Always Forward- Never Straight

by Charley Descoteaux

  “I didn’t go home with the guy from the race. Got any coffee?”

  She snorted. “Got any coffee. Where do you think you are? Of course I got coffee.”

  “She can’t hear. I don’t have to be a role model when she’s not even in the room, do I?” I got a mug from the cupboard and hoped she wouldn’t answer that.

  “No. And it’s a good thing. I don’t want her to model her dating after yours.” She grinned and elbowed me and turned back to the eggs.

  “God. Me either.”

  “Ha! So you did go home with him.”

  “I said I didn’t.” I prettied-up my coffee with extra milk and some cinnamon sugar from the shaker Val kept stocked for cinnamon toast. Val’s kitchen always intrigued me—she could just as easily have been making Japanese pancakes or something with seaweed as traditional American breakfast food. Despite knowing her since high school, she still surprised me once in a while.

  Val turned off the stove and moved the eggs off the heat, tossed some grated cheese on top, and froze.

  “Oh. My. God. You took him to your place.”

  My swallow of coffee didn’t go down smoothly, but at least I didn’t choke. I chose not to answer and took a seat at the little round table set with three plates.

  “Really? You couldn’t have blown each other in the men’s room and called it a night?”

  “Val, that’s gross.”

  “Like you haven’t done that before.”

  “I didn’t say doing it was gross. You talking about it is gross.” I grinned as much as I was able, which wasn’t half bad, and sipped more carefully so the coffee would go down the correct pipe.

  “I don’t get it. I mean, he’s so…”

  “So…what?”

  “Soft?”

  “Hmmm, he wasn’t last night.”

  “You’re opening the door, you know.”

  I sighed. The shower had stopped, so soon—hopefully soon—we would have an audience for whatever torturous conversation Val wanted to inflict upon me. Maybe that would tame her train of thought a little. Still, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

  “Really, Cay?”

  “What? He’s cute.”

  “But…”

  “But what? Come on. You barely even looked at him, how would you know if he’s soft?”

  “You like that. I can see it.”

  “What if I do?” Val brought juice and silverware to the table and I caught her eye. “What are you saying?”

  “Aren’t you worried if you take up with a guy like that you’ll…backslide? I’m not trying to be mean, only asking the question. If I wanted to be mean I could remind you that we agreed not to bring anyone back to our apartments unless and until they were of ‘Meet Mac’ importance.”

  “He’s not fat. He did the whole half-marathon yesterday and stayed up half the night—Well. You don’t need to know exactly what he stayed up half the night doing.” I tried to wipe the grin off my face, but it wasn’t getting the message.

  “Stayed up half the night doing you?”

  I sighed happily and sipped my coffee. I’d already eaten but wasn’t about to turn down a plate of second breakfast and had started to wonder if we were going to wait for Mac or eat and let her nuke hers whenever. And if I really did smell pancakes.

  “I don’t see what your problem is. I was heavier than Bryan is when you fucked me. I don’t remember you complaining.”

  “Dad. That is so gross. How am I supposed to eat my breakfast after hearing something like that?” She stood in the middle of the living room for a handful of seconds, fists on her hips, trying to look scandalized.

  “If you’re not hungry anymore, I’ll take yours.” I recovered better than I had a right to, but it’s not as though I’d never said anything wildly inappropriate in front of Mac before. I watched her take her seat at the table, trying not to laugh. “Do me a favor?”

  “No, you can’t have my breakfast.” She stuck out her tongue and a wave of nostalgia hit me. She leaned over and kissed my cheek and it only intensified. Some days she makes me feel so old.

  “Well, then, would you mind walking a little louder in the future?”

  She burst out laughing with a mouth full of scrambled eggs, and she barely managed to get her hand up and over her mouth before she sprayed me. Her damp hair whipped around as she shook her head. “No way. I’d miss too much!”

  Val brought a plate piled high with pancakes, took her seat, and after staring at me for a long moment, gestured at me with her fork.

