Relationship Status (Ethan & Wyatt)

by K.A. Mitchell

  Bob looked away and muttered, “I was only kidding. Jesus. Get a sense of humor.”

  I had the feeling that the shock of me standing up to him might wear off soon so I threw out, “If the kitchen reeks, maybe one of you could try cleaning it for something new and different.”

  He was still staring at me when I backed into our room and slammed the door.

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt

  Ethan had lost his goddamned mind. Did he think he was a superhero? He came back inside and threw his towel at the wall behind the bed.

  He knelt on the bed so I crawled to his ear to whisper-yell, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? One week at the ACLU and you think you’re an anti-bigot ninja?”

  The fact that he rubbed the back of his neck before answering told me he knew how stupid he’d been. “They were out of line.”

  “We have to live with them.”

  “They’re not going to do anything.”

  Ethan had spent high school in a fucking bubble. I’d spent it in juvenile detention. There were so many things besides a punch in the face that people could do to make your living space a living hell.

  “This from the guy who tried to slip sideways past me in case I was some kind of jock asshole the first time he saw me.”

  Ethan flushed. “That was almost a year ago.” He shifted, leaned into me and put his lips to my ear. “I was pissed because we were having a good time.”

  That didn’t excuse shit, even if it gave me the good kind of goose bumps. Not that anything was going to happen until I was sure they were way the hell out of the kitchen.

  I scooted away from him and found my boxers, sliding them on.

  “Seriously?” Ethan said.

  “You seriously want to keep going with them listening right outside the door?”

  “No one’s making them. If they’ve got a problem with it—”

  “I have a problem with it. I don’t want to live like that.”

  He frowned, staring. “Like what?”

  My shoulders tensed. I could feel it. People watching. Judging. Looking for a weakness. And on top of it all, the weight of Ethan’s expectations that everything would be fine, just because he decided they would be.

  I shook my head and pulled on my T-shirt.

  Ethan mouthed the words as he repeated them. Like what? Then, with a hesitant smile, signed them in his halting ASL adding, Sorry. Please.

  Damn his puppy eyes.

  I sighed. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

  * * *

  I had a hard time sleeping past five a.m., even though I didn’t have anywhere to be. I sat up and wondered if I’d bother Ethan if I got out my computer. When I shifted, I saw the scrap of paper just under the edge of the door. I slid off the mattress and grabbed it.

  A Taco Bell receipt? I turned it over.

  Bob can be kind of a dick sometimes. He really did think he was being funny. He’s not that much of an asshole. When you get to know him.

  Bill

  I didn’t want to get to know either of them. But there was a bigger problem. If Ethan saw this, he’d really think he was bulletproof. I shoved it in a pocket of the jeans on top of my crate-shelf.

  I thought I did a pretty good job of maneuvering around so that I didn’t bother Ethan as I plugged in my laptop and used my uncle’s password to get the latest episode of Face Off. He and Christine had gotten me hooked on it last Christmas. The episode had just stopped buffering when Ethan’s eyes opened.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Sorry if I woke you.”

  He gave me a twisted smile. “You didn’t. Well, not exactly.” He pushed the sheet down to show his dick springing up from his pubes. Then he rolled his eyes. “But I’ve gotta waste it on a piss.”

  He grabbed his bathrobe and pushed the door to the kitchen open. He took two steps and stopped. “C’mere,” he whispered.

  Shit. So much for Bill’s note.

  I shut my laptop and followed him. He hadn’t turned on the lights, but I could still see enough. The sink was empty. The trash was empty. The counters were empty.

  Shit on toast.

  Ethan was going to be even more... Ethan after this.

  The next Thursday, Travers International cut us loose at two because of some GAO audit. Everyone in a suit was panicking. Watching them freak was definitely less fun than working on a project, and I was only too happy to hit the street.

