by Peter Styles
“How many guys have you let sleep in your bed?” Wyatt persisted. “Because you definitely don’t seem the type to be comfortable with that.”
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have let you either,” Lincoln snapped at him, glaring in his direction.
“You don’t even mean that.”
“How are going to prove that?” Lincoln scoffed.
“Do you just enjoy lying to yourself, or is it some sort of built-on armor so that you can hide from your real feelings?”
“Don’t act like you know me,” he warned, his eyes narrowing at Wyatt.
“You apparently don’t know yourself. I feel like someone should speak on your behalf.”
“Enough, Wyatt. You’re starting to really piss me off.”
“You’re pissed off?” Wyatt scoffed. “Oh, I’m so sorry for thinking that when I met up with a guy, who I was only supposed to be with for an hour or two tops but ended up talking half the night and fucking the rest, that maybe there was something between us. And that based on the way you acted and spoke to me, that you felt something too. However, I—”
Lincoln’s lips cut Wyatt off, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth. Tension sparked in the air, his touch softening to a passionate, heated kiss. Hesitantly, Wyatt kissed him back. For a split second, Wyatt convinced himself that things were going to get hot and heavy, but Lincoln pulled back. His shimmering lime green hues bore into Wyatt’s cerulean seas, “Alright, you win. Yes, I had an amazing time, and yes I felt something… But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to act on it. You don’t want to get involved with me, Wyatt. My life is,” he sucked in a sharp breath, “complicated, to say the least. It’s not something you would want for yourself, and it’s not something I want for you. To say there could be something between us would just be dragging you along. We had an amazing time together, so let’s have our memories and move on.”
Wyatt shook his head, not at all satisfied by Lincoln’s excuses. “That’s a crock of shit, and you know it,” he muttered, moving away from him. “Whatever. I’ll get out of your hair.” He walked over to his clothes lying on the floor, dressing quickly. At that point, he just wanted to get out of there. To him, Lincoln seemed like a commitaphobe. Even when Lincoln ran into someone he had a genuine connection with, he was too frightened to act on it or explore even the possibility of something more than casual sex.
“Wyatt…” Lincoln groaned, stepping in his direction.
“No, really. It’s fine. It isn’t like I can force you to do anything. I wouldn’t even want to. If you don’t want to take this any further, then I have to respect that. I’m sorry I caused such a scene,” Wyatt said, as calmly as possible, though some residual frustration lingered in his tone. It wasn’t like he had wanted to get emotional and bitchy at Lincoln. It was just a shitty situation for Wyatt personally, and he was taking it out on Lincoln. He was the one tired of being alone, but he couldn’t expect Lincoln to be the same.
“Well… thank you for being mature about this...” Lincoln muttered.
He finished slipping on his shoes and stood up straight, “Don’t mention it.” Then, Wyatt headed out of the bedroom, only stopping to pick up his t-shirt and jacket from the floor and putting them on.
“Bye, Wyatt,” Lincoln called to him as he reached for the door.
Wyatt paused for a moment, trying to not allow himself to become overwhelmed with emotion. “Bye, Lincoln,” he managed to say, with an even voice. Then, he left without another word, his mind still reeling and his heart sinking into his stomach.
* * *
Wyatt sat at his desk twirling a joint between his fingers, leaned back in the office chair. He had been trying to work for hours, having a project due in a couple of weeks. However, he hadn’t done anything productive, having just sat there stewing in his own thoughts, sketching superheroes he imagined. No matter what Wyatt did, he couldn’t get Lincoln off his mind. His green eyes were seared into Wyatt’s memory, and thinking about their night together left his skin longing. Everything about his encounter with Lincoln had been utterly perfect. Damn, Wyatt missed just talking to him. He had never had such lively, engaging conversation with anyone before. They had impeccable flow. Of course, Lincoln had to be another playboy. He was so afraid of the thought of being tied down that he wouldn’t even go on a single date.