  “Yeah, you were heavier, but you were also cool. An amazing musician.” She winked and I almost heard her say “an amazing lay” in my head. She’d said that often enough while trying to push me into the arms of others in vain but regular attempts to “make me happy.”

  I laughed to camouflage my discomfort at her compliment. “Well, I don’t want to date myself.”

  Val frowned, and in my peripheral vision, I saw Mac smirk and shake her head. “So what does he do?”

  I shrugged and pulled two pancakes onto my plate and then ate a bite of eggs. “These are delicious. Thank you.”

  “You don’t even know what he does?”

  I wiggled my eyebrows, and Mac made choking sounds.

  Val groaned and it sounded suspiciously like Mac’s choking sounds. “Did you talk at all?”

  “Sure. At the race. He’s really into music, so we had a lot to talk about.”

  Mac stuffed her mouth full, chewed fast, and swallowed loudly.

  “He’s cute, Mom. And his name is Bryan. I’m going to go dry my hair. Don’t be a drag to Dad while I’m gone.”

  We watched her go and then Val dove right back in. “So it’s just a hookup? Because it didn’t look that way from the stage.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t see anything from up there. You weren’t even paying attention to me.”

  “Your eyes. I can see it right now.”

  I groaned before I could stop myself.

  “The look in your eyes was the same as—”

  “Okay. That’s it. I’m not talking about this with you anymore.” The last thing I wanted to do was ruin my mood from last night by thinking about the guy who used me for years. So I did the mature thing and pushed those memories away while I ate more second breakfast.

  “Well, at least consider what I’m saying. If all this guy wants is—”

  “Bryan.”

  “If all this guy wants is a fuck or two and you want more…”

  “I don’t want to talk about work on the weekends. I know what kind of music he likes and—”

  “And he didn’t ask what you do?”

  “No.”

  “Hmmm.”

  I glanced at her and Val’s perfectly sculpted purple eyebrows were almost buried under her slightly faded rainbow hair.

  Giving in to my jealousy that the law firm where she worked was run by two gay dudes and they let her get away with any color hair she wanted wouldn’t do much for my mood either, so I filled my mouth again. With coffee this time.

  But it still wasn’t fair. I could barely get away with my trendy version of a short pompadour and she sported a faux hawk and a hair tattoo of the band’s logo on the left side of her head. When she went to work on Monday both of her bosses would tell her she looked amazing.

  “Don’t hmmmm me. He’s probably a lawyer or something and didn’t want to seem like he’s bragging.”

  Mac plopped back into her seat. Dry, her new purple highlights were more noticeable so I complemented them. “Nice stripes.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Val with a grin. “Yeah. Bryan was at the stage, so he probably knew Dad was with the band even before he saw the tattoos. Starving artist and all.”

  “Hey. I thought you were getting ready to go.”

  She held up her overnight bag. “I’m ready. Did you see his car?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We
ll? What kind of car does he drive? It’ll make her feel better about Bryan if she knows he at least has one. She thinks he’s unemployed and ready to sponge off you. She thinks all men are jobless Poriferas.”

  “Ha, ha. Isn’t that her job?”

  Val stuck her tongue out at me. “Answer the girl’s question.”

  “He drives a classic Mercedes sedan convertible.”

  Mac kissed my cheek as she stood. “Marry him.”

  “Angling for the car?” I stood and draped an arm across her shoulders.

  “You betcha.” She winked. “But I’ll take the Buick once he starts driving you everywhere.”

  “Not gonna happen, babycakes.” I steered her away from the table and foolishly thought we were in the clear.

  Val sped through the galley kitchen and met us at the door, wearing a calculating expression. She’d obviously heard something in my voice I hadn’t intended. Probably from the part of me that had been stoked when Bryan had followed my lead so easily and wanted to crow a little. “Wait. You’re taking the lead with this guy?”

