Anyone But You

by Brien Michaels

  “Ryan.”

  Ryan’s bottom lip was trembling again. He looked like he wanted to run. Or vomit. But he stood his ground and held his head high. “Hey, Jack.”

  Ryan felt more exposed than he ever had before. He usually didn’t mind being naked—that was nothing. But with Jack standing only feet away, his face a mask of stunned disbelief, Ryan wanted to run and hide under a rock. He scratched the back of his neck, waiting for Jack to say something. Anything. The awkward silence stretched on until Ryan was practically choking on it. His skin crawled. He felt more like a freak now than he had the first time he’d put on a dress. What had made him think revealing himself would be a good idea? And after what had happened to Valentine? This was all too much.

  “I knew this was a mistake,” he said, turning so Jack hopefully wouldn’t see how glassy his eyes were. He made a beeline for his clothes. He didn’t care that he’d have to walk home looking like a man in a dress; he had to get out of here before things got any more humiliating.

  “No. Ryan, wait.”

  Oh, now Jack had decided to find his voice. But it was too late. What if he told everyone? Ryan would never be able to show his face at the office again. And he didn’t make nearly enough in tips to be a drag queen full-time. I’ll have to sell my body on the street and start calling myself Sparkle just to make rent. Maybe I’ll be able to get a shitty apartment after I lose my house. God, how could I have been—

  Jack grabbed the bathroom door Ryan had been about to close. “Jesus, would you give me a second to process this before you go running off?”

  Ryan chewed his bottom lip. “It was a dumb thing to do. And I knew that, but I did it anyway.”

  “It wasn’t. I’m just surprised, is all. I mean seriously, how many dudes find out that they’ve been fucking their boss who’s secretly a drag queen for the last two weeks?”

  Ryan was going to be sick. He stepped away from the door and tried to head for the toilet, but Jack grabbed his hand and spun him around so they were facing each other. The lighting in here was crappy, and Jack was standing right beneath it; it illuminated him like an aura. He was fucking beautiful with that soft jawline, covered in a light dusting of scruff that always made Ryan want to cry because he could never grow it himself. Those deep, hazel eyes bore into his, and he still really wanted to leave, but the desire to stay was definitely gaining momentum.

  “Yes,” Jack said, “I’m kinda weirded out, but it’s fine. I can deal.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Ryan whispered. Sure, Jack was looking at him with something akin to adoration right now, but what about tomorrow? Next week? Next month, if either one of them even made it that far? “No one at work knows. Hell, no one outside of the club knows. If this gets out, it would ruin me.”

  Jack shrugged. “Why would I tell anyone? I’ve got stuff that I don’t want to get out, just like you do. So relax. It’ll be our little secret.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure he believed him, but he nodded anyway. The idea that he didn’t have to keep his nightlife totally to himself now was comforting, even if what Jack said was a lie. But maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps Jack would be able to keep his mouth shut and this could blossom into something great. Dysfunctional, but great.

  “Fine,” Ryan said.

  “Good.” Jack smiled. “Now let’s go eat. It’s getting cold.”

  “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Awesome.” Jack backed out, not taking his eyes off Ryan, almost as though he was afraid he’d disappear.

  When he was alone, Ryan looked at himself in the mirror. What had he gotten himself into? If he’d been able to control himself and had turned Jack away at the club that night, he wouldn’t be in this position. But he also wouldn’t be more sexually satisfied than he’d been since ever. Jack was the perfect lover—Ryan couldn’t deny that, but something wasn’t sitting right. Ryan didn’t mind the secret thing at the moment, because hell, he wasn’t exactly bursting at the seams to tell everyone his sexual proclivities, but how long would that last? He knew himself. Before long, he would start feeling weird about it. Because the truth was everyone would find out. Things done in the dark always came to light, and usually never in subtle ways. The question was: Would either of them be ready when the time rolled around?

  The floor outside the bathroom creaked and snapped Ryan back to reality.

  “You all right in there?” Jack called.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to get myself together.”

  “Okay.”

  Ryan scanned the room. No window to escape through if he decided that was his only option. The shower stall was only big enough for one, and the sink was lined with a toothbrush, shaving cream, razors, and a personal trimmer. The toothpaste sat on the other side. It was way tidier than his brother’s bathroom and, for that, Ryan was thankful. He seemed to have a tight enough grip on himself now, so he took a deep breath and went to join Jack on the sofa.

  But no sooner had he sat down than unease started creeping up his spine, tensing his shoulders, and warming his skin. He was still ass-naked, open to far more scrutiny than if he’d been in full geish.

  “I . . . um . . .” He swallowed, throat suddenly bone-dry. It shouldn’t be this hard to find words. He looked down at the ground. “I wasn’t really expecting to stay the night, so . . . I didn’t bring anything to change into . . .”

  Jack was wider in the waist than he was. And the shoulders. Anything he tried to put on would drown him in a millisecond.

  He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. Surely, this embarrassment would subside sooner or later. But if it didn’t and he still felt like a self-conscious boob after Jack fell asleep, he’d sneak out. Maybe borrow a hoodie or something and speak in his best Sheila voice so whatever cabbie or Uber driver that took him home didn’t get suspicious.

