Don't You Want Me

by Liam Livings

  Barbara opened her office door, saying, “Do I need to worry about you?” That was her way of showing she cared about him while not really knowing how to do so.

  “Nope.” Tony slung his bag over his shoulder.

  “Are you still doing your performances?”

  Why is she asking? Frowning, he said, “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Good to have outside interests from work. Crochet.”

  “I tried knitting and it bored me to tears.”

  “Not you. Me. It’s what I like to do. Bet that surprised you, didn’t it?”

  It had, but more surprising was the fact they were having this conversation at all. Barbara had been his manager for five years, and not once had she asked how he was nor taken more than a cursory interest in his personal life.

  “See you tomorrow,” Tony said, standing by the door, keen to leave and end this pointless conversation.

  “I am. Worried about you,” she said.

  “Don’t be.” He raked his hand through his hair and caught his reflection in a window. Black circles underneath his eyes, three days of stubble—he wasn’t a man who suited stubble—the same shirt he’d worn yesterday because he hadn’t had time to wash and iron another last night when he’d arrived home and fallen asleep on the sofa until his mum had woken him, complaining that he’d not told her about the shirt situation or she’d have done one for him. He’d replied that he didn’t need or expect her to look after him like that, since she didn’t used to do so, and she’d told him he needed looking after, judging by his appearance at the moment.

  None of this, he realised, really mattered. Because although his exterior looked pretty rough, his insides felt worse.

  Empty.

  Sore.

  Aching.

  Empty from the gap Nick had left. Sore from what Nick had said to him that night in the pub when he was dragged up. And finally, aching from how he longed to go back to the way things had been before he’d spoilt it by opening up to Nick. By exposing himself.

  Never again.

  He’d decided from now on, the only relationships he’d have would be with work and his family.

  Neither of them would ever reject him for who he was.

  “Mixing business and pleasure,” Barbara said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Never a good move. Sharing that hotel room.” She shook her head and tutted loudly. “Far be it from me to say you shouldn’t have done it. Well, I am monitoring the situation.”

  “Good to know I’m a situation worth monitoring,” Tony said, finally leaving the office, not even bothered enough to contradict her.

  His mum had texted, asking if he wanted dinner, and he quickly replied: don’t bother, too tired, T x

  He added the T and the kiss at the end to cover up how little he really cared about himself. Otherwise, she’d break out full smothering concern mode, which he couldn’t cope with.

  He was just about to put his phone back in his pocket when it rang.

  “Mum, I’m fine, honestly. I’ve eaten at work,” he lied, biting his tongue as he walked down the spiral staircase to the rear of the building.

  Walking across the car park as his mum tried to get him to tell her which things he’d eat, which things would make him smile again, Tony saw Nick standing at the far side, next to where Tony had parked his car.

  “Cheese on toast? I can rustle up a toastie, if you want. Jacket potato? I’ll get some free-range organic prawns if you like. Do that salad you like with them.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’m not taking nothing for an answer. If you don’t tell me what you want now, I’ll sit with you tonight until you’ve eaten something. Feed it to you if I need to. I’ve seen how much weight you’ve lost. See if I don’t, but I will. I read something about a very cleansing lentil soup with tofu pieces floating in it. I think you need some healthy, clean eating. Sort out your chakras. Clean out your third eye. Maybe you need to do a detox for a while, or go vegan maybe…”

  “Nick’s here. Gotta go.”

  “Oh. Good luck. Love and light to you.”

  He ended the call and stopped next to his car.

  “I know you don’t want to talk to me,” Nick said. “I know you’ve been ignoring my messages. I know I fucked up. I know—”

  Tony, exhausted, put his bag on the roof of his car and opened the door. “You know a lot about me, then, don’t you?”

  Nick stepped between him and the door. “I’m sorry.”

  Tony’s ears perked up. That was the first time he’d heard that from Nick, and he didn’t know what to think. Pushing Nick out of the way, he sat in the car. “Right.”

