“Well . . . yeah.”
Sasha cursed in Hindi again.
Brendon cut her off before she could get a rhythm going. “Can’t I just tell him now?”
“I don’t know. If you’d told him during the first date, I’m certain he would have forgiven you. You could have framed it like you’re a fan of his, which is true, and you didn’t want to freak him out. He might have thought you’re a little obsessive, but then, you are. Now, however, you are waist-deep in the thing you say he hates: lies.”
“So there’s no way for me to make this right?”
“I don’t have all the answers, dost. What I do know is that the moment he told you he hates liars was your opportunity to come clean without seeming like your intention was to be deceitful. Instead, you let him go on thinking he met a nice man who just happened to like all the same things he does. He’s going to feel like a fool when you tell him you’ve been feeding his own opinions back to him.”
“Fuck. You’re right.” Brendon wiped his clammy brow. “What should I do?”
“I have no idea. He’s your alleged soul mate. What do you think you should do?”
Brendon hesitated. “Could I just . . . not tell him?”
“Brendon.”
“What? Who would I be hurting?” Even as the words left his mouth, they made the nauseating guilt that had settled in his bones rise, along with a healthy dose of bile in the back of his throat. How could he even consider doing something so deceitful?
“You’d be hurting yourself! And the man you claim to care for!” Sasha made an aggravated sound that was almost a growl. “Imagine that Matt is the one for you, and you get serious, or even get married one day. Are you going to take this secret to the grave? Are you going to build a whole life with him on a foundation of lies?”
Brendon bit his lip. Sasha was right through and through, and no matter how he tried to wriggle around it, he knew what he needed to do. “All right. I’m going to tell him the truth. I’ll just have to hope that he’ll understand.”
There was a burst of what sounded like applause. “Yatta! I’m so proud of you.”
“‘Yatta’? Is that Hindi for congratulations or something?”
“No, that’s Japanese. I picked it up from watching Heroes. There are other languages in the world, you know.”
Brendon laughed, but it hurt his tight throat. “True. Thanks for helping me sort this out. I’ll let you get back to your day.”
“Hey, Brendon?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t wait too long to tell him, okay? It’s good that you made the right decision, but the longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
He hung up and spent a moment staring at his screen. Agreeing to do the right thing and actually doing it were very different things. Brendon had meant it when he told Matt he was quiet, and when it came to baring his soul, he was silent. He was going to have to fight his natural reticence and lay it all out in front of Matt. It was his only shot at keeping him, and it was a hook shot at best.
Right on cue, his phone chimed, announcing that Matt had texted him. Brendon snatched up his phone and tapped the notification. He almost wished Matt would tell him he had temporary amnesia, and they had to do their whole first date over again.
Hey, gorgeous. I had fun with you last night. As promised, here is my first practice quiz question/excuse to get to know you better. No worries if you’re too busy at work to answer. Get back to me when you can.
Brendon sighed. Could Matt be any more perfect? As if Brendon didn’t already feel like the worst human in existence. He scrolled down to the question.
Do you believe in soul mates?
Brendon’s eyes almost dropped out of his skull. Was this a coincidence, or was Matt reading his mind?
There were no answer options below the question. A free response, then. Brendon hated those when he was in class. Would he get points deducted for an incorrect answer? Was there an incorrect answer? He had no idea what Matt thought about soul mates. That wasn’t a topic Matt had covered in any of his articles. Even if he had, Brendon couldn’t just echo Matt’s opinion. That would be yet another lie. Something else he’d have to apologize for when he owned up to his mistake.
His only option was to tell the absolute truth, and if Matt didn’t like it, then maybe they weren’t meant to be after all.
From his heart to the screen, he typed his response.
I used to believe in them without really believing, if that makes sense. They were like horoscopes to me: fun to think about, but nothing to plan your life around. But I’ve been thinking about them a lot recently, and I’d say I’m well on my way to becoming a believer.
Brendon’s finger hesitated over the Send button. Was that too much? He wanted to be honest, but they’d only been on one date. Telling Matt what he’d done wasn’t the only way he could lose him. Brendon could also be way too intense too soon.
He debated with himself for a few more seconds before stabbing the Send button. Done. No going back. He stared at his phone until the screen went dark. The old adage about watched pots floated into his brain, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Within a minute, Matt responded.
Why Brendon, I had no idea you were such a romantic.
Was that a good thing? Brendon read those eleven words a dozen times in the span of thirty seconds, as if he could extricate deeper meaning from them by analyzing them individually. The tone seemed teasing, but it was impossible to tell for sure.
He sighed to himself. Dating is fucking hard.
Matt put an end to Brendon’s misery when he sent a follow-up question:
If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?
That was a good sign. Matt wouldn’t keep asking questions if he weren’t still interested.
Probably France. All the photos I’ve seen are so beautiful, and I feel like I would fit in there, since they’re so fashion-forward.
He put his phone down and made himself get some work done while he awaited a response.
You don’t like bread, babe. France would be a nightmare for you.
Babe. That one word sent a frisson through him. Between that and the heart emoji Matt had used, Brendon was floored.
