by Chris Scully
“Oh.”
Obviously that was not a good idea. “Did you have plans?”
“I thought you and I could do something together for once.”
Peter suppressed his irritation. He wanted to say that she was the one who kept canceling their plans. It wasn’t his fault they didn’t spend time together—not entirely anyway. “Okay, sure. What would you like to do?”
“There’s that Caribbean festival downtown this weekend. Some people from work are going. I thought we could join them.”
He thought it odd that Demetra was suddenly interested in cultural events when she hadn’t been before, but he supposed he could handle it. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great. I’ll let them know. Maybe you could even get the night off.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, her breasts brushing his arm. Then she curled up beside him, close but not quite touching, and immediately became riveted by the latest exploits of some hunky rancher with a heart of gold and the dozen crazy women vying for his affection.
A few minutes later, a fat tabby cat jumped up on the back of the couch and draped itself over his shoulder. This must be Zelda, Louie’s diva cat. Peter scratched beneath her chin and was rewarded with a loud purr. He began to relax and breathe easier. In fact, he actually nodded off, only to jerk awake when a car door slammed shut outside. It was followed shortly by the scratch of a key in the lock. “That must be Louie,” Demetra whispered. She immediately snuggled into his arms and laid her head on his chest. He had no option but to go with it.
The front door gave a mournful groan as it opened, and then Peter heard the low murmur of more than one voice in the foyer.
“Oh, you’re here,” Louie exclaimed as he peeked into the living room. “I thought you were going out tonight, Dee.” His eyes widened when he saw Peter with Demetra snuggled against him. “Um, Peter. Hi.”
Peter grinned at the sight of Louie dressed in dark slim-fit slacks, a collared blue shirt, and striped tie. He couldn’t help it. He looked great all cleaned up. Then another man stepped out from behind Louie, and Peter’s smile faded.
The newcomer was tall and handsome in a rugged sort of way, with a well-defined physique and a tousle of blond hair. An awkward silence fell as they eyed each other.
“I’m Kelly,” Louie’s companion introduced himself.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Louie’s face was slowly turning a bright shade of pink. Peter felt the same heat creeping up the back of his neck. “This is my sister and her boyfriend,” Louie explained absently. He looked toward the stairs and then back at his companion, his face etched with indecision.
“We can go back to my place,” Kelly offered with a nod of his head. “My roommate won’t mind.”
Louie practically sagged in relief. “Yeah. Let me grab a couple of things.”
Peter couldn’t help staring as Louie ran up the stairs. Kelly hung back, waiting. He ventured a step or two into the living room. “Ooh, The Bachelor,” he exclaimed. “Oh my God, I couldn’t believe when he—”
“Stop, stop,” Demetra laughed. “Don’t tell me. I haven’t caught up yet.”
“You’re going to freak. I know I did.”
“Does he pick Lenora? Please don’t tell me he picks Lenora.”
Peter snorted. What the hell kind of name was Lenora?
“That crazy bitch?” Kelly crowed, coming to perch on the armrest next to Demetra. “Oh no. It’s worse than that.”
“What?” Demetra shrieked. “How can it be worse?”
Peter just sat there, blocking out their chatter. His heart was doing crazy things. Louie had another friend. More than a friend by all indications.
A few seconds later, Louie reappeared, out of breath. “All set,” he said. Kelly got up to rejoin him. “I’ll, uh, see you guys later.”
“Have fun,” Demetra teased with a wave.
“Oh we will,” Kelly replied. “Nice to meet you,” he added as Louie hustled him out the door. Peter wanted to strangle the man.
Demetra settled back against him with a satisfied sigh. “That went well, don’t you think?”
Peter grunted, staring vacantly at the television. It hadn’t gone well at all. Not for him.
EIGHT
THE DOORBELL rang sometime after nine on Monday night.
Louie, who had been dozing on the couch in front of an unfunny sitcom, jolted upright at the sound. His heart thundered at the abrupt awakening. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and checked his watch.
Had Demetra forgotten her keys again?
Bleary-eyed, he shuffled to the door and peered through the peep hole. The familiar dome of Peter’s shaved head gleamed beneath the porch light. His heart rate picked up. He yanked hard on the door handle and it opened with a jerky groan. “Hi,” Peter said with a tentative smile.
“Hey. Dee’s not home,” Louie blurted. It might have come out a touch too defensively.
“I, uh, I know,” Peter stammered, seeming ill at ease. “She mentioned going out with some work friends tonight. But I was on my way home and saw the light on. I thought… maybe you might want to hang out. I mean, if you don’t have other plans.”
Louie hesitated. There was a new tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, and he thought it had to do with last week. So Peter had seen him with a date. He had needs. He didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.
Hell, Peter had spent most of the weekend with Demetra and you didn’t see him being all weird about it. Even though he’d had to endure the sight of his kid sister leaving the house in skimpy shorts and a bikini top. Even though she hadn’t gotten home until well after midnight. Louie supposed he was fortunate Peter hadn’t spent the night.
He was still a little pissed at the double standard. “No, no plans,” he replied.