  “Val. This is inappropriate conversation for mixed company.”

  She stared me down. It didn’t take long. Yeah, that guy wanted her to know. He’s vain as fuck and happy to be followed by such a cutie.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good boy. It’s about time. Only took fifty years for someone to break through that shell and—”

  “Hey. I’m not fifty yet.”

  She shrugged and reached up to kiss my cheek.

  “Close enough. Have fun, you two. Don’t be late for school tomorrow.” Val arched an eyebrow in Mac’s direction and shot a significant look my way.

  “No worries, Mom. And my homework is in here.” She raised her duffel, and I took it from her to sling over my shoulder.

  We spent a few hours playing music—Mackenzie wrote a song about her favorite word and how satisfying it is to shout it at the top of her lungs—and the rest of the day lounging in front of Netflix and gorging on pizza. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty when we ordered that second one. I was still flying, even after Mac informed me I wasn’t allowed to call Bryan for another two days. According to my social secretary there was such a thing as the “three-day rule.”

  Luckily I hadn’t known a few hours sooner or I wouldn’t have sent the text that earned me a smiley emoji with heart eyes in return.

  It would have been rude not to thank him for the lovely evening.

  I didn’t think I’d last a whole three days without calling but agreed not to appear too needy and jeopardize her shot at the Merc ragtop.

  Chapter Three

  Bryan

  What am I doing? This is crazy on more than one level.

  I sat outside Cay’s apartment two days after the race and still sore in places I’d forgotten I had. As I started to panic about dropping by unannounced, I realized my car was in full view of his bedroom window.

  His bedroom. A strangled sound escaped into the interior of my lovely Mercedes. Lovely and battered and the coolest thing about me. Well, maybe the second coolest now.

  Thankfully the parking lot was deserted, aside from his SUV, but I couldn’t kid myself. I wasn’t there to see if he wanted to go grab a beer. I was making a booty call. Only it didn’t feel like that, not really. And I didn’t want to look too closely at why that might be.

  My hands gripped the wheel tighter instead of reaching for the handle to open the door. I groaned and let my forehead fall onto my hands. Because tall, handsome, and ripped musicians love short, out-of-shape nerds.

  Still, I was there, and he might have already seen me, so it would be worse to leave. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the inevitable rejection, and then got out of the car and strode toward Cay’s front door with a confidence I didn’t feel. When I stood on a welcome mat that said “You’re very pretty,” the sound of a guitar made me hesitate. Did he have company? Was I interrupting something?

  My hand was raised to knock when the music stopped and the door opened. And there he was. In the time between our night together and that moment, I’d been sure he couldn’t be as amazing as I’d remembered. And I was right, in a way. The reality greatly surpassed my flimsy memories of him. The fabric of his tank looked so soft, and he could have been naked from the waist down because once our eyes met, I couldn’t have torn mine away if the building had started to crumble around us.

  “Bryan.”

  “Um, hey. Is this a good time? I probably should have called first, I mean—”

  “It’s a great time. Come in.”

  I swallowed hard and stepped inside, and his arm brushed against mine when he closed the door. Another spark. Not as big as the first, but definitely a spark.

  “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Wha—you were? Were you playing the guitar?”

  He raised his arm and still had the instrument in his hand. He was playing guitar and thinking of me?

  “Can I get you a beer?”

  “I, um…I’m sorry—” I clamped my mouth shut before I could embarrass us both. I was already embarrassed enough on my own.

  “Is something wrong?” Cay put the guitar down and came back to where I stood, still right inside the door.

  “Um, no. I don’t think so.” I ran my hand through my hair, considering too late that it would be sticking up afterward. “I mean, I hope this is okay, dropping in like this.”

  He smiled, and I couldn’t be sure if it was sexy or mocking—it was sexy, but I couldn’t be sure what was behind it.

  “Of course it’s okay.” He reached out and palmed my shoulder. The heat from his hand made me shiver. “I don’t have any plans for the evening and, like I said, I was thinking about you.”