What was it about Matt that got to him so much? He was charming, certainly, but Brendon had met his fair share of smooth talkers in his life, and none of them had made him feel like this.
Maybe it was because Matt seemed so genuine, so real. Brendon never doubted anything he said. His silver tongue was solid, not plated. Or, if not, he was both a talented writer and an amazing actor.
Brendon was about to respond to his quip when Matt sent another question.
What’s something you need in a romantic partner?
Hm. A number of possibilities popped into his head. Loyalty. Compatibility. Chemistry. But none of those seemed quite right.
He gave it some serious thought and then wrote back.
Reliability. I have to know I can count on them to be there for me. Sickness, health, all that. I’ve been doing everything on my own for a long time, and it’d be great to have someone to ease the burden, and to ease their burdens too. What about you?
That’s easy. Trust is a must for me.
Damn. Reading Matt’s answer, Brendon was reminded of what he needed to do. Sasha had said not to wait. Terrified or not, he needed to clear the air before someone got hurt.
Brendon typed, Are you busy tonight?
“Please say no,” he muttered to himself.
Free as a bird. What’s up?
There’s something I need to tell you. Coffee? We can meet at Jitters when I’m off work.
He hit Send without thinking it through. Belatedly, he realized how ominous that sounded, but it was too late now. Matt responded right away.
Should I be concerned?
Brendon didn’t want to answer that, but he couldn’t leave Matt in the
dark. He hated when guys told him they needed to talk and then didn’t elaborate. It cranked his anxiety up to max.
Brendon resolved to tell Matt one final lie.
Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk. I get off at nine. I hope that’s not too late?
He set his phone down on the counter and then plunked his head down next to it. He was a terrible, dishonest person, and he deserved misery of the acutest sort for putting such a great guy through all this torment.
His phone vibrated. He almost didn’t have the will to look at it.
That’s a little late for caffeine. Meet me for a drink instead? I know this cute tequila bar called Catrina’s. I’ll see you there at ten?
Of course that was where he wanted to meet. Catrina’s was the only bar Brendon went to with any sort of regularity. He knew the owner, Catrina herself. She was a sweet Mexican lady who made street tacos better than anything he’d ever eaten, and when she got a new kind of tequila in, she’d let him sample it for free.
So, this was how he was going to be punished. He’d lied, and now as recompense for his crimes, all of his favorite places around the city were going to be ruined. Tarnished by the memory of the guy he’d screwed over. He’d never be able to go anywhere again.
Brendon let out a tight, miserable sigh and texted Matt back. See you there.
Dread suffused him like an airborne contaminant. What was he even going to say to Matt? Sasha had suggested he frame the truth in a way Matt might find more palatable, but was that still lying in a way?
He didn’t know, and his head was starting to hurt from thinking about it. The rest of his shift dragged on for at least twenty-seven years. Areesh drank several strong espressos and recovered somewhat, but even he couldn’t distract Brendon from the ominous cloud hanging over him. When nine o’clock rolled around, he was no more prepared for his meeting with Matt than before, and his shoulders were knotted with tension.
The drive to Catrina’s was torturous. Even the sight of the tequila bar’s colorful lights and sugar skull frescoes couldn’t raise his spirits. The grinning metal skeleton next to the entrance seemed less like a welcome and more like a portent of doom.
Squeezing into a parking space, Brendon got out and hurried inside. He didn’t even stop to check his hair first. It didn’t matter what he looked like. Matt wouldn’t care once Brendon said what he had to say, and for once, he wanted his outside to match his grimy inside.
The one-room restaurant was nearly empty. It was too late for the dinner crowd but too early for the tequila to have beckoned the night owls from their roosts. He spotted Matt instantly. He was sitting at the bar, turned so he was halfway facing the entrance, and he already had a drink in front of him.
Matt saw him too and waved. There was no going back now. Brendon walked over, concentrating on not tripping over his own feet. Matt stood up when he was close enough and gave him a hug. His wide smile felt like sharp glass digging into Brendon’s skin.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Matt gave him a quick once-over. “You look great.”
“That’s such a sweet lie,” Brendon joked. On the word lie, his voice broke, and he flinched.
“Bad day at the office?”
“Something like that.” Brendon took a seat and gestured for Matt to do the same. It’d be better if they were sitting for this. “I’m glad you were free tonight. I—”
Catrina came out from the back room and bounded over. “Brendon! Long time no see. Would you like your usual?”
“Just the drink part of it, please. I’m not hungry.”
“You got it.”
She plunked a water glass in front of him—which was shaped like a grinning, neckless skull—and pulled a bottle of white wine out of a cooler below the bar. She freehand poured some into a wineglass, set it on the bar as well, and disappeared again.
Brendon turned the water glass around so the skull eyes weren’t watching him. Judging him. When Brendon glanced up, Matt was wearing a pensive expression. “What?”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Not recently, but yeah. Often enough to know Catrina. When this place first opened, I was here all the time.”
“You didn’t mention that when I invited you.”
Brendon shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.” And for once, I wasn’t interested in highlighting how much we have in common.
