Worst Men: An Enemies to Lovers Gay Romance

by Rachel Kane

  We were in the freezer. The door was jammed open with a crate, and fog billowed around us. As the air finally cleared, I could see the sculpture.

  “You made that already?” I asked.

  “It’s pretty rough,” said Sergio.

  It didn’t look rough. It was blocky and unfinished, yes, but you could see the two guys clearly. I was impressed by how quickly he’d done this, and yet at the same time, saying something nice about it felt tricky. Was he going to think I was just saying something nice because things had gotten awkward again the minute we’d put our clothes back on?

  “Is it okay to touch it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s just cold.” He laughed at himself. “Well, obviously.”

  I rubbed my thumb over the planes of ice that made up one of the guys’ arms. The fog had left little crystals on the arm, and they came off on my finger. “When will you have it finished?” I asked.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to be interested.”

  “Why can’t I be interested?”

  He gave me a troubled smile. “Do you feel as weird as I do?”

  “I’ll admit I do, as long as I don’t have to talk about it. That doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a good sculpture.”

  Sergio shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m going to work more on it tonight, do finishing touches tomorrow, and then...well, I guess then there’s the wedding. Then it will melt away to nothing and I can go home and have all my actual tools back.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be lucky to have a home to go back to,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. It just came out. I’d done my best not to think too hard about it.

  He stared at me. “What does that mean?”

  “I wasn’t kidding earlier. I don’t have a job anymore. No job, no home.”

  “Don’t you have money saved up for emergencies?”

  “Dude, I don’t make enough to save.”

  “You should be putting at least twenty percent--”

  “God, I’m sorry I said anything. I’m not you, okay? Oceanside is expensive if you’re a waiter.”

  “But you go to all those fancy parties--”

  “Where rich guys like you refuse to tip. Would you quit looking concerned? I’ll be okay.”

  “I mean, do you need--”

  I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Sergio. Whatever is going on between us, please don’t ruin it by trying to solve my problems.”

  His face smoothed. “What’s going on between us?”

  “Don’t ruin it by asking that, either.”

  “Basically, I should just stop talking.”

  “That’ll do for a start,” I said.

  So that’s how I ended up watching an ice sculpture be made. Instead of talking, I went and sat on the crate by the door, while Sergio plugged in something that looked like a drill, and went to work. Ice crystals sprayed out from where he touched the spinning bit to the blocks of ice. It was funny, trying to understand what he had in mind. He’d take a section that I thought was already finished, and start going over it. It would be blocked from my view for a moment, as the ice flew and the sound of the drill echoed, and then when he backed away, suddenly there would be folds in the sleeve, or some other perfect little detail I wouldn’t have thought of.

  His face had taken on expression I hadn’t seen on him before. I want to say he had a faraway look, but really that wasn’t right at all. It was more that he was totally focused on this, even more so than he had been when I’d been with him upstairs. The rest of the world seemed to have dropped away from him; he moved with a quick confidence, his eye seeing details long before he actually sculpted them.

  Why couldn’t we have met like this, instead of with our stupid fight? For years I’d thought he was nothing but a wealthy dilettante, the kind Oceanside seemed to attract, bored and rich and eager to destroy someone’s life for fun.

  He was so intent on this sculpture. He would stand back from it and stare, then move back in, without a word. He didn’t ask my opinion. This wasn’t one of those “watch a boy do things” situations that you got into sometimes, like when you’d date a guy who really liked a particular video game, so you’d have to sit there on the couch and look interested like he was doing the most rewarding thing on earth. No, I was irrelevant to Sergio’s artistic process...and I liked that. I liked seeing how expert he was. The guys he was sculpting now had brows and cheekbones, and it was amazing, I could start to see the resemblance between the ice Nat and Owen, and their real-life counterparts.

  I must have sat there for an hour. Finally he set his tool down. “My arms are tired,” he said.

  “I bet.”

  He leaned back, and I heard his spine crack. “I think that’s enough for right now. A little at a time. The ice heats up as you work on it, you don’t want it to start losing detail.”

  We started to leave the freezer, and he said, “Be sure to kick that crate back in. You don’t want more outside air getting in than you have to.”

  All that awkwardness was gone, when he talked about this stuff. I really liked this Sergio. I’d somehow become attracted to the version of him that was mad at me, who seemed to look down on me. But this one? With his confidence and his ease? I liked him. Kind of a lot. I nudged the crate back into the freezer, and the door automatically swung shut with a click.

  Dinner was uncomfortable. There were a lot more people here tonight, as new arrivals for the wedding showed up. Nat and Owen were still at the head of the table, with their parents. I saw Nat giving nervous looks to his dad, and remembered Sergio’s story about what had happened earlier.

  But that wasn’t why it was uncomfortable. I wanted to talk to Sergio. I don’t know about what. The topic didn’t really matter. I just wanted him to myself a while, you know? I was trying to make up my mind about how I felt. I wanted to draw out that part of his personality that said intense sculptor, and talk to that part of him. At the same time it made me feel insecure, because I didn’t know anything about anything, and felt that nagging worry that I wasn’t good enough for a guy like this.