Peter peered over his shoulder and into the house. “’Cause if you do, that’s okay. Have plans. I totally get it. I mean it’s not like—”
“I’m alone, Peter. Come in.” He stepped back so Peter could enter.
Every nerve in Louie’s body went on high alert as Peter’s shoulder accidentally brushed his chest. His heart fluttered madly. This was bad. He couldn’t wait until he got the apartment. Then he’d be free to bring home anyone he wanted and not be judged. And he wouldn’t have to worry about Peter dropping by unexpectedly.
A pang of loneliness made him pause.
“Cool,” Peter said, unaware of Louie’s inner turmoil. “I brought entertainment.” He held up a DVD case in one hand, and a Styrofoam container in the other. “And some spanakopita from the restaurant. It’s still warm.”
“I thought you were on your way home.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
Louie couldn’t help himself. He chuckled. Peter shared his embarrassment, it seemed. He gave Peter a shove toward the living room. “You go set up. I’ll grab some plates. Want a beer?” he called on his way to the kitchen.
“Love one,” Peter yelled back. “So I meant to tell you before, I got this weird job offer the other day. From the guy who runs that new place next door—Tolo. He’s looking for a manager.”
Louie gathered the necessities, fought down a sudden case of butterflies, and returned to the living room to find Peter already on the couch, waiting with Zelda curled in his lap. He looked like he belonged there. He did, Louie realized with an unwanted start. Peter had probably spent more time in this house the past few months than he had in years.
“She likes you,” he commented, handing over a beer. “Are you actually considering it? The job?”
“Nah. I couldn’t leave Pop like that. But it was kind of flattering.” Peter averted his eyes. To hide how important it really was to him?
Funny how he’d come to know Peter’s tells so quickly.
“Why don’t you worry about yourself for a change?” Louie sat down in the armchair, about as far away from Peter as he could possibly be and still see the television. When Zelda didn’t immediately join him, he suppressed a twinge of jealousy. Tra
itor, he thought. Then again, if he had a chance to curl up in that lap, he’d probably take it too.
Peter quirked an amused brow and then sniffed his armpit. “Do I smell or something?”
“No.” Peter smelled great. Louie wondered when he’d stopped finding his cologne overpowering and started liking the scent. Now he almost anticipated it.
“Then get your ass over here where you can actually see the screen.”
Feeling the heat surging beneath the skin of his cheeks, Louie moved to the couch, still keeping an appropriate distance. He picked up the DVD case and scanned the back. It was a Spanish horror film. “I haven’t seen this. Is it good?”
“Very. It’s got subtitles, though. I hope that’s okay.”
He shot the other man an insulted look. “I do know how to read, Peter.”
Peter laughed. “Demetra hates subtitles. We went to this French film once. She said if she wanted to read, she would have picked up a book.”
That sounded like his sister. She had the attention span of a four-year-old. Louie dropped the case on the coffee table and settled back into the soft cushions of the couch. “You guys don’t seem to have much in common.”
Peter’s hand hesitated on the remote. “Opposites attract, right?”
“I guess.” Louie frowned. He’d rather not think of Peter’s and Demetra’s opposites attracting right now. “Did you have fun on Saturday?”
“It was okay.” Peter avoided his gaze, seemingly concentrating on finding the right button.
“Just okay? Is that why you guys didn’t get home until 2:00 a.m.?” Shit. Did that sound bitter?
“What?” Peter turned his head. “Oh, no. I had to go in to work later. Demetra was still with her friends when I left. She was going to get a ride home with one of them.”
“Oh.” Louie’s heart did a little happy dance.
“Want to get that light?” Peter asked as the DVD menu popped up on the screen. Louie hesitated a split second before he reached behind him to turn off the floor lamp. “Don’t worry,” Peter added. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
“You do that,” Louie grumbled, pretending to be teasing when in all seriousness, he’d love Peter to do a little groping. But at least the momentary awkwardness he’d experienced earlier seemed to be gone. It was a relief, because future brother-in-law or not, he truly enjoyed Peter’s company. After the other night, he’d been afraid he might have lost it.
As they settled in to watch the movie, Louie munched down on the food Peter had brought with him. “This is still the best spanakopita I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mom, though.”
Peter laughed. “It’s my yiayia’s recipe. She passed it down to my mother.”
“Does your mom cook at the restaurant too?”
“She used to, but now she mostly does the ordering. I made this,” he said almost sheepishly.
“No way. Marry me,” Louie blurted. “What? I’m serious,” he added when Peter laughed. “A man who cooks is priceless. I’ve lived alone for years and still haven’t mastered it.” He reached for another piece of flaky pie and had half of it in his mouth before he realized it was the last one. “Oh, did you want this?” he mumbled with his mouth full.
Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement in the semidarkness. “It’s all yours. I wouldn’t want to get between a man and his spanakopita.”
Louie licked his fingers clean. There was a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the company. “I’m glad you came over, Peter.”
“Me too.” His voice was serious. “But if you’re going to talk all the way through this movie, I’m afraid we’re done.”
Louie grinned. He mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key. But he couldn’t resist one more look at Peter’s profile before he turned his attention to the film. His heart did that crazy leap again, and he pushed it down this time. He wouldn’t ruin this budding friendship with a stupid crush.