  Ethan’s internship hours were till four today, leaving him about half an hour to catch the bus to his paying job of cold-calling people and getting them to take surveys. Given how persuasive he could be, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made him supervisor before August. A check of my phone showed that the 71 bus would put me in the middle of Oakland in under half an hour. I had to admit I was curious to see the people who went with all the names Ethan had babbled about when we’d done laundry Sunday night, in between complaining about what a pain it was to have to walk five blocks to the laundromat.

  I reached to pull up my hoodie as I started out of the lobby, then remembered I wasn’t wearing one. I couldn’t wear it to the internship and I’d gotten used to that. But going where there’d be strangers was different.

  I glanced up toward Seventh Avenue. It wasn’t too hot today, low eighties, and I could take the good old Friendship outbound bus back to our apartment and grab my hoodie, the extra shield against people digging at me with questions about my hair and eyes.

  Fighting the reflexive hunch of my shoulders, I turned toward Fifth Avenue instead, and the bus that would take me to Ethan. My neck and back prickled the whole way.

  Atwood Street was between Carnegie Mellon and Pitt so there were tons of places where we could grab a meal. I started to step around a bucket of bouquets in front of a small convenience store. A guy came out of the store carrying roses. He caught my look.

  Tilting the flowers at me, he said, “Ticket to guaranteed sex.”

  That wasn’t something I needed to worry about. Me being self-conscious about whether the roommates were listening was. That had been making sex awkward and weird for a week. I didn’t think flowers could fix that.

  It wasn’t hard to see which of the houses on the street had been converted to the ACLU office. It was the only one with a ramp in addition to stairs. Hanging back, I stopped and looked through the window.

  I didn’t see Ethan, but Allan was easy to pick out. He was almost as tall as Ethan, had a bright blue wad of hair springing over his forehead and was the only guy in the office. He sat on the edge of a desk, swinging a leg and talking to a girl with long, straight brown hair. I thought about Ethan’s descriptions and guessed she was Winter. A woman with a baby in a sling and a kid playing with a truck sat in front of a desk occupied by a woman with her hair in a tight bun. Gabriella. Framed by another window, a woman in a hijab yanked something out of a printer and frowned at it before turning back to her computer.

  “Hi. Can we help you?”

  I jerked my gaze back to the door. A woman with long, curly, light brown hair had opened the door and was smiling at me. Cassidy?

  Great. Busted while gawking through the window.

  Before I figured out what I wanted to say, she went on, “This is the American Civil Liberties Union, the ACLU, were you looking for us?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I straightened my shoulders. “Sorry. I was looking for a guy who’s interning here. Ethan.”

  She smiled and waved me forward. “You must be Wyatt. Come on in.”

  I trudged up the stairs. Of course, if I knew who they all were, they’d heard about me. I wondered exactly how much. Actually, since this was Ethan we were talking about, I was afraid of how much.

  “I’m Cassidy,” she said as she led the way through the door.
r />   The guy bounced off the desk and came right over. “And I’m Allan. Welcome to the Pittsburgh ACLU. How can we help you?” He held out his hand.

  I went to shake it and he gave me a weird tug along with the pressure. Was that some kind of gay code I should know? I felt his eyes on me, taking a long, slow assessment.

  Cassidy smacked his shoulder. “This is Ethan’s boyfriend.”

  Allan’s eyebrows shot up. “The famous Wyatt. Nice to meet you.” He grabbed my hand again, giving it a different sort of squeeze, one where he let his fingers graze my palm.

  Jesus Christ, Ethan. What did you tell him? And where the fuck are you?

  “Ethan’s out of the office right now,” Cassidy said.

  Allan waved a hand. “You make it sound like he’s in court. We were tired of coffee so we sent him on a run for bubble tea. He should be back any minute.”

  The woman I figured was Gabriella walked the woman and her kids to the door, then disappeared behind one of the closed doors in the hall.

  After a few minutes she stuck her head back out and looked past me to Allan. “Ethan?”

