Dark Illusion

by Daniels, A. J.

  My phone pings with a new message not a minute after I’ve stepped foot in the Airbnb I’m renting. I’m almost afraid to check it until I remember that Kai and I never exchanged numbers. I glance down at the offending device and simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief while clenching my jaw in frustration. Relief because the number isn’t Braxton, frustrated because the one person I don’t want to hear from while on this trip just texted me.

  I ignore the message and immediately set a do not disturb for her number. The messages will still come through, but it won’t alert me to them, which means for as long as I’m on this trip, for as long as I’m living in the bubble this island provides, I can pretend that the messages don’t exist. That she doesn’t exist.

  My life is a fucking never-ending cycle of pretending.

  Kai

  I SAY A quick hi to the guys and then make a hasty retreat to the bathroom to shower off the day and the Caribbean Sea. Ever since docking back on the island, my mood has been on a constant rollercoaster.

  I had a great day sailing and snorkeling with Toni. Hell, at one point he got so excited he asked the crew if he could help sail the boat on the way back to Caye Caulker. He was amazing. Following their directions with ease, his muscles pulling and bulging with each movement. It was the most relaxed I’ve seen him the past two days.

  Everything was great.

  Then he reached out and gripped my arm. I knew there was nothing sinister behind his touch, that he just wanted to stop me, so he could ask me to dinner, but still the sight of his fingers wrapped around my arm brought up memories I’d rather keep hidden. I could still feel the invisible bruises there years later, even after they had faded. I should’ve declined his dinner invite, but it wasn’t Toni’s fault that something he did unknowingly had caused a flashback I spent years trying to forget.

  Regardless, I owe him an explanation for my behavior earlier. I just hope I can put it off for as long as possible. I don’t want the demon from my past ruining what had started out as a good day.

  “Didn’t think you were coming,” Antonio says, opening the door wider for me to slip through.

  It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to work up the courage and show up at his place. I don’t answer him as I follow toward the kitchen. Antonio immediately goes back to sautéing whatever is already in the pan. For the first time, I’m at a loss for words. I know I should apologize for my behavior earlier but I’m not ready to have the conversation that will follow.

  “Can you grab me the cream from the fridge?”

  It takes me a second to locate the cream among the various cartons of almond and coconut milk, and fresh fruits and vegetables. Closing the fridge, I take a look around the kitchen. There’s no junk food in sight. After handing Antonio, the cream I peek inside the pantry. Huh, no junk food there either. In fact, everything is incredibly healthy. Almost too healthy.

  Watching Antonio slowly stir in the cream, I lean against the counter and can’t help but ask, “What’s with the food, Popeye? Training for a marathon?”

  “No.”

  “Training for a bodybuilding show?”

  “No,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

  “Tell me you’re not allergic to the good stuff,” I groan.

  “The good stuff?” he stops stirring to glance over at me, eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah. You know, ice cream, cookies, potato chips. The good stuff.”

  He laughs, “I don’t eat any of that stuff.”

  “You don’t have a sweet tooth?”

  “No.”

  “You never get a sugar craving?” I ask, not totally believing him.

  “I don’t never get a sugar craving. I just don’t allow myself to keep those things in the house,” he shrugs, going back to stirring the Alfredo sauce.

  “Why?”

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t always look like this. When I was younger, I was severely overweight. Kids started calling me Pillsbury.”

  I can’t help the snort that escapes. “Like the dough boy?”

  Antonio grins. “Exactly like that. I can laugh at it now, but it sucked. Eventually, I got tired of it. I think I must have shocked my parents when I came home from school one day and threw away everything that wasn’t healthy, even if it wasn’t meant for me. Even as a kid, I knew my self-control was weak. If it was in the house, I had no doubt that I would eat it.”

  He leans over and turns off the burner with the pot of fettuccine noodles. Antonio walks the pot over to the sink and drains the water.

  “And that’s the last time you had anything remotely good tasting?”

  He laughs, mixing the sauce in with the pasta. “No. If I have a craving, I don’t deny myself, but I go out and buy one of whatever it is. I just don’t keep it in the house. I can’t,” he says as if it’s no big deal, but to a guy like myself who has a major sweet tooth I have to commend him.

  I don’t think I could ever have that kind of self-control. As soon as I have a craving I would be at the grocery store stocking up. Yeah, I might have an issue, but my rock hard, chiseled abs aren’t complaining.

  “C’mon, let’s eat. Can you grab the wine from the fridge?” Antonio takes the two plates piled high with fettuccine alfredo. I pull the white wine from the fridge and then take a seat across from him.

  As soon as the cream sauce hits my tongue there’s no stopping the moan of appreciation. I shovel forkful after forkful into my mouth until there’s no evidence of anything having been on my plate. When I look up, I’m surprised to see Antonio staring at me. His plate still piled high, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each rough swallow.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?” I ask, wiping my mouth with a napkin. It’s not totally uncommon for me to get sauce all over my face after eating pasta. It’s a talent I’ve possessed since I was a kid.

  “N-No.” Antonio clears his throat, putting his fork down and leaning back in his seat.