  “I’ve got a couple tees that’d probably fit you and a pair of shorts, or two.” There was laughter in Jack’s voice. Ryan didn’t think he was being laughed at, but couldn’t be sure, so he kept his head down. “I’ll go grab them. You want to come with or want me to just bring them out?”

  “I can stay here. Thanks.”

  Jack got up and disappeared.

  Ryan covered his crotch with his hands. This was one of the reasons he liked being Sheila so much. She wasn’t fearless, not by a long shot, but she was a damn shot more outgoing and confident than he was. She was a better version of him. It didn’t matter that he made her up; the only thing that mattered was that she did the trick. He sometimes pretended to be her in court, and those were usually the cases where his courtroom etiquette was most noticed, for better or worse. He kept hoping that someday her personality would bleed into his. But it hadn’t happened, yet.

  Jack came back a few seconds later. “These should fit you, I think. I outgrew them ages ago.”

  “So why do you still have them?” Ryan asked, taking them. “And thank you.”

  “Laundry day.”

  Ryan chuckled as he slid into the shorts. Thank God for elastic waistbands. The silky fabric whispered over his skin like an old lover. They were foreign, but comfortable. The shirt was a better fit. It hugged his upper arms, but otherwise it was perfect. He gave Jack a grateful nod.

  “I should warm this up,” Jack said, picking up the plates and shuffling off toward the kitchen.

  “You’re sure this is okay?” Ryan asked, massaging the inside of his wrist.

  “Relax. I want you to stay, all right? It’s fine.”

  Ryan nodded. He settled back on the couch and drew his legs up to his chest. Valentine used to tell him that things would be fine all the time. Whenever he was having one of his breakdowns and crises of confidence, she would always calm him. Make him a cup of tea, tell him that everything would be okay and then, if those methods failed, she told him to buck up, put on his big-girl clothes, and get the shit done. God, he couldn’t believe she was gone.

  The tears came again, slowly at first, but by the time Jack came back, Ryan
was sobbing uncontrollably. This wasn’t fair. Who would want to hurt her? Valentine—Tim—was one of the most gentle people he knew. Always there to lend a helping hand or dig someone out of a hole they found themselves in or a problem they’d managed to work their way into. She was an amazing human being. For someone to butcher her and then leave her body in a dumpster . . . it was the ultimate disrespect.

  Jack put a hand on his back. Ryan wanted to shake it off, but couldn’t find the strength. So he let himself be pulled into Jack’s embrace.

  The worst of the breakdown passed quickly, and then he was weeping quietly into Jack’s shoulder. He took a few deep breaths. When he thought he had himself under control, he sat up again.

  “I’m sorry I keep crying like this. I just . . .”

  “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand.” Jack wiped away more of Ryan’s tears.

  The same way Valentine used to. Another wave of sorrow wracked him, but he held his composure. He kept it together. He wouldn’t lose it again. But a moment later he did. Again and again until there couldn’t be any emotion left in his body. He lay back, too weak to move or even open his eyes, while Jack went to get him a glass of water. Their dinner sat all but forgotten on the table, but Ryan didn’t have an appetite. He didn’t think he’d ever want to eat again.

  “Open up,” Jack said. Ryan did as he was told and, a moment later, a cool rush of water filled his mouth. He gulped it down. He couldn’t remember water ever tasting so good. It didn’t bring back any of his sapped energy, but it cleared the fog from his head. His breathing became normal again. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes the tiniest sliver.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “I’m . . . I’m really glad I’m not alone right now.” He nestled against Jack; the warmth was comforting.

  He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, or how many times he drifted off, but he felt it when Jack got up. He heard him stretch and then walk away. Ryan couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, though. It would be so much easier to just stay like this forever. Curled up on this sofa, knowing nothing of the world beyond these four walls. But that couldn’t happen. He had a life he’d have to get back to whether he liked it or not. A life of secrets. A life of hidden identities. A life where he no longer had a best friend. But he’d get through it and stand tall, because he didn’t have a choice. It was what everyone expected of him and what he expected of himself.

  A minute later he heard Jack coming. Jack settled back in and draped a blanket over both of them. The sound of a Golden Girls rerun filled the room, and Ryan cuddled a little closer. He wanted to think he could get used to this: sitting with someone he cared about, no expectations, no nothing. But how real was that? How long could it last?

  No. It was better to keep himself as emotionally detached from the man next to him as possible. That way neither of them would wind up hurt. But as snores made Jack’s chest rumble and Ryan found a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he realized it was already too late.

  Ryan woke up to the smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. He sniffed hopefully at the air as he sat up and stretched before lying back down. He shut his eyes and tried to savor this moment.

  “Morning, sleepy,” Jack said.

  Ryan opened his eyes again. Jack was standing in the kitchen, shirtless. He flashed Ryan a smile before turning around.

  “What time is it?” Ryan asked.

  “Little after ten. Figured you could use the sleep, so I got up and made breakfast.”

  “Thanks,” Ryan said as Jack handed him a glass of orange juice before heading back into the kitchen. His ass filled out those Grinch pajama bottoms nicely.

