Life on Pause

by Erin McLellan

  Niles couldn’t help but notice that “attractive” was the last attribute Victor mentioned, tacked on to the end like an afterthought. All of those other things were true, which was why he believed Rusty liked him as a friend.

  “Men can and do find you attractive,” Victor said softly. It almost was funny how Victor knew exactly where his insecurities lived.

  Should he tell Victor about Rusty’s almost-flirting? The way Rusty often had to walk back his innuendo? The way he called Niles “gorgeous” and sometimes stared at him like he was special? Niles was probably reading more into all of that than was actually there. It was all in his head. And anyway, he didn’t want to share that with Victor. He wanted to keep it all to himself. Hide it away for times when he was extra hard up.

  So Niles changed the subject, and Victor regaled him with cruise stories about the varied men and women who hit on him while he was teaching his dance classes. Niles liked to tease Victor that he was living Dirty Dancing, a modern-day Swayze, but gay as a banana hammock.

  Eventually, Victor wound down, promised to send him something dirty from the Bahamas, and blew him a kiss. Niles was signing off when Victor suddenly stopped him with a wave.

  “Hold on, dude.” Niles froze and his stomach flipped at the tone of Victor’s voice. It was his about-to-drop-some-wisdom-on-you voice. “You’re going to have to take some chances at some point in your life. Why not now?”

  Defensiveness bloomed through Niles. “I’ve taken chances,” he said stubbornly, very much like someone who hadn’t.

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve approached guys at bars and clubs. I’m not a virgin, Vic.”

  “Niles,” Victor said softly, “offering up your mouth or ass to a drunk dumb-shit isn’t what I’m talking about.” Niles’s hackles rose, and he was about to snap at Victor about minding his own damn business, but Victor’s next words stopped him. “I’m not saying that wasn’t hard for you. I know it was. I know putting yourself out there isn’t your thing. But taking a chance on a friend, a guy you really like, a man you’ll see after the blowjob? Take that chance, baby. Because you’re worth that chance.”

  “That’s rich coming from you,” Niles grumbled, and Victor laughed and tapped the tip of his nose, a gesture he always used to indicate something was right on the nose. He claimed it was a universal hand gesture, but Niles had only ever seen him do it.

  “You deserve better than you’ve given yourself, is all,” Victor said. “And more importantly—you want better, don’t you? Think about it, okay?”

  Niles rolled his eyes, told Victor he loved him, and said goodbye.

  An hour later, in the sparsely populated seats of the high school auditorium, Niles couldn’t take his eyes off of Rusty and he couldn’t forget Victor’s words. Rusty was glorious up on the stage, conducting his army of high schoolers. Even Todd McGower, The Todd McGower, the perfect fucking Ken doll, didn’t hold a candle to Rusty’s light.

  Niles curled in his seat toward the back of the auditorium and tried to keep himself from imagining Rusty was his by concentrating on the concert. He knew next to nothing about music, couldn’t hold a tune to save his life, and had never touched a musical instrument besides dusting his mom’s piano, but he could recognize beauty when he saw it. And Rusty was beautiful—the tension in his body as he conducted each song, the precision in his movements, fluid and defined. He was outrageously sexy, especially under the stage lights. And the choir was good, and not only because they were small-town kids who out-paced Niles’s expectations. They were legitimately wonderful.

  The choir started out with older selections of folk music, giving history between each one. Niles knew most of the songs—“Oh Shenandoah” and “Red River Valley” and “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair”—but he had never heard them like this, with soaring young voices and intensity and complicated melodies and harmonies. Before the Woody Guthrie medley, a teen girl nervously gave a one-minute narration on the importance of Guthrie to folk music and to Oklahoma. Niles was such a history nerd, and when the choir started in on “This Land is Your Land,” their voices rising and falling slow and sweet like a lullaby, his breath caught in his chest. At the end of the medley, Rusty stopped the choir from moving on and had them repeat a section of “Pastures of Plenty.”

  Rusty had warned the audience that he might halt the performance if there needed to be a correction, unlike in a tried-and-true dress rehearsal, but Niles still wasn’t ready when Rusty’s voice soared, deep and full and perfect, barely picked up by the hot mics, to demonstrate the area that needed correcting.