  “Better late than never?” Nick offered.

  ***

  Nick stayed where he was.

  “I missed you,” he said, leaning on the open car door, hoping it would stop Tony from driving off.

  “Right.”

  “Really missed you. Not seeing you every day made me realise how much I needed what we had.”

  “And what exactly did we have?” Tony narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “That’s the other reason for me coming here now.”

  Tony nodded, indicating for Nick to continue.

  Nick had been thinking about this for some time—the whole journey down to Salisbury and way before. “I ran away. I admit that now. London was an excuse to run away. From you. From us.” He swallowed.

  “From me in drag.”

  “I really didn’t want commitment, anything serious, anything that would hurt if I walked away.”

  “So you walked away?”

  “Yep. And despite all that, it hurt. I miss you. Absence makes the heart, and all that.” Nick chuckled to himself nervously. But Tony wasn’t smiling, so he went on seriously, “When you showed me the real you, exposed yourself like that, I knew I needed to do the same.”

  “So it wasn’t about me being in drag?” Tony turned to make eye contact with Nick for the first time since sitting in the car.

  “Nope. Not really. That was a shock, and I didn’t respond well. But really, it could have been you telling me about your ex. Or your family. Or what you wanted from a relationship.”

  “You don’t have a problem with it?”

  “I don’t. Not now. I used to—the ex made me hate it. Knocked it out of me. Made me feel embarrassed about liking it, so I stopped. Liking it. I ended up hating it, like I said. I felt guilty about disliking it. Hated myself for being so closed-minded about it, for absorbing the ex’s prejudice because when we were together, I had no choice. But really, all along, I admire it, you doing it, actually. Having the guts to get up there on stage and perform like that. I’d never have the strength.”

  “There’s lots of ways of being strong,” Tony said. “Leaving your ex took strength.”

  Sighing, Nick said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Why didn’t you want to open up to me the same?”

  Nick bit his lip. “Because then I’d be taking another step into being hurt even more than I could have been before—if we stopped seeing each other. And I couldn’t put myself through that again. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. Mustn’t. After how badly I was broken before, I had to look after myself.”

  “So you did that by hurting me? Pushing me away?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’m not proud of it. I didn’t think it through. I did it. For me.”

  “I understand. Now,” Tony said.

  “Do you forgive me?”

  Tony nodded and got out of the car and stood opposite Nick, inches away, looking into his eyes.

  Nick wanted to reach out and pull Tony towards him but knew he had to wait. To make sure Tony was ready to forgive him, to love him, to be with him as much as Nick wanted those things with Tony.

  Tony moved closer, and as they kissed in silence, Nick felt how much Tony wanted him, as his erection strained in his trousers, pressing against Nick’s already tightened jeans.

&
nbsp; Pulling back from the kiss, Tony said, “I don’t only forgive you. I love you.”

  Nick’s heart did a little fluttery thing in his chest, and his stomach filled with butterflies. Despite how much he’d fucked up and how long he’d left things, he couldn’t believe they were here, together, doing the thing.

  Nick didn’t think he’d have been saying this so soon after the ex, after having his heart broken into a thousand pieces and vowing never to get involved so he could be hurt again. But he realised, without getting involved, without exposing himself, without diving into this, he would never experience all the wonderful moments like this one that would inevitably follow with Tony.

  Nick stared into Tony’s eyes in silence.

  “That’s when you’re meant to say you love me too,” Tony said, pulling back slightly.

  Unable to allow the space between their bodies after the delicious friction and feeling of Tony’s body against his own, Nick said, “Not so fast. I do. Love you, I mean. You got away from me once, but not again.”

  Tony smiled. “Are we really doing this thing?”

  Nick nodded, pulling Tony towards him, pressing his erection into Tony’s hip.

  Looking up at the camera covering the car park, Tony said, “Maybe we should go somewhere else. I’m sure the security guards will be enjoying the show.”