Almost immediately, Louie became absorbed in the movie. The setting was a creepy old mansion filled with ghosts, and as the tension built with every little sound and flash of shadow, he squirmed in his seat, drawing his knees up to his chest and holding them tight.
When the ghost-boy suddenly flickered on the screen behind the female protagonist, Louie leapt across the couch and clutched Peter’s arm so tight, he yelped. “I thought you were into this stuff.”
Louie winced. “I am,” he lied. He reluctantly let go of Peter’s bicep. “Sorry.”
The glow from the television screen flickered across Peter’s strangely serious face. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Still, Louie went back to his side of the couch.
Ten minutes later he did it again. This time he didn’t immediately let go, and Peter didn’t freak out at all. Louie gripped Peter’s arm, buried his face against his shoulder, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Tell me when it’s over.”
“Dude! You’re such a wuss. How did you ever watch The Hills Have Eyes?”
“I, ah, might have lied about that. It was Aaron’s movie.”
“Oh.”
“I never made it through all of it,” Louie mumbled. Peter laid a warm, reassuring hand on his bare knee, and he was reluctant to pull away. So he left his head on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter, great guy that he was, didn’t even complain.
“Is Aaron your boyfriend?” he asked quietly.
“Was.”
“I take it things didn’t go well.”
“You could say that.” Louie swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat. How many nights had they spent like this, cuddling in front of the television? At the time, he’d felt suffocated by it, but right now he missed it with a ferocity that surprised him.
“If you want to… talk about it, you can.” Peter’s hand still hadn’t moved from his bare knee. Unless you counted the way his thumb rubbed little circles on his skin. Louie’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to make of that. In the end, he stopped worrying and let himself enjoy it. If he closed his eyes he could pretend they were a couple, spending a boring night at home. Some wine, a movie, and then they’d go upstairs and have sex.
His attention wandered from the movie to the dark hair dusting the back of Peter’s hand. Peter had nice hands, he decided. Very masculine. The hair grew thicker on his forearms and Louie had the sudden desire to stroke it.
“I met Aaron at a fundraiser for the environment,” he heard himself say. “Save the whales, or something like that. Our company was auctioning off a travel voucher. Aaron’s dad was a member of Parliament, and he was being groomed to follow in his shoes in local politics. There were a lot of expectations for him; I didn’t really understand how many, in the beginning. Anyway, being with me was not one of them. It’s partly my own fault—I should have known better than to get involved with someone who’s bisexual.”
Peter burst into a fit of coughing.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Just something in my throat. Why, um, why do you say that?”
“Everyone knows they’ll always choose the woman. It’s easier that way.” Louie shook his head. “At the time, I thought he was just afraid to come out, and because I’d been there too, I could help him through it.”
The words began to pour out—all the hurt and pain he’d kept inside because he’d had no one to tell it to, no one to confide in. Once he started he couldn’t seem to stop.
“After a while the secrecy got to me. We couldn’t go anywhere together where he might be recognized. I couldn’t even talk about him to my friends. Do you know what that’s like? Not being able to talk to anyone about the person you love? I finally woke up to the fact he didn’t mind the way things were—he wasn’t all that interested in coming out.”
“Maybe he just needed more time,” Peter said hoarsely. “To make sure it was real before he totally changed his life around.”
Louie snorted. “There’s always an excuse, Peter. We were togeth
er two-and-a-half years. It’s not like it wasn’t a serious relationship. At least to me. But he refused to even talk about a plan. When I asked him point-blank….”
“What?”
“Let’s just say he didn’t choose me, okay?”
“It might not have been as easy for him as it was for you.”
Louie straightened. “Easy? Do you have any idea what it was like for me? It took a year before my parents would even speak to me. My dad still can’t look me in the eye—or so I assume, because I haven’t actually seen him in three years—he always has some last-minute excuse for why he can’t visit me. My mom pretends like nothing has changed. And she never even asks about my personal life. Demetra is the only one who never treated me differently. I didn’t go through my own hell to end up in someone else’s closet, Peter.”
Peter’s eyes were soft in the shadows. “But you still love him.”
“I don’t know anymore.” Louie sighed. “I suppose I still have feelings for him, but I had to do something. I could feel him dragging me back in there with him. Hiding. Lying. Keeping secrets. And I can’t do that again. Not ever.” God, it felt so good to get everything off his chest.
“If he changed his mind, if he said he’d come out for you, would you take him back?”
Louie had waited around with that very hope. He’d still be waiting if he hadn’t finally made the break and moved back home. “He won’t change his mind,” he replied flatly. “And it doesn’t matter now. I’m here.” He forced some humor into his voice. “Nope. I’m done with curious, questioning closet cases. If you can’t hold my hand in public, don’t even bother.”
Peter was silent.
Louie leapt to his feet, embarrassed by his outburst. “I think I need another drink.” He took refuge in the kitchen, grateful that Peter didn’t come after him. He needed a chance to regroup, to get himself under control again. When he returned a few minutes later with two fresh beers, he held one out to Peter. “Sorry to unload on you like that. Bet you wish you hadn’t asked, huh?”
