by Beth Michele
I settled back against it and glanced up at him. “Thank you.”
He exhaled an airy laugh. “My mom used to do that for me when I was sick. Fluffing pillows, buying me one wrestling magazine and a roll of Life Savers when she went shopping. I didn’t love school so I’d milk my sick days for as long as I could. I had a whole magazine collection by the time the school year was over.”
Warmer now, I pushed some of the covers aside. “I had the opposite problem. My mother practically had to tie me down. I loved school and I absolutely despised being marked absent. I wanted a perfect attendance record—”
“Seriously though,” he cut in, “what does that shit have to do with anything. Realistically, in the scheme of life, so you miss a few days of school. Or in my case, more than a few days of school. It certainly didn’t scar me for life.” His face crumbled and I quieted, unable to keep my gaze from climbing to the edge of the scar visible beneath his hair. I wanted to ask him more about it, but I also knew if he wanted to share with me, he would. “Okay, so what’s it going to be?” His voice held less enthusiasm now, and I hated that he felt the need to hold it all inside. Whatever it was, was eating away at him. “I vote Rocky III.” His smile returned. “Because Mr. T.”
“Really?” I lifted the glass of Ginger Ale, taking a few sips before setting it down. “I took you more for The Princess Bride.”
He showed me his full set of teeth. “And you would be correct. But I’ve seen it hundreds of times. I thought it would be a welcome change to see Balboa kick the shit out of Mr. T… the second time around,” he added with a grin.
We started the movie, but it was impossible to concentrate given Drew’s proximity and the rumbling of my stomach that wouldn’t let up. Finally, he conceded and ordered me a small plate of buttered pasta and bread to accompany it. It wasn’t scampi by a long shot, but it was food and I was not about to complain.
“Better?” Drew asked when my plate was empty, and I nodded. He took the tray and placed it on the table beside him. “Good. Because it’s time for the ass beating.”
His focus returned to the screen. Meanwhile, my body crackled with restless energy. Here I was with another guy in my bed, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. The irony? What I wanted—was to put my arm around Drew and draw him close, feel his heart beating against my chest. Breathe in his warmth.
Drew was quickly becoming someone who meant something to me. More than the façade of a simple friendship. And for me, it could only end one way—with more hurt and a desire for something that could never be.
With that last thought, I slumped lower in the bed, floored a minute later when Drew’s head dropped to my shoulder. His hair brushed against my neck and goose bumps broke out along the surface of my skin. I inhaled what I hoped was a quiet breath, glancing down at him from the corner of my eye. He was asleep, his long, dark lashes falling against his cheeks. His lips at rest. I wanted to kiss those lips. To show him how much I was starting to care for him. Instead, I sighed, leaning my cheek against his hair with a sense of contentment that hadn’t existed for me in a long time.
DREW WAS GONE when I woke up, and a pang of disappointment hit me square in the chest. I closed my eyes, recalling the concern in his gaze as he looked after me. The warmth in his smile when he saw I was okay. That wasn’t something I made up. But that’s what friends do for one another, I reminded myself, trying hard not to let my imagination run wild.
With my stomach back to normal, I was excited about the day. Anticipation slid over my skin thinking about how Drew and I might spend it… together.
A folded note on the side table caught my attention. I laughed when I noticed the paper was sitting on top of what resembled a card house made of saltines. Wasting no time, I snatched the note from the top and opened it.
Sam,
Hope you’re feeling better. If not, feel free to partake in this house of saltines. I’ll be back to check on you later.
Drew
Like him, his signature was relaxed, an easy flow of graceful letters. I closed the note and stared at the small house of saltines he’d constructed as warmth spread through my chest. This should’ve been a familiar feeling—but it wasn’t. How could it not be? Because you never had this with Glenn, a voice rang in my head. Even in terms of affection, I never had a problem keeping my hands off of Glenn. But all I want to do is touch Drew. In fact, I have to do everything in my power to keep from touching him.