  “Bubble tea run.”

  “Delores wants to see him.” She ducked back through the closed door.

  That sounded kind of ominous. I looked from face to face but none of them looked concerned. Cassidy was on the phone when Ethan came through the handicapped door with a tray of plastic cups in each hand.

  I had a second to read him before he saw me. Smile, high energy, Ethan in triumphant tail-wagging mode.

  His face changed immediately when he saw me. Delight at first, then panic. His lips parted and his brows went up.

  Allan ran forward and rescued the drink trays.

  “Wyatt. Oh my God.” Ethan was in front of me in two giant strides. “Is everything okay?”

  I don’t know why I’d thought any of this was a good idea. I should have texted him from the apartment and met him later. “Yeah. It’s fine. They let us out early. Um—your boss wanted to see you.”

  A hint of his smile was back. “Cool. Uh—my tea is the lychee fruit and strawberry one. Off-white with pink bubbles, if you want some.” He started for the door where Gabriella had gone, then took a step back and squeezed my hand. “Don’t disappear, okay?”

  I made a quiet snort of laughter. Sometimes Ethan got me a little too well. Not enough to know that I’d probably have tasted battery acid before trying one of those rainbow drinks with blobs of Jell-O in them, but enough to know that I was calculating how fast I could get to the door.

  Allan handed out the drinks, but I felt his attention on me. He shoved one at my chest, making me put a hand around in self-defense. “Do you disappear often, Wyatt?”

  Thanks a lot, Ethan. “No.”

  “Hm.” Allan took a sip of his green, chalky-looking drink. He looked at the three remaining cups, then at the other closed door. “Whose turn is it to face the dragon?”

  “Wait for Ethan. She likes Ethan,” Winter suggested.

  “So where is your internship, Wyatt?” Allan turned back to him. “Ethan says it’s some mysterious corporation that made you sign an oath of secrecy in your own blood.”

  Unfortunately, that sounded exactly like something Ethan would say. But thanks to Ethan’s descriptions, I had Allan figured out. Denying it would only make him try a different dig.

  “I’m afraid I cannot disclose whose blood it was.”

  Allan gasped and snorted, alternating between choking and laughing for a minute. “So you’re not just a pretty face, huh?”

  Ethan had been right. This guy was a total douchecanoe.

  “I’m kidding. You can ease off the death stare.” Allan poked at my foot with his. “Though it is supereffective with your blue laser eyes. Contacts?” He leaned in. “Wait.”

  Here we go. How long did it take Ethan to get yelled at?

  “Heterochromia? And your hair is naturally white like that?”

  Lucky for Allan, he pulled back before he touched the streak of white hair that was another gift of my freaky genetics. I was pretty sure I’d have punched him.

  Cassidy came around from behind her desk for a closer look.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Winter said, “back off him, Allan. We aren’t all your little human puzzles to pick at for your superior amusement.”

  There was a long silence.

  “The killing frost of Winter’s breath.” Allan placed a hand over his heart like he was reciting a pledge. “Too bad you can’t use it to keep these cold. I’m going to put them in the fridge.”

  He picked up the tray and stalked down the hall.

  Cassidy looked from the hallway to Winter, then scurried behind her desk.

  “Sorry,” Winter said to me.

  I shrugged.

  The office door opened and Ethan, Gabriella and a black woman who must have been Delores came out.

  Delores headed right for me with her hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wyatt. Ethan is really inspired by you.”

  Excuse me? I really missed my hoodie.

  “We’re happy to have him,” Delores went on, smiling at me like I was Ethan’s mom and this was parent-teacher night.

  Now I wish I had disappeared.

  It wasn’t about Ethan’s ACLU office knowing we were boyfriends, and I wasn’t ashamed of Ethan. But even though everyone was talking to me, I felt cut off, like I was watching myself in a dream.

  I glanced around at them, all these people Ethan had described perfectly. Ethan’s office. Ethan’s life. And me. The independent variable in the equation. Plug in one boyfriend, introduce to coworkers.

