Between These Sheets

by Devon McCormack

  I can’t let anyone else in my life down.

  “If you can, look at it. I just have to check out my leg and make sure I can fix it.”

  “Okay. I’ll report back.” Tyler heads out.

  Even though I’m still rattled, I’m relieved.

  My nightmare finally came true. I lost it in front of the guys, and the world didn’t come to an end. Tyler and Jay didn’t look down on me for being weak. They didn’t judge me. They helped me. They were compassionate and understanding. They reminded me that it doesn’t have to be me against the world anymore.

  I open my desk drawer and pull out a case with some tools that I carry to make adjustments on my leg. I set it on my desk and say, “Now, let’s see if I can fix this mess I made.”

  Jay rests his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now.”

  And I’m not talking about the episode, which lingers, and will for several hours, I’m sure. Just about having someone as amazing as him in my life. More amazing than I deserve. Amazing as he was today, it only makes me that much more afraid of hurting him. Of watching him take on this burden the way he did today.

  30

  Jay

  I gaze out the window behind the kitchen sink.

  Reese spreads compost over the plants in his garden with a rake. The orange glow of the sunset makes his beard and face appear the same color. He’s so beautiful in this moment. He doesn’t look like he belongs in the real world, but in a painting.

  His serene expression as he tends to his work is so different from the look he had when he had that episode at the factory two days ago. It was devastating watching him fall apart, but I was just glad he let me help him. That he didn’t keep pushing me away. I was worried he wouldn’t accept the help. I would’ve acted the same way if that had happened to me. But we’ve come too far, and he needs to know that we’re in this together. That I want to be here for him, and I want to let him be here for me.

  I enjoy watching him outside for a few moments before I continue marinating the steak we’re having for dinner.

  Reese’s place is starting to feel like home. Some days I forget I live fifteen minutes away. I still have to swing by to pick up clothes, but Charlie’s teased me saying that I’m the best damn roommate in the world. “All cash, no hassle,” he joked last time I was there.

  When Reese comes inside, covered in sweat, he gives me a gentle kiss before heading to the bedroom to shower off. He returns while I’m setting the table. He’s just in a towel, his body fierce as ever.

  I’m jealous of how big his muscles are. I go to the gym too, but damn, I could never have his chest, which is so big it practically makes the top buttons of his shirts bust off. We sit down at the table and eat. He slides the comics section from the center of the table to beside his plate and asks me which ones he needs to read, and I eagerly offer recommendations. We chat about work and then what movie we want to watch tonight, but I can’t keep from scanning his body, appreciating it, appreciating him.

  “You don’t have to treat me like a piece of meat,” he teases with a smirk as he notices my continual glances.

  “I’m fine with that as long as you’re willing to treat me like one.”

  He gets up out of his chair and opens his towel, revealing his stiffening cock. He approaches me slowly, a determined look in his eyes as he closes his towel, hiding that part from me.

  “Why don’t you help me clean up this mess so we can make a new one?” he asks.

  “I like the sound of that.” We take care of the food and dishes before freshening up in the bathroom.

  I’m already lying in the bed when he steps out of the bathroom, having brushed his teeth. He removes the towel, sliding beside me. He grabs the sheet and pulls it up to cover his prosthetic. He glances at me awkwardly.

  “You don’t have to hide anything from me,” I say.

  I haven’t had the guts to say anything before. I never wanted him to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable about it. But I’ve noticed he still tries to hide it when he can.

  His lips twist into his dimples. “You’re not the one I’m hiding it from.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, no.” He slides the sheet down to reveal it.

  “It’s just a habit I’ve gotten into. It’s always made me feel like there’s something wrong with me. Just reminds me, not just of how I’m broken-down there, but in my head, too. But I don’t want to live my life trying to hide it from myself. I realized that when I had that episode and the guys came in. I can’t keep living in fear. This is my life. This is who I am. And it’s not so bad. Not anymore. Not now that you’re in it.”

  “Whatever. You were fine long before I came along.”

  “I was fine, but you’ve changed a lot in my life in such a short time, and I appreciate that so fucking much.”

  “You’ve changed a lot with me, too. Who would’ve thought I would be getting invited to dinners with my co-workers considering how we started out?”

  He smiles. “But it’s because you’re an amazing person. A defensive prick sometimes, but an amazing person.”

  His words heal something within me—mend the broken person that I’ve been all these years.

  His eyes shift for a moment before he says, “I was going to wait to share this with you, but I think now’s actually a really good time.” He slides off the bed and hurries to the closet. I enjoy watching his ass cheeks shake about.

  “Another thong?” I tease. Not that I’d have any problem with that.

  He turns to me, beaming as he retrieves an envelope from the top shelf. He returns, handing it to me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He just smiles. While he gets back in the bed, I open it. It’s two print-outs. Tickets to the Louis C.K. show.

  “Are you serious?” My heartbeat quickens as excitement rushes through me. Not just because I want to see the guy live, but because that’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for me.