No matter how bitter Wyatt’s thoughts grew to be about Lincoln, he couldn’t rip Lincoln from his mind. He was trying to smoke the image of him out then, hoping that maybe with the help of Mary Jane he could get just a bit of work done. It seemed to be a fruitless endeavor, but at least it calmed him down. He couldn’t stand being so hung up on an emotionally unavailable man. Lincoln’s excuse had been bullshit. His life was complicated? Whose wasn’t? It was just his attempt at passing the blame from himself.
Eventually, he gave up on trying to work, abandoning his workstation. He ordered pizza and sat down to watch some old cartoons. Even while baked, Wyatt wasn’t enjoying himself. Why in the hell was he plagued by Lincoln? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way Lincoln’s lips felt against his skin, or the way his laugh echoed in his thoughts? Because you’re a lonely little shit, Wyatt told himself. Maybe he was channeling all of that pent up desire for a partner into the idea of Lincoln. If that were the case, then perhaps moving on was the absolute best thing to do.
While Wyatt solemnly ate his pizza, he flicked through Grindr to look for guys online in his area. Some weren’t his type at all, others were ugly, while some had names he had attached to bad people in his past. It seemed like each profile he looked at, he could find something wrong with them. He knew what he was doing, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Trying to force himself through it, Wyatt sent a message to one of the men he found to be decent looking. They didn’t have to be the perfect specimen, they just had to get Lincoln off his mind.
Then, when the man messaged back, Wyatt’s face scrunched up. He texted like a middle schooler, using numbers for syllables, symbols for letters, and the two sentences had zero punctuation. Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. Why did some of the most handsome men trade brains for brawn? He backed out of the message, no longer interested in chatting with him in the slightest. When he was brought to his messaging list, Wyatt’s eyes immediately fell on Lincoln’s message thread. Unable to help himself, he opened the messages. They hadn’t talked much at all before meeting up the night before, just an initial conversation and then setting up a video call. Wyatt’s heart thudded in his chest, as it really started sinking in that he wasn’t going to talk to Lincoln again.
He tossed the phone away from him across the couch and decided to play some video games to get his mind off of it. Wyatt even chatted with a friend from college as they played a multiplayer online shooter, swigging a few beers as the evening played out. The distractions managed to ease him for a while, as he was doing rather well in the game. Eventually though, his friend had to retire for the evening, and Wyatt lost interest since he didn’t have anyone to distract him from his looming thoughts. Maybe it would be best to call it a day and try to wake up tomorrow with a fresh mindset.
Wyatt pulled himself from the couch and moved to his bedroom with a beer in hand. He stripped away his clothes and slid underneath the blankets. Wyatt stared idly up at the ceiling as he laid there in the dark. He continued to tell himself that tomorrow would be a new day. All he needed was a full nights’ sleep away from Lincoln, and he would be a distant memory. Perhaps by tomorrow night, he would be in the mood to hook up with someone else. In the meantime, he was alone with only the thought of Lincoln to occupy his mind.
* * *
Wyatt was dressed in his business attire and fitted slacks with a button-up rolled to the elbows and a vest. He had been called in by his partners for a consultation on an advertisement project. Walking into a massive skyscraper, he was in awe of the emptiness. Everything was black and white, having no furniture or decorations aside from essential pieces. He made his way down a long and wide corrid
or, the entire hall illuminated by insanely bright fluorescent lights hanging from above. He approached the final door at the end of the hallway, pushing the door open to find a room unlike the rest of the building. It was warmly lit by a fireplace on the far side of the office. It was filled with rich woods and dark colors, giving the vibe of a study from the fifties.
His eyes scanned the room until it landed on the desk at the side of the fireplace. Lincoln sat there with a tobacco pipe in his mouth and a smirk on his lips. “Thought I would totally give into the Mad Men aesthetic,” he called over, with a chuckle.
“Well, you look ridiculous. No one uses pipes like that anymore,” Wyatt muttered.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Wyatt. Come, have a seat.”
Even though his body screamed at him not to listen, Wyatt dragged himself to the armchairs in front of Lincoln’s desk and sat down. Flames bounced around in Lincoln’s enchanting eyes as he stared him down. “What is this about?” he questioned. He didn’t understand why he had scheduled a consultation with him through his firm.
“I think you know what it is about,” Lincoln grinned.
