Men in Love: M/M Romance

by Jerry L. Wheeler

  Reuben looked at me, hesitant. He exhaled. “That would be good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I offered a hand. He waited a second, then took it and barely squeezed before letting go quickly.

  “I’m Ben,” he said.

  “William.”

  “I knew that,” he said and looked at my name tag again, then smiled.

  Of course, we didn’t offer five free trainer days for new members. I’d have to pay for it myself. But that smile was worth every penny.

  “You’re probably right about the treadmill,” he admitted. “I really felt it after last time.”

  I wasn’t surprised. “Let’s go figure out a schedule. And next time, bring your trunks. We’re going to start in the pool.”

  I put my hand at the small of his back to lead him to the front desk. He flinched, then tried to hide it by stepping to the side and gesturing for me to go first. I cursed myself. I knew better.

  Two men had come upon him in the park, where he’d been going for an evening run.

  No arrests.

  “This way,” I said.

  *

  I’d suggested the mid-mornings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays because I knew the pool had no classes going then, and the mid-mornings were the quietest times at the gym. I wore one of the gym tank tops management had given us. I didn’t like the way it stuck to me, but they preferred we wear a shirt of some kind when working with clients in the pool.

  Reuben—Ben—kept his shirt on as well, which surprised me until it occurred to me he might have scars. He slipped into the water eagerly after I’d explained what I wanted him to do.

  “This is a floater belt,” I said, tying it around him, hyperconscious that I was close behind him and trying not to notice how tense he was about it. “It’ll add to your buoyancy and help keep weight off your leg. You’re going to run in place in the water.”

  I finished putting it on his waist and felt heat rising on my face as I walked around him. We moved deeper into the pool, and once he had clearance, he bobbed a bit in the water. His shirt clung to him, and I couldn’t help but notice his left nipple was pierced. I forced myself to maintain eye contact.

  He went at it like a trouper, awkward at first but getting his balance and getting the hang of what motions he was aiming for pretty quickly. I watched him, keeping an eye on his face for any grimaces or signs of trouble, and I gave what I hoped was gentle encouragement. He didn’t tire as quickly as he had on the treadmill, and when I suggested we’d done enough, he seemed slightly disappointed it was over.

  I focused on his range of motion, and as the sessions went by, Ben relaxed a little in my presence. I still avoided touching him beyond what was necessary, and he still rarely smiled. I tried to think of him as a client and ignored the way my chest tightened when he winced or got frustrated with himself if he had to stop earlier than he’d wanted to. He came in one morning having obviously not slept at all the night before, and I imagined the nightmares he was having. It took every bit of willpower I had not to grab him in a bear hug.

  With my help, his leg was getting stronger. I only wished I could do the same for the rest of him.

  *

  “No bike bunny boy today, Billy?” Mick asked when I came back in for my next afternoon shift.

  “Mick, you need to shut up,” I snapped.

  Mick stepped back, surprised. “Whoa, dude.”

  “Seriously,” I said, angry at him, and angry that I’d let him get me angry in the first place. “It’s not funny, it’s not charming. You have no idea what it’s like, okay? The jokes aren’t funny, the comments aren’t funny. You, Mick, are not funny.” I heard my voice rising, but I pulled myself back together and turned my back on him. I sat at the computer, pounding the keys as I entered the membership forms he’d once again not bothered to put in.

  I did two forms before he spoke again. It surprised me; I thought he’d left.

  “Sorry,” Mick said. “I really didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  I turned in my chair. “No,” I said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

  “You’re pretty freaking scary when you’re mad.”

  I felt my bad mood dissipating. “Hell hath no fury like a fag scorned,” I said.

  Mick glanced around, then said. “Scorned, huh? Did that guy turn you down?”

  I shrugged. “No. I didn’t make a pass at him. Ben’s…” I wasn’t sure why I was telling Mick of all people about it. It occurred to me that I’d listened to his women woes on any number of occasions and never offered up anything myself. “It’s not the right time,” I said.