  “Oh. Good. I didn’t think about it before I came or I would’ve called. Or texted. Probably texted. It’s been a while since I dropped in on anyone, but it…seemed like the thing to do.”

  “Are you okay, Bry?”

  I leaned my back against the door and tried to keep from sliding to the floor. Fuck, I want him.

  “How about you have a seat on the couch, and I’ll bring us a couple of beers. We can talk a little…” He let the thought trail off and then kissed the side of my forehead. Lightly, barely a brush of soft lips, but it was enough.

  I turned my face up, and our eyes locked. My legs still felt shaky, but I pushed off from the door and they held. Even when I pressed against his warm, hard body. Even when I gripped his waist and pulled him close.

  He sighed and dipped his head, and even though I knew he’d kiss me, when his mouth covered mine, it shocked the wind out of me. The sensation was like jumping into a cold lake on a warm day—no probably the opposite.

  A long time later—long enough so I felt lightheaded, and not only due to a lack of blood to the brain—Cay spoke, his lips still against my mouth.

  “I still have the same sheets on my bed, and it’s not made…”

  “Yes. Let’s.”

  Again, he stripped us and laid me out on his soft bed, his pastel sheets rumpled as though he hadn’t straightened them at all since we’d been in them. We got each other off with our hands and our mouths, he caressed my body with tenderness that wasn’t without heat, passion, and he didn’t try to do anything else. The whole encounter felt strangely like making love and not at all like casual sex. A part of me felt as though I should be afraid, or at least keeping my feelings at arm’s length, but it was a very small part. I’m not getting any younger.

  Afterward, we lay in a loose embrace. Obviously I wasn’t the only one wanting to brave the heat to stay connected.

  It couldn’t get hot enough that I wouldn’t want to touch Cay, wouldn’t want to have his body draped across me.

  Slowly, I felt him move beyond the limp afterglow. His big hands held me, moved carefully across my body. I wondered what he was thinking, but not enough to break the spell by asking. Before too long, he broke it
instead.

  “So, why were you so nervous when you got here?”

  “I… it’s been a long time since I’ve dropped in on anyone. I wasn’t sure if…but by the time I had second thoughts, I was already here.”

  “I’m glad you came.” He chuckled softly. A tremor coursed through my body as he nuzzled the side of my head. “For the record, you may not be the ‘dropping in’ type, but I am. I mean, it’s cool.”

  Nervous laughter isn’t sexy, but it came anyway.

  “I used to be. I mean, before I started the business, I had more time. But you only have to say ‘not this time’ so many times before there’s no next time.”

  I cringed inwardly, but that wasn’t a complete lie. I’d had more time for a social life before starting BaxCo, but that’s not why I lost all my friends. It was why I hadn’t reconnected, or made new ones, but I didn’t want to explain the whole sordid story to Cay. He’d probably have enough sense to run, and that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.

  “Well, there’s a next time.” He chuckled again, his chest vibrated against mine. “If you want it.”

  “You don’t—um…I don’t want to seem like I make a lot of booty calls either. Because I don’t. I mean, this isn’t—Shit.”

  “You’re nervous again. Did I do something? I laugh in bed a lot. When I’m happy.”

  “It’s—I’m surprised. I’m…like this, and you’re…”

  “I’m what?”

  Did he sound worried?

  “You’re so…toned. Hot.”

  He squeezed his arms around me. “I have something to show you. Stay here a second?”

  Cay left the bed and walked into the living room—nude, though the drapes were still open. He wasn’t on the ground floor, but I would never be able to do that. Maybe not even if I looked like him. He came back and bounced onto the bed beside me, a picture frame in one hand and two unopened bottles of beer in the other. He sat with his back against the wall and swept an appreciative glance down my pale naked body. I couldn’t help bracing myself for the punch line. He didn’t speak, though; he showed me the picture.