  “Just wait a little longer, I want to feel you against my body. It’s been a long time,” Nick said, and it had. He’d not had sex with anyone since Tony and hadn’t even kissed another man. Because no one he’d seen had compared to Tony. Because he hadn’t wanted to even hold hands with or kiss anyone but Tony. “You’re pretty spesh, you know?”

  Tony shook his head. “I realised when you’d gone that whatever it was we were doing was the longest I’d been doing something with one man.” Shrugging, he went on, “So when you moved away, it made sense to me.”

  “Why? It was my fault. I pushed you away.”

  “Because of who I am. The drag, the scattiness, the clothes, the hair, the everything.” He gestured to himself. “You know I tone it down for work. But I’m still me, so…” He shrugged.

  “None of those things were anything to do with why I ran away. I said. It was all me.”

  “I thought…” Tony began quietly, “I always wanted a relationship. So I would rush into one. Tell myself he was perfect, put up with so much stuff. Convince myself the other guy’s behaviour was normal. And when it ended—as it always did—I’d be mortified. But with you, it was different.”

  “How?” Nick asked.

  “I didn’t meet you wanting to date you. You came into my life not as the perfect Prince Charming but as a colleague, a friend and—”

  “A fuck buddy?” Nick laughed.

  “A very good one at that.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself!”

  “Thank you. I always wondered, you know, but usually never got beyond a quick fumble to ask.”

  Nick stared at Tony, his lust having subsided but his love very much still there, wanting to stay up all night and talk to him about their life together, how they’d make it work, how they’d create an ‘us’ together.

  “So, because I wasn’t trying to go to Prince Charming straight away, there was no big pressure for everything to be perfect. We were friends. Friends rub along together. It was trying to be less romantic, so it ended up being—”

  “Sexy, friendly and romantic all together?”

  “Did you think the same?” Tony asked.

  “Why else would I be here now?” After another kiss, which became more breathless and enthusiastic than Nick had anticipated, he asked, “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Home. Bath. Dinner. Then I’m in Bournemouth performing.”

  “Great,” Nick said. “I’ll follow you back to your parents’ place.”

  “OK? But I was thinking about cancelling tonight. Exhausted. Knackered, actually.”

  “I know how important the performing is to you. If you miss out on it, you’ll regret it for the rest of the weekend.”

  “All I want now is bed and bath.” Looking at Nick, Tony said, “With you in both maybe?”

  “At your parents’ place?”

  “They don’t care. But you have a point. This is why I was thinking of cancelling. Too much hassle.”

  “Too much hassle for a dirty weekend in Bournemouth?”

  Tony’s eyes lit up at that. “Now I like the sound of that. Wobbling back pissed after the show is much more fun than driving home stone-cold sober.”

  “Drunk and horny is so much more fun,” Nick said with a wink and a lascivious lick of his lips.

  ***

  A few hours later, Tony was doing another encore to his act at The Bricklayer’s Arms in Bournemouth. He’d got the gig when someone else had dropped out, and now he was there, he was glad he hadn’t let the manager down.

  When Tony had arrived, the manager had hugged him and showed him to the dressing room, asking who the man was he’d come with.

  Tony had said, without pausing, “My boyfriend. Nick.”

  And Nick had shaken the manager’s hand and said, “I’m helping him change.”

  Raising an eyebrow, the manager had said, “OK. Do what you want in the dressing room. Just lock the door, clear up afterwards, and you’re on at ten. You’re the main event tonight.”

  “How come?”

  “Someone cancelled. And a little bird told me they’d seen you in Salisbury and you were more popular than you’d told me. Someone said you could make a go of this full time if you wanted to.”

  “I’m a social worker. I don’t think so,” Tony had replied but was still eager to hear more.

  “You’re on for half an hour.”

  “I’ve only planned for three songs.”

