“Phys ed guy,” I finished, placing my clammy palm in his. “Hi.”
“You’re… MacAuliffe? I probably butchered that.”
“No,” I stammered. “It was perfect. You can call me Fin.”
Eden crunched on her chips and stared at both of us. I could feel her eyes searching the side of my face, but I ignored her, saving my attention for the man in front of me.
“May I join you?” he asked, already pulling out a chair.
“Please.” I cleared my throat for the fifteenth time that morning and squirmed in my seat, desperate to find a position that said yes, I’m comfortable.
“You never sit,” Eden responded with another crunch.
“There’s never anyone new,” he replied with a smile aimed at me. “You teach piano?”
“I do. I’m also helping in the theatre department – not that there’s much of one, from what I hear. I think they made that position up for me. Looks like they had one play last year.”
He took a bite out of his apple and chewed as a drop of juice dribbled off of his lip. Using the sleeve of his henley, he quickly wiped it away. “I know. I make the sets. I’m kind of good with my hands.”
I could hear Eden let out a quiet moan. Matt obviously did as well, glancing in her direction for a split second.
“So, we’ll be working together then. I mean, maybe. I mean, if they have a play this year.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“You like football?” he asked, blowing his overgrown hair out of his eye with a single puff of breath.
“Um… I guess. It’s okay.”
“Okay? You came from Notre Dame, right? Come on, man.”
I shrugged. “I was a music major.”
He smiled and took a long swig from his water. “Well, I coach an intramural league. There’s a game Friday. You should come.”
“I have a thing on Friday.” A thing?
“Ah… hot date?” he whispered, glancing at Eden.
“With my mother.” I felt a flush of embarrassment creep over my pale skin. “Just dinner.”
He stood with a wide grin. “That’s really nice. Anyway, I’ve gotta get back. It was great to meet you again, Fin.”
I stood like an idiot, learning only then that Matt DiFiore was at least six-feet-four. Staring up into those blue eyes took effort; suddenly, I felt smaller. Weaker.
He shook my hand, holding it longer than necessary. “See you around.”
When I sat back down, the look on Eden’s face was priceless. “Hot damn. I thought you were, but now I know.”
“Now you know what?” I said quietly.
“That you’re gay,” she whispered back, not so quietly.
“And?”
“And you, my friend, share my man crush. If we’re lucky, we can still catch the end of that workout. Let’s go.”
♂♂
“Hey, Mom,” I said, pulling out my chair.
“You’re late,” she responded, tapping on her wrist at a nonexistent watch.
“Five minutes.”
“You look so handsome. Did you wear that to school today?” she gushed, complimenting my shirt and tie combination. I knew the fitted vest was probably overdoing it for my first week, but I also knew that Matt liked gray. He had commented on a gunmetal colored dress shirt the day before.
“Yeah. Too much, you think?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“Never. You look great. Even this messy hair of yours,” she teased, pulling at a long, caramel-blonde lock. “I love this color. God, why do I have to pay for that color when you get to be just naturally beautiful?” She threw her hair back dramatically over her shoulders.
I gave her a close-lipped smile and placed my napkin in my lap. “You are beautiful.”
“Gosh, we are so complimentary tonight, aren’t we? Tell me,” she responded, clasping my fingers in hers. “How was your first week?”
“Nice.”
I didn’t want to tell her about Matt.
“Nice? That’s it? How are the other teachers? You like the class… the students? Come on, Fin.”
“The teachers seem nice. I haven’t met everyone yet, but they’re all friendly so far. The English Lit teacher is very outgoing. We sit together at lunch.” I shrugged. “She’s okay.”
“You hate her.”
My shoulders slumped. “I kind of hate her. But God, I don’t know. I need a friend. I can’t just sit by myself every day, you know?”
“I know, baby. Anyone else you could sort of glom onto? Maybe another teacher that she hates? That way, she might stop coming around.”
“Ugh. Because it’s prep school, I feel like the teachers are all like Mrs. Hughes, you know?” I replied, referencing our favorite British soap.
“I may not be a woman of the world, but I don’t live in a sack,” she squeaked with a flawless Scottish inflection.
“There is this one man.” Mistake, mistake, mistake.
“Oh?” she whispered, leaning in close. “This one man? What’s his name, this man?”
“Matt. He’s the sports guy, basically. If there’s a sport, he coaches it, I guess. We only have basketball and soccer really, but he teaches the phys ed classes too. Oh, he also coaches an intramural football team.”
“Huh.” She took a slow sip of her white wine, a smile growing on her face. “Matt the sports guy, huh?”
“He’s a doctor, I believe.”
“You believe?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so. That’s what Eden said.”
“And Eden is the horrible Lit teacher?”
“She’s not horrible.”
Just then, the server came around to take my drink order. I ordered a mineral water, the same brand Matt drank every day for lunch. I smiled to myself, forgetting that I had company before snapping back to reality.
“What are you grinning at?” she asked.
“Nothing. I like him. He’s very nice.”
“And very nice looking?”
I sighed. “Yes, Mom. Very nice looking.”
She squealed and sat up straight in her seat. “Start from the top.”