  “You’re not going to finish eating?”

  “I’m suddenly not hungry,” he says, shifting in the chair. I’m about to ask him why when he adds, “For food.” His voice is low, husky. His usually steel-blue eyes darken as they snap down to my mouth.

  I swallow hard, my breaths turning shallow. If I had any doubt that Antonio was gay before, I’m sure I don’t now.

  “So.” He clears his throat. “What brought you to Caye Caulker?”

  I shrug and squirm in my seat, willing my dick to go down. “Needed to get out of the city for a bit. Plus, it’s a nice break from sitting in front of a screen day in and day out.”

  “You’re getting ready to sell an app, right?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, surprised he remembered. “I have a meeting with a buyer set up for the week after we get back. It still doesn’t seem real, you know? I never thought an app I created would be this popular, let alone have buyers vying for the chance to buy it.”

  “Will you continue creating after it’s sold?” He asks, refilling our wine glasses.

  “I don’t think I could not create. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s all I’m remotely good at,” I say with a small grin.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Antonio tries to reassure me.

  “You might have been the overweight kid, but I was the geek. The nerd. Even in high school I opted to stay home and play video games, create my own video games. I spent numerous lunch hours in the school library studying code.”

  Antonio laughs. “I can’t imagine that being interesting. I’ve seen the code our web developers use, and I think I went cross-eyed.”

  I grin. “It definitely takes some practice to know what you’re looking at, but it was second nature to me. Kind of like learning a new language. Other kids were learning French and Spanish. I was learning computer code.”

  “Well, it obviously paid off.” Antonio stands, gathers our plates and heads to the kitchen. I grab our wine glasses and follow him.

  “It did. Well, it will in a few weeks anyway,” I
say handing him his glass. “I’ll wash, you dry?” I tip my head, indicating the dishes in the sink.

  Several minutes later, the kitchen is back to being spotless and Antonio and I are sitting outside on the steps leading to his own private stretch of beach.

  “So, what brings you to the island?” I throw his question back at him.

  “It was time to take the vacation I had been putting off for years.”

  “Why Caye Caulker?”

  He grins. “I saw a picture of the island on a random website and decided I needed to check it out. Plus, I like their motto, ‘Go slow.’” He sighs. “It’s been awhile since I’ve unplugged and let myself just be. The ocean has always called to me.” His eyes glaze over, a faraway look appearing in them. “I never had to pretend to be what I’m not when I’m by the water. Who I’m not. It’s been so long that I forgot who I am. One morning I woke up and couldn’t recognize the man beneath the pressed suits, corner office, duty, and responsibility.” He’s quiet for some time then blinks slowly, a sheepish smile curling his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to unload on you.” A blush creeps up his neck and it’s all I can do to stop from leaning in and tracing it with my tongue.

  “Are you any closer?”

  His brows pull down in a frown when he looks over at me.

  “To figuring out who you are,” I add.

  “That’s the thing. I came here hoping to reconnect with that man but I’m not sure I’m ready for the answers I’ll find.”

  That piques my interest. “Why?”

  “Because even if I let that buried part of myself free, it could never go beyond these two weeks. Which begs the question, is there any point?”

  “This conversation is way too serious for wine. C’mon,” I say, standing up and setting my glass on the wooden railing of the porch. “Let’s go get something stronger.”

  I wait until we’re farther down the beach before I decide to speak, but he beats me to it.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. We just met. I shouldn’t be saying this shit to a stranger.”

  Stuffing my hands in my pockets to prevent myself from reaching for him, I concentrate on the lit up bar in the distance and ask the question that’s been nagging at me ever since we left the house. “Why can’t it ever go beyond the two weeks you’re here?”

  Antonio is quiet for so long, I’ve almost given up on him answering. We make it to the bar, order our drinks and find a seat before he speaks again.

  “It’s just not possible.” There’s a long simmering pain swimming behind his eyes.

  “Nobody should have to hide who they really are,” I say before silence descends on our conversation again. Antonio stares unseeing into the amber liquor in his glass, his jaw ticking. I want to reach out and lace my fingers through his and tell him it’ll be okay, but I don’t because it might not. And I’m not about to give him a false sense of security. I have no idea what his life is like away from here. Telling him it’ll be okay would just be putting a Band-Aid on what I sense is a festering wound.

  Our waitress comes by and I order another round for the both of us, allowing Antonio to work through whatever’s going through his head.

  Antonio

  NOBODY SHOULD HAVE to hide who they really are.

  His words play on a loop in my head for the rest of the night as I toss and turn in bed later. I didn’t have a good response to his statement, so I steered the conversation in a safer direction instead. Kai invited me to go kayaking with him tomorrow and I agreed since it is on the list of activities I have planned while on the island.

  I hadn’t intended for our conversation to take such a serious turn yesterday after dinner, but it was like I couldn’t control my brain-to-mouth filter and before I knew it, I was spewing all that shit to him. I should be glad that it decided to come out when I was with Kai and not Braxton, even though I hadn’t admitted anything outright but we both knew what I was implying. How could he not when I could barely tear my gaze away from his lips.

  God, those lips.

