All of the Above

by Quinn Anderson

  Brendon was so shocked, he jolted like a rubber band had snapped in his spine. “What?”

  “I think part of me knew something was off, or suspected at least.” He took a sip of his drink and fixed Brendon with a hard stare. “When I told you my name was Colin, you seemed surprised. No, I take that back. You looked like you wanted to correct me.”

  Brendon didn’t deny it.

  Matt went on. “That was my first clue. Then you suggested we go to my favorite coffee place, followed by my favorite restaurant. You knew my favorite dish, and unerringly you wanted to talk about things I’d written about . . . It was too much to be a coincidence.” He laughed, and the sound was as grating as screeching metal. “I would have to be the most gullible person in the world to not realize something was going on.”

  Brendon was too miserable to speak. He nodded and waited for Matt to deliver the final blow.

  “But just because I suspected something doesn’t mean it’s okay. You lied to my face, Brendon. Even after I told you how important the truth is to me, you kept up the charade. That’s a serious breach of my trust.”

  Brendon stared at the glossy surface of the bar so he wouldn’t have to meet Matt’s gaze. “Yeah, I know. I have no idea what got into me. I’m so sorry.”

  Matt fell silent. Brendon counted off a full minute in his head before Matt spoke again. “I need some time. To think things over.”

  Brendon peeked at him. “You mean you’re not dumping me outright?”

  “I can’t dump someone I’m not with.”

  Brendon winced. “True.”

  Matt sighed. “I don’t want to decide anything right now while I’m angry—and believe me, I’m pissed. Don’t get too excited, though. Chances are, that second date isn’t going to happen.”

  “Ah.” Brendon slumped in his seat. “That’s fair. I won’t try to contact you, I promise. And I’ll avoid the Dragonscale and Jitters and everywhere. I don’t think I can go back anyway. They all remind me of you now. And what I did.”

  Matt’s expression tightened. Brendon was no expert, but he’d say it almost looked pained. “You said you really love those places, right? That wasn’t a lie?”

  “It wasn’t. On our first date, I thought to myself that if things didn’t work out between us, I wouldn’t be able to go to any of my regular haunts without thinking of you.” He gave Matt a small smile. “I was right.”

  Matt stared at him for a long minute before he stood up and threw some money on the counter. “Don’t avoid places you love because of me, okay? I’ll let you know what I decide when I’ve had a chance to think things over.” He turned toward the exit. “And Brendon? If nothing else, thanks for letting me know sooner rather than later. If we’d spent much more time together, I think I would have fallen completely in love with you.”

  With that, he walked out of the restaurant.

  Brendon stared after him. His eyes prickled with tears. He had no idea what to make of Matt’s parting words. They gave him hope in some ways and wrecked him in others. He paid his tab and waited another ten minutes before leaving, because fuck if he was going to risk running into Matt in the parking lot.

  When he got into his apartment and pulled his things out of his pockets, his heart almost leaped out of his chest. He had a text from Matt.

  Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to let you know how much I’m looking forward to seeing you.

  What? Brendon checked the time stamp: 9:04 p.m. Matt had sent it before they’d met up. Before Brendon had ruined everything. Before he’d lost his chance with Matt forever.

  The tears Brendon had been suppressing sprang up again, but he fought them back. He was not going to cry over a guy he’d been on one date with, no matter how smart and sweet and handsome and wonderful Matt—

  No. He wasn’t going to do this to himself. From dropping out of college to getting a perm, he had plenty of other things he could beat himself up over. If anything, this proved Matt wasn’t his soul mate. If Matt were, things would have worked out.

  Brendon repeated this to himself as he got ready for bed, but the second his head hit the pillow, the tears he’d been fighting finally won the war.

  Days passed, and he heard nothing from Matt. After a week, Brendon had to accept the truth: Matt didn’t want to speak to him ever again. Not even to tell him as much.

  It hurt. More than anything or anyone had hurt him in a long time. He rationalized it a hundred different ways—he didn’t really know Matt; they’d only hung out twice; it wasn’t meant to be—but no matter what he told himself, he always came back to the same fact: he’d ruined yet another good thing in his life.

  Sasha and Areesh were sympathetic. It was intolerable. He didn’t deserve sympathy. He’d done a bad thing, and now he was lying in the bed he’d made. Hindsight truly was twenty-twenty. Looking back, he couldn’t understand how he’d ever thought his “plan” was a good idea.

  It was better this way, he told himself as he finished up yet another endless morning shift at the mall. Matt had called what he’d done a serious breach of trust. Even if Matt had forgiven him, Matt might not have been able to trust him. As guilty as Brendon felt, and as much as he blamed himself, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being haunted by one big mistake.

  The rest of his life.

  A whole week later, and he was still thinking of Matt in terms of forevers and absolutes. He was pathetic.

  If he was ever going to move on, he needed to take some action. He didn’t want to move on—he deserved to wallow in shame and desolation for at least another month—but he needed to. He was tired of being sad, tired of feeling like his day was missing something. Even the mall seemed dingier than it had before, and that was a feat in and of itself. He had a job and schoolwork to think of. He needed to snap out of this funk before his work suffered any more than it already had.