“Can I have anything to myself?”
“No. What color’s his hair?”
“Black. Will you stop?”
“Black like dyed or natural? God, he doesn’t do that Just for Men thing, does he?” she asked, sucking in a breath.
“Yes, Mom, he does Just for Men. No… God. It’s just – I don’t know – black. Like really dark. He’s Italian, I think. Maybe. I don’t know. His last name is DiFiore.”
“Face? Eyes?”
“Nice face. Blue eyes. God, this feels weird.” I picked at my cuticles.
“Stop that disgusting habit, Finlay. Body?”
“He has all of his limbs, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That is not what I’m asking and you know it.”
I avoided eye contact with her. “He’s tall. Way taller than I am. Way bigger than I am. Are you quite done?”
“Yes.” She took another sip of her wine. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
♂♂
I hadn’t seen Emily since Christmas break. It was time. She was my oldest friend, the one who knew all of my secrets. She oversaw my crush on Tom Garcia in seventh grade; making elaborate attempts to be sure that we were in the same place at the same time. She knew my weaknesses, my fears, my self-doubts.
When I had called and told her that I’d moved back (failing to mention that it was a month earlier), she was desperate to go out.
“Gay bar. Now. Tonight. Which one? What are you into? Muscle-bound leather daddy? Bear? Twink? What?”
I sighed. “I don’t have a type.”
“Yes you do. Everyone has a type, Mac. For example, I like my men small. Not like in the cock region, of course, but I like ‘em compact. Tom Cruise. Tom Hardy. Basically, men named Tom.”
“I don’t know. More Tom Brady than Tom Cruise, I guess.”
She laugh
ed. “I’m shocked to shit that you know who Tom Brady is.”
“Duh. He’s married to Gisele. Anyway, I don’t know what my type is. I’ve been to a gay bar once and it was the worst experience ever. It was in some shady fucking neighborhood in Mishawaka and had a shower on stage. A shower and one guy practically jacking off for the crowd.”
“Did he soap up?” she joked.
“I didn’t hang around long enough to find out. I was embarrassed and left. I thought the clubs were supposed to be like… clubs. Like what you see on TV. Most of them are just gross hole-in-the-wall dives for cruising. I’m not into that.”
“How can you say that most of them are for cruising when you’ve been to one bar total? You need to get out there. We are dancing. I’ll be at your place in an hour. Wear something cute.”
I dressed simply. Fitted dark jeans and a new white undershirt (Ralph Lauren – compliments of my mother). God, I really needed to stop letting her buy my clothing. But the shirt was nice, stretched snugly against my pale skin. I tousled my unkempt hair with some pomade and sprayed one spritz of spice-scented Viktor & Rolf onto the back of my neck.
The first words from Emily were “holy fuck.”
“Um… thank you?”
She smiled and eyed me up and down, lifting my shirt an inch to tug at one of my belt loops. “No, thank you.”
I hugged her, mumbling, “I’ve missed you.”
She squeezed hard, resting her chin on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you too. Let’s not let another eight months go by without seeing each other again, okay?” She lightly kissed my neck and pulled away. “God, you even smell like sex.”
I pulled on a pair of worn Magnanni wingtip boots and laced them slowly, regretting my decision to leave the house. “Should I wear a sweater?” I asked her.
“Do not cover that body of yours with one more stitch of clothing. You look amazing. I’d fuck you.”
“I know,” I teased. “You’ve said so many times.”
“Well, I would. You’re the true love of my life. But… let’s go find yours.”
♂♂
At least the music was exceptional. I expected vapid techno. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the DJ preferred indie rock, playing everything from M83 to Arcade Fire. It was still danceable, of course, and Emily was in rare form. She danced to every track, clearly flirting with half of the (uninterested) men in the place. It had to be a new feeling for her – often times, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. Tonight was no exception; yet, her dance card remained fairly empty.
I moved toward the bar and leaned against the hard top among the mass of bodies, pulling a twenty out of my pocket and tapping it lightly on the counter. As I looked around, I spared a moment to take in my surroundings. Most of the men weren’t necessarily attractive to me, though a few would do in a pinch. And then—
Matt.
I did what any sane man would do in my situation.
Ducked behind a large steel beam.
Shit, shit, shit.
He was here which meant… he was gay?
Shit.
I slipped away from the bar and onto the dance floor where I casually collected Emily and guided her toward the front door. She stopped me, tugging her arm away.
“Hey!”
“Em… let’s go. Now, okay?”
“No. You can go but I’m staying,” she huffed.
“Fin?” a voice from behind called.
Shit. I knew that voice. I’d stroked myself to completion on more than one occasion while fantasizing about that voice.
I turned slowly, meeting the blue eyes of the one man that could ruin me. “Matt,” I stammered. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled widely and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m here with friends. I mean, I’m here with Emily. This is her. Um… this is Matt. We work together.” I made clumsy introductions as the two shook hands briefly.
“Nice to meet you,” Matt responded, immediately turning his eyes back to me. “You leaving?”
