Crushed

by J. M. Snyder

  He couldn’t, plain and simple. By the time he pulled in front of his apartment building, he knew what he had to do. He had to see Wes again.

  He had to.

  How tight can they be? Nathan mused as he changed into a black tank top and a thin, translucent black shirt that he left unbuttoned. How serious could Wes’s relationship be, anyway? What was eight months in the grand scheme of things? He was all over me last night—the memory of their kisses brought a smile to Nathan’s lips and a stirring in his groin. He didn’t mention Roger because he wasn’t thinking about him—it was only me. Me. So I might be going out on a limb here but I have a feeling that Roger isn’t all that, and maybe, just maybe, Wes wants to get with someone different.

  Maybe he wants to get with me.

  One way or the other, Nathan sure as hell wanted to find out.

  As soon as he’d woken up that morning, he had called Tom and asked for Wes’s number. “What for?” his friend had wanted to know, suspicious. “Nathan, he’s dating Roger. I don’t think—”

  “I know that.” Why did everyone insist on telling him over and over again? He knew Wes was with Roger, but Nathan was nothing if not tenacious, and hadn’t Wes admitted he still liked him? “I thought I was over you”—those were his exact words. So that implied that he wasn’t over him, that seeing Nathan again brought all the old feelings back, and why the hell didn’t he tell me something at prom? Nathan wondered for the hundredth time.

  If he had even just hinted at it, I would’ve dropped all the other boys I was playing at the time. And when he went away to college we’d have kept in touch, with long love letters and endless hours on the phone, and when he’d come home for my games I’d have pointed up in the stands and said, “That’s my boy, he goes to State.” We’d still be together and there would be no Roger and if he’s even slightly interested now, then I’m more than willing to give it a try.

  But Tom wouldn’t give him the number. “You don’t need to be bothering him. Last night was a mistake, I understand. You didn’t know about Roger then, fine. I guess I can’t blame you for getting it on. But now you still want to pursue this? Can’t you find someone else to fuck?”

  “Tom—”

  And then the phone had gone dead in his ear. Even now, hours later, it still amazed him that his co-worker had hung the hell up on him. Just wait until Monday, he thought, tucking his tank top into his jeans. I’ll chew your ass out when I see you at work, just you wait. No one hangs up on me.

  In the bathroom he checked to make sure he still had that condom in his wallet. Just in case. Then he glanced in the mirror, taking in his narrow face, his aquiline nose, his deep-set, gray-green eyes. His hair fell to his chin in one brown sheet, the ends curling under from the cut. He remembered the way Wes’s hand had felt through his hair, tentative, unsure. “I used to love your hair…”

  Wes had meant the long locks Nathan sported all through high school. On the basketball court he’d worn it pulled back into a loose ponytail, and the ends of his hair would curl whenever he worked up a sweat during the game. I’ll show you curls, Wes. His gaze drifted down his reflection in the bathroom mirror to linger at the zipper of his jeans. I’ve still got plenty of them where it counts. Absently he tapped his fingers against the front of his crotch as he adjusted his belt. Those curls ached for Wes’s touch.

  A spritz of cologne and a quick scrub with his toothbrush, and Nathan had to admit, he looked better than he had earlier, when he’d been ready to just jump in the car and hightail it to Sandy’s for his date.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he angled the rearview mirror down until he could see his eyes and winked at himself before starting the car. So he’s got a boyfriend, he thought as he drove away from the curb. So the fuck what? He called me. And when I asked him out to dinner, what did he say? Yes. And I’m paying so it’s official, it’s a date. Tom can talk all he wants about Roger and eight goddamn months but the signals Wes is sending my way are all about the two of us.

  Sure, Nathan said they could be friends. He meant, that, too, though he intended to ask straight up if there was hope for anything more.

  And he thought he knew what the answer might be.

  Sandy’s Grill was just a few blocks from his apartment complex. It was a local deli, but they had a bar in the back and wooden paneling on the walls, dark overstuffed leather seats in the booths, and a jukebox that was always turned up way too loud. Nathan liked it because it was noisy and crowded, even in the middle of the day; it was an easy place to go unnoticed, and perfect for them since no one would notice two guys in a corner booth. No one would care.