  “You told me that it was coming soon. I figured it wasn’t something you’d do for yourself, but I feel like you need to be there.”

  “Thank you, Reese.”

  “It was nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes.

  “No, it really wasn’t nothing. It was…a lot. Too much. These tickets had to have cost you a fortune. I can’t accept these. But I appreciate the thought. It’s just way too much.”

  “You can and will accept them,” he insists. He rests his hand on my cheek, his thumb caressing in that all-too-familiar way. “Because you do deserve this, and so much more.” He kisses me.

  “Thank you so much for this. Reese, you can’t realize how much this means to me. I could never afford to do something like this for you.”

  He takes the envelope from me and sets it on the nightstand behind him. Rolling back over, he whispers, “I think I have an idea of how you can repay me.” His words stir a heat within my body—a passion for him.

  I don’t just want him inside me. I want him all over me. Not just his kiss and caress. I want to be totally consumed by him in a way that isn’t even physically possible, have every part of him stimulating every part of me, reveling in that erotic touch that my body now craves. He takes me, and I let go of my inhibitions and let him have my body in every angle and position he desires. I’m his sex slave tonight. I’m his to totally use in whatever way he chooses, and even when he throws his legs up for me to top, I’m his then too. Just a toy to satisfy his own greedy impulses, because that’s what’s so satisfying to me right now.

  We fuck the way I needed to fuck, and when we settle after our post-orgasm highs, I delight in all the sensations that pool within me. He holds me close, offering many tender kisses, which I relax into.

  He pulls away and studies my face.

  “I’m finding this really easy to get used to,” I say.

  “Your ass is easy to get used to,” he jokes, and I laugh.

  Afte
r a few more minutes of holding each other and sweet kisses, I head to the bathroom to throw out the condoms we used when I notice my clothes on the bathroom floor. I check the drawer and realize I just have one shirt left.

  “Shit,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I need to swing by my place on the way back here tomorrow. I have like one shirt to wear. I knew I was running low, but I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “You should bring over all your clothes.”

  “Shut up,” I say. Nice of a thought as it is, I know we’re nowhere near ready for that.

  I head to the bed and crawl back up to him.

  “Well, I should at least get to see your place by now,” he says.

  Tension rises within me. Since the evening began, this is the first tension I’ve felt that hasn’t been related to his massive intrusion. The first one that hasn’t been coupled with a steamy, erotic intensity.

  Just disappointment.

  “What? No. It’s a dump.”

  “It’s your dump, so I want to see it.”

  “No, please don’t.”

  I think about the stupid little room. It doesn’t even look like anyone lives there. I don’t have anything up. My clothes are the only thing that decorate the room—the floor, the bed, the closet. It’s the room of a guy who doesn’t plan on being in any place for very long. It represents the nomadic life I’ve always lived.

  “It’s part of your life,” he says. “I think, considering we’re boyfriends now, I should get to see it.”

  “You’re gonna think I’m a slob.”

  “You’re here all the time. I already know that.”

  But the way he’s smiling, I don’t feel like he’s judging or critiquing me. That he likes the slob he’s spending time with.

  His expression shifts from amused to serious. “Come on, Jay. I want to get to know you. I feel like every time I try to break through a little bit, you pull away from me.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve told you about my past. About my dad. My…Todd.”

  “I’m totally appreciative that you felt comfortable telling me about all that. I really am. But that’s not the sort of stuff I’m talking about. I want to get to know as much about you as I possibly can. And that’s a part of your life right now whether you like it or not.”

  “It’s just not something I’m proud of. I really don’t think you get it. You think of someone’s place as being like yours. Being a good representation of who they are. Maybe that’s true, but if you see mine, you’ll see it’s a wreck, and…”

  “And what? You think I’m going to suddenly hate you because you have a messy place?”

  It’s strange hearing him say it because it’s true. I’m worried he’ll think I’m this irresponsible guy…the irresponsible guy I really am. Maybe he’s right. Because the reason I’m scared of showing him isn’t because I fear it’ll be a poor representation of who I am, but a far-too-accurate one.

  But at this point, we’re both in too deep, and embarrassing as it is, I want to open up to him. I want him to be a part of my life. Even the parts I’m not all that proud of.

  “If you want, you can come with me tomorrow,” I say.

  “You sound like I’m making you go to the dentist.”

  He rubs the back of his thumb under my chin. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But considering we’re boyfriends now, it’s not a big deal. And I do think it’s strange that I haven’t seen your place yet. Don’t you?”

  “You’re right. I’m just bad at this whole dating thing. I never really had a chance to get good at it.”

  “I’m happy to be the guy you practice on,” he says, kissing me again.

  As relaxing as the kiss is, I’m still nervous as fuck about what he’s going to think when he sees how shitty my place looks.