I’d just finished tugging on my shorts when a knock sounded at the door. My smile was already in place before my feet even made it there. To my disappointment, it was the hotel staff arriving to tidy up the room. I communicated needing a few more minutes and as they turned to leave I heard the elevator ding and a voice call out, ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. Mariano.’
For a second, I paused and did a double take, wondering if I’d heard wrong. Thinking there must be another Mariano. But the returning ‘thank you’ was from a voice I recognized. The one that sent my heart racing. I thought it odd Drew hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, we hadn’t known each other long. An idea popped in my head right when Drew showed up at my door.
“It’s your birthday?”
His smile faltered and he rolled his eyes, quick to brush it off. “It’s not a big deal. Just another day in the life.”
“I beg to differ.” He traipsed past me as I held the door open. Hair still wet from an obvious shower, he grated his hands through it a few times and plopped down on my bed. I grinned. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He reclined back, resting against the headboard. Drew in my bed was a perfect sight. I wanted to jump his bones. “You look well today. Feeling better?”
I leaned against the table, arms crossed over my chest. “Much. Now back to our previous discussion. Your birthday.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Our staring match ended with him rising off the bed and marching over to the sliders, giving me his back. It was impossible to miss the stiffness in his shoulders. “Can we please forget it and go on with our day?”
At a complete loss, I stood there in silence. Coming from a family who made a big fuss about birthdays, and holidays for that matter, it didn’t sit right with me. That was besides the fact I wanted to do something for him. Maybe it could be disguised as a thank you for his kindness yesterday. But the last thing I wanted to do was make him uncomfortable so I decided to drop it. “Absolutely. So what’s on the Sam and Drew bucket list for today?”
He whirled around on an exhale, his relief palpable in the air. That dazzling smile returned. “Actually, I was thinking we could hang at the beach today. Just kind of lay low and relax. I figured after yesterday you might need it.”
My lips kicked up at his thoughtfulness. “Yes. That’s a great idea.”
“Cool. I’ll get changed and meet you out by the cabanas?”
I walked him to the door. “Give me about an hour?”
He tapped his watch on a grin. “I’ll be there.”
I HOPED THIS wasn’t a mistake—but it was too late now. With my pulse racing out of control, I scanned the beach for Drew. It took me less than a minute to spot him. He was facing the ocean, hands on his waist, head tipped back as he gazed at the sky.
Frozen in place, I stared at the way his swim trunks hung low on his narrow hips. Deep grooves defined the muscles of his back. I wanted to trace them with my lips, trail my tongue along his spine, lick a path down the firm curve of his ass. But all too soon, my fantasy ended. Like clockwork, as if he could sense my presence, he turned around. Even from this distance, I could feel the rise of his lips, the way one brow quirked higher than the other. Chills spread from the back of my neck down my arms as I padded closer, bare feet digging into the warm sand.
For a flash, I could visualize us being together, soaking in his smile, getting drunk on his zest for life, his kindness, his…
“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to get your ass over here, Sam? Time’s a wastin’.”
&nb
sp; I shook my head on a laugh. Snap out of it, Sam.
On my way over, I tried to wipe the ridiculous smile off my face. Apparently, I wasn’t all that successful. His eyes narrowed and he glanced behind me. “What’s going on?”
I made a big show of looking over my shoulder, hoping to clear my expression. “Nothing’s going on.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “You are so full of shit.”
I chuckled. “Am I?”
He reached out to take my towel and bag, tossing them on the lounge chair. “Yes. It’s practically coming out of your ass. What’s happening?”
In my head, I had a whole plan as to how this would go down. But I guess if I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing ever goes according to plan. I dropped onto the chair and gestured to the spot beside me. “Sit for a second.”
His demeanor changed instantly. Waves of apprehension rolled off of him as I moved over to make room, though his hesitation lasted only a minute. Once he was seated, I lifted my bag and pulled out the black box. It wasn’t wrapped because I was afraid that might be too much.