  Rusty’s voice was so low it vibrated through Niles’s stomach, and all the high schoolers cheered and whistled when he was done. Rusty glanced back at the audience and gave a quick bow, his cheeks blotched with pink, and a wave of tenderness, or maybe horniness, overtook Niles.

  Niles wanted to lick Rusty’s beard, feel the vibration of Rusty’s deep operatic voice against his tongue. And then maybe kiss the pink patches of Rusty’s blush until it wasn’t bashfulness making him rosy but arousal.

  Yeah, definitely horniness.

  He should have rubbed one out before he left the house.

  The kids finally sang the section to Rusty’s specifications, and they moved on to popular protest songs of the 1960s, with a cappella versions of “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “If I Had a Hammer.”

  The choir rounded out their set with another medley, this time of modern folk music. Niles recognized some of the songs from the radio, but wouldn’t have known their names if not for the paper program with the set list. The last time he’d paid attention to current music was when he’d had an obsession with *NSYNC and was shipping Britney and Justin so hard he’d kept a homemade collage of them under his bed.

  Justney forever.

  Niles figured the show was over, since they had hit modernity, but then a kid with a purple streak in his bleached blond hair stepped to the mic. He was tall, lanky, and androgynous. Cheekbones for miles, that kid.

  “Mr. Adams always lets the seniors pick an ensemble piece to perform for the Fall Concert, and we chose ‘A Change is Gonna Come’ by Sam Cooke, released in 1964 during the Civil Rights Movement. Now, technically, as Mr. Adams has explained to us multiple times, this is actually soul music, but we’re performing a folk arrangement, with only an acoustic guitar. This song really spoke to us, so we hope you enjoy it too.”

  The Todd McGower came out from behind the baby grand on the side of the stage and leaned against the back of the piano. Rusty joined him, both of them propped against the instrument now, like an ad for Urban Outfitters or some shit. Hot as fuck, Victor would say. The perfect pairing: golden boy and hipster bear. Niles could hardly tear his eyes away from them. Jealousy—bitter and hot and unmanageable—washed over him.

  Five other students joined the purple-haired kid on stage, including one girl with a guitar, and he counted them into the song. Niles tore his gaze away from Rusty and Todd. Of the six seniors, only two were boys, and they couldn’t have appeared more different. The other boy was stout, like a linebacker, and he seemed the most uncomfortable of all the singers in the ensemble. While the purple-haired boy crackled with energy and charisma, this kid was almost dull next to his shine. Niles felt an immediate kinship to this unassuming boy.

  So he was completely unprepared for that ordinary, shy-looking kid to sing the first refrain in a deep, smoky voice. And he sold it too. He closed his eyes, stepped forward, and sang the words with his whole heart. Once he had finished his verse and moved back into line, the purple-haired boy squeezed his hand for a half a second, almost imperceptibly, but Niles had been watching intently, so taken with the disparity between the two young men, that he couldn’t have missed it.

  Tears immediately filled Niles’s eyes, and he had no idea why. He didn’t know these kids, and he barely knew the song, but it all hit him right in the gut. The triumph of their voices and message of the lyrics. The faith that change would com
e. That things would get better. That hope was within their reach.

  The whole ensemble sang on the chorus, their voices rising and mixing together perfectly. And maybe it was how the music had been stripped down to the bare basics, just a guitar and their voices. Or how young and hopeful and full of yearning the kids sounded. Maybe it was the fact that the world was scary and unsteady and turned upside down, but they sang with faith that they could change it. Maybe it was because Niles could see, he knew from that second of handholding, that this song meant something to these teenagers. And suddenly the tears in Niles’s eyes were spilling over. And thank the nerdy choir gods that he was at the back of the auditorium by himself.

  A blonde girl with a lot of black eye makeup and a visible tattoo on her neck had the next solo. Her voice was pure, sweet, and bright, like a Disney princess, and she sang with perfectly rounded vowels. The discrepancy between her appearance and her voice almost made Niles laugh.