  31

  Reese

  As we drive to the house he’s staying in, I can tell by how uneasy he looks that this is the last thing in the world he wants to do right now. I’m sure he would like to take time to make it presentable, but this isn’t about what it looks like. It’s not about seeing a stupid room. This is about the things we don’t know about each other, those things that we haven’t shared with each other. Things we need to share if we’re going to make this work. Being together isn’t about using a label. It’s about taking steps toward sharing our lives…to see if we really can make this work.

  And Jay’s the only person I’ve wanted to make this work with in a very long time.

  But I know this isn’t really as much about what he hasn’t shared with me as it is about what I haven’t shared with him. What’s itching at my conscience?

  And the longer I don’t mention her to him, the more I feel like I’m living a lie.

  I know he said I could take my time, but I want to push through these barriers. The more I keep from him, the more I keep him at a distance. And I don’t want any distance between us.

  When we arrive at the house in Grant Park, he leads me up the driveway. It’s a decent-looking place with a trimmed yard. He unlocks the door and opens it, glancing around. “Charlie?!” he calls out.

  What sounds like a chair sliding across the floor comes from an adjoining room. “Oh, well, look who it is. Guess you gotta grab some clothes so you can play slumber party with your new boyfr—”

  Charlie steps through the doorway, his eyes going wide as he spots me. A smile spreads across his face.

  “Look at this!” he exclaims.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  He approaches and Jay introduces us. We’re shaking hands when Charlie says, “Aren’t you a big hunk of man?”

  “And you’re awfully friendly,” I say.

  His grin gets even bigger—something I didn’t even believe was possible.

  “I’m just glad you’re taking care of this one. Figure you’ll be moving in together in no time, but I’m appreciating the cash and the peace and quiet.”

  The living room is clean with a few houseplants, some of which look fake. Jay catches up with Charlie a little before he heads back into the kitchen, saying that he needs to work on his crocheting.

  Jay leads me through the living room into a side hall with a bathroom at the end. He unlocks a door on the left side of the hall and guides me inside.

  “Here we are,” he says, and I can hear the disappointment in his voice.

  The walls are bare. An unmade twin bed is set against a wall with a window. Light pours through the blinds, casting sharp white shapes across the hardwood floors. A duffle bag is tucked beside a wooden desk on the wall opposite the bed. Some clothes spill out of it, across the floor.

  It’s not as messy as he always made it sound, but it’s so empty. So nondescript. Doesn’t tell me much of anything about his life because it lacks personality. He hasn’t put himself into this because he’s not used to staying anywhere long enough to feel comfortable making it his own.

  I didn’t think seeing his room would make me uncomfortable, but it does.

  Not because of the mess, but because it reminds me that Jay is the kind of guy who’s used to moving on. If something happened, something that bothered him, it would be effortless for him to pack up his things and move along to the next life he wanted to try. He’s arranged his life, his belongings, and his work so that he doesn’t have to stick around in any one place for very long if he doesn’t want to. And the idea of losing him so quickly concerns me.

  “I told you it was nothing,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

  I’m sure he’s sensed my discomfort, but I don’t want to make him feel bad because it doesn’t have anything to do with him.

  “It’s fine, Jay. This is totally normal.”

  “You don’t look like it’s normal.”

  “I’m not gonna lie and act like it doesn’t make me a little uncomfortable. The idea of you just leaving when you feel like you’re done with Atlanta.”

  His expression doesn’t offer me any c
omfort. He’s admitted that’s how he is. How he can be. How he’s never been able to settle in any one place, so he must feel that it’s almost fate that he’ll have to leave.

  “You think you’ll be moving on anytime soon?” I ask.

  “No,” he says quickly, his brow furrowed. “I just…I’m not used to having anything keeping me somewhere. Not for very long, at least.”

  “But you’ve obviously had boyfriends in other cities.”

  “Yeah. And I’m not used to them lasting long enough to bog me down much.”

  “Is that what you think of a relationship? As something that bogs you down?”

  “No, no. I’m such an idiot. That’s not what I meant at all. I just meant that that they’ve always gone south pretty quickly, and when that happens, I tend to not want to stick around.”

  Does he think that’s going to make me feel more at ease? The idea that one fight and he could be packing his bags and running out of my life forever? Moving on to the next place…the next partner.

  I notice a stack of newspapers sitting on the desk. I approach them. “More comics,” I say, sifting through them.

  He steps beside me, interlocking his fingers as he shifts his body like he’s uneasy. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, should I?”

  I wrap my arm around him and pull him close, kissing him. “That’s not what this is about. It worries me because I am scared of something happening and you just running out. Relationships aren’t easy, and considering what I deal with, the idea of it being too much and you just packing and leaving scares the shit out of me.”

  But maybe that’s what needs to happen. Maybe he just needs to save himself from all this.

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Maybe you’ll rethink that after I share what I need to with you.”

  I don’t know how to tell him this. There’s no easy way. Something like this isn’t the kind of thing that there’s ever a right time for. It’s like breaking up with someone. You just have to do it.

  He eyes me curiously, surely wondering what I could have weighing on me that I need to get off my chest.