  Nathan slowed as he pulled into Sandy’s parking lot and scanned the cars, but they were all empty and he didn’t see Wes nearby. The place was packed, the afternoon crowd inside, and the parking lot was almost full. But Nathan managed to find a spot near the back, squeezing between another car and the wooden fence that separated Sandy’s lot from the next. It was literally the last space in the lot…

  Backing into place, Nathan heard a metallic crunch that he felt in his teeth. He moved up a bit, just enough to get off the fence behind him. “Damn it,” he muttered, climbing out of the car. The wooden planks behind it bent where his bumper had pushed against them.

  As he leaned down to check the damage to his car, he heard a low wolf whistle, and then Wes’s deep laughter. “Maybe next time I should pick you up.”

  Nathan looked around and saw his friend approaching his car, dressed in jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt that matched the color of his eyes in the fading afternoon sun. Roger gets this? It wasn’t fair, not when Wes could’ve been his first.

  “Hey there,” Nathan said, and before Wes could move away he planted a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “You look incredible.”

  Wes’s face pinked as he glanced around. “I thought you said you just wanted to be friends.”

  With a disarming grin, Nathan told him, “That was just a friendly kiss. I can give you something more, if you want.”

  For a moment he thought Wes would say okay. His eyes pleaded for more—Nathan could almost taste the want and desire and need radiating from him. Just say the word, he thought, watching the emotions flicker across Wes’s face like images on a TV screen. Just say you want me and I’m yours, we’ll deal with Roger later, just say it, please.

  But he didn’t. Instead he flashed Nathan a quick, sad smile and sighed. “Nathan,” he said, but that was it.

  “I love the way you say my name,” Nathan whispered. He rubbed Wes’s arm when his friend ducked his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” Wes murmured.

  At least he didn’t say don’t, Nathan told himself. At least there was that.

  Easing an arm around Wes’s shoulders, Nathan said, “You can tell me all about this guy you’re dating—what’s his name again?”

  Wes sighed. “Roger. I don’t really think—”

  “Roger.” Nathan decided he hated the name, hated the way it felt in his mouth, hated everything about those five little letters. “You don’t want to talk about him?” Me either. I don’t want to hear about him and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you forget about him soon enough.

  Wes shook his head. “Not really.”

  With a slight grin, Nathan teased, “You want to talk about us then?”

  He decided he quite liked the way that tone of voice managed to make the tips of Wes’s ears turn a bright pink. Putting his mouth against one ear, he could feel the heated skin beneath his lips and everything he had felt the night before—all the lust, the passion, the rush of emotions, it all came flooding back through him. As Wes took the hand that hung over his shoulder in both of his own, Nathan promised himself, No one’s going to stand in my way.

  Chapter 14

  Wes picked a corner booth in the back. “I want to sit where I can see the door.”

  Nathan placed a possessive hand on Wes’s back and le
aned down over his shoulder to hear his words. Already the place was filled with people, the jukebox blaring out the latest pop hits, and he had to lean closer to hear Wes over the noise. “Right here,” Wes told him, his breath hot against Nathan’s ear as he pointed at the circular booth. “So I can see the door.”

  He got into the booth and Nathan slid in beside him, his arm draped across the back of the seat and over Wes’s shoulders, keeping him close. “Does he come here?” Nathan asked. They had to lean together when they spoke, but that was fine with Nathan. He’d like to sit even closer, if they could. Like twined together on a bed, or in each other’s arms in the back seat of my car. He watched Wes shred the napkin wrapped around his silverware. “What’s his name again?”

  “Roger.”

  Every time he said it, Nathan felt a surge of anger roll through him. You should be mine, he thought, studying Wes as he looked around the restaurant to make sure no one was paying any attention to them. Not his, mine.

  “He’s at work until five.”

  “Didn’t you tell him we were coming here?” When Wes shook his head, Nathan laughed. “He probably wouldn’t like it much, would he?”

  With a faint smile, Wes admitted, “No.”