  He sat on the other chair. “You were both hanging out in the pool, weren’t you? On your own time?”

  I was surprised he’d noticed, and I looked at him. Mick seemed a bit hesitant, but genuine.

  “He thinks we owe him training sessions from when he signed up,” I admitted.

  Mick raised his eyebrows. “Dude. That’s…Wow.” He paused. “That’s a pretty good idea, actually.” He seemed to be considering it.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to use it on the next blond to walk through the door.”

  He looked chagrined. “So, why are you two doing all that pool work?”

  “Broken leg,” I said, skirting the hows and whys. “Four months ago or so. He’s a runner, and wants to get back to it, but…” I shrugged.

  Mick nodded. “Car accident?”

  I shook my head and again found myself volunteering. “He was attacked. Bashed.”

  “Oh jeez.” Mick grimaced. “That must suck.”

  “And not in the good way,” I sighed. I finished the last membership sheet and pushed away from the computer.

  “I’m really sorry,” Mick said. For the first time ever, he wasn’t annoying the crap out of me.

  “When did you become a nice guy?”

  Mick rolled his eyes. “Always have been. Just normally, it’s the ladies who notice.”

  I laughed. “Right.”

  “He’ll come around,” Mick said. I’d heard him say that a dozen times about the ladies he’d dated who’d found him wanting.

  “I doubt it. Even if he’s interested, he’ll be too ashamed and too timid,” I said. “That’s the worst part. You heal, and you don’t look any different, but it takes something from you. Things you used to do? You don’t do them any more. It’s like…” I thought about it. Remembered. “It’s like you lose your range of motion. Confidence, I guess. Takes a really long time to realize you’re not to blame, that you couldn’t have done anything different—and that you shouldn’t have to—and a lot longer to believe it.”

  Mick stared. “William…” He’d never called me that before.

  I smiled. “It was a long time ago, and nowhere near as bad. No broken bones, no broken teeth, but a lot of bruises, black eyes, and a bloody nose. And I gave as good as I got. But it’s enough to understand what it must be like for him,” I said. “Your friends and family all find out, and it’s in the room all the time. I had to tell my parents why I’d had the crap kicked out of me by my best friends. I got caught with this other guy. Everyone found out. I had to quit football, had to try and disappear. But that was in high school. You get to leave high school.”

  I’d escaped to the city and had never looked back. It was different for me, I imagined, than for Ben. I couldn’t imagine going through it now. Coworkers, neighbours, and friends; his life would be completely disrupted. Tainted. “I’m gonna go do rounds.”

  Mick let me go without comment. Who says miracles don’t happen?

  *

  “How does it feel?” I asked Ben. We were drying off after time in the pool.

  “There’s burn,” he said. “But it’s good burn.” He smiled then, an actual open smile, and I noticed the gap between his front teeth was gone.

  Something must have shown on my face, because his smile faltered. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No,” I li
ed. I remembered the article had mentioned he’d lost teeth. One or both of his front teeth, I supposed, had been replaced. The gap had been fixed. “You go hit the sauna, get some heat. I’ll see you next time?”

  He handed me the belt. “Bright and early.” He rubbed his chin. “Or maybe a little later?”

  “There’s a class at nine,” I said.

  Ben sighed. “No rest for the wicked.”

  I laughed. “Are you wicked?” I’d intended it to be light, but he met my gaze for a moment, dark eyes full of a rare mirth.

  “I do have the beard for it.”

  “Goatees are wicked?” I asked.

  “Just ask Spock.”

  I blinked.

  “Wow, I just dorked out, didn’t I?” he said.

  “It suits you.”

  “Being a dork?” Ben smiled again, that dazzling smile. This time I didn’t notice the missing gap.

  “The goatee,” I said, and I felt my face flushing.

