Apologizing for being such an asshole would be a good thing to do right about now.
“Carole King is that singer your mom listens to, isn’t she?”
Shit.
Lee groaned and flopped back against the seat. “Fucking Heidi.”
Phil tried to think of something better to say, and while he was working on it, Lee said, “Tom Waits, Tom-fucking-Waits” under his breath.
“I wasn’t flirting with Theo.” He realized the chocolate cookie was probably still in the chair, and for a few hundredths of a second worried it would make a mess and the guy who worked there would know who left it there and—
Lee let his head roll so he was looking in Phil’s direction. The parking lot was dark, so Phil didn’t think Lee could see him any better than he could see Lee. It seemed like that should make things easier, but it didn’t. As soon as the thought formed, the fear of what could be happening started the pointy rocks in his stomach rolling around and banging into each other.
“That second song you did, have you ever tried it faster?”
“What do you mean?”
“Faster tempo?”
Lee shook his head.
“I’m not criticizing, it—”
Lee reached out and traced a vein on the back of Phil’s hand. The moment hung heavily between them, and then Lee pulled his hand back and straightened in his seat. He leaned toward Phil and smiled when Phil met him in the middle for a short kiss. Lee started the car, and Phil was left wondering why Lee’s lips had been trembling.
They barely said three words in the driveway, and by the time Phil reached his bedroom, he worried about what would happen next and what it meant that neither of them had suggested Lee spend the night. The evening had been scary and exhausting, but he wouldn’t have missed Lee’s songs for anything. As long as something good happened next—shit, I’ll settle for something not disastrous—he could handle it. Still, he got ready for bed and brought his laptop and Nook with him. His body trembled and felt ready to collapse, but his mind didn’t seem to be anywhere near shutting down for the night.
His phone vibrated about forty-five minutes after the most unsatisfying good-night kiss he’d ever given to the only guy in the world. He was afraid to touch it. It took a few minutes to work up the courage to read Lee’s text.
The song’s better faster. Thanks.
Phil was still trying to figure out how to answer when he got an e-mail from Lee asking if they could forget the whole night ever happened. He considered a few answers, like okay and yes, but kept coming back to why? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, and a one-word answer wouldn’t cut it anyway. A few minutes later his phone rang, sparing him from more thinking that would probably just lead to the same nonplace he’d already visited. He didn’t say hello, and neither did Lee.
“I’m sorry, Phil.”
“I’m the asshole. I’m sorry.”
Lee made a nervous sound that might’ve been trying to pass for laughter.
“I stayed at your mom’s house for almost a month, a-and I didn’t know you could play music like th-that.”
Lee’s breathing sounded harsh over the clear line, and Phil wanted to take back what he’d said, but he couldn’t force the words out.
“That’s not who I want to be.” Lee’s voice was thick and hoarse, but not from singing. Over the next few minutes, Phil listened as he worked to regain his composure. The next time he spoke he sounded like himself. “You’re not an asshole. And if you say you weren’t flirting, I believe you.”
“What do you mean, that’s not who you want to be?”
Lee took a long slow breath, and Phil thought he heard him drop shoes and jeans on the floor and then get into bed.
“I don’t want to be the guy who runs around pretending he has something important to say. I just want to be close to the people I love, and fix things.”
“Okay.” Phil was glad the smile came through in his voice.
“You don’t think that’s weird? Like a waste?”
“No.”
“Cool.” Lee’s relief came through loud and clear on that one whispered word. “Good night, Phil.”
“Night, Lee.” Phil let his head fall back and closed his eyes, relief washed all the pointy rocks from his stomach and the next thing he knew morning light streamed in through the cracks in the blinds and woke him.
