by Riley Hart
“I met him on Scruff a few weeks ago,” Derek says before taking another large gulp from his glass of Chardonnay. He sits on my bed with his legs folded, the containers of General Tso’s and sesame chicken open on top of the box of pizza that is set between us. Hayden lies at the foot of the bed, stretched out, chopsticks in hand as he devours some sesame chicken and fried rice from a bowl.
“I thought things were heading somewhere, but he told me I’m not relationship material,” Derek continues. “I’m young, and he just can’t see me that way. Maybe he’s right.”
“That’s such bullshit,” Hayden says. I notice the Chinese food is gone, so I remove the containers and open the pizza box, retrieving a slice.
Hayden and Derek race to get their own slices. It’s like we haven’t eaten in months. Probably true because I bet we’ve all been starving a little to look good for the strip-off.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Derek says. “Why don’t you tell us about you and Travis? That’s a much happier story.”
My eyes water. “Not all that great, actually.”
“Really?” he asks. “For a fake relationship, things didn’t look all that fake at the fundraiser.”
“So, that’s what all that was about,” Hayden says.
Now that we’re on the subject, I start at the beginning, explaining what really happened that day at the fundraiser. I tell him about what we thought we were getting into. What I realized I was getting into. And how I had to call things off.
“I told him we can still be friends,” I say, “but I’m really not sure I can even do that.”
“What do you mean?” Hayden asks.
“It’s how I am. I know every time I’m around him, I’ll be wishing we could be something more. Something we can’t be. And that’s not fair to him.”
“So, you calling it off?”
“I made a commitment to help him. I’m not going to leave him hanging when his entire future depends on me pretending to be with him. I know it’s going to hurt…a lot. Knowing I care so much, and he just…he’s missing a good lay. Because I really like him…a fucking lot. More than I’ve ever liked anybody else. I don’t know how to turn this off.”
“This is the worst night ever,” Derek says. “We need to get on Grindr right now.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell.
“I don’t think that’s the solution,” Hayden says.
“Easy for the guy who’s getting laid constantly to say,” Derek retorts.
Hayden’s expression shifts to one that nearly matches Derek’s. “Not so much.”
“What?” I ask.
“He’s mad about the whole fundraiser thing. And we’ve already been having some…issues, so that didn’t really help.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “If I’d known you guys were having problems, I never would have asked you to help out.”
“It’s not your fault. He just gets weird about stuff like that. It makes me sad because I actually had a lot of fun.”
“Lance’s a fucking prude,” Derek says playfully. He’s clearly trying to get Hayden to crack a smile again. And Hayden does.
Derek reaches into the pizza box between us.
“What the fuck?” he asks.
The pizza’s gone.
“Holy shit,” I say.
“And the Chinese?” Derek says. He puts his hands to his face, his eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God. What have we done?”
“I haven’t had carbs since the summer started,” Hayden says.
“I was starving for the fundraiser,” I add.
“We gotta go back out and get drunk enough to throw this all back up,” Derek concludes, more as an order than a request.
“Shut up,” I say. “As if carbs even affect your twinky body.”
“I’m not a twink,” he insists. “I weigh less now than I did in middle school. They used to call me Chubby D.”
“That’s awful,” Hayden says.
“I know! I have to be careful.” But as he grabs the bottle of Chardonnay off my nightstand behind him and refills our glasses, I can tell his reaction was more an act than anything else.
We keep on chatting. Teasing. Laughing. As we start watching the movie again, we take turns quoting different parts.
I wish I’d been better friends with Hayden. Or that I hadn’t stopped hanging with Derek so much. Tonight’s just what I needed. And it’s nice seeing the light return to Hayden and Derek’s eyes as we tell stories about bad breakups and hookups gone wrong.
I needed tonight. I needed to remember that even though I don’t have Travis—can’t have Travis—at least I can have some amazing friends.
It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll get over him…eventually.
28
Travis
“What’s new with you?” Vincent asks as I knead his shoulder muscles. He’s always chatty when I give him a massage, asking about life at Metropolis, hanging out at Flirt, and things like that.
“Not much,” I reply because it’s the truth. Gary and I have chatted on the phone a few times and went to the gym together twice in the past week and a half. Aside from that and an awkward appearance at a Fourth of a July party where we pretty much avoided each other the entire time, that’s really been the extent of it.
He wasn’t asking you about Gary, dumbshit. He likely doesn’t even know about him.
I shake my head, annoyed that my train of thought automatically headed for Gary station. That’s been happening at the most random times, and I don’t fucking like it.
“Why did you stop massaging?” Vincent breaks through my Gary musings.
Shit. “Sorry. I guess a lot has been on my mind.”
“Sounds like you need something to take your mind off it. Get laid. That’s always the best way. Nothing helps like a good fuck.”
Yeah, don’t I know it, only Gary has decided we can’t sleep together anymore.