  His smile faded again. “Thanks. It hides a scar on my chin.” He shivered. “Time for the sauna.”

  I watched him go, wishing I had an excuse to follow him.

  *

  I managed to convince him for three weeks, but on the last day of the third week, Ben got out of the water and said, “I can’t possibly have any time left.” He’d made real progress, and I was wondering if it might be time to try the treadmill—not a full-out run, but a good long walk—to see if he’d gotten past his slight limping.

  I tried to brush off the comment. “We only spend an hour or so together. It doesn’t add up to a full session.”

  Ben wiped his legs with the towel, then looked at me. “A session is two hours. I asked that other trainer. You’ve been comping me, haven’t you?”

  I felt my face heat up. “Maybe I’ve been stretching the rules a little,” I admitted.

  He put down the towel and shivered in his damp shirt and trunks. “Why?”

  Because you used to smile all the time, and it’s possible I have an insane crush on you. I hesitated. “I, uh, know about your accident,” I said, my voice low.

  His expression shut down. “What?”

  I swallowed. “I read about it. Online.” A line had appeared between his eyebrows, and I rushed on, realizing I’d made a huge mistake. “I just…It made me so angry. I thought I could help.” He looked down at the deck, and his lips had narrowed.

  “I have to go now,” he said, his hands shaking.

  “Have lunch with me,” I said. It came out in a rush. I needed to explain.

  He stared, dark eyes darting back up to meet mine. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I’m doing this all wrong. Just…You’re hungry, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Let me take you to lunch.”

  “Aren’t you working?”

  I winced. “Actually, no. I’ve been coming in, uh, on my own time whenever you and I…” At the look on his face, I trailed off.

  He swallowed. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  My chest tightened. “Okay.” The word burned in my throat.

  Reuben Wright turned and left, leaving the pool room without the slightest limp.

  *

  “Your guy hasn’t been around,” Mick said.

  I grunted, punching in more of Mick’s membership paperwork. “I pretty much fucked that up completely.” We’d found a nice new balance, Mick and I. I was trying to consider it the consolation prize.

  “You did?”

  “I told him I’d read about his bashing on the net, and that I was comping him the sessions, coming in on my own time…I came off really stalkerish.”

  Mick shrugged, holding up his hands. “Dude. You pretty much did stalk him, right?”

  I groaned. “Thanks, Mick, that makes me feel so much better.”

  “No.” Mick shook his head. “But you had, like, good motives. Also, he’s a hottie.”

  I blinked.

  “What? Guys know when other guys are hot. They just pretend not to. He’s hot. I’m secure in my masculinity.”

  “What have you done with Mick and how long can you stay?” I asked.

  He swatted the back of my head. “What I mean is, go after him.”

  “Chasing a victim seems like a bad idea,” I said.

  Mick frowned. “You call him a victim?”

  “No. No, I…” That stopped me. “Shit.”

  Mick sat down beside me. “Dude, call him.”

  “And say what?” I looked at him.

  “I don’t know. Tell him he’s hot. Tell him you’re sorry. Those two work on women all the time. Tell him you wanna make him feel like a lady.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Or…well, gay that up a little.” He waved a hand.

  I laughed. “Thanks, Mick, but it’s okay. I screwed up. I scared him off.”

  “Pussy,” he said.

  “I prefer cock, actually.”

  He sat there for a while longer, but when I didn’t speak, he pushed away with a grunt and left me alone at the computer.

  *

  Ben was outside when I left work four days later. I saw him as I shrugged into my jacket—it was getting colder again—and stopped walking. He was leaning against the wall outside the gym and looking at me, his hands in the pockets of his coat and a small smile on his lips.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.” I felt awkward and wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You’re right. That guy is a bit of a jerk,” Ben said.

  I wasn’t following. “Pardon?”

  “Mick,” Ben said. “He called me. I’m pretty sure he’s not supposed to look up my phone number.”