“No,” Emily protested. “Fin was just hot and needed some air. “
“Mind if I join you?” Matt asked. “It is hot.”
“You two go,” Emily shouted over the too-near speaker. “I’ve got a date with the dance floor.”
I chewed on my lip nervously and turned out the exit, slowly walking to an alley on the side of the building. Leaning against the brick, I lifted my head to meet Matt’s gaze.
“Hey,” he said. “Relax. I’m not here to out you.”
“No… I know. My friend wanted to come. I just—”
“It’s okay. Listen, Fin, you knew I was gay, right?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and blew out as I focused on the hem of his flannel shirt. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t. I would have never guessed in a million years. I feel like such an idiot.”
“For what?” he asked. He reached out and lightly touched my elbow, rubbing his thumb across my overheated skin.
“At school. You probably thought I was flirting with you. I’m… embarrassed.”
He moved a few steps closer and shifted his hand to rest on my hip. “You weren’t flirting?”
His voice was thick and rich without one hint of effervescence. I was suddenly concerned with my semi-effeminate inflection, thoroughly desperate to butch it up.
“Were you?” I returned, looking up.
“Maybe.”
“Really?” I blurted.
Matt casually looped a thumb through one of my belt loops, pulling the cotton material. “Maybe. I don’t know. Yes.”
As a group of men walked past, I jerked away from Matt’s touch and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m pretty beat. I think I’m gonna grab Emily and go.”
“Fin. Stop.” He moved close and whispered in my ear. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“My life is not a secret, Matt. I’m out. I didn’t want there to be any confusion when I started, so I told Gallo. He knows. Most of the teachers do too, I think.”
“Good,” he returned. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I did this.”
He leaned down carefully and pressed his soft lips to mine. The pressure was whisper delicate, his lips barely making contact with my shy mouth. I gently extracted from his embrace, pressing my back against the brick.
“Listen, Matt, I—”
“I’m sorry,” he replied quickly. “I got the wrong idea. I thought maybe you felt something between us. Now I feel like the idiot. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“Matt,” I whispered. I boldly reached for his waist and pulled him closer. “You didn’t get the wrong idea. The whole thing was confusing and I panicked. I do like you.”
He gave me a nervous laugh and swiped his thumb over his bottom lip. “You want to – I don’t know – maybe get out of here? Get a quiet drink somewhere? The bar is pretty loud.”
“Did you come with anyone?” I asked.
“No, I’m alone.”
My mind raced. “You often come to the bars alone?”
“No,” he answered. “But I was feeling anxious at home. Sometimes I like to go out and be around other people who know what it’s like, you know? We all live similar lives… some of us hide who we are from the world. I have some friends here. I come to see them from time to time.”
“Are you out, Matt?”
“That depends. Here? Yes. At work?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “No. We work at a prep school. I coach teenage boys. The parents wouldn’t be okay with an openly gay coach. Those are the facts. They aren’t fair but, unfortunately, that’s the way of the world.”
“I should go,” I replied, squeezing his hand once before letting go.
“Don’t go, Fin. I’m sorry I kissed you. I was out of line.”
“You weren’t. It’s fine. I guess I just don’t want to be some second-rate guy you settle for out of convenience.”
He placed a large hand on
my chest. “What do you mean? What does that even mean?”
“I want someone who chooses me, you know? I don’t want to be convenient because we work together.”
“I don’t feel that way. Can’t you tell how much I like you? Fin… I haven’t eaten lunch in the lounge since I started there two years ago. I’ve been in there every day for three weeks straight, just to see you. All day, I look forward to the short forty minutes I spend with you.” He laughed once and continued, “I’m going to gain fifty pounds from missing my regular workout.”
“Eden loves your running shorts, by the way,” I teased.
“I do not love Eden… like at all.” He took a pause and brushed a piece of hair from my eye. “Please. One drink.”
I waited.
Pondered.
Studied my boots.
“Okay. One drink.”
Chapter Three
“Wow, Fin,” Matt gushed. “This place is amazing. How do you…? Never mind.”
“No, what?” I walked over to the refrigerator and retrieved two beers. I popped the caps off, handed one to him, and finished his thought. “How do I afford this?”
He laughed lightly. “I’ve seen your car too. I take it—”
“I’m a trust fund kid? Yeah, something like that.”
I plopped down on the sofa as casually as I could, still not sure how we had ended up in the apartment. The coffee shop was closed. The bar across the street was too loud. So, we ended up there, staring out of my huge bay window at the steel structure St. Louis was known for.
“Lucky boy,” he mumbled, tipping the beer to his full lips. He settled into the opposite corner of the sofa and kicked off his worn Converse.
“Yes, I am. I’m not gonna make excuses. My dad makes a ton of money and I’m an only child. It’s sad but true. Still, I’ve lived a pretty lonely life, ultimately. Money can only buy you so much. You’d think that a rich kid would be popular, but I guess I’m still me. I’ve never been much of a social person. I had Emily, but she was basically my only true friend.” I shrugged and took a swig from my bottle. “I had a few acquaintances at Notre Dame, but none of them have even bothered to call since I’ve been back.”
Fin&Matt Page 2