“Trust me when I say I definitely do not.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh as he stood from his office chair. Lincoln rounded his desk and sat on the edge of it. “It’s about art, of course. I need some for my apartment.”
“I’m not making you anything,” Wyatt said, firmly.
Lincoln gently grabbed Wyatt’s hand, “Let’s not let the past affect our judgement, Wyatt. None of that matters, it was a lifetime ago. Let me just be me from here on.”
“What makes you think I want to do that?” Wyatt challenged, his hard glare not faltering from Lincoln.
His lips curled into a warm smile, tugging Wyatt easily from his seat and into him. “Because I know you feel the way I do. And you can sense I’m just a stubborn asshole.”
Lincoln actually managed to get Wyatt to smile.
He bit the inside of his cheek to try and hide it, “Well, you may be right about that.”
A warm hand cradled Wyatt’s jaw, Lincoln’s thumb gently rubbing over his smooth chin. His intoxicating lips collided with Wyatt’s, leaving him feeling winded. Every touch was electric; Wyatt swore he was growing addicted to the feeling. It was like all those romantic comedies and storybooks had been right about how it felt when you kissed the person meant for you. Lincoln’s hand dropped from his face and he wrapped his strong arms around Wyatt’s waist, holding him against his body. Pulling back from the kiss, Lincoln leaned into Wyatt’s ear, “Don’t give up on me, Wyatt,” he purred.
“Wha–what do you mean?” he asked, feeling a little dazed after such a passionate kiss.
Lincoln kept him held in his arms, not yet pulling away from his ear, “Don’t give up on me. I mean exactly that. You know there is something here. Don’t let me slip away.”
“I don’t understand. You called me here…” Wyatt muttered. When Wyatt pulled back from the embrace to look up at him, he was suddenly alone. No longer was he in the retro, antiquated office of Lincoln Prescott, but in his own apartment. All of his furniture was gone, the space completely empty. He was totally alone. Panic seized his chest, pacing around the entire apartment to look for any of his things. It was all gone, the apartment was barren.
Trying to keep himself together, he bolted to the door, needing to find Lincoln. But, the door was gone. What the hell? A glance over to the far side of the apartment proved that the windows were gone too, trapped in a room of nothingness.
How was he supposed to get to Lincoln if he couldn’t get out of his apartment? Wyatt beat on the walls and cupped his hands around his mouth as he screamed for help. The silence was deafening. He was alone with no way out, no way to save himself from the tormenting images of his heart’s captor.
Chapter 4: Instagram God
He was startled awake, a cold sweat coating his forehead and back. Jesus Christ, that dream had turned into a nightmare quick. Wyatt immediately found his pack of cigarettes on his bedside table and put one between his lips. Lighting it, he leaned back against his headboard and took a few calming drags. He didn’t bother digging too deep into what the dream had meant. It was fairly apparent on the surface what it had meant.
Standing from his bed, Wyatt made his way into the living room. He brushed a hand through his wild white hair as he searched around for his cell phone. When he finally found it, of course, he had no notifications. Perhaps that was just a symptom of being a moody, sarcastic artist. It didn’t bother him though. He only had one task on his mind.
His fingers found a familiar icon on the screen. Opening up Grindr, he went to his messages. His heart thudded painfully, anxiety gripping at his soul. Their last conversation echoed in his head with a cave-like resonance. Could he really stoop low enough to text him? Lincoln had made himself crystal clear that he didn’t want it to be more than a one-time thing, so to text him would just be setting himself up for rejection, right?
Sitting in an armchair, he stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray and tried to think objectively. Even if rejection would sting, would it really be so damaging if it were to happen? It would indeed prove that Lincoln genuinely wanted nothing to do with him, and at least Wyatt could tell himself he tried. To not even try and attempt to contact Lincoln after all that just seemed… wrong. Right? He would be letting Lincoln’s stubbornness win over everything else. And if Lincoln did say yes to seeing him again, then that would be great. As he stared at the screen though, he couldn’t help but think bitterly to himself, So much for this being a fresh start.
Nibbling on his bottom lip, he finally convinced himself to just do it. With an aching in his heart, Wyatt clicked on Lincoln’s messages and began composing a new one.