Matt chuckled. “It’s bizarre how many of the same places we go to. I guess we must have similar taste.” He reached for Brendon’s hand. “Or we were destined to meet.”
Oh God, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.
Brendon pulled his hand away under the pretense of taking a sip of wine.
Matt allowed him to, but it was clear from his face that he knew something was up. “You said you wanted to talk?”
The wine was like acid going down Brendon’s throat. He tried to conjure the words he needed from somewhere in him—his stomach or his soul—but nothing was forthcoming.
Matt looked at him askance. “I’m starting to think this meeting isn’t recreational.”
“It isn’t.” Brendon cleared his throat. “I lied to you when I said everything was fine. I didn’t want to make you worry for hours and hours until I got off work. I’m sorry.” One lie down, a million to go.
Matt swiveled in his seat to face him. His brown eyes were soft, and in jeans and a wooly plum sweater, he was about as threatening as a teddy bear. But Brendon knew better. “So everything isn’t fine.”
“No.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You lied to my face, figuratively speaking.”
“Yes.” Brendon braced himself for impact.
“Even though I told you not twenty-four hours ago that I can’t handle people lying to me.”
Brendon bit his lip. “Also yes. But I meant what I said. It wasn’t a malicious lie. I just didn’t want you to worry. I hate it when guys tell me ‘we need to talk’ or whatever, and then they refuse to elaborate.”
Matt searched his eyes. After a moment, he sighed. “I appreciate that. It sounds like you had good intentions.”
“So . . . you’re not mad?” Brendon almost couldn’t believe it.
“No, I’m not mad. I’m not thrilled either, but you’re right. If you’d been all ominous about it, I would have been a wreck. I know we’ve only been on one date, but I like you. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.”
“I do too.” Brendon drained half of his remaining wine in one swallow before turning to face Matt. “Which is why I have to come clean.”
“Ah. I was hoping your earlier confession was it, but I suppose that wouldn’t make sense.” Matt took a swig of his own drink. “Lemme guess, you’re not actually a cosmetology student. Your name is Bond, James Bond, and you’re an international super spy.”
Brendon tried for a smile, but he could barely get his lips to turn up. “No. I have a confession to make. Something I should have told you on our first date, but I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you or something.”
“Whoa. Stalking me?” Matt looked bewildered. “Why would I think that?”
Brendon took a breath. He needed to just come out with it before he made things worse. “I . . . When we met, I already knew who you were.”
Matt stared at him, eyes growing wider by the second. “How?”
“Someone gave me a copy of Extra, and I read your quiz in the back. I loved it. I thought your answers were so beautiful and funny and poignant. I had to know more about you, so I googled you.”
Brendon paused, but Matt didn’t say a word. He was probably stunned or too furious to speak.
Miserable, Brendon went on. “I found your blog and some of your articles and photos of you. Pretty much everything you’ve ever put on the internet. I read it all, including your piece about the museum. I thought you were amazing. I still think that. I didn’t mean to cyber-stalk you or cross any boundaries. I just wanted to get to know you more, I swear.”
Brend
on tried to gauge Matt’s reaction. His silence was thunderous. He was looking at Brendon, but it didn’t seem as if he was seeing him. It was like he was looking through him.
Brendon swallowed the rest of his wine and prayed it would help soften the inevitable sting of rejection. “I wanted to meet you so badly. It seems ridiculous now, all the effort I went through. I hung out at all the places I thought you would be, like Jitters and the bookstore, hoping you would show up. I know how creepy that sounds, believe me, but I think part of me didn’t think for a second that I’d actually run into you.
“I should have told you the second we met, but when you walked into that bookstore, something came over me. I wanted you to like me too so badly. I even used some of the things I knew about you. That sounds horrible, but I swear, most of it was true. We really could have bumped into each other at any time, we love so many of the same places. I wish we had. Maybe if we’d run into each other sooner, I wouldn’t have caused this whole mess.” He paused. “Please say something.”
He got his wish.
“You’re telling me,” Matt said, not quite looking at him, “that when we met, you pretended to have no idea who I was? When you asked me my name, and what I do, that was all an act?”
Brendon flinched. “Well, when you say it like that . . .” He forced a laugh that was as thin as string. Matt didn’t smile. Brendon switched back to groveling. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I pretended that I didn’t know who you are. I could have admitted I was a fan of your work, and you probably would have been flattered. I made some bad choices.”
“Clearly.” Matt’s tone was acerbic. It matched his expression.
Brendon expected Matt to tell him to fuck off any second now. He’d better talk fast, before he fell silent beneath the weight of his remorse. “I don’t know what I regret more: not telling you the truth sooner, or lying to you in the first place. Please believe me when I say I would go back and redo it in a heartbeat if I could.”
Matt didn’t respond.
Brendon fidgeted in his seat, his body tense and drawn up as he anticipated a verbal smackdown.
After a long while, Matt rubbed his brow. “I don’t know what to say. I’m hurt, and I feel betrayed, and . . . I’m not entirely surprised.”
All of the Above Page 8