  Ryan wasn’t used to sleeping this late. It was disorienting, to say the least. Even though it was Saturday, he usually would have had his nose buried in a case by now, or be making an outfit for one of Sheila’s shows.

  He took a sip of his drink; it was more bitter than he would have liked, but he was grateful, nonetheless. “So are you one of those guys who ran out to get all this while I was out of it?”

  “Nope. I get up every morning and make breakfast for myself, for your information. So I’m just adding a little extra to the pan.”

  Ryan nodded appreciatively. “Impressive.”

  “Well, it was either cook for myself or spend all my cash on takeout, and that wasn’t about to happen.”

  Jack came back with two plates and sat them down on the table, then headed toward the kitchen again. It had been a while since Ryan had had a spread like this. Not only was there what he’d already smelled, but there was sausage, hash browns, and fruit. Ryan eyed Jack suspiciously as he returned with silverware and napkins. “You eat like this every day?” That couldn’t be true. Jack’s physique would have shown it, and there didn’t seem to be a gram of fat anywhere other than his dick and ass.

  “Of course not. But I’m not a savage. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I made it all.”

  Jack’s eyes flitted away, then back to Ryan’s just as quickly. Ryan tilted his head and inspected the man in front of him. “Are you okay?”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m great.”

  Ryan wasn’t convinced, but he tucked the thought away as Jack sat down next to him. They ate in relative silence, watching cartoons and occasionally stealing glances at one another. Something felt off, but Ryan couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Unsure whether to move closer, or scoot away, he settled for shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth and halfheartedly watching Jackie Chan battle an army of demon sorcerers.

  When they were done, Jack carted the dishes away.

  “Thank you. For last night, I mean,” Ryan said, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone when I found out.”

  “No problem. How’re you feeling?”

  Ryan shrugged. It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. Valentine had been an amazing friend and such an important part of his life. She’d been such a good person. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of a single reason for someone to want to hurt her. “I still don’t want to believe it. But I’m dealing.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I can’t even look at my phone, though. It was buzzing all night, and I’m sure it’s people wanting to check on me and tell me what happened and I . . . It’s too much right now.”

  “You don’t think they’ll be worried?”

  “I’ll call them back. I just need some time.”

  Neither of them spoke while Jack washed the dishes. Ryan was starting to feel awkward. He shouldn’t have stayed here. It would have been smarter to go home, because then at least he could figure things out in his own bed and not have to try to force conversation. He was about to tell Jack he was going to head out when Jack came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a rag.

  “I’m gonna head to the gym in a little bit. You’re welcome to come with me, if you want.”

  “Nah, I’m okay. I was actually about to head home.”

  “Oh.” Was that disappointment in Jack’s eyes? “Well did you want to catch a movie later, or something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I actually really like spending time with you. Kinda want to get to know you better.”

  “Really?” Ryan didn’t think he’d ever heard that before. He’d had (sort of) boyfriends before, yeah, but none of them had seemed to care enough to try to get to know the real him.

  “Yeah. I mean, if you want. If you think it’ll be weird, I can back off.” But Jack didn’t look too sure of that.

  “No, it’s fine. A movie sounds great.”

  There was the smile that Ryan was getting so used to. It could light up an entire city. “Awesome. I’m gonna get ready and then we can head out together.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ryan said. Then it dawned on him he didn’t have anything to wear home. And no makeup here, so there was no way he was wearing the outfit
he’d showed up in. “Um, do you think I could maybe borrow a pair of sweats until I get home?”

  “Sure. I’ll grab them while I’m back there.” Jack headed toward his bedroom.

  Ryan got up and followed. He couldn’t take sitting there any longer. He stopped just short of Jack’s door, though. Jack had already kicked off his pajama bottoms, and his ass was staring at Ryan, practically begging to be fondled. Jack threw a towel over his shoulder and turned around, but paused when he saw Ryan. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t hear you sneak up.”

  “No need to apologize,” Ryan said. “I was only gonna ask if I could come in, but then you were standing there naked and I just forgot everything.” Jack laughed. Ryan ran a hand through his hair; it was a nervous habit he’d always had trouble shaking. “Hey, what do you say we have a little quickie before we go our separate ways?”

  Jack opened his mouth and his gaze flitted away again. “I actually wanted to get there before it gets too crowded. Rain check?”

  “Um, yeah. Sure.”

  “Thanks. You can chill in here until I get out, no problem. Sweats are in the bottom drawer.” And he squeezed past Ryan and into the hallway.

  Ryan hated being shot down. It always made him feel like such a creep for asking in the first place. He plopped on Jack’s bed as the shower started. Maybe he should sneak out, avoid the awkwardness that would no doubt hang in the air as they rode the elevator. But even though his pride said to cut his losses and make a run for it, his heart wouldn’t let him. Not like he was falling in love this quickly or anything crazy like that, but there was definitely a spark. Jack hadn’t gone running when he found out that Sheila was Ryan, and that made all the difference in the world. Jack didn’t make him feel like a circus act. He didn’t stare or point, so Ryan owed him better than sneaking off.