Hey, sorry about yesterday. No hard feelings. We did have a great time, though. Would you be interested in hooking up again? I can just come straight to your place.
He hoped that would suffice. It wasn’t like Wyatt was only interested in Lincoln for the sex, but it wasn’t like it was a pitfall either. Wyatt figured that if there would ever be a way to wiggle back into the picture with Lincoln, this would be the way to do it. It wasn’t like Wyatt wanted to force him into a relationship. He wanted to see where it could possibly go between them since they went together so well. With a loud sigh, he lifted himself from the chair and found his way back to the bedroom. It was uncharacteristic for Wyatt to be up that early, even though it was eight o’clock. Working from home and setting his own hours had made it all too easy on Wyatt to fall back into his old summer routine from his grade school days—staying up until the wee hours of the morning and asleep until mid-afternoon. He had crashed rather early last night though, causing him to be up uncharacteristically early. It was the second morning in a row for him, leaving Wyatt feeling ragged. If he was going to stay up, he needed more cigarettes.
Before he could even reach the pack, however, his phone buzzed in his hand.
Sounds good to me. Come over tomorrow at 9 PM.
Wyatt couldn’t believe he had responded so quickly. Naturally, he pondered if Lincoln had been waiting for him to text. Could he be pining over Wyatt, just as Wyatt was over him? It seemed too good to be true, so it probably was. For all Wyatt knew, it really was just sex to Lincoln. Still, even with that grain of salt, Wyatt was giddy.
* * *
The remainder of that day and the next, Wyatt stayed in relatively high morale. With a date set with Lincoln, he didn’t harbor on the thought of him. He had gotten the bulk of his work done and even found time to cook a few decent meals for himself, something he hadn’t done in a while. However, the calm slowly melted away as the hours ticked closer to meeting up with Lincoln. They hadn’t talked since setting up the meeting time. Wyatt was tortured by thoughts considering if Lincoln was still interested as he started to get ready that evening. He could have slept with other guys and pushed Wyatt to the back of his mind. Should he expect anything else though?
He anxi
ously picked out his outfit for the occasion, deciding to go even more casual than last time, wanting to make sure it didn’t look like he was trying to impress him. Wyatt put on a pair of khaki joggers, a black hoodie that had pink hibiscuses printed all over it with the company logo on the center of it, and a snapback hat on backward. He was certain he was casual enough to look like he didn’t give a damn. With a cigarette between his lips, Wyatt headed outside and beelined for the subway. Having grown up in the city, he was too used to using public transportation. Even though he could technically afford a nice car, he just didn’t want to.
As he approached the station, Wyatt texted Lincoln to let him know he was on the way—to which Lincoln pretty quickly replied okay.
Getting onto the train, he found himself a spot near the back of the car and took a seat. The car rested as people gravitated in, one woman plopping down next to Wyatt and giving him a friendly smile before pulling out her phone to pass the time. His eyes scanned over all the faces in the car. Even though the city was filled with bad memories and really nothing was holding him there anymore, he simply loved it there. He loved the diversity of the people, the concrete, the graffiti, all plethora of restaurants and shops to explore. There had been many times in Wyatt’s life where he would have nothing to do and would just start walking in a direction and wouldn’t head back until he was too tired to go any further. Those journeys were never one and the same, and each of them was a warm memory.
The train left off once the doors closed, Wyatt slouching in his chair a bit. He scrolled through his phone idly, but quickly lost interest and put it away. That was when his eye caught the screen of the woman next to him as she scrolled through Instagram. He had always been nosey, even to people he didn’t know. What could he say, people fascinated him, he enjoyed seeing what they liked and what made them tick. The girl next to him was definitely the typical single woman in her early twenties from what he could tell by her Instagram feed. It was filled with inspirational quotes, anchor tattoos, selfies of her friends, pop celebrities and cute puppies. Damn, he was hoping that maybe she was a low-key freak and would have some illegal stuff on there. Much to Wyatt’s dismay, she was just like everyone else. There was nothing wrong with that though. Wyatt was just trying to distract himself from thoughts of Lincoln.