Earth to Travis, Gary isn’t the only man in Atlanta. Gary and I weren’t in a real relationship, and now that we’re not fucking, there’s even less reason why I shouldn’t go out and get ass somewhere else. As long as I’m discreet until we figure out how much longer we have to keep this fake relationship going, it shouldn’t be a problem.
“You’re right.” I run my fingers down either side of his spine. “Sex is the cure for everything.” Like trying to get your mind off fake boyfriends who whistle when they work out, like to fade into the background but let loose when they’re in the sack with you…or on a stage at Flirt. “I need a good lay.”
“I happen to know one,” Vincent replies, a little husk to his voice.
Chuckling, I tease, “Do you now? I can take a wild guess on who you mean.”
When I feel his hand run up my thigh, I realize he’s not joking. “You’re fucking hot. I always figured you played on the side.”
My body immediately tenses up. I grind my molars together. This isn’t the first time a client has tried to hit on me—male or female, and every time, it’s like spiders crawling through my veins. I like sex as much as the next guy, but there’s more to me than that. “Because obviously, a guy like me would fuck his clients, right?”
“Obviously,” Vincent replies as his hand slides around to my ass.
“Drop your hand, man. That’s not what I’m here for.”
In his defense, Vincent does just that, but then he turns his head, looks up at me and says, “Want me to suck you off? You flirt enough, and let’s not pretend I haven’t heard stories about you. I also heard you’re trying to get money for your own place.” His hand goes to the button on my jeans. “I know a guy who might be interested in helping with that.”
There’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me I should go for it. Steven said we would talk and now he’s making excuses why we can’t meet. Maybe everyone is right. Why not fuck to get what I want? It’s something I’m good at.
You’re so much more honorable than you think.
/> It’s Gary’s voice I hear in my head when I grab Vincent’s wrist. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, not sacrificing that for anything, and I sure as shit don’t plan to start now by letting this guy suck me off for money.
“I don’t do that shit. We can finish the massage or I can go. Don’t touch me like that again.”
When I let go of Vincent’s wrist, he pulls his arm back and rests it on the table again. “My mistake. I just thought you might be interested in having a little fun,” he says, anger making each one of his words stab at me.
The rest of the massage is uncomfortable. When I pack up to head out, I’m pretty sure I just lost a client, which is shitty in some ways because money is kind of important, but not enough to deal with this. My career is the one place in my life where I can prove people wrong about me…prove my parents wrong.
When I get to the car, I don’t think about what I’m doing when I call Gary.
“Hello?” he answers on the second ring.
“You said we’re friends, right? Hang out with me tonight. Not at the gym or some shit like that. Just come chill with me, Superass.” I didn’t mean to use the name, but I don’t take it back either.
There’s a pause before…“Yeah…yeah, I’d love to hang out with you tonight. That’s what friends do.”
***
We’re Ross and Rachel. It’s the stupidest shit to think, but those are the words that travel through my mind as Gary and I awkwardly sit on the couch in my apartment with shitty wine and lasagna in front of us.
If we had a lot of mutual friends, I feel like they’d have to choose sides. The whole time I think about how awkward this is, I have to keep reminding myself that we weren’t in a real relationship. We stopped fucking; that’s it. After Cody and I messed around, things never got weird between us.
“How’s work?” Gary asks.
“Good. It’s work.” I almost tell him about Vincent today, but I hold back. I don’t want him to ever think I’m that guy—screw someone I met at Flirt or on Grindr, yes. Fuck on the job, no. He likely already wonders about that, and the thought of Gary seeing me that way makes a vein on my forehead throb with anger.
“No news from Steven?” He takes a drink of his wine and looks over at me, those blue eyes of his expressive, even though I’m not sure what they’re saying.
“Nope. He keeps making bullshit excuses. He cancelled our meeting.” He says it’s nothing, but I’ve learned that when people say it’s nothing, it’s usually something.
He sets his glass down, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Did you ever think maybe they’re not excuses, Trav? Maybe he’s busy. Maybe something came up. You’re going to get that money because you deserve the money. You worked your ass off, and I can’t wait to see all the good things that happen to you because of it.”
“We,” I say.
“We what?”
“We worked our asses off. Don’t pretend I could have done this without you, and you called me Trav.”
His cheeks pinken slightly, making me chuckle. “I’ve fucked you in a hundred different ways, and you’ve had your dick in my ass too, yet you’re embarrassed that you called me Trav?”
“Just because you mentioned it!” He rolls his napkin and tosses it at me.
“Just because I thought it was cute.” I shrug. “You’ve never called me Trav before.” It’s this, I realize, that I missed. Talking to him, laughing with him, spending time with him without the awkwardness that his deciding not to fuck me anymore injected into our friendship.
But then I pretty much see Gary shut down. See the tension bleed back into us as he turns away and takes another bite of his food.
“Okay, seriously. We need to have this shit out. We were supposed to be friends and now you’re acting like I kicked your puppy every time I see you.”
His forehead wrinkles. “I don’t act like you kicked my puppy. I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”
“I’m overreacting? And maybe you’re not acting like I’m a puppy-kicker but you’re treating me like I’m really an ex.”