Lee
LEE FORCED himself to sit on the porch while he guided Phil, turn by turn, through the short trip from Southwest to North Portland. They talked on the phone the whole time, even though Phil had GPS, so he could’ve plugged in the address and found the place on his own. Phil closed the distance between them in his green truck—that isn’t really a truck unless you grew up in Willston, yes, I know that and thank you very much—and they talked about new cameras and music and Tina and Becca and Jerry. Phil never once asked where Lee was leading him. It reminded Lee of when he and Becca were kids and she still thought he could stop the rain. He could’ve said the sky was made of sand and she wouldn’t have said boo about it.
“Hey, you made it.” Lee stood and hopped down the last of the porch steps, brushing off the seat of his jeans as he walked toward the driveway.
“Where—oh, I see you now.”
“Pull into the driveway.”
Phil stopped the truck and Lee leaned in the window. “Come on, I have something to show you.”
He sat there and smiled for a moment, and then after a quick kiss, got out of the truck. “Where are we?”
Lee waited impatiently for Phil to get his camera case and then took his hand and headed for the house. After a few steps, Phil stopped.
“Where are we? Whose house is this?”
“It’s mine.” Lee grinned and started them walking again, but his confidence eroded with every step.
Phil looked confused and even a little wary. “What? Since when?”
Lee stopped to open the screen door, and Phil tried to take his hand away. At first Lee just hung on tighter, but when Phil shuddered, he let go.
“I moved in yesterday. Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”
Phil listened politely as Lee led him through the living room to stand in the bedroom doorway, and then back through the living room to the kitchen and onto the back porch.
“What do you call this neighborhood?”
“Um, I think they call it Overlooked, but I’m not sure.”
Phil rolled his eyes and then looked a little embarrassed. He left his camera on the kitchen counter and sat on the back steps. A plan formed in Lee’s mind to make the steps wider and, after he sat beside Phil, more comfortable.
“I would’ve helped you move.” Phil stared straight ahead at the fence separating the yard from the empty space under the highways.
Lee followed his gaze and noticed a section of the fence sagged. It would have to go on the repair list.
“I know.” Lee leaned back on his elbows and let his thigh rest against Phil’s. “What do you think of the house?”
Phil’s only answer was to intensify his stare across the yard.
“Hey.”
Phil slowly turned to face him, and Lee’s heart ached at the fear and pain in his eyes.
“Mark really wanted to help. No way was I going to say you’re just some guy I know. I’d never ask you to show up somewhere and then expect you not to touch me.”
“Sorry.”
Lee caught his cheek before he could turn away. He kissed Phil’s lips, warm as usual, but tense and unyielding. He left a trail of soft little kisses from one corner of Phil’s mouth to the other, and then gently teased his bottom lip until he relaxed and opened up to being kissed. It took longer than he thought it would, the opening up, but he couldn’t worry about that too much or he’d lose his nerve.
“It all happened so fast, there was no time to tell you.” Okay, get to it already. “And I wanted you to be here. Because I want to ask you to think about moving in with me.”
Everything stopped for a fraction of
a second—what was that shutter speed Phil talked about, a hundredth of a second?—even the breeze took a little time-out.
Shit, that’s the same look as when he wants his dick sucked.
“Did you notice there’s a bigger bed here?”
Phil’s mouth twitched, and then he chuckled. “Is that right?”
“Maybe you need another tour.”
Phil rested a hand on Lee’s thigh and looked up into his eyes. No more fear or pain, just a lot of want. Lee pulled him into a hug and buried his face in his soft papaya-scented hair.
“Just think about it?”
The nod that was his answer came along with Phil slipping his hot hand up under Lee’s T-shirt. Phil spoke with his lips against Lee’s throat when he said, “Yeah, I need another tour.”
They raced inside to christen the bedroom. It didn’t last long, but Lee didn’t hear any complaints—it had been almost a whole week so it didn’t really come as a surprise. Sex could never be bad with Phil even though Lee was well aware that bad sex did, indeed, exist.
He wasn’t disappointed, not really, but he couldn’t help thinking about what would make Phil start to top him and then stop short every time. He kept wondering as they cleaned up and pulled their jeans back on in the silent house. It was probably a little crazy, but he felt sure they were both thinking about the same thing.