“Okay, listen.” I clung tight to the box with an unsteady hand, deciding to just go for it. “This is for you. I wanted to get you a little something for your birthday. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but… birthdays were kind of a big deal in my house and I can’t stand the thought of not acknowledging yours. There, I’ve said it.” As my words spilled out, I took a much-needed breath and held the box between us.
Drew was quiet for so long, I half expected him not to take it. But he did. And then he stared at it calmly while I was anything but calm. My heart tapped out an insane beat and my palms grew sweaty. When he flipped the top open, he continued in silence as he examined the black corded necklace with the triangular piece of matching sea glass. I couldn’t see his eyes that were so expressive it was like reading his mind, but I could feel the breadth of his thoughts.
“Drew.” I softened my voice. “Let it out.”
A noise rose from his throat and he made a motion to clear it. “Even though we had no money growing up, my mother used to make a huge deal out of my birthday. You know, the works. Baking me a cake, drawing signs, giving me handmade gifts. All that shit. But after she died, and then my Gran, my father stopped acknowledging it, and essentially acknowledging me. And… I never wanted anyone to know when it was. It just didn’t seem to matter.” His fingers rolled over the smooth glass. “So this…” Words seemed to catch in his throat and my chest burned. Because he mattered. He mattered a whole lot. “This is an amazing gift, Sam… honestly.” He turned, and when our eyes met, his were open, so open I felt like I could fall into them. I’m not sure I’d ever wanted to fall so hard in my life.
I wondered how transparent I was. If my feelings for him were evident in my own expression. “I’m glad. I know you said your mother collected sea glass, so I just thought…”
He broke off eye contact as if it was suddenly too much and lifted the necklace from the box, unhooking and sliding it around his neck. Once the clasp was in place, his gaze swung to mine, voice low. “Thank you.”
I wanted to bring our bodies closer together, to lean over and gather him up. Press my mouth to his. Slide my tongue between his lips so I could taste him. He was like this brilliant magnet of energy and light, and I couldn’t seem to get enough.
“You’re welcome,” I replied after far too long. A few women ran by then and disrupted our moment. Drew glanced up and watched them, their bikinis barely hanging on. I wanted him to look at me like that, to desire me in the same way. A tightness latched onto my chest and I rubbed my palm over it to try to soothe the ache.
He touched his fingers to the dangling sea glass, running his thumb back and forth over the smooth surface. Inside, I was bursting, because it was evident how much he liked it—and I was happy that for once I didn’t overanalyze something to death. “Do you want to catch some rays and then maybe grab something to eat?”
“Sounds good.”
Drew jumped off the lounger and spread his towel out on the chair beside mine. He laid down on his stomach, head cradled against his bent arms. I lifted my shirt up and over my head, strangely self-conscious even though Drew’s gaze was elsewhere. I mimicked his position and he angled his head my way. “So your family was big into birthdays?”
“Kind of an understatement. My mother practically marched up and down the street with a birthday flag. Not to mention my father, who had to capture every second on video.”
“That’s awesome.” He paused as if recalling a memory of his own. “My mother used to make lopsided cakes.”
“Lopsided?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “She wasn’t a great baker and my father hated her cakes. He tried to convince her to get a store bought one, but she refused. She said, ‘Those store bought cakes aren’t infused with love like mine are.’” Right then, his eyes reflected the affection he had for his mother. They were laughing and happy, and it allowed me a tiny glimpse into what he must’ve been like as a child—and he was adorable. “And I’ll admit,” he added, “the thing looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but it tasted pretty fucking amazing.”
“Flavor?”
“Chocolate, of course.”
The shutters closed again and he got quiet. I found myself wanting to keep him talking, to learn more. “Was she a stay-at-home mom?”
“Nah. She used to clean houses. But because of that she was always around for me, which I loved.”
I shifted onto my side, elbow bent, cheek resting against my palm. “What was little Drew Mariano like?”
He snorted. “Little Drew Mariano was a freaking degenerate who hung out with a rough crowd and often got into trouble.”