  Which was why when his esthiology teacher told them all to read a new book on skin nutrition, he knew just where to get his copy. After work, he’d pluck up some courage and go to the Dragonscale bookstore. Just the thought made his heart pound with anticipation and dread, but he was resolved to show the universe, and himself, that he could do it.

  When Lindsay appeared to take over the afternoon shift, he barely said two words to her in his haste to leave. He got into his car and made the drive downtown without letting himself think about what he was doing. If he thought about it, he might lose his nerve.

  It wasn’t until he was standing in front of the Dragonscale that panic suffused him. It knocked the wind out of him as surely as if he’d walked into the glass front door without opening it. It took him a moment to realize why: he was returning to the scene of the crime. This was supposed to be therapeutic, but Brendon just felt like heaving.

  He took a breath, swallowed the acid slicking the back of his throat, and walked in. The bell rang above the door, and he jumped a foot in the air. Fuck. Could he please locate his chill?

  An employee greeted him only to look at him sidelong a moment later. Probably because he was sweating like a cold drink on a summer’s day. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, but the employee hastened off. Great. His first attempt to take back his turf, and he was scaring people.

  “Get a grip,” he muttered to himself. Because talking to himself in public would totally help his image.

  He sighed and walked, stiff-backed, to the Health and Beauty section of the bookstore. It was predominantly populated by medical texts and weight-loss diatribes written by white-toothed skinny people, but after some sifting, he located the textbook he needed.

  All he had to do was buy it and not run screaming out of the store, and he could count this as a success.

  Brendon turned toward the front, where the checkout counter lay, and made it all of three steps before the bell above the entrance jingled, and in walked Matthew Colin Kingston.

  Fuck my life.

  Brendon did an admirable impression of an ice sculpture as he froze in place. Chri
st, this was just his luck. Of all the gin joints in all the world . . . He hadn’t allowed himself to even entertain the idea that he might run into Matt. Surely the universe wasn’t that cruel? And yet the proof was staring him in the face.

  He imagined he could hear fate taunting him as Matt glanced at a display for a new release and then looked at him as if he’d known all along he was there.

  They locked eyes. Brendon had never thought much of that expression before, but now it made perfect sense. Matt’s gaze penetrated him like a key. Any second now, he’d shift the tumblers out of the way and crack Brendon open, exposing his tender insides.

  Brendon considered making a run for it. He didn’t need the book that badly. But Matt was standing in front of the only exit. He’d have to shove past him to make his escape. Was there even a point? Matt had already seen him. The odds of counting this excursion as a victory spun down to zero in his head.

  Clutching his book to his chest, he was preparing to scuttle behind the nearest shelf when Matt gave him a hesitant wave. Brendon did a double take. Had Matt greeted him on reflex? Like how Brendon automatically smiled at customers even if they were loathsome? Matt had said at dinner that he was still nice to the coworkers he hated. He must be doing the same thing here. Being civil.

  Brendon’s face burned, and his desire to duck out of sight quadrupled. Blocked exit or not, he was getting the hell out of here. He tossed the textbook back onto the shelf, ducked his head down, and skirted around Matt to the front door. He didn’t look up until he hit the cool outside air, and even then, he kept walking until he was at least a block away.

  By the time he finally stopped, he felt sick. Jittery and nauseated and mortified. Just seeing Matt’s face was enough to hurtle him down the same dark shame pit he’d been trying to drag himself out of all week.

  It was like a malevolent being had placed a curse on him: all the times he could have run into Matt, he hadn’t, but now that Brendon didn’t want to, he was fated to see him everywhere he went until his insides tore themselves apart.

  “My life is such a mess,” he whispered to himself, wiping his face.

  Something touched his arm. “Hey.”

  Brendon shrieked and whirled in place.

  Matt stared at him with huge brown eyes. “That was an interesting noise.”

  Brendon sucked in a breath, heart racing, and didn’t respond. What could he say? Oh, hey there. I haven’t seen you since I lied to you and betrayed your trust. How ya been? The very idea made his tongue tie itself into knots.

  Matt searched his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Brendon squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

  “Really? You look pale, even for you.”

  Brendon’s tongue untied itself automatically to deliver his usual retort. “I’m not pale. I’m fair.”

  To his surprise, Matt laughed. “My mistake.”

  Silence fell between them again. Brendon vacillated between looking at his snakeskin sneakers and peeking at Matt’s face, which had a noticeable flush. Was he nervous? Furious? Brendon’s pulse skittered at the thought.

  Eventually, Matt said, “You ran out of there without saying hi.”

  Brendon’s cheeks burned. “I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me.”

  “I waved.”

  “I thought you were being polite.” Which begged the question, why had Matt chased after him? A tiny spark of hope lit up in Brendon’s chest.

  Matt looked like he was struggling with words. “Brendon, I meant what I said the last time I saw you. I don’t want you to think you have to avoid me or any of our mutual hangout spots just because things didn’t work out between us.”

  The spark of hope was doused with a sizzle and a puff of smoke. “Ah, I see.”

  “But there is something I need to ask you. Just to be sure.” Matt chewed his lip. “You weren’t waiting for me in there, right? Like you did before?”