“It’s okay. I understand.” Lee told himself he wasn’t making eye contact with Phil so as not to intimidate him, but he felt dirty about it all the same. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Really, if we never do that, it’ll be okay.”
After a few tense moments, Phil made his frustrated sound. Lee was pretty sure he wanted the eye contact.
Damn.
“What you’re thinking, it’s wrong. Nobody raped me. I—”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. Would you look at me? Please?”
He had a bad feeling, but he did it anyway. Always a no-brainer to do what Phil asked. Denying him would only cost more, if he could even go through with it, which was doubtful.
“Thanks. I bet your imagination is worse than what really happened. So I h-have to tell you, because I can’t just let you down without any explanation.”
Lee shook his head. “You didn’t. You couldn’t.”
Phil pointed to the head of the bed. When Lee didn’t move, he cocked his head to the side and gestured again. He probably wanted to sit against the wall, but Lee made a pile of pillows large enough for them both and stretched out with his head and shoulders propped up on them. He didn’t want to hear it, wasn’t sure he could take listening to how someone had hurt Phil. Because that’s what happened, no doubt. He was no headshrinker, but the signs were too obvious to ignore.
But if Phil wanted to talk, he would listen, because that’s what you do when you love someone.
He sat cross-legged at Lee’s side, facing him, but after a moment, he sighed and stretched out alongside him. Their elbows and ankles touched, just like at Mom’s.
“When I was eight, my mom took me and ran away from my dad. He found us and put her in the hospital. There was nobody to take me, so I stayed with an emergency foster family. She never came to get me back.”
Phil sounded like he could handle this okay. Lee didn’t have as much faith in himself. He wanted to wrap Phil in his arms, but he knew enough not to try. Still, he needed a touch, so he let his hand slide from his stomach until it rested against Phil’s, back-to-back.
“I found out later she must’ve signed away her parental rights, because until I was fourteen, I lived in foster homes. When I was twelve, a guy came to live with us. He liked to climb in the window after curfew and bully the rest of us. After a while, I couldn’t sleep at night, so I started staying home from school a day or two every week to sleep. It was not the perfect crime, and they busted me for truancy and sent me to a group home.”
Lee’s breath caught in his chest when Phil linked a couple of fingers through his. He wanted to tell him—beg him—to stop talking, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“The group home was like a prison. We did what we were told during the day and at night were all in lockdown together. A few of the older guys, they… they got the idea to c-cure me.”
“Wait. What?”
Phil didn’t answer, so Lee turned to him; he was frowning at the ceiling.
“Fuck. You’re kidding.”
“No. They found some p-porn in my things, but it wasn’t a big surprise.”
Phil took a long shaky breath and then rested his head against Lee’s shoulder.
“They said the pain would make my body realize I really liked girls. Or something like that. I don’t remember exactly. They made me look at the porn until…. Then they burned me with their cigarettes, or just used their fists. When I was sixteen, I left. Thought I was such a t-tough-guy and could handle the streets—only I didn’t last a w-week.”
Phil shuddered and pulled his hand away from Lee’s, and then he rolled to face him and wrapped his left arm around his chest.
“Two guys tried to rob me, but I didn’t have anything worth taking, so they got pissed and kicked the shit out of me. One sicced his d-dog on me. I think it was going for my throat, but I got my a-arm up.”
Phil took a long deep breath in and then let it out as slowly.
“It ch-chewed on me for a while, and then I don’t know what happened. Maybe they got bored. I don’t know. They left me in W-Waterfront Park, and I woke up a few d-days later in the hospital.”
Lee waited, but Phil didn’t say anything for a long time. He wasn’t sure if what he’d imagined was worse or not, but he was sure of one thing. “I love you.”
Phil chuckled. Just a second or two and very softly, but he actually laughed.
Phil Brask is the only guy in the world who can laugh and you know it’s from joy and not because he thinks you’re ridiculous.