“Trouble?” I grinned. “Say it isn’t so?”
“What can I say? I bucked the system more than once.”
I nodded, watching the corner of his mouth lift. “That, I believe.”
“School wasn’t fun without a little rebellion every now and then.”
My gaze traveled to his arm. “Was the tattoo part of the rebellion?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
“Can I ask what it represents, or is that too—”
“It’s fine.” Although his brief hesitation made me think otherwise. “The black lines represent strength and perseverance, and the flower is for my mom. She loved chrysanthemums.” He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his position on the lounger. “Eh, shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t usually lie on my stomach and my back is probably going to burn like a motherfucker. Would you mind grabbing that sunscreen from my bag and slathering some on?”
My mouth opened but no sound emerged. Was that normal? A guy asking another guy to put sunscreen on his back? The guys I grew up with would never have let another guy touch them like that. Then again, this was Drew, and he was very comfortable in his own skin.
“Earth to Sam? Can you help me out here or what?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
The next few seconds rolled by in slow motion as I sat myself up and bent to remove the sunscreen from his bag. Casually, I perched on the edge of his lounger, trying not to get too close. “Scoot over a bit.” My voice sounded off and I hoped he didn’t notice. Me, I noticed everything. That light coating of sweat beading up on his flesh. All the smooth skin that dipped into the arch of his spine. The smell of whatever body wash he’d used filling every one of my senses. Already dizzy, I was afraid touching him would push me over the edge.
“Sam?” Knowing I’d zoned out again, I quickly squeezed lotion from the tube and it squirted onto his back. “Oh, shit. That’s cold.” I stared at the glob of cream but my hand wouldn’t move. It was shaky, and I was grateful he couldn’t see the nervous excitement building inside of me. The opportunity to touch him like this was something I didn’t expect.
I slowly lowered my hand, and using two fingers began to rub lotion in small circles around his back. He felt… amazing. His skin was warm f
rom the sun. Valleys of muscle flexed under my fingertips. I leaned into my efforts, adding a few more fingers to the mix. It only took a minute to realize my breath was stuck in my chest—and I was hard.
Instinctively, I angled my hips away, wanting to make sure he couldn’t feel how aroused I was—how much more I wanted. But I couldn’t deny I was getting into it. Dropping the tube into the bag so I could use two hands to massage it into his skin. Rubbing and kneading the lotion into his shoulders and the muscles of his upper back. He groaned, and I almost lost it.
“So, what were you like as a child?”
Did he actually think I could have a casual discussion while my hands were all over him? I was guessing he did. My throat was thick with dishonesty. Would he allow me to touch him if he knew I was gay? If he knew how badly I wanted him? Probably not. For that reason alone, I reluctantly pulled my hands away and skulked back to my own lounger. He turned his head and I was flat on my stomach in such a rush I nearly fell off the chair. I pressed my body into the lounger for friction. It didn’t help.
Drew continued our conversation without a second thought—as if my hands hadn’t been all over him. Meanwhile, my fingers still buzzed from the sensation. I wiggled them a few times, trying to rid myself of the feeling. But it wouldn’t go away.
“I wish I knew where you were, Sam.” Drew’s voice pulled me back and I looked over at him. “I might like to come along.” He winked, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. Except again, it was just Drew. “So, what were you like? And thanks for that by the way.”
Finally shrugging off my discomfort, I answered him. “I was a shy kid, mostly. Kept to myself a lot.” I didn’t get into the reasons why. Didn’t want him to know what it was like growing up in a wealthy neighborhood in New Jersey where it was a curse to be gay. Where I had parents who were completely accepting of my sexuality, yet the moment I stepped outside my door, my world came crumbling down. Derogatory whispers as I walked down the hallway. Tripped by students when they thought no one was looking. Slur-filled post-it notes stamped on my locker. And I hid it all from my mother and father. I knew it would devastate them and didn’t want their hearts broken. I figured one broken spirit was enough.
