least I know he’s feeling better.
24
Craig
I’m nervous as fuck. It’s my monthly Friday night date with Victoria. I didn’t want to spend it without Zach, so here we are, parking outside Victoria and Jamilla’s art studio and upstairs apartment. As anxious as I am for the two to meet, Zach is practically a chihuahua with all his nervous vibrating. Of course, he has other reasons for it, and I smile deviously while thinking about our after-dinner plans.
Victoria pushes through the front door. “Hi, I’m Victoria. It’s nice to officially meet you,” she says to Zach, then turns to me. “Go ahead and feed the meter for the whole night. Jamilla wanted to make dinner instead of going out. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I love Jamilla’s cooking,” I say as we head up the creaky stairs to the overhead apartment. It’s got the quaint hippie vibe that epitomizes most of Boulder. “Now if it were you doing the cooking, I’d be looking up pizza delivery on my phone already.”
Behind me, Zach snorts. “Pot. Kettle.”
I rub my chest in the spot where Zach’s little comment got me right in the feels. Zach smirks before realizing Victoria is studying us with narrowed eyes, and then schools his expression to neutral. But he can’t help the pink that rises adorably to his cheeks.
“Hey hon, whatcha cooking?” I yell to Jamilla as we pass by the opening to the kitchen. Jamilla’s response is not English. Or if it is, I’ve never heard it before. But I’m not kidding about her cooking, so it doesn’t worry me a bit. The room is scented with lemons and spices and my stomach rumbles in anticipation.
Victoria opens a bottle of wine. “You’d better be nice to me, Craig,” she says. “Or have you forgotten all the potential fetus Craig stories I have to offer Zach here?”
“She burnt hard-boiled eggs the other day,” Jamilla says as she comes in with glass in hand for a refill.
“Vicious lies,” Victoria says, which makes Zach laugh.
“Don’t you dare start too,” I say to Zach, just in case he gets any funny ideas of stories that he can share. He holds his hands up in surrender and is blushing in earnest now that the attention has swung to him.
Victoria takes her full glass to the couch and pats the spot next to her. “I think I want your man right here next to me. The better to grill him, ah, I mean chat with him.” Victoria bats her eyelashes but she’s not fooling anyone. Zach grips my elbow and his look pleads with me not to abandon him to Victoria.
“So, Zach, what is it that you do?” Jamilla asks.
I make a mental note to send thank-you flowers to Jamilla. She’s obviously trying to put Zach at ease, whereas Victoria’s basic instincts are more like mine. Go directly for the kill. Or in this case, blush.
Zach begins to describe his small business consultant work, and to my surprise, both Jamilla and Victoria hang on his every word. I’m even more surprised when Jamilla asks for his input on an idea of hers to expand the studio and offer art classes. A timer in the kitchen goes off, and Zach follows Jamilla to continue their business discussion, most of which goes over my head.
“When did you guys start talking about expanding the studio?” I ask Victoria.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Oh, so someone’s feeling out of the loop? Kind of like how someone might feel when they see their best friend change their relationship status on social media without even a heads-up or a warning?”
Shit.
“It’s just that it’s new, and I’ve been busy at work. And stuff.”
“Grovel, Craig. It’s the only way you’re getting out of this one,” Jamilla says as she returns
with a massive dish filled to the brim with chicken and vegetables swimming in a gorgeous sauce and sets it on their small square dinner table. Zach follows after her with a bowl of rice.
“I’m so sorry, oh beautiful and gracious Victoria, for not sharing my relationship with you the second it was consummated. Would you like a play-by-play of each orgasm, or just the date, time and size of load?”
Zach fumbles the rice as it clatters onto the table, still upright. Thank god none spilled, or Zach would be horrified and it would be all my fault. Damnit, I still forget how spookable he is sometimes. I can almost see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead, and I squeeze his side in apology. The resulting squeak is not very reassuring.
“Alright, seriously,” I say to Victoria, hoping to take some heat off Zach, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. My brain has been a little preoccupied.”
“With this one?” Victoria waggles her eyebrows at Zach, and I know he’s going to kill me when tonight is over for all the humiliation he’s suffered.
“Yes.” I roll my eyes as if it physically pains me to admit it.
“Aww, now I’m going to vomit,” she says.
“When do we get to the embarrassing Craig stories part of the evening?” Zach says in a slightly squeaky voice that lets me know he still hasn’t fully recovered from his embarrassment from earlier. “I’m really ready for that to happen.”
Victoria cackles. “Oh honey, you’ve come to the right place for that.”
Over dinner, Victoria tells every embarrassing story that she can remember, but whenever it’s one that might have anything to do with my mom, I distract her with a different, though usually equally embarrassing story. By the third time I’ve done it, she’s glaring at me. Thankfully Jamilla and Zach don’t seem to notice, but I can tell I’m going to get an earful before the evening is over.