Lee turned to look, and Phil looked like himself. Lee wasn’t sure what he expected, but even with his matter-of-fact and obviously well-rehearsed delivery, it wasn’t for him to be okay.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay.” Phil brushed his fingertips across Lee’s cheek. “I’m okay. And you want to know why?”
After a long moment, Lee nodded. He didn’t want to know anything else, though, he wanted to bury his face in Phil’s hair and hold him so maybe he could stop shaking.
“You. You make everything easier to handle. I—I’m happy, Lee. I’m happy. And I love you too.”
Phil scooted up, wrapped his arms around Lee, and pulled his head against his chest just like he had after the nightmare. Lee couldn’t speak, but that meant his mind was free to wrap itself around everything Phil had just told him. The longer it had to do that, the worse he felt. Lee wanted to tell him nobody would ever hurt him again—that he’d kill anyone who even looked at him cross-eyed—but all he could do was hold on and ride it out.
HE COULDN’T quite believe it, but he—Levi Ezra Redding, Jr.—was waking up beside his smokin’ hot and perfectly awesome boyfriend in a house he was about to buy.
Now if I can only make that happen a few thousand more times.
Phil lay curled in a tight ball in front of him, very still and very awake. Their conversation sat up in Lee’s mind, and he tightened his arms around the warm body in front of him. He couldn’t believe it took so long to remember.
Now if I can only forget a little.
“You hungry?” Lee asked. “It must be way past dinnertime by now.”
“Yeah. You have anything planned?”
Phil sounded a little stiff and emotionless, but not as bad as he had while he talked about…. Lee decided to ignore it and let Phil deal in his own way—as long as that way included lots of holding and touching and kissing.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Lee raised up on his elbow and kissed Phil’s cheek, and then bounced off the bed to duck into the bathroom. He came out, slid his foot under the pile of fabric
that was his T-shirt and kicked it up to grab level. Phil fell onto his back and watched as he put it on. “You coming?”
The ghost of a smile touched Phil’s face, and the last of Lee’s tension drained away. When they were both dressed, Lee led Phil out the kitchen door to the patio. He hunkered down in front of a hibachi and lit the coals. Phil sat on the cinderblock steps between the kitchen and the patio, his long-sleeved shirt open to frame his amazing hairy chest. Lee hoped Phil would never want to do anything weird like waxing it because it was fucking perfect.
Lee sat on the step below, between Phil’s legs, and leaned back against him. They listened to the sounds of traffic on the highway and watched the coals slowly turn white at the tips. Phil combed his fingers through Lee’s hair and turned his head enough to kiss the side of his mouth, and then he pulled his cheek against his chest—skin on skin, just the way they’d been in bed.
Phil relaxed, his arms slung around Lee’s shoulders, hands resting against his chest. Lee was thinking he should’ve left his shirt off, and maybe he should make up for that mistake, when Phil nuzzled the side of his head and then whispered in his ear.
“I didn’t see your guitar. Is it here?”
Lee closed his eyes and tried not to let his shoulders slump under the weight of that question.
“I won’t try and talk you into playing if you don’t want to. Not tonight.” Phil kissed the top of his ear and leaned against him. “You love it, playing music. I could feel that from across the room.”
Phil caressed his chest with an open hand, using it to pull him closer at the same time. Lee moaned softly and thought about dumping the coals into the big barbecue so they could go back inside.
“And after you were so supportive of my photography, I’d have to be a dick to just let it go.” Phil chuckled. He rested his cheek against Lee’s ear and the vibrations of his laughter made him shiver. “And if I’m the only one who gets to hear it…. Well, I’m selfish enough to be okay with that.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Lee twisted at the waist and turned his face up to look into Phil’s ice-blue eyes. He looked a little scared, but not the same kind of scared Lee had seen back in late March—was that only four months ago? How could everything change so completely in so short a time? His life before Phil almost seemed like it had happened to a different person, as though pre-Phil he’d just been the outline of a boy, and Phil colored him in and made him into a man.
Nesting Habits Page 13