  Nathan rubbed a hand along Wes’s arm and rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder, watching him, only him. “You’re the sexiest thing in here,” he breathed.

  Wes blushed, looking around as if to see if he were right. On the seat their thighs pressed together, and beneath the table Nathan eased one foot between Wes’s, then crossed his ankles, one of Wes’s legs trapped between his. He traced the hairs on the back of Wes’s wrist and sighed. “Does he ever tell you that? You take my breath away.”

  “Nathan,” Wes warned, but he didn’t pull away and when Nathan’s fingers roamed up his arm, he didn’t discourage them. Instead he closed his eyes. “This is so hard. I’m with him—”

  “Right now you’re with me,” Nathan pointed out. Taking Wes’s chin in his hand, he turned his friend’s face towards his and waited until those clear blue eyes opened before he spoke. “I thought we weren’t talking about him.”

  “We’re not,” Wes murmured.

  Nathan leaned closer, his eyes slipping closed, and touched Wes’s lips with his own in a tentative kiss. Beneath his mouth he felt Wes tremble. With a gentle kiss, he tested those soft lips, tasting them, licking at the pinked skin before his tongue parted them and managed to slip inside, where Wes was warm and dark and sweet. Suddenly his pants were too tight, chafing against a swelling erection, and he didn’t want to talk at all, not if their hands and tongues and mouths could say what needed to be said in words written out along their bodies. Wes moaned against him, in him, letting Nathan ease him back against the leather seat as Nathan’s hand trailed down his throat, down his chest, until it rested on the promise coiled at his crotch. “Nathan,” Wes sighed, catching that hand as it started to rub at him. “Not here.” He pulled away, anxious. “I thought you were hungry—”

  “I am,” Nathan sighed, kissing his jaw. “But not for anything on the menu.”

  “We’re just friends,” Wes tried, not looking at him. He held Nathan’s roaming hand in both of his as if to keep it from doing the delicious things it’d been doing below his belt earlier.

  With a roguish grin, Nathan asked, “You don’t think I’m being friendly here?” At Wes’s shy smile, he traced the curve of his friend’s jaw. “A little too friendly, eh? You don’t like this?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Wes told him.

  “What exactly are you saying?” Extracting his hand from Wes’s, Nathan touched his friend’s knee beneath the table with one hand, and the other brushed along Wes’s nape, stroking beneath his hair.

  Wes didn’t answer.

  Nathan dared to move his hand up Wes’s thigh. His friend didn’t stop him. Your body is telling me yes, but you keep saying not here. That’s not exactly no. So what’s up with that? “Wes?”

  Wes shrugged and glanced around the room again, distracted. You’re not paying attention to me. His mind was on Roger, most likely, and from the way he kept looking around, it was obvious he expected to see his boyfriend bust up in the place at any second, hellfire and brimstone in his eyes. But he’s not here. He’s not coming here…it’s just me.

  “Do you love him?” Nathan asked suddenly.

  Beside him Wes jumped.

  “What?” He began to pick at the napkin again, shredding the corner into tiny squares that littered the table like snow. “Nathan…”

  “Do you love him?” Nathan asked again. “I’ll tell you straight up, Wes—I want to get with you. I still remember every damn minute of prom and if I’d even known you were into me back then, God, we’d be together now, I swear it.”

  Wes’s face flushed and he stared hard at the table, unwilling to meet Nathan’s gaze. Cocking his head to one side, Nathan tried to look at Wes’s face but his friend kept turning away. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t believe you guys are all that, not after last night. Wes, look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  “I want you, Wes,” Nathan continued.

  Wes rubbed at his eyes, hiding his face.

  “I do. I think we’d be good together, you know? But if you’re happy with him, if he’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever had, if he makes you feel even half the way I feel when I’m with you, then you just tell me and I’ll back off. Okay? Can you tell me that?”

  “No,” Wes whispered.

  “Look at me.” Nathan touched Wes’s chin, just enough to get his friend to comply. “Look me in the eye and tell me you love him,” he murmured, “and we’ll just be friends. I won’t touch you again.”

