by Witt, L. A.
“Maybe do it right this time,” I said.
His eyebrows flicked up a little. That was the only response he gave.
I cleared my throat. “I freaked out. It wasn’t your fault. I . . . I let some shit get under my skin and make me question things, and that was a huge mistake.”
No response.
“I am so sorry,” I went on. “I was so scared of not being normal. That there was something wrong with me, and that this was something I’d gone into impulsively as a way to get over Aimee.”
“Impulsively?” he snapped. “We were friends for ages before we called it anything more than that. You had plenty of time to get your head around whether or not you were ace. So was that the part you jumped into? Or this part?” He gestured at himself, then me.
“The whole thing. All of it.” I moistened my lips and tried like hell to keep my voice even. “The thing is, I don’t care about being normal. I care about you. How I feel when I’m with you. And I am so, so sorry I hurt you. And I’m . . . I mean, I’m still not totally sure what my sexuality is. I just know that I love you. I’ve never felt anything close to this with anyone but you.” I gulped, struggling not to lose my nerve. “I wanted to be normal until I realized normal meant living without the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”
His Adam’s apple jumped.
“I’m sorry, Zafir.”
He shook his head. “I’ve been with enough people who were embarrassed of me for one reason or another. My ex-fiancée didn’t like people knowing she was with an uneducated guy who’d be stuck in retail for the rest of his life. One of my exes hated telling people I had a kid. And believe me, you aren’t the first guy who didn’t want people to know he was dating a guy. Or who introduced me as a ‘friend’ because deep down, that’s all I was.”
I flinched like he’d smacked me. “I’m not embarrassed of you. I mean, hell—my coworkers knew we were dating, and I never said a word. I don’t care if they know.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts enough to actually make sense. “This was about me. I started second-guessing myself, and thinking I’d jumped into being asexual because it was easier than dealing with my breakup.”
“Didn’t seem like it was easy for you to accept that’s what you were.”
“It wasn’t. But it was a distraction.” I shook my head. “Except it wasn’t just a distraction. This is who I am. And I love you.”
He straightened a little, setting his jaw. “But how do I know, especially after this shit, with you freaking out over what’s ‘normal,’ if this really is what you want? What if it is some impulsive rebound thing?”
I studied him. “So now you don’t think I’m asexual?”
“I didn’t say that. But you’re asking me to give you a second chance. How . . .” He avoided my eyes for a second. “I guess what I’m asking is how long do you think I want to be introduced as your friend before I start wondering if that’s all I really am to you?”
I gnawed my lip for a moment. “Here’s the thing. Ever since I started dating, I’ve been looking for the right person, and I thought that meant a woman. Someone who I wanted in bed, and then fell in love with and wanted to have a family with. I had this person in my head who’d be perfect. She was a woman, and we were amazing at sex, and . . .”
I shook my head, and when I went on, I was talking fast. Almost too fast. “I had it all wrong, Zafir. The whole time, the right person for me was nothing like I pictured and wasn’t in any of the places I was looking. It was just . . . you. And if I introduce you as my friend, it’s because that’s what you’ve been from the start. I haven’t even known you that long, and you’re my best friend. You get me. That’s why I fell in love with you.”
His breath hitched just slightly. Mine was gone. For the longest time, we stood in silence, and I didn’t know if I should keep talking or wait for him to respond. And if I was supposed to keep talking, what was I supposed to say? It was all out there now. All laid out on the table.
Give me something, Zafir. This is all I have.
The silence kept going. He looked away. Then I did.
Finally, I found one last reserve, and quietly said, “I also realized that when I’m with you, it really doesn’t matter what’s weird or normal. You accept me. You have from day one. I was stupid to take that for granted or walk away from that. I thought I was terrible at being in bed with my exes, but I ended up being terrible at being in love with you. I just . . . Can you give me another shot?”
He lowered his gaze. “It’s not that easy.”
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed, then met my eyes. “It’s not just me, Brennan. Tariq’s part of the deal too. And when he realized you were gone . . .”
My heart dropped. “I’m sorry. I want to make this up to both of you.”
Once again, Zafir went quiet. He tightened his arms across his chest, and looked anywhere but right at me. Even from a few feet away, I was pretty sure I could physically feel his walls going up.
“There’s one more thing,” I whispered.
He exhaled sharply, but didn’t say anything.
I gulped, wondering how much longer this thin ice would hold. “The day I broke up with you, I almost came by your place to talk to you. That night, I mean. I wanted to fix things.”
His eyebrows rose.
I went on: “I knew there was no way I was going to be able to sleep until I did, and I wanted to do it in person. So I went over, and I made it to your door, but I couldn’t make myself knock. I . . .” I was talking fast now, not even sure if the words were coming out in the right order. “I got all the way to the door, but then I left. I couldn’t do it.”
He held my gaze, but didn’t speak.
I inhaled slowly. “And I left because . . . because I didn’t want to upset Tariq.”
Zafir blinked.
I stared at the floor between us. “I was all ready to knock, and I knew what I wanted to say, but then I realized that he’d hear us. And I . . . couldn’t do that to him.”