  Those full, fuckable lips. I groan, turning onto my back. My cock is rock hard and aching just thinking about Kai’s lips wrapped around it. When he moaned at the dinner table, I almost came right then, but I was able to push down the urge to grip the back of his neck and force him to his knees. And then he had moaned again and again and fucking again. It was like he was incapable of not moaning with every bite of fettuccine, and with every moan, I grew painfully harder.

  The urge only intensified when we were sitting on the steps of the porch leading to the beach. I wanted to lean in and know what his lips would feel like pressed against mine. Would he taste like the sweet wine we drank at dinner? Or would he have his own unique taste? Like a lazy Sunday morning in bed.

  My hand wraps around the base of my cock and I give it a slow pull remembering the way the muscles of his arms pulled as he leaned against the kitchen counter, while watching me cook dinner and ribbing me about the healthy food I kept stocked in my kitchen.

  In a perfect world, I would’ve met him in the city. I would’ve picked him up in a bar or a club and had him writhing beneath me all night long. My name on his lips as I fuck him into the mattress.

  My hand picks up speed, rubbing over the head of my cock on every pass. Spreading the pre-cum around. My balls pull up imagining his heat around my cock. And when his fingers dig into my forearms, his back arching on a silent scream as I pound into his hole, I come hard. So fucking hard.

  When I come down from the high, my arm tingles from where I imagined his fingers digging in. Would they leave half-moon marks? Would they draw blood? My cock twitches at the thought of wearing Kai’s mark.

  Fuck me.

  Deciding to forgo any hope of catching a few more hours of sleep, I head for the shower. Worry starts settling in as soon as I step under the steady stream. Worry that I may be leading Kai on. Worry that despite being nowhere near Canada, Braxton can still find out about how I’m choosing to spend my vacation. Worry is quickly replaced by guilt. Guilt for not being honest with my best friend. Just as fast as it appears, I push it down. Braxton can never find out about the secret I’ve been hiding. He can never know about my preference for dick over pussy if I have any hope of staying alive. Hiding who I am and suppressing my needs… my wants, is the only way I can guarantee that I’ll keep my life.

  With a renewed resolve to see Kai as strictly a friend, I step out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. I pause when I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. The truth about what I told Kai last night comes rushing back.

  One morning I woke up and couldn’t recognize the man.

  My eyes trace over every line creasing my forehead, over the stubble lining my jaw, the steel-blue eyes that mirror my father’s when he was still alive, and the dark eyebrows that match the inky black of my hair. There’s a hardness to my eyes I don’t remember ever not being there. I watch as my reflection clenches his jaw. My eyes narrow, trying to pick out one feature of my old self that I recognize, but nothing stands out. Not a damn thing.

  I knew I would have to hide who I was when I returned home after running when Braxton’s father died, but fuck, I didn’t think I would lose who I was entirely. But that’s exactly what happened. I lost me, and I’m not sure I will ever get him back, or where to start, or hell, even if I want him back.

  I’m still not sure what the point will be. I could never be that person back home. I don’t have the freedom to. And even if by some miracle I was able to leave the Famiglia, there’s a good chance I will always be looking over my shoulder. I can’t subject someone else to that. I can’t… I will not subject Kai to that. He deserves someone who can be open about their relationship. Someone who’s not going to force him into the closet. Between me and my demons, there’s no room for him anyway. I will not be the reason for that bright smile of his to dim.

  It’s a little after twelve in the afternoon when I finally leave the
house and make my way farther down the strip of beach to the house Kai’s renting with his friends. By the time I make it to where we’re meeting, Kai already has both kayaks pulled down to the water, the paddles resting on their respective ones.

  And when he looks up at me, his eyes bright and a beautiful smile on his face, all the resolve I had of keeping him at arm’s length gets washed away with the tide. I’m so screwed.

  Antonio

  WE ENJOYED OUR kayaking trip so much yesterday that we decided to go out again today. Just as we turn the kayaks around and start paddling back, the first raindrop hits. Not long after that it starts coming down in sheets and by the time we make it back to shore and pull the kayaks farther up the beach, flipping them over so they don’t collect water, Kai and I are both drenched and the rain has shown no sign of letting up. It’s been three days since the day we went snorkeling and I invited Kai over for dinner. Three days that we’ve been practically inseparable, and I wouldn’t change a minute of it.

  Laughing, I grab hold of his hand and run up the beach toward the house, pulling him inside the second I have the door open. Once it shuts behind us, I push him up against the closed door, caging him in with my hands on either side of his head on the painted surface.

  Kai runs a hand through his soaked hair and blinks away the droplets that have settled on his eyelashes and dripped into his eyes. Then he reaches up and brushes back a strand of my hair. Our breaths are heavy, the air around us thickening with anticipation.

  “Told you it was going to rain.” His voice low, a slow smile curling his lips.

  I can’t fight it anymore. I want him. I’ve wanted him since he dropped me on my ass that first day on the beach. I lean in, keeping my eyes trained on his for any sign that I’ve read this wrong and he doesn’t want this. But when a slow, sexy smile curls the corner of his mouth, I know I haven’t misread the signs.