  “So plan some more. Give me the song list, and I’ll make sure the music man does his thing. Think of it as a challenge.” The manager had left Tony and Nick in the dressing room in silence.

  “I can’t do it. I’m going home.”

  Holding him by the shoulders, Nick said, “You can. And you will. Where’s the brave warrior person I love? Bring him out. Or is it a she?”

  Tony shrugged. “Depends, really. At the moment, I think I’m looking for a brave warrior woman.”

  “Yasss!”

  They spent the next hour working out how to fill Tony’s time on stage. Nick helped with the list of songs, having convinced Tony he had more than enough material and the lack of costume changes were nothing to worry about.

  Now, Tony was about to return for a second encore—to perform a filthy version of the song ‘Doctor’s Orders’, inspired by the Sex and the City episode when Charlotte goes to Staten Island and gets drunk on cocktails—when the manager made a cutting motion across his neck, indicating he was already well over time.

  “I’m loving you and leaving you,” Tony shouted to the crowd. As he walked off stage to applause and screaming, he was met by Nick, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

  “I’m loving you and not leaving you,” Nick said, pulling back from their kiss.

  “Me neither,” Tony replied, catching his breath, staring at Nick and wanting to have him naked as soon as possible.

  *

  In the hotel room, Tony was stroking Nick’s chest hair and feeling the ache inside where Nick hadn’t long been.

  Nick rolled closer and grabbed him, pressing himself into his back and kissing his neck.

  Feeling the stiffness prodding his behind, Tony said, “Again? Already? If you want, but I wondered if you wanted to go clubbing somewhere?”

  “A dirty weekend…” Nick nibbled Tony’s ear, pressing himself closer. “Is a dirty weekend…”

  “And we did it so well in that hotel at the conference.” Tony rolled over so he could face Nick as their legs entangled.

  Nick kissed him, their hot breaths mingling, the musky, salty scent of their bodies mixing together, and Tony closed his eyes as he felt the weight of Nick
on top of him, pushing down, making Tony sure of how much Nick wanted him, enjoyed him, loved him. Tony wrapped his legs around Nick’s waist and lay back, wondering if the pleasure would ever end.

  They didn’t leave the hotel room that evening, instead rolling about on the bed, making love and ordering room service, drinking wine and feeding each other chocolate until, exhausted, they’d fallen asleep, spooning each other, Nick’s hairy chest pressed against Tony’s smooth back, and Tony realised he’d never felt happier in his whole life.

  *

  The next morning, Tony pretended to be asleep when Nick sat up in bed and laughed, surveying the mess from the previous night—clothes strewn all over the place, pillows thrown to the walls where they’d moved them in the middle of changing sex positions, used condom wrappers and sachets of lube on the floor. “Breakfast?” he said.

  Tony stretched and yawned. “In bed? Or in the restaurant?”

  “I’m feeling brave enough to leave here now.”

  “Brave?”

  “That I’ve had enough of you for the time being, so we can go out in public and I won’t want to rip your clothes off.”

  “I see. Glad you added the second bit. I was worried there for a minute.” Tony reached to the bedside cabinet to check the time on his phone.

  “I’ll never have had enough of you. But for now, I have.”

  Tony cuddled up close and stroked Nick’s chest, rubbing the nipple which was starting to become erect until Nick grabbed his hand and said, “My head wants to, but my body is…” He lifted the duvet to show he remained flaccid and covered in marks from where Tony had been gently biting and grabbing at him the night before.

  Tony checked his own body and was surprised to note he too wasn’t responding as enthusiastically as he’d expected. “Is it possible to have too much sex?”

  “Ask me that on Sunday evening,” Nick said, jumping out of the bed and heading for the en suite.

  The sight of Nick’s pert behind and lithe shoulders sent signals south, and Tony soon followed him into the shower, where they soaped and rubbed and washed each other, exchanging watery, soapy kisses as their tired bodies recovered from the previous night’s sexual gymnastics.

  ***