  Wes’s gaze flickered behind Nathan and then back again, studying his eyes, his lips, his close-cropped hair.

  “Tell me.”

  “I can’t,” Wes admitted.

  Nathan felt someone behind him. Before he could turn around, a long, slim arm reached across their table and a thin hand tipped with dark nails scooped up the remnants of Wes’s napkin. Then a waitress, blonde and slim, asked in a bright voice, “You guys ready to order?”

  “Give us a few more minutes, okay?” Nathan asked. Couldn’t she see they were busy? He glanced over his shoulder at her nametag; she smiled but didn’t move away. “Janice, right? Can you give us like five minutes here?”

  She looked from him to Wes and gave them a wide grin. “How about something to drink?”

  “Fine,” Nathan sighed. “Two Cokes, take your time.”

  From her apron, Janice pulled out a pad and pencil. “Two Cokes,” she said as she wrote it down. “That it?”

  Nathan’s jaw clenched in anger but he didn’t answer. “Well?” she asked. Then she looked up from the pad and saw him glaring at her, and that silly smile of hers faltered. “Okay. Be right back.”

  As she left, Nathan felt Wes’s fingers brush along his hand and he relaxed a fist he hadn’t realized he made. “Jeez,” he muttered. “Can you believe…”

  But Wes was looking past him, following the waitress’s path through the crowd to the bar. Nathan turned and saw her at the tap, filling a glass and talking with the bartender, a man old enough to be her father, the owner of the place—Sandy himself. “Oh, hell,” Wes murmured as Sandy glanced over at them and then back at Janice. “I am so dead.”

  “What?” Nathan asked. “Why?”

  Wes sank down in the booth, covering his face with his hands. “He’s a friend of Roger’s. Jesus.”

  “Sandy?” Nathan asked, frowning. “What’s he going to say?”

  “He’s going to say I saw your boy in here with someone else,” Wes moaned. “He’s probably already called him. I bet Roger’s already halfway here—”

  “Calm down.” Prying Wes’s hands away from his face, Nathan said, “Listen to me. Listen. Look at me, please.”

  Wes glanced up but it was past him, at the bar again. “At me, Wes. Look at me.”

  When he
did, Nathan gave him a reassuring smile. “There. Like that.” He covered one of Wes’s hands with his and brushed the hair back from Wes’s brow. “You haven’t told me you love him yet.”

  Wes looked away.

  “You haven’t told me to keep away,” Nathan added. “You haven’t said back off, or hold up, or even just don’t. So what are we playing at here, hmm?” He tugged a lock of Wes’s hair and smoothed his thumb along his friend’s cheek, the skin hot beneath his touch. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  “No,” Wes whispered.

  “Does he make you feel like this?” Nathan asked, squeezing his friend’s hand in his own.

  Wes shook his head. “God, no.”

  Nathan smiled. “Do you love him?”

  With a slow shake of his head, Wes murmured, “No.” Realizing how that must sound, he amended, “I mean—I did. I guess I did, once, right? But not…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “No.”

  “So I stand a chance?” Nathan asked, just to clarify things between them.

  “I’m still sort of dating him,” Wes pointed out.

  Nathan laughed. “Dating’s not married,” he said. “Is it?”

  A shy smile crossed Wes’s lips. “I guess not.”

  “You’ve gotten inside of me,” Nathan admitted, “and I know we missed out the first time but I’m willing to try for it again. I want you, Wes. I want to make love to you. I want to make you love me. Not just a crush but more, I want more. I think we both do.” When Wes didn’t reply, Nathan prompted, “Right?”

  Tentatively, Wes nodded. It was all the answer Nathan needed.

  Chapter 15

  When the waitress came back with their drinks, Nathan opened the menu. “What do you want to eat?”

  Beside him Wes raised the menu to cover his face. “I don’t know.”

  The waitress watched them with the hint of a smile on her lips that Nathan didn’t like. He had the impression she was memorizing their every word to play back to the guy behind the bar, so they could both tell Roger all about his boyfriend’s date. As if thinking the same thing, Wes muttered, “Can we maybe get something to go?”