  I blinked. “Mick called you?”

  “He said, and I quote: ‘Billy went completely out of his way to help you, and you treated him like crap.’” Ben curled his lips in a crooked grin. “It took me a while to figure out who Billy was.”

  I grimaced. “You’re kidding.”

  Ben shook his head. “I’m not. But he was sort of right. I’m sorry. You were very generous, and I was—”

  “Blindsided,” I said. “I really screwed that up.”

  Ben smiled, flashing his new smile with the perfect front teeth.

  “I missed that.”

  “Pardon?” Ben said.

  “Your smiles,” I said. “You have a great smile.”

  He blushed. “I kind of wondered if you were watching me when I used to come in.”

  “That obvious, was I?”

  He smiled again. “A little.”

  I rocked on my heels. “I am really sorry for not being honest.”

  “If you’d been honest, I’d have walked out the door,” Ben said, and then he frowned. “That sounded like permission to lie to me again. It wasn’t.”

  “Got it,” I said. I liked the sound of again.

  Ben shifted. “Back then…before…if you’d have asked me out…”

  “Yeah?” I said.

  “I was hoping you would,” Ben said. He blushed. “You’ve got great arms.”

  “And you’ve got great legs,” I said.

  “Had.”

  “Have,” I stressed. I winked. “And an awesome ass.”

  Ben laughed. “Damn! You should have asked me out months ago.”

  I looked at him. “I’m asking now.”

  His smile faltered, and he blinked rapidly. “I’m a mess, William.”

  “You’re allowed to be. Trust me, I’ve been there,” I said. “Really.”

  Ben frowned, and I saw when he realized what I was saying. “Oh,” he said.

  I stepped toward him, and he didn’t flinch when I opened my arms. He gave a shaky laugh then hugged me, rolling his eyes at his own hesitation. I gripped him.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” I said into his hair. It had a citrus smell. I breathed deep. The tension in his body relaxed in tiny increments, but it eventually faded. I looked around. We were alone; the st
reet was empty. He felt me move and looked up at me. I leaned forward.

  It was a gentle kiss, and I was surprised at how soft his goatee was. We lingered just a moment, and then I pulled back, though I still had my arms around him. I didn’t want to let go, not just yet. I loved seeing him smile up at me like that.

  “Get a room!”

  Ben jumped, and we stepped apart. Mick took just enough time to grin at me before he zipped up his jacket and walked off the other way.

  “Asshole!” I yelled.

  “Pussy!” he yelled back, not turning.

  “He’s going to be insufferable now.” I sighed.

  Ben chuckled and put his hands back in his pockets. He looked shaky, but better. I’d take it.

  “So,” I said. “About that lunch.”

  “I’d love to,” Ben said.

  Crewman

  Jerry Rabushka

  “You’re picture framing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Stand back, Crewman.”

  “Must be the brush.”

  “The brush is top of the line, must be the you.”

  I stood back to look at the wall. It’s a color called Blueberry Tropics. It’s trendy, it’s this year. He was right. Well, he always was. And I didn’t stand back so much as he grabbed my arm and yanked me into the middle of the room. “It’s a picture frame.”

  It’s a paint term. You roll out the wall as close as you can to the edge, then you cut in with the brush. If it doesn’t blend right, all four edges of the wall look like you’ve painted a picture frame. Nobody wants that to happen. We have lots of terms like that. We call “you missed a spot” a holiday, but it means you have to work longer.

  Carl manhandled me in a way he rarely did with anyone else. Crew members are all like, why do you let him treat you like that?

  “He’s the boss.”

  “I’d sock him one.”

  Boss got the bid on a big job, and here we are finishing up in this new-construction three-million=dollar mansion. Gotta travel an hour to get there and get it ready for the owner. Pays pretty well. Of course, we’re the last crew in there. Painters have to wait till all the trades are pretty much done, then we make up for lost time. So, a picture frame? That was more time lost.