  The song crescendoed, rising in intensity, and another girl—the only black student in the choir—sang the final verse in a low, intense voice, and the purple-haired boy answered high up in the rafters, in perfect falsetto. The girl kept singing, and the boy continued to respond. They sang at each other, building the verse on top of itself, until they both crooned a long extended “Ohhhhhh!” that went on and on and on. When they stopped singing, the silence was filled almost instantly with hoots and applause.

  Niles hazarded a glance at Rusty, who was staring right at him, paying absolutely no mind to the kids who were falling all over themselves in excitement or to Todd who nudged him. Rusty stared, until Niles was hot from the attention, his ears still ringing from the song.

  Then Rusty gave Niles a sweet smile and turned back to the choir to prompt them in their bows. And Niles, only having a minute to get it together, let a few more tears fall. Not out of whatever emotion the song had stirred up, but out of yearning, absolute fucking longing, for that man up there who would never truly want him.

  Oh, Jesus. Rusty wanted Niles with a fierceness he’d never experienced before. Niles had cried during that last song. Actually cried. And that had touched Rusty more than he was prepared to examine closely.

  As the kids gathered up their stuff and Rusty and Todd helped clear the auditorium, Rusty kept an eye on Niles, sure he was going to bolt before Rusty got a chance to talk to him. When Niles reached the doors of the auditorium, and Rusty was about to call out to him, Todd beat him to it.

  Todd joined Niles at the door and the two men shook hands. White-hot jealousy ripped through Rusty, but he wasn’t sure if it was directed at Niles or Todd. He didn’t particularly like the moony shock in Niles’s eyes at being hailed by his ex-boyfriend. Nor did he enjoy the dark sparkle in Todd’s, the lascivious energy that used to make Rusty so hot when it was turned on him. But the fact that he wanted to back Niles into a deep dark corner of the auditorium and neck like teenagers solidified it for him. He wanted Todd away from Niles right this fucking second.

  Todd caught Rusty staring at them, and Rusty had no idea what his face looked like—probably the green-eyed monster—but Todd winked at him, clapped Niles on the shoulder, and then walked toward a cluster of freshmen who were all engrossed in their phones. And then it was only Niles and Rusty, separated by a swath of cheap auditorium seats.

  “Battlestar Galactica tonight?” Rusty asked. Niles nodded and smiled shyly. “Meet you at my apartment in ten minutes. I have to make sure all the kids are picked up and then lock the auditorium.” Niles gave a wave of indication that he’d heard and slipped outside.

  Once the remaining teenagers had all left the building, probably to head to the closest Sonic or some other high school haunt, Rusty grabbed his bag and locked the auditorium doors behind him and Todd. Rusty noticed Todd watching him intently when they stopped beside their respective vehicles.

  “Niles grew up nice,” Todd said.

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

  “He’s a sure thing.” Todd laughed the words, like this was all a big joke. Rusty gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out. Niles didn’t deserve to be gossiped about. Then Todd closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was recalibrating, and when he opened them again, they were unreadable. “You should introduce him to Jackie and Margo. They’ll pull him into the family, and he’ll never want to leave.”

  Rusty stared at Todd across a few feet of darkening parking lot. Rusty’s welcoming, wonderful family hadn’t kept Todd from leaving or from jumping into bed with a hotter, younger man.

  Todd seemed to realize his mistake because he grimaced and kicked his tire softly. “I miss them. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that, Rus.”

  “I know,” Rusty whispered. Todd’s family was the epitome of acceptance outwardly, but only to save face with their friends. Todd had needed Rusty’s low-key family, probably still needed them, but it was too hard now. Margo didn’t understand that Todd and Rusty’s relationship had imploded, and her confusion was painful for all of them.

  “Have fun with Niles. He seemed … sad. He needs you to cheer him up, champ,” Todd joked, but his smile was brittle and false.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Of course. I want all the details tomorrow.” Todd’s smile faded a little and his eyes cleared of all emotion. Rusty hadn’t seen that blank, shutdown expression on his face since the last time Todd had fought with his parents.