  Brendon was so startled he took a step back. “What? No! I needed a book for school.”

  “You swear?”

  “Of course! I said I wouldn’t bother you anymore. If I wanted to see you, why would I have run off like that?”

  Matt nodded. “I believe you. I just had to ask, because if you were still waiting around places you thought I might be, that’s—”

  “—stalking. Yeah, I know.” Brendon shook his head. “I genuinely needed a book for class. I thought that if I came here, I could prove to myself that I was over you.” But I was wrong.

  Matt looked pained. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me, or run away if you see me. We can be adults about this, right?”

  Brendon swallowed the iceberg that had lodged itself in his throat. “Right. Of course we can. It was nice seeing you. Um, I have to get going.” More like I have to run away now. Brendon started to turn around, but then he stopped. “Matt? Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  It was a risky question, but Brendon had to know. “You said you believed me when I told you I wasn’t waiting for you. Why? I lied to you once. What makes you so sure I’m not doing it again?”

  To Brendon’s absolute shock, Matt stepped closer to him. “I just . . . know. Even when I was angry with you, I never thought you meant any harm. You just wanted to meet me, and even after everything . . . I’m glad we met.”

  For the briefest of seconds, Matt’s eyes flickered down to Brendon’s lips. Brendon stopped breathing. Is he going to . . .?

  But then Matt turned around and walked off without another word. He ducked back into the bookstore. Despite what he’d said, there was officially no chance Brendon was going back in there. Not after this bizarre exchange.

  Several things stood out to him. Matt had talked about being angry in the past tense, as if he wasn’t anymore. And he’d gone out of his way to tell Brendon not to avoid him. That was not the sort of thing a person with a grudge did. Maybe on some level, Matt had forgiven him.

  Brendon was suddenly exhausted, despite it only being late afternoon. Too exhausted to go to a different bookstore and get his text. He’d have to pick up a copy before class tomorrow.

  He drove home, replaying his conversation with Matt in his head. It should make him miserable, especially the part where Matt had said—in no uncertain terms—that things hadn’t worked out between them. Rejection didn’t get much clearer than that. But the confusing moment toward the end, when Matt had looked like he wanted to kiss him, was what tripped him up.

  Stop it, Brendon. You’re only going to end up torturing yourself.

  Was it too early to break out the wine?

  He got home and was settling in for a night of bad food and obsessive misery, when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket halfway through cooking his specialty—canned beans and rice—and blinked at the screen.

  He had a text from Matt.

  Are you free to talk?

  Brendon experienced an honest-to-God heart palpitation. What more could Matt possibly have to say to him? He’d half expected Matt to have deleted his number.

  He put down the can opener in his hand and typed back, Sure. Want me to call you?

  Next thing he knew, he had an incoming call from none other than Matthew Kingston. He let it ring three times before he answered, not to play hard to get, but to convince himself that this was really happening.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” There was a pause. “Long time no talk.”

  Brendon laughed, but it came out slightly hysterical. “Yeah. Two Matt Kingston encounters in one day. Lucky me.”

  Silence.

  Brendon eyed his rice, which was just on the cusp of being overcooked, and decided he’d had enough of waiting for Matt to speak for one day. “Did you need something? I’m cooking dinner.”

  “I want to go on another date.”

  Brendon must’ve heard him wrong. “What?”

  “I know. I’m as surprised as you are. I . . . I really tried to tell mysel
f that we were through. After I left my ex, I swore I’d never date someone who lied to me ever again, but then I saw you today, and . . .” He drew a ragged breath. “I dunno if I can forget about you. You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

  Brendon felt dizzy from all the different emotions swirling around in him. “Being beautiful isn’t a good reason to date someone.”

  “It’s not just that, trust me. I’ve missed you. All week, I thought about you. I don’t know why—we only hung out for a couple of days, after all—but I kept feeling like something was missing. When I walked into the bookstore and saw you there, that absent piece slotted right back into place. I made a final effort to say goodbye, but you can see how well that worked out.”

  Brendon wet his lips and tasted strawberries. “What does this mean?”

  “I want to start over. From the beginning. I’m sorry for not calling like I said I would. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do until I saw you. I have a confession to make . . . I went to the bookstore today because I hoped by some miracle you’d be there. That’s how badly I wanted to see you, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. Was that bad of me to do?”

  Brendon shrugged, even though Matt couldn’t see him. “I’m the wrong person to ask. It’d be hypocritical of me to say yes, considering I did the same thing.”

  “Well, I’m not sorry I did. As soon as I spoke to you, it cemented in my head something that I think I knew all along: I want to give us another shot.”

  Brendon’s chest ached. “That’s sweet, Matt. It really is. But I can’t help noticing that you never said you forgive me.”

  “Caught that, huh? I have to be honest. I’m not there yet. What you did was . . . well, it was pretty weird, Brendon. But I understand why you did it, and you get partial credit for telling me the truth. I think in time, provided there are no more lies, we can put this behind us.”

  Brendon’s heart jammed itself into his throat. He had to swallow before he could speak. “You mean that?”

  “Yeah. If you’re willing, I’d like to have that second date we talked about.”