“Maybe because it feels that way to me! Did you ever think about that? God, I never should have done this. I should have known this would happen from the start.”
He tries to stand, but I reach out and wrap a hand around his wrist to stop him. “My dad’s not really my dad.” The second the last word leaves my mouth, I want it back. What the fuck am I doing telling him this shit?
“I’m really confused right now,” he says, that crease still above his brows.
“I don’t know why I said that…why I told you. What the fuck it means right now…it’s just…” Just that I’ve always felt like I don’t fit in…like I don’t belong, even when I pretend I do. Even when everything looks perfect on the outside, my edges just never connect with others the way they should. “I guess I was kind of set to be the family fuck up from the start. My mom slept with another guy—just once. Biggest mistake of her life, she’ll tell you. She told my dad, my stepdad. He forgave her. They hoped I was his. I wasn’t. We don’t speak about that, though. We pretend I’m his, so no one talks. He pretends to love me the way he does Martin and Malcolm, but he doesn’t. She pretends to forgive me for not being his, but she doesn’t.”
“But you always call him Dad.”
“Because he’s the only dad I’ve ever known. He’s my dad even though I’m not biologically his.”
“I’m so sorry, Travis. I had no idea.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
“That’s because you’re the first person I’ve told. I don’t know why I’m telling you now.” Or maybe I do, and I just can’t admit it. Because I’m scared I won’t be what Gary wants me to be either. That I won’t fit the person he wants me to be or thinks I should be. It’s easier not to give a shit. “It is what it is, though. There’s no changing it so why stress about it?”
His frown grows deeper. “It’s okay to hurt, ya know? It’s okay to admit something or someone got to you.”
But really, it’s not. I’m tired of letting people down—not being Dad’s, being gay, not following in my dad’s footsteps like my brothers. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just…don’t be weird around me. I’ve gotten used to having your sexy ass around, even if I can’t have a piece of it.” I wink at him, but he doesn’t take the bait. He’s not going to drop the subject.
“Are you going? To your brother’s girlfriend’s party?”
I fall against the back of the couch. Me and my big-ass mouth. “No.”
“Travis, your brothers want you there. They love you. Don’t let your parents get in the way of that!”
My anger spikes, and I shoot back up so I’m sitting forward. “Are you shitting me right now? Are you really going to give me hell about my family when you’re not even out to yours? You don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.”
For a split second, he looks as though I hit him and then he’s shoving to his feet, his anger matching mine. “Our situations are completely different, but at least I’m not a fake the way you are! You pretend to have your shit together—confident, don’t give a fuck attitude, screw anyone who doesn’t like me the way I am, but it’s all a façade, isn’t it? At least I’m honest about my weaknesses rather than walking around with a chip on my shoulder and pretending they don’t exist.”
“Get out,” I say before clenching my jaw so tight pain shoots through it and up to my ears. Weak. Did he really just call me weak? And after what I just told him, shit I haven’t told anyone else?
“Travis…I—”
“Get. Out,” I tell him again. He pauses, then turns and walks away as I tell myself it’s better this way.
29
Gary
I need someone to talk to, and this isn’t the kind of conversation I can have with Derek. I don’t need jokes and quips. I need a voice of reason.
The first person who comes to mind is Hayden. We don’t know
each other well, but he’s always been the kind of guy I felt comfortable talking to. And after the other weekend, I feel like I can reach out to him without it being weird.
When I send him a message, he replies that he’s free. I walk to his condo building, my mind jumbled with confusion from everything that just happened.
My chest is tight with discomfort, my face red with fury as I take quick, shaky breaths.
While I tell Hayden about the fight—leaving out the most personal part Travis told me—he brews some coffee and mixes some batter for cookies. Evidently, since the fundraiser, he’s been treating himself with snacks, and I feel like I could use that today.
“What right does he have to tell me I should be out to my parents?” I ask him as I get to the part of our fight that set me off. “There are plenty of guys who aren’t out to their families.”
Hayden checks on the cookies in the oven. In sweat pants and a tank top, it’s clear he was having a bed day, and I kind of feel bad for interrupting. He removes his glasses and sets them down on the kitchen island, the overhead fluorescent light glistening off the lenses. He takes a sip from his coffee mug as he sits on the stool beside mine.
“Are your parents super-religious or something?” he asks.
“No. It’s just…I have this sister, and she’s always gotten into trouble. It’s a long story. I don’t want to upset them.”
“You think they’ll be more upset about you being gay…or about never having really known their son?” His words hit me hard. They remind me of how little I tell them because I’m gay. All I can think about is those looks in their eyes as they seem to beg for me to talk to them about my life, to tell them I’m happy and not just sad and alone in my condo.
“Maybe you need to figure that out,” Hayden says. “But it sounds like you guys were fighting about more than that. You said he hasn’t heard anything from this guy who you both have been working hard to please so he’d invest in Travis’s business, and he has this big party coming up that obviously, for whatever reason, stirs up family shit—shit you probably don’t know anything about.”’