  “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes! For God’s sake, just go. You don’t want to keep your new man waiting.”

  Rusty nodded and gave him a half hug, thankful that Todd was giving him an out. The last thing he wanted to deal with tonight was Todd’s messy emotions. He wanted to get home and spend all evening with Niles not watching a single fucking episode of Battlestar Galactica.

  Niles was waiting for him in the alley behind the antique store, where there was a door to a private stairwell that led up to Rusty’s apartment. It was dark in the alley, the only light coming from a lantern fixture above the door that was full of June bugs and crickets.

  As Rusty approached, Niles started gushing about the concert, and Rusty didn’t stop moving until he was completely up in Niles’s space.

  “I loved the Woody Guthrie section, and oh my God, Rusty, that last song. It was—”

  Rusty pinned Niles’s shoulder to the brick wall behind him, gripped his jaw, and kissed the words from his mouth. Niles yipped in surprise, so Rusty gentled his lips and pulled back. When Rusty’s lips left him, Niles whined in the back of his throat, and it took every bit of Rusty’s self-control not to tongue-fuck Niles until neither of them could breathe.

  “God, Niles. You slay me.”

  Niles scoffed. Rusty ghosted his fingers across those intriguing dark freckles on Niles’s cheeks, and scraped his lips up to Niles’s ear.

  “What? You don’t believe me? Think I’m feeding you a line?”

  Niles opened his eyes, the dark of his pupils flashing in the dim light before he glanced down and away. A muscle ticked in Niles’s jaw, like he was clenching it.

  “I like spending time with you,” Rusty said. “You should know that by now. We hang—”

  “Because I’m a good friend,” Niles said sharply, cutting off Rusty’s words.

  “You are.” Rusty cupped Niles’s cheek, and Niles stuttered out a thick breath. “And I’m attracted to you. It doesn’t need to be complicated. Hell, it doesn’t need to be more than two friends fooling around if that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

  Part of Rusty was fine with that idea, but the other part of him, a scary niggling piece of his mind, was worried friends wouldn’t be nearly enough.

  “So we won’t stop being friends if you kiss me again? I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

  “Never,” Rusty said, though it was a gamble. But if he could work every day with Todd, he could salvage his friendship with Niles if this blew up in his face.

  “Are you friends with Todd like this? Kiss
ing friends?” Niles asked, as if he’d pulled Rusty’s reasoning directly from his head. Jealousy and uncertainty seemed to war in Niles’s eyes.

  Fear punched Rusty in the gut. He’d never mentioned his three-year relationship with Todd, which, while unintentional, was telling. Niles was insecure. He shut down so easily, and Rusty could admit now that he’d hidden his relationship with Todd from Niles because explaining it would have made this moment, where they were sharing breath and an inch from kissing, impossible.

  Now would be the time to fess up, to tell Niles that he’d dated Todd, but there was nothing between them anymore. Now would be the time to clear the air.

  But Niles’s mouth was right there, and Rusty wanted this so bad, whatever it might end up being. He didn’t want to risk ruining it before it even began.

  Rusty had paused too long, so he threaded his fingers into Niles’s hair before he grew suspicious. “No. We’re not friends like this. We don’t kiss or anything like that. We’re only coworkers.”

  Before Niles could respond, Rusty feathered a light kiss across his lips, and Niles followed his mouth, begging for more when Rusty pulled back. And Rusty wanted to give it to him, so he scrapped his thumb across Niles’s bottom lip and then kissed him until he was breathless.

  Rusty Adams was kissing him. Like, with his mouth. And Niles couldn’t remember the last man who’d kissed him. He’d definitely never had kisses like this. Drugging, sultry, and slow. Like Rusty’s tongue belonged in his mouth. Like Niles owned that slick, mobile muscle. These kisses were not perfunctory at all, and Niles had absolutely no idea how to handle that.

  So he hitched one of his legs up around Rusty’s waist and pulled until Rusty was pressing him into the wall. This—dirty and fast in an inconvenient place—this he knew.

  “Whoa,” Rusty breathed as his groin came into full contact with Niles’s. “We can’t do this here.”