  I wasn’t going to get to have him to myself. There were just too many people. Even though we were sitting together, there were a ton of conversations going on. Cal and Edgar had napped after returning from the bar, but looked much the worse for wear; I wondered how much more they’d had to drink after I left. They were sniping at each other in that unpleasant way that usually heralded one of their breakups.

  Speaking of breakups: “I really thought I was getting somewhere with Josh,” Hunter said. He wasn’t saying it to me, mind you, even though I was right next to him. He was saying it over me, at Sergio, continuing their conversation from last night. A conversation which had included gossip about me. And that was why I was uncomfortable.

  The pugilistic part of me, that little corner of my mind that wanted to solve things by throwing punches, wanted me to ask Hunter what he thought he was doing, talking behind my back. But then if I said anything, he’d know something was up between me and Sergio, and I wasn’t quite ready to announce that to the world. I didn’t know what was up between us. That’s why I wanted Sergio to myself, after all.

  “Getting somewhere?” said Sergio. “I thought he was after you.”

  “I decided he needed a little encouragement,” said Hunter. “I invited him to the beach this morning. Last night he’d mentioned not having a watch, so I bought him one, and decided to give it to him on the beach. He did not seem particularly gracious about it.”

  I had to say something, because this was ridiculous. It was getting painful to hear the entitled tone in Hunter’s voice. “You bought him a watch, and so he’s supposed to sleep with you? Did you put it like that?”

  Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing so vulgar as that, my friend. A wealthy older man can buy a younger man a gift, without strings attached. It’s quite natural and above-board, I assure you.”

  “But you want to sleep with him. So you got him a present.”
r />   Sergio touched my arm. He was worried I would cause a scene. “Marcus...”

  Hunter saw it. He saw Sergio’s hand on my bicep, saw the intent was to hold me back. I could almost see him calculating. A broad smile broke over his face. “It’s not a matter of quid pro quo,” he said, his voice softer. “It’s about setting up an atmosphere of kindness and generosity. It’s important for people to know that someone is looking out for them.”

  I didn’t say anything, but felt Sergio’s fingers leave me. He trusted me not to blow up at Hunter.

  “I suppose it is also the establishment of trust,” said Hunter, picking up his drink. “By offering a gift, you’re telling someone that you trust them not to take advantage of your generosity.”

  He was staring directly at me as he sipped. I knew exactly what he was talking about: The rumors that Xavier had spread about me when I’d finally gotten free of him, ages and ages ago. The bastard had accused me of stealing his valuables, making off with thousands of dollars in property, destroying other stuff--of course, accused makes it sound official. But he never went to the police, never did anything where he might actually have to prove what he was saying. No, I was tried in the court of public opinion, where there was no possible defense. People believed what they wanted to believe about me.

  Funny how someone could make the worst parts of your past rush forward into the present all at once. It was like a wave crashing against you, stronger than you expected, knocking you off your feet. For a second you don’t know whether you can breathe.

  I got my balance. I realized, at an almost unconscious level, that Sergio had moved his chair closer to mine. Our knees brushed, under the table.

  “It takes two to trust,” I said to Hunter. “People get scared off, if they sense you just want some power over them.”

  “So you think Josh was scared off?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not a gossip. I’m not going to talk about Josh when he’s not here, and when he hasn’t asked my opinion. I’m just telling you, in a general sense, that you might think you’re establishing trust, but it really doesn’t look like that from the other side.”

  He looked past me to Sergio. “I love getting relationship advice from young men who can’t maintain a relationship.”

  Sergio was as careful as I was. He didn’t want to hint that there was something going on between us. I was grateful for that. I didn’t want anyone talking about me. Whatever this feeling was, it needed to grow in silence, not under the harsh glare of gossipy scrutiny.

  He said to Hunter, “I can’t say I disagree with Marcus. I could see how someone might be scared off by a gift, if it was too big, too early.”

  Hunter waved the objection. “I thought of all people you would understand, Sergio. If money buys us anything, it’s the ability to cut through all the time wasted on cutesy conversations and flirting and all the rest.”

  “I guess I haven’t thought about using my money that way.” Sergio’s voice was colder than the ice he’d been working on earlier.

  “You’ve been fortunate, then. But of course you have been. Dating someone like Harris, someone more on your level, must certainly be different than...oh, someone like Marcus here. Don’t make a face, Marcus darling. It’s not an insult, it’s an economic reality.”

  I understood something at that moment, something I was pretty sure Sergio hadn’t picked up on: Hunter was interested in me. There are these subterranean signals you learn to piece together, when you’re among men like this. The little digs, the jabs, they’re not insults exactly. It’s more like a dominance signal. If we were dogs, Hunter would be pissing on my chair right now, marking territory. If he couldn’t get Josh, then he’d get me. It didn’t matter to him who it was; he was just lonely and rich and ready to buy some companionship. His talk about trust and all that didn’t matter, that was just self-delusion.

  But his mention of Harris had angered Sergio, who pushed his chair back. “Excuse me,” he said, rising.