  I shook Delores’s hand and said it was nice to meet her.

  “Ethan said you got out of work early. I think we can let him skip out with you.”

  “That might not be possible,” Ethan said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen Wyatt skip.”

  “Feel free to demonstrate for me.” Deciding I was an independent variable was freeing. Since I didn’t matter, I could say something crazy. It came out mean.

  Ethan’s mouth opened and shut without saying anything. “Um, thanks, Delores. See you guys Monday.”

  He grabbed his messenger bag and walked out ahead of me. When we got to the sidewalk, I handed him his drink.

  “What’s up with you?” He gave me a narrow-eyed look.

  “I just thought you might like to get dinner together since we don’t usually get the chance.”

  “Right,” he said in a tone that suggested it was anything but. He jerked his chin back up Atwood. “Burger? Sub? Pizza?”

  “Hey.” Allan trotted to a stop next to us and pushed his hair off his face. “Wyatt, I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

  “It’s fine.” I shrugged. Ethan was the one who had to work with the guy.

  “Guess I’m a little jealous of how cute you are.”

  I wasn’t touching him but I could practically hear Ethan’s spine snap him upright to all of his seventy-six inches.

  “What happened?” Ethan bit out.

  “Nothing,” I told him.

  But Allan wanted to fall on his sword or whatever. “I was trying to be funny and ended up being obnoxious. I’m sorry, Wyatt.”

  “No big deal.” He did sound sincere, and I was impressed that he would own up to it.

  “What did he say?” Ethan asked me, like Allan wasn’t there.

  “To be honest, Ethan, I was trying to flirt with your boyfriend. Like I said, you guys are cute together. But being bitter and single doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole.” Allan held up both his hands in the I’m-not-a-threat way.

  I was pretty sure Ethan was a breath away from throwing his lychee-fruit-strawberry bubble tea in Allan’s face. I wondered where the pink globu
les would land.

  Maybe I could be a dependent variable in the equation instead, and keep Ethan out of trouble. “We’re headed out to grab supper.” I left it there. Either of them could turn it into an invitation or an excuse to get going.

  “And I should get back to work before Delores decides she likes not having so many interns. But maybe I could buy you a drink later? You can tell me the sickeningly adorable story of how you met.”

  “We’re underage,” Ethan said stiffly.

  “It’s college night at X-Cuse. It’s a club on the Strip.”

  Ethan brushed him off. “We’ve got plans.”

  Hiding in our room while Bill and Bob made a mess in the kitchen? “What plans?” I asked.

  “It’s date night,” Ethan added, like we’d actually discussed it.

  It was Allan’s turn to shrug. “Well, if you change your mind, don’t show up before ten—unless you’re into horny old guys who think sneaking you a drink will make you let them suck you off. Later.” He went back up the ramp.

  “Date night?” I said. “Did we wake up in a sitcom and no one told me?”

  Ethan stomped off and threw his tea in the first trash can we came to. I knew he hated his plans being messed up, but that was a little extreme. I caught up to him as he wiped his hands off on his jeans.

  He didn’t wait for me to say anything.

  “Sorry if I thought that one of the few nights we can spend together you might want to just spend with me.”

  “I do.” That shouldn’t be a question. He couldn’t be jealous of Allan. He wasn’t anyone I’d be interested in. “But do you really want to just hang out in that room?”

  He gave me a half smile. “It’s a pretty nice room since someone went out and found us an air conditioner.” He sighed. “But I guess it will still be there later.”

  Chapter Five

  Ethan

  At eleven o’clock, the so-called Strip was creepy as hell. Not that it was probably better in the daytime. All I could see around here were warehouses and train tracks. My nose filled with a reek of hot tar and wet decay from the river. It looked like a great place to get gaybashed. I headed away from the bus stop with long, fast strides along the echoing empty street.