He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was gentler. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I moved a little closer, and braced myself as I met his gaze. Something—I couldn’t say exactly what—had softened in his expression, but I didn’t dare let it get my hopes up.
Still, I’d already gone out on a limb, so what was going out a little farther?
With an unsteady hand, I reached for his face. He didn’t pull away. When my fingertips brushed his skin, we both jumped, but otherwise, he stayed still. Cautiously, I let my palm rest against his cheek.
Zafir closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “There’s really nothing else I can say except that you’re everything I didn’t know I wanted. And I found you even though I was looking in all the wrong places. You don’t owe me a thing, and I know you have to protect your son, but is a second chance too much to ask?”
Zafir swallowed.
“We don’t even have to tell Tariq right away,” I went on. “If you want us to just be friends when we’re around him, I’m okay with that. Whatever you think is best.”
I cringed. Whatever he thought was best probably came down to me fucking off and him moving on with his life. But it was out there. Nothing to do but wait for him to make a move.
Finally, he released a long breath and met my gaze. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.”
Two, three, four quiet seconds went by, and then he wrapped his arms around me.
“To answer your question,” he whispered, holding me tight. “No, a second chance isn’t too much to ask.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I held him close and buried my face against his neck. “I love you, Zafir.”
“I love you too.” His words were as shaky as I felt. He nudged me to lift my head, and when I did, he kissed me gently. “I missed you.”
“So did I.” I smoothed his hair. “Like crazy.”
He smiled, but it faltered, and th
en a worried look creased his forehead and tightened his lips. “I have no idea what to tell Tariq. If we start again, and it doesn’t work out, then . . .”
I took his hand in both of mine. “I’m serious—maybe we shouldn’t tell him right away. Or, you know, tell him we’re friends again. Because even if this doesn’t work out, I would like us to be friends again. And stay that way.”
Zafir smiled, cupping my face. “Me too.” He kissed me again, then glanced toward the door. “I, um, should probably get back to work, though.”
“Yeah. Same here.” I chuckled sheepishly. “I . . . kind of ditched my coworker to come here.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “It was bugging me too much. The way I’d left things with us.” I stroked his cheek with the backs of my fingers. “I had to come see you and fix this.”
Zafir closed his hand over mine. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.”
“I’d suggest getting together after work tonight, but . . .” He took a breath. “I need to sit down with Tariq and tell him we’re friends again. He needs to know.”
I winced. “This is really bothering him, isn’t it?”
Grimacing, Zafir nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” He kissed me lightly. “But he’ll be okay. And so will we.”
Thank God.
“So, text me when you’ve got some time?” I smiled cautiously. “Maybe we’ll grab lunch tomorrow?”
“Lunch sounds good. I’ll definitely text you.” He paused. “And I’ll let you know how things go with Tariq.”
“Thank you.”
“For the moment, though . . .” He nodded toward the door. “Get back to work.”
I saluted with two fingers. “Going back to work. And you too, slacker.”
Zafir laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Epilogue - Zafir
A Year Later
I was just wrapping up at Red Hot when my phone buzzed with a text from Brennan.
Can you swing by before you go to work? Tariq’s order came in.
I didn’t have to be at Old Country for another hour.
Grinning, I texted back, Be there around four thirty.
I was almost as excited as Tariq would be when he found out about this. He had no idea Brennan and I had ordered him his own custom skateboard. Or that we’d also gotten him a new set of elbow pads to replace the one he’d cracked earlier this year, and kneepads since his old ones were starting to get tight. Brennan had even ordered a smaller version of the jersey he wore when he competed, complete with sponsor names.
“Chatting with Brennan?” Violet asked.
“Yep. Tariq’s birthday present came in.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and go, then?” She smiled. “You two haven’t seen much of each other lately anyway.”
That was true. Some of the other drivers at Old Country had gotten fed up with Pete and quit, so those of us who were left had to pick up extra hours. Great for the paycheck, but man, it was wearing me down.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yep. Go.”
“Thanks, Violet!”
I left Red Hot and started walking up the sidewalk toward Skate of Juan de Fuca. Hard to believe we’d stood out here a year or so ago and broken up—that was all a distant memory now. We had ups and downs like any couple, but nothing like that massive hiccup we’d had last year. Brennan had introduced me to his friends and teammates, none of whom seemed to bat an eye at him dating a man. He didn’t bother spelling out that he was asexual—the fact that they accepted our relationship was enough for him. They didn’t need to know anything more.
Tariq hadn’t been sure what to think when he’d realized Brennan and I were friends again. We spent a few months that way, letting him get used to things before we eased him into the idea that we were dating. For a couple of weeks after that, he was frosty toward Brennan, and he’d confided in me one night that he was scared Brennan was going to leave.
Eventually, though, he’d warmed back up to him. Brennan started occasionally staying over. When that went well, he stayed a few times a week. In fact, if he wasn’t closing at the skate shop, he’d go to my place while I was at Old Country. Kelly wasn’t thrilled about losing a few of her evenings, but it eased some of my financial strain.
And I had to admit, there was something exceptionally sweet about coming home and finding the two of them watching a movie together, or playing video games, or poring over Tariq’s homework at the kitchen table. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d walked in to find them both lounging on the couch, noses buried in books. That had been happening a lot lately, especially since Brennan had started letting Tariq borrow some of his science fiction and fantasy novels.
“Well, Mr. Hamady,” Tariq’s teacher had told me during a parent-teacher conference not long ago. “Your son is definitely the first fourth grader I’ve had do a book report on Tolkien.”
The memory made me chuckle as I continued toward Skate of Juan de Fuca. Maybe if my parents had let me hang around the skaters when I was a kid, I’d have started reading a few grade levels ahead.
At the skate shop, I opened the door and stepped inside.
And the whole place went quiet.
I glanced around. The employees all quickly went back to whatever tasks they’d been working on, and their conversations started again, but . . . weird.
“Hey, Cross!” his boss called into the back. “Your dude just got here.”
A second later, Brennan came limping out of the back room. He’d twisted his knee during a competition a couple of weeks ago, so he was still hobbling around in a brace. He was getting better, though. The doctor had told him to stay off his board for six weeks, but I had a feeling Brennan would be back to skating in the next few days.
Idiot. I chuckled to myself. Between him and Tariq, I figured I might as well buy stock in one of those companies that manufactured ice packs.
“So,” I said. “It all came in?”
“Most of it.” Brennan grinned. He leaned down behind the counter and picked up a stack of boxes, which he set beside the register. Then he came around to where I was standing, and dug a box cutter out of his pocket. “They back-ordered the pads, but the helmet and board came in.”
“Awesome. Can I see the board?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He started cutting open the box, and excitement swelled in my stomach. Though I had no real interest in skateboarding, we’d been plotting for weeks to get Tariq the custom board along with some other gear for his birthday. Now that the order was finally in, I couldn’t wait to see it.
In a few months, this thing would be scraped and scratched all to hell, but today, it was brand-new. One of Brennan’s buddies had sketched a knights and dragons design, since Tariq loved fantasy and science fiction, and the company had put that design on the board.
“That thing is wicked cool,” Sven said, pausing as he went by us. “He’s gonna love it.”
“Yeah, he is,” I said. “Can’t wait to give it to him.”
“Well.” Brennan carefully put the board back in its box. “Hopefully everything else will be here by then. Assuming he hasn’t outgrown them already.”
“Right?” Tariq was going to bankrupt me when he really started in on the growth spurts. His school clothes were killing me already. And when it came to skating gear—well, good thing Brennan had an employee discount.
“So you really think he’ll like it?” Brennan asked.
“I think he’s gonna love it.” I smiled. “Thank you. For getting all this.”
He smiled back. “There is, um, one more thing.” He pushed a small box toward me on the counter, and shyly added, “This one’s for you, though.”
“Me?” I eyed him as I took the box. “You guys aren’t going to give up on getting me to skate, are you?”
“Are you surprised?”
“No.” I lifted the flaps and reached inside. “Knowing the two of you, nothing surprises me any—” Cold metal met my fingertips. I looked into the box. “What the . . .”
“You didn’t think I’d forgotten your birthday is two weeks before his, did you?”
“No, but . . .” I pulled out the simple silver ring. “Is . . .”
“Yes, it’s that kind of ring.” Brennan took my hand. “I’d, um, get down on one knee, but . . .” He gestured at the brace.
In disbelief, I stared at the ring. At him. I realized Brennan’s coworkers had all gone quiet again, and they were watching us. No one made a sound.
“You . . .” I struggled to find my breath. “Are you serious?”
He gulped, then nodded slowly. “Completely.” He paused, then sighed dramatically and gestured down again. “I mean it—it’s aching like a motherfucker today, so I couldn’t—”
I laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. And yes, I’m serious. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. “Will you marry me?”
“I . . .” I glanced at the ring, then at him. “You know this means being a stepparent too, right?”
“I do.” He straightened a little, an odd grin curling his lips. “Hey, I kind of like the sound of that—I do.”
“Me too,” I whispered. “And yes, I will.”
He released a breath, and as everyone around us started applauding, he gathered me in his arms. “I love you, Zafir. And I always thought there was no way in hell I’d be a stepparent, but that was before I met Tariq. I want us all to be a family. Especially ’cause it . . .” He swallowed. “It kind of feels like we already are.”
A lump rose in my throat. “Holy shit.”
“Now are you surprised?”
Laughing, I nodded. “Yes. I am.” I cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. “You pretty much just blew my mind.”
“Mission accomplished.” He paused. “Oh, and there’s a little bit more.”
“More?”
“Yeah. Not the most romantic thing in the world, but I crunched the numbers, and if we pool our money, we can easily live close to Tariq’s school. Plus it turns out my shop’s insurance is cheaper than yours, even if all three of us are on it.” He grinned. “And if we’re living together, we’ll be paying less rent. Bills will be combined. All of that.” He squeezed my hand. “Which means you won’t have to work two jobs anymore. Not unless you want to.”