  People were glancing over. Sergio kept a friendly look on his face, but I could tell he was mad from the tightness around his eyes--that look he’d given me, not so long ago.

  I was suddenly in a quandary, watching him walk off. If I sat here, continuing to listen to Hunter, then Sergio would be alone with his anger. I didn’t want him to have to be alone with it. A few days ago I would’ve loved knowing he was stewing in his fury, but now? Now it bothered me.

  At the same time, if I got up and followed, everyone would start talking. Ooh, did you see that? I bet they’re sleeping together! Oh god, does Sergio know what he’s getting himself into?

  It was Hunter who helped make the decision for me. He looked after Sergio, a look of faux regret on his face. “I wonder if I said something wrong?” he said.

  I got up, not even bothering with the excuse me, and followed Sergio into the night.

  I caught up to him at the beach. The moon was bright, and the resort had torches lit all around the shore; I had no trouble finding him.

  “I’m okay, Marcus,” he said. “You go on back to dinner.”

  “You don’t look okay.”

  “It’s...” He paused, and looked guiltily at me. What had he been going to say? It’s none of your business? It’s not something you can help with? It’s a topic only rich guys can discuss?

  Finally, he sighed. “Walk with me?”

  We kicked off our shoes and rolled up our pants cuffs, and walked through the sand. If we veered just a little further to the right, the waves would break and roll in over our feet, surprisingly cold.

  After several minutes of silence, I said, “Hunter has some boundary problems.”

  “He’s a fucking tick, except that he feeds on gossip instead of blood.”

  I laughed. “I was gonna be polite about it, in case you were buddies.”

  “It takes some damn nerve for him to bring up Harris in the middle of a conversation like that. Everyone knows how hard that breakup was on me.”

  “Nobody likes being talked about like that. That’s why I was so pissed off about being the topic of his conversation last night. Imagine how Josh must feel. No wonder he didn’t come down to dinner.”

  “Last night Hunter was talking about Josh hitting on him. Now it’s all gifts and inexcusable ingratitude.”

  We walked quietly for a few more moments, and then I said, “That’s why guys like you shouldn’t date guys like us.”

  “Sculptors and waiters?”

  “People with money, and people without. Why isn’t Hunter hitting on you, Sergio? You’re clearly more cultured than Josh. You understand better what a guy like Hunter wants.”

  “I do?” His face half-lit by moonlight, Sergio looked both puzzled and amused.

  “You go to the same parties, you know the same people. You don’t have to worry about the meaning of all the gifts. About the...what did Hunter call it? The economic reality.”

  “So everyone should only date within their tiny socioeconomic circle?”

  “Basically,” I said. I was watching his face carefully.

  “Wouldn’t the better answer be to call out guys like Hunter for being creeps? Let the world know what they are. Big billboards in town: Hunter Likes Poor But Muscular Guys He Can Buy Off.”

  I laughed. “That would be great.”

  “Harris Is A Lying Sociopath But You’ll Be Able To Say You’re Dating A Surgeon.”

  We paused by the water. “What about yours?” I asked.

  “Mine?”

  “Your billboard. What would it warn people about?”

  “Sergio is harrowing and disturbing.”

  “You’re harrowing?” I asked. “Like a horror movie?”

  “That’s what someone said about my last sculptures. Apparently I have a dark side that has only recently come out.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t think you have a dark side.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so either,” he said. “I feel like I’m just this easygoing, mellow guy.”<
br />
  “Mellow? That’s about as far off as harrowing.”

  “My point,” said Sergio, “is that I’m learning a lot about myself recently. Like how easily I believed the gossip about you. What does it say about me that I spent all this time thinking you’re a gold-digger?”

  “Nothing good,” I said.

  “I’m the most gullible person on earth.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not like you joined a cult or something. Unless...do the rich gossipy guys of Oceanside all live in a cult?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. Maybe I just haven’t been invited yet. But what about you, Marcus? What would your big warning billboard say?”

  “Mine would be all, Welcome To The Best Guy You’ve Ever Met. Possibly with fireworks. Or a laser show.”

  “The only guy in Oceanside with no damage.”

  I knew he was joking, but I felt a little pang when he said that. I had plenty of damage. Everyone did. But what’s the point of making it the whole focus of your life? “Fine,” I said. “Marcus: Widely Thought To Be After Your Money.”

  Sergio wrapped his arm around me. I hadn’t been expecting it. “Maybe we could pay Hunter a million dollars never to mention either of us in conversation ever again,” he said.

  I leaned against him. “Maybe we could fly back to Oceanside while all our friends are down here, and change the locks so they can’t come back.”

  “I’m sorry this vacation has been so hard on us,” he said after a while. We had stopped walking, and he was just holding me in his arms, as the dying waves rolled over our feet.

  “I don’t know,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. “It has sucked as a vacation, but as a way of getting the truth out into the open...”

  We stared at the moon for a while. The heat of the day was completely gone, and all down my arms, my skin prickled with the breeze coming off the water. We didn’t say anything for the longest time. What would it be like, to be with Sergio? Not the furtive encounters we’d managed so